I called their attention also to the absence of all means of ventilating the hall, remarking that, as we had already breathed the air which it contained for a full hour, it must have lost much of its vital properties and needed to be renewed.
quote by George Combe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Given A Separate Life To Live
This has to be 'divine' intervention.
And so happy I am you called,
To bring my activities to 'my' attention.
You know,
Just this morning I awakened...
With just this one thought on my mind.
I thought...
How can I be of more use to those,
In the catering to their self-centered ways.
And no sooner had I finished my questioning...
Here you are,
Telling me I have nothing else to do anyway.
Why should I object to fulfilling your requests?
This has to be 'divine' intervention.
And so happy I am you called,
To bring my activities to 'my' attention.
And...
I will be giving more of my attention,
To my own activities...
Very soon.
'Did I upset you?
What did I say? '
Upset?
With you?
Are you kidding.
No.
You said exactly what I needed to hear.
At the right time and hour of my life!
'Well...
Are you going to be on point or not? '
Oh...
So sharp am I going to be on point,
You may claim I am too dangerous to annoy...
From this day forward.
Knowing...
We each have been given a separate life to live.
Amen.
'AMEN? '
Amen.
Thank you.
I needed that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is A Needed Reason
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason!
A needed reason.
There is a...
Needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.
If your mind is not here,
It may be focused somewhere else.
If your mind is not on fear...
It poses threats,
To those...
Who want it for themselves.
And if its too clear...
Fear will disappear!
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.
If your mind is not here,
It may be focused somewhere else.
If your mind is not on fear...
It poses threats,
To those...
Who want it for themselves.
And if its too clear...
Fear will disappear!
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
There is a needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason to keep your attention involved.
A needed reason.
A needed reason.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Absence of life
In the absence of life..........
Sweet sexy summer in a
angelic wind,
coming from south in
no harm yet the
sky till feel absence
In the absence of life.........
if i lost my life
in pleasing man, please
remember my Achille's heel
in a acrostic poem
In the absence of life.........
indeed no life is absence
in anyway, except
the world is absence.
poem by Senator alufalism
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Tear Tram Lines
This town has lost its sparkle,
The stars have lost their shine,
This town’s too full of echoes,
And my face too full of lines.
The shore has lost its tide,
The waves have lost their rhyme,
This town’s too full of tears,
And my smile too full of lines.
The clock has stopped it’s ticking
My feet dance out of time,
This town’s too full of yesterdays,
And my frown too full of lines
The cinema’s showing it’s last reel,
The pubs have all called time,
This towns too full of actors
And my script too full of unread lines….
My city hall
At the foot of my city hall lay stairs to nowhere
My city hall holds flags that have lost meaning
It’s become a place for bureaucrats to lay waste in my city
No open doors for citizens so where do I go
With my problems a glass bottle may work
But it won’t float where needed
But maybe the finder can do more than me
Because my city hall isn’t open to the public
poem by Ronald Speight
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An Absence of Patience
No one has to guess,
As to who is selfish.
It is in their conversations...
That show an absence of patience,
Or comprehension done.
They are the ones talking about themselves,
With detected insecurities.
Often they are judgemental.
And they embellish their responsibilities.
Freely given.
They will do for others,
And let people know they do.
And what it is...
And how what they do gets done.
To sacrifice and bestow their lives...
So no one can deny,
They are, indeed...
The center of the show for everyone.
Especially for those who may not know.
With hidden jealousies involved!
Somewhere embedded...
From a dysfunction regretted.
Set in masquerades that charade.
And nothing is done from sincerity.
They want the full attention.
Even if that means...
Degrading someone else's abilities.
In between their performances seen.
And this they do quite often,
With unsolicited appeal demanded.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Full Stop.
I’ve lost a full stop,
And I need it for the end
I’ve lost a full stop,
It’s driving me round the bend
I’ve lost a full stop,
I wonder where it can be?
