As soon as I was old enough to drive, I got a job at a local newspaper. There was someone who influenced me. He wrote a column for The Guardian from this tiny village in India.
quote by Nicholas D. Kristof
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
India
India, India, India
India, India, clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
I'm a pauper bereft of spiritual vision
Looking for a guru such a decision
India, India, India
Clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
I'm a conscious consumer
but there's nothing to consume
Lotus flowers are still in bloom in
India, India, India
India, India, clarified butter from the holy cow
India, India, India
India, India
India, India
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life In Newspaper
Some life stop their life on newspaper.
some life loss their life on newspaper.
loss their life like a photograph.
Loss their life in a column of newspaper.
Loss their life in the lightening photo of star.
Speech of false leader.
Profile of high profile cader.
Photo of dustbin child.
Fulfil the newspaper.
Now life,
Now love,
Addvertisement of peace,
or humanity.
Everything u found here.
Now life loss his life in newspaper.
poem by Imtiaz Emon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Minerva Jones
I am Minerva, the village poetess,
Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street
For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk,
And all the more when "Butch" Weldy
Captured me after a brutal hunt.
He left me to my fate with Doctor Meyers;
And I sank into death, growing numb from the feet up,
Like one stepping deeper and deeper into a stream of ice.
Will some one go to the village newspaper,
And gather into a book the verses I wrote? --
I thirsted so for love!
I hungered so for life!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Cow's urine
Cow 's
urine is...
Very very
Good...
It was usese
Some houses
At the...
Drops to water
Washing...
In india's
villages...
yes it is
Some naturral
Anti water...
some moor
village people
washes face also...
Cow's urine...
With gentely...!
[in india at tamil nadu village people usese's cow's urine...}
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Typographical
The Editor wrote his political screed
In ink that was fainter and fainter;
He rose to the call of his country's need,
And in spiderish characters wrote with speed,
A column on "Cutting the Painter".
The "reader" sat in his high-backed chair,
For literals he was a hunter;
But he stared aghast at the column long
Of the editorial hot and strong,
For the comp. inspired by some sense of wrong
Had headed it "Gutting the Punter".
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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India What Will You Teach This World?
India a continent old trade vast
India rich in philosophy religions
India steeped in ancient traditions
India a wealth of diverse cultures
India wisdom weeps crosses centuries
India you are supposed to be proud
India you are supposed to share
India your heritage with lost world
India you are supposed to share
Wisdom a covet west has forsaken
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dear Guardian Angel
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for watching over me
Dear Guardian Angel
You are oh so sweet
You protect me from the wrong
And lead me to the right
If I’m lost in the dark
You take me to the light
Dear Guardian Angel
Why do you care?
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for always being there
You take my hand
And wipe away my tears
You hold me close
And fight away my fears
Dear Guardian Angel
Please stay close to me
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you, I know you’ll always believe
You watch me sleeping quietly
You caress my face lovingly
You brush my bangs out of my eyes
You give me sunny skies
Dear Guardian Angel
Can I make it up to you?
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for always being true
Guardian Angel
I thank you
Guardian Angel…
I thank you
poem by Tyra Falconwing
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Newspaper readership is declining like crazy. In fact, there's a good chance that nobody is reading my column.
quote by Dave Barry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Instead, there were a variety of controls of which some could be influenced by bankers, some could be influenced by the government, and some could hardly be influenced by either.
quote by Carroll Quigley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O, What is Lost?
Yet again, the stock market crumbles and falls,
Ruining the economy for us all.
A day without a newspaper—
O, what is lost?
Gas prices rise as embargoes are insinuated.
War seems imminent. Tension is elevated.
A day without a newspaper—
O, what is lost?
Epidemics, viral infections are on the verge of spreading.
It's a shame our scientists don't know anything.
A day without a newspaper—
O, what is lost?
Front page: Can you believe it? Could it be true?
Snooki is pregnant. When is she due?
A day without a newspaper—
O, what is lost?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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It had run as a column - I had worked at the paper since 1976, but the column had been running for 13 years, and I think it was a strong column, criticizing the war when the paper was supporting it.
quote by Robert Scheer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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? Your Guardian Angel ?
Outside of heaven's door,
there is a bell to ring,
when you pull the cord,
you'll hear a heavenly choir sing.
The door will be opened by your guardian angel,
and on that beautiful face there will be a smile,
because with help you are not in hell,
and you face each other for quite awhile.
Your guardian angel know's everything about you,
your guardian angel has cherished your soul,
your guardian angel know's you have tried to be true,
your guardian angel help's you into your final goal.
So be true to yourself and help your fellow man,
and you will find you'll never be on your own,
do as much or as little as you can,
and your guardian angel will help you home.
May 15th 2007
poem by Alan J Duffield Lock
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The Motor Car
The motor car is sullen, like a thing that should not be;
The motor car is master of Smart Society.