I’ve lost a full stop,
If you see it, please tell me
I’ve lost a full stop,
I better keep on looking
I’ve lost a full stop,
The banks books have been cooking
I’ve lost a full stop,
I can’t find it anywhere
I’ve lost a full stop,
Oh there it is, over there
I lost a full stop,
Now I have found it again
I lost a full stop,
It’s here now, right at the end.
poem by Gordon David
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Cobblestones
The coffin, set up as coffins always are, near the grave, contained the father. The sentence, set up as sentences always are, on the page, contained the words. The meat package, set up as meat packages always are, with cellophane covering, contained the chops. The synagogue, set up as synagogues always are, for people, contained the rabbi. The classroom, set up as classrooms always are, for chairs, contained the professor. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, beside the grave, contained the mother. The word, set up as words always are, beyond hearing, contained the syllables. The prose, set up as prose always is, in census-rectangles, contained the phenomena. The nation, set up as nations always are, in questionnaire rooms, contained the sworn. The can, set up as cans always are, with ornate paper covers, contained the chicken o’noodle soup, with the circular noodles. Abacus, guitar, and quipu, set up as abacus, guitar and quipu always are, hieratically on notional strings, contained tobacco’s troubadours. The coffin, set up as coffins always are, next to the grave, contained the sister. The elegy, set up as elegies always are, dishonestly, contained the family. The steak, set up as steaks always are, artificially reddened, contained the fat. The rectangular venetian blinds, set up as rectangular venetian blinds always are, in the windowframe, contained the slats. The DNA, set up as DNA always is, in double helixes, contained the and. The word people, set up as the word people always is, in writing, contained the o.
poem by Aaron Fogel
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No One
I used to come home each night to no one - no one
All by myself, turn out the light - no one - no one
One knife, a fork 'n' a spoon
An empty bed in a cold room
Oooh I needed someone - maybe you could help
I called you up, I said "There's no one, baby there's no one else"
No one ever looked twice at me - no one - no one
Take a look at my life - what do you see - no one - no one
Kinda nervous 'n' jealous too - I lose me if I lose you
Just when I was feeling sorry for myself
She called me back, she said, "There's no one, baby there's no one else"
With no one to call you - with no one rootin' for you
With no one to adore you - you'd be lost and alone
With no one to kiss you - with no one to miss you
And always be with you - you would turn into stone
I've been waiting for the longest time
To hold your hand on Sunday
Oooh I needed someone - I saw you and I fell
I called you up, I said, "There's no one - and I'll never want anyone else"
Baby there's no one else
Baby there's no one else
Baby there's no one else
Baby there's no one else
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Once Fixed To Gawk With A Gaze
Eyes once fixed to gawk with a gaze upon others,
With their frozen dare to blink glares.
Seem to be melting,
As the heat upon their shoulders.
Is being felt with a renewed comprehension.
There is a re-direction of attention given.
Without one word heard said to mention,
Such focus is now.
Seen to lay upon those of similar hues,
Who are in need of an infliction meant.
Of overdue self examination severely needed.
With a hopeful freeing of excuses made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Keeping Up Appearances
Darkness appears to be the absence of light
but absence of darkness is not light.
Misery appears to be the absence of happiness
but absence of misery is not happiness.
Isolation appears to be the absence of love
but absence of isolation is not love.
Ignorance appears to be the absence of knowledge
but absence of ignorance is not knowledge.
Being what we are simply means
coming out of what appears to be.
But being what we are cannot be dependant
on coming out of something we are not.
We have always been and will always be
what we are.
So, we are realised but
we don’t realise it yet?
Until we come out of what we are not
which is only an appearance.
There is a lot to this keeping up of appearances
and no effort in simply being…………
And ego said
“Whatever. What’s for lunch”
poem by David Taylor
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Full Attention
The tiger took his merry time
Wading in the water...
Why shouldn't he? It felt sublime,
Perfectly in order...
So he went up and he went down
And he went left and right
And though each stripe looked like a frown,
His joy was at its height...
This is the life, he seemed to say,
Nothing else quite like it!
No hurry to be on his way,
In truth, he must admit!
Up to his neck in Shangri-La,
Nirvana, Heaven, peace...
It wasn't likely he'd go far,
When he could take his ease.
Did it have his full attention?
Yes, he felt comfy there...
Had he lost all apprehension?
He didn't have a care!
No point in leaving for a while...
So he felt mighty glad...
If anything can make you smile,
Like him, get stuck in, lad...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Full Attention'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot.com
poem by Denis Martindale
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My best album is called In Search Of A Song. That was my best shot right there. My finest hour, as they say. I could listen to the whole thing all the way through. There's nothing really crammed into it.
quote by Tom T. Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Mattters
In the silence of myself
I find that the game
Was not worth the fight
For what I thought was needed
Wasn't what was needed after all
Everything gathered becomes
Old, lost and broken
No longer useful
What was really needed
Was lost long ago
When we said goobye
poem by David Kush
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Cool Refuge
At last, a place to hide away, cool refuge from the sun...
Some solitude, a chance to stay, where nothing much gets done.
A perfect spot meant to beguile the busy beasts on Earth,
No more to worry for a while, for what is worry worth?
The sun was fierce and in his face. Too close for comfort, friend.
The tiger tried to slow the pace till he was on the mend...
And once his ears heard nothing new, he slowly closed his eyes
And lowly breathed and time just flew and caught him by surprise.
The sun had moved across the sky, now tired, in retreat.
The tiger didn't question why the sky eye lost its heat.
Enough to know his cool refuge would soon be cooler still...
His change in mood would then be huge and end this passing thrill.
The tiger tarried in repose with great tranquillity
And gently scratched his tickled nose with tingling ecstasy...
One final hour in the shade... his refuge then grew cold.
The sad decision must be made, now that the day grew old...
So up he stood, with strength renewed, recharged and vibrant now
And thankful for this interlude, vowed to return... somehow...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cool Refuge'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Emancipation
Behold! the days of miracle at last
Return-if ever they were truly past:
From sinful creditors' unholy greed
The church called Calvary at last is freed
So called for there the Savior's crucified,
Roberts and Carmany on either side.
The circling contribution-box no more
Provokes the nod and simulated snore;
No more the Lottery, no more the Fair,
Lure the reluctant dollar from its lair,
Nor Ladies' Lunches at a bit a bite
Destroy the health yet spare the appetite,
While thrifty sisters o'er the cauldron stoop
To serve their God with zeal, their friends with soup,
And all the brethren mendicate the earth
With viewless placards: 'We've been _so_ from birth!'
Sure of his wage, the pastor now can lend
His whole attention to his latter end,
Remarking with a martyr's prescient thrill
The Hemp maturing on the cheerless Hill.
The holy brethren, lifting pious palms,
Pour out their gratitude in prayer and psalms,
Chant _De Profundis_, meaning 'out of debt,'
And dance like mad-or would if they were let.
Deeply disguised (a deacon newly dead
Supplied the means) Jack Satan holds his head
As high as any and as loudly sings
His _jubilate_ till each rafter rings.
'Rejoice, ye ever faithful,' bellows he,
'The debt is lifted and the temple free!'
Then says, aside, with gentle cachination:
'I've got a mortgage on the congregation.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Epithalamium : Another Version
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Imperfection From Absence
Send me a rose thorn for my love’s rejection
Or a rosebud for thy love’s confession
Ardent love sometimes shows picture of perfection
But the absence of your touch means less affection.
The gaiety brought by sweet amity
Altogether with cup of honesty
But despite your true love and your fidelity
The absence of your thought brings nothing but anxiety.
Notes from you were very few
To little for us to find our love anew
Absence they say makes the heart fonder
But truly, absence only makes our heart shatter.
--------------------
poem by Geraldine Fernandez
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Epithalamium
Another Version Of 'A Bridal Song'.
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Darkness shed its holiest dew!
When ever smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true?
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
The golden gates of sleep unbar!
When strength and beauty meet together,
Kindles their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather.
Hence, coy hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, swift hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what may be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
Fairies! sprites! and angels, keep her!
Holiest powers, permit no wrong!
And return, to wake the sleeper,
Dawn, ere it be long.
Hence, swift hour! and quench thy light,
Lest eyes see their own delight!
Hence, coy hour! and thy loved flight
Oft renew.
BOYS AND GIRLS:
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun?
Come along!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Poetry Of Coleridge
A brook glancing under green leaves, self-delighting, exulting,
And full of a gurgling melody ever renewed -
Renewed thro' all changes of Heaven, unceasing in sunlight,
Unceasing in moonlight, but hushed in the beams of the holier orb.
poem by George Meredith
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