’Twas born of sweated genius and collared by a clown;
’Twas planned by Retribution to ride its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
It runs to Caesar’s Column,
Last section, Caesar’s Column
To ride its riders down!
The motor car is shame-struck, for greed and misery,
For mad and hopeless self-lust, and the sins that need not be.
The motor car is vicious, for its conscience makes it so,
It aye would smash the victims while it runs the riders low.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
Its goal is Caesar’s Column,
It longs for Caesar’s Column
To lay its riders low.
The motor car is maddened like a horse that’s had a fright,
The shameful day behind it and the Coming of the Night!
It flees across the country and it flees back to the town
And straight for Caesar’s Column to run its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
What ho! for Caesar’s Column!
Hurrah! for Caesar’s Column!
To seal its riders down.
The motor car is reckless like a gambler losing fast;
The motor car’s in terror of the Future—and the Past;
The motor car is worn out and has passed Sin’s boundary by,
And is bound for Caesar’s Column where to pile its riders high.
It’s bound for Caesar’s Column
And marked for Caesar’s Column,
And doomed for Caesar’s Column
To pile its riders high.
The motor car is brainless, and scornful of all tears,
Its dust is in our faces, its giggle in our ears,
Its harsh laugh is the last laugh of the last lost soul alone,
’Tis nearing Caesar’s Column to set self-damned in stone.
Change here for Caesar’s Column!
All out for Caesar’s Column!
Past Hope—and Caesar’s Column
To lodge self-damned in stone.
I don’t know how ’twill happen, or when ’twill come to pass,
But folk shall yet pass sanely by river, tree and grass;
By homesteads and farm wagons, they’ll ride each pleasant mile,
And back from Caesar’s Column where the world went mad awhile.
And back from Caesar’s Column
With lessons from the Column;
Grown sane at Caesar’s Column
To save the world awhile.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Sweet
Tell it like it is
He gets up real early on his mornin' drive
Down to the office for his 9 to 5
He drives a 94' two tone economy car
Loves to tell the local bands down at the bar
That he's the critic, yeah I can hook you up
I know everybody in the business
He flunked junior high band he couldn't march in time
He tried to write a song once, but he couldn't make it rhyme
He learned 2 or 3 chords on a pawn shop guitar
He just never quite had what it took to be a star
So he's a critic I work for the gazette man
I got a real job
He did a 5 star column on a band you never heard
He did a bluegrass review without an unkind word
He thought it was time to ask his boss for a raise
His boss said I can't even tell if anybody's even readin' your page
yeah
So he thought and he thought a little more
He caught a young hot star headed into town
Then he hid behind his typewriter and gunned the boy down
Here come the letters, the emails, the he faxes
They raised him to 20 thousand dollars after taxes
He's a happy critic yeah
He's rollin' in the dough
Man I could do this forever
This is easy
They're all readin' my column
Please don't tell my mama
That I write the music column for the gazette
She still thinks, that I play piano down at the cathouse
Let's get funky with this now boys
Play it on
Come on Shannon
There's ol' Bill jumpin' in
Glenn's layin' it down
Come on Shannon
Aah My man Steve
Man my fingers are gettin' tired Ya'll gonna have to hurry
This snappin' thing wearin' me out
Theres ol Shannon guess he was on a coffee break
They're gonna love you cause they already love me
Yeah It's the critic
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wrote things for the school's newspaper, and - like all teenagers - I dabbled in poetry.
quote by Stephen Colbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is no such thing as national advertising. All advertising is local and personal. It's one man or woman reading one newspaper in the kitchen or watching TV in the den.
quote by Morris Hite
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No More
I wrote my name on the seashore
The waves came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the air
The wind came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the sky
The clouds came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the puddles
The sun came and it was no more
i wrote my name in the dust
The rain came and it was no more
One day Gabriel wrote my name
and alas! i was no more
poem by Humna Hamid
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I was sad Jon Ronson, who wrote in the Guardian and has made a TV show for Channel 4, took against me.
quote by Jonathan King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Guardian
My Guardian is beautiful
My Guardian has pride
She is strong but very gentle
Has many powers but doesnt use them
She is here when i need her but never far when i dont
I dont talk to her but she acts like we have been talking for days
She looks at me like im here pride and joy
Evan though i have wronged
She will never leave me
Alought i do not notice her she notices me and will never forget me
I love her and she loves me
And Im going to tell you a secret
My guardian was a gift from God
Because she is my angle
My Guardian angle!
poem by Tehillah Keller
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On the back page of a old newspaper
There’s a newspaper which the wind blows,
round and round
until it hits against me.
I grab it out of the wind
and after getting into my car
I open it on the seat next to me.
I see your photograph
on the back page of a old newspaper
and it says that you live
in another country,
on the other side of the big blue sea.
I wonder what is going on in your world
and when I close the newspaper,
It’s as if you were here with me
for a moment.
poem by Gert Strydom
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