Life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle deliberation how it shall be spent.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've Spent To Long
I've spent to long not caring,
I've spent to long away,
And now you want me back,
To live just like before,
You want to take my hand again,
You want my love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And my love it flew away.
I've spent to long in solitude,
I've spent to long in hope,
And now you want me in your arms,
To stay and hold you close,
You want to take my love again,
Feel despair take it's place,
But I've spent to long in solitude,
And you've lost this blood soaked race.
I've spent to long not caring,
Spent to long away,
Spent to long denying,
I've spent to long awake,
And now you want my slumber,
You want a love to stay,
But I've spent to long not caring,
And love? It fades away.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Love
One love in my young life
Took me somewhere I had never been
And I want to live again, breathe again
In the shelter of his brightly woven love song
So long I have wanted love to be
Sitting just this near to me
Now my waiting heart is free
(*) few are the choices we are given
The sands of time pass quickly by
One dream of my young life
Now stands holding out his hand to me
Now I cant help but believe that my whole life will be
Spent in one love
Repeat (*)
Spent in one love
Spent in one love
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem, Prayers And Promises
I've been lately thinking about my life's time
all the things I've done and how it's been,
and I can't help believin' in my own mind
I know I'm gonna hate to see it end.
I've seen a lot of sunshine slept out in the rain
spent a night or two all on my own
I've known my lady's pleasures had myself some friends
spent a time or two in my own home.
Days they pass so quickly now, the nights are seldom long
time around me whispers when it's cold.
The changes somehow frightens me, still I have to smile
it turns me on to think of growing old.
It's tho' my life's been good to me there's still so much to do
so many things my mind has never known
I'd like to raise a fam'ly I'd like to sail away
dance across the mountains on the moon.
Ref.) I have to say it now it's been good life all in all,
it's really fine to have a chance to hang around.
and lie there by the fire and watch the evening tire,
while all my friends and my old lady sit and pass a pipe around
and talk of poems and prayers and promises
and things that we believe in, how sweet it is to love someone,
how right it is to care, how long it's been since yesterday
what about tomorrow and what about our dreams
and all the memories we share
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idler's Song
I sit in the twilight dim
At the close of an idle day,
And I list to the soft sweet hymn,
That rises far away,
And dies on the evening air.
Oh, all day long,
They sing their song,
Who toil in the valley there.
But never a song sing I,
Sitting with folded hands,
The hours pass me by -
Dropping their golden sands -
And I list, from day to day,
To the 'tick, tick, tock'
Of the old brown clock,
Ticking my life away.
And I see the twilight fade,
And I see the night come on,
And then, in the gloom and shade,
I weep for the day that's gone -
Weep and wail in pain,
For the misspent day
That has flown away,
And will not come again.
Another morning beams,
And I forget the last,
And I sit in idle dreams
Till the day over - past.
Oh, the toiler's heart is glad!
When the day is gone
And the night comes on,
But mine is sore and sad.
For I dare not look behind!
No shining, golden sheaves
Can I ever hope to find:
Nothing but withered leaves.
Ah! dreams are very sweet!
But will not please
If only these
I lay at the Master's feet.
And what will the Master say
To dreams and nothing more?
Oh, idler, all the day!
Think, ere thy life is o'er!
And when the day grows late,
Oh, soul of sin!
Will He let you in,
There at the pearly gate?
Oh, idle heart, beware!
On, to the field of strife!
On, to the valley there!
And live a useful life!
Up, do not wait a day!
For the old brown clock,
With its 'tick, tick, tock, '
Is ticking your life away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Evil
Rosemary
Heaven restores you in life
Coming with me
Through the aging, the fear and the strife
It's the smiling on the package
It's the faces in the sand
It's the thought that holds you upwards
Embracing me with two hands
Write, we'll take you places
Yeah maybe to the beach
When your friends they do come crying
Tell them how your pleasure's set up on slow-release
Hey wait
Great smile
Sensitive to faith not
Denial
But hey whose on trial?
It took a life spent
With no cellmate
The long way back
Sandy why can't we look the other way?
He speaks about travel
Yeah, we think about the land
We smile like all people
Feeling real tan
I can take you places
Do you need a new man?
Wipe the pollen from the faces
Make revision to a dream while you wait in the van
Hey wait
Great smile
Sensitive to faith not
Denial
But hey whose on trial?
It took a life spent
With no cellmate
Find a long way back
Sandy why can't we look the other way?
You're weightless, you are exotic
You need something for which to care
Sandy why can't we look the other way?
Leave some shards under the belly
Lay some grease inside my hand
It's a sentimental jury
And the makings of a good plan
You've come to love me nightly
Yeah you've come to hold me tight
Is this motion everlasting
Or do shutters pass in the night?
Rosemary
Oh heaven restores you in life
I spent a lifespan with no cellmate
The long way back
Sandy why can't we look the other way?
You're weightless, semi-erotic
You need someone to take you there
Sandy why can't we look the other way?
Why can't we just play the other game?
Why can't we just look the other way?
song performed by by Interpol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Short Shrift
‘I’ve failed! ’ How many times have sons
And fathers’ fathers echoed me?
‘I’ve failed! My life was spent in dreams, ’
We said, ‘in shallow misery.
In dreams and steel and soot and grime,
In screams, and what would seem some crime
Of trying to live beyond our need...
Our lives were spent in some black creed! ’
‘Too short, too short, the days we spent
In trying to right the days before,
Too long, too long, the years we struggled
Knowing not what struggled for.
What goal, what aim, what discontent,
What loves we lost, what life we spent
In wondering what such life could be?
Short shrift for you - harsh words for me! ’
‘I’ve failed, my sons, I’ve failed you all
And so my failure tortures me,
As in that innocence divine
Your love loves all the failed in me.
If I could strip this flesh, or tear
These eyes that cried hot fire for you
To save you from the same despair
My father’s father brought me to...’
20 July 1976
poem by David Lewis Paget
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27 Years! ! ! ! !
27 years of my life-
I lived like a wife,
waiting for my husband kiss;
Which i always missed.
27 years of my life -
Waited all the nights,
To share my happiness and sadness;
And i felt it was madness.
27 years of my life-
I spent with unknown husband,
Who has time to work;
And I felt like a jerk.
27 years of my life-
I spent with boredom,
And being a loyal wife;
I lost my freedom.
After 27 years of my life-
I still feel something missing,
I still keep looking;
And still waiting.
And the next 27 years will pass by:
Without my husband near by.
poem by Anju Addanki
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Mischief
LET those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
In harmless sport or healthful play
He did not pass his time away,
Nor took his pleasure in it;
For mischief was his only joy:
No book, or work, or even toy,
Could please him for a minute.
A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass,
And throw a stone to break the glass,
And then enjoy the joke!
Or, if a window open stood,
He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood,
To frighten all the folk.
If travellers passing chanced to stay,
Of idle Jim to ask the way,
He never told them right;
And then, quite harden'd in his sin,
Rejoiced to see them taken in,
And laugh'd with all his might.
He'd tie a string across the street,
Just to entangle people's feet,
And make them tumble down:
Indeed, he was disliked so much,
That no good boy would play with such
A nuisance to the town.
At last the neighbours, in despair,
This mischief would no longer bear:
And so–to end the tale,
This lad, to cure him of his ways,
Was sent to spend some dismal days
Within the county jail.
poem by Ann Taylor
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Wish It Could Always Be This Way
(l. stansfield/i. devaney)
Into the sunrise
Youre still lying by my side
Baby theres no need to touch me
cos I can feel your eyes
Theyre burning through me burning through me
Warmer than the morning light
Ooh the closer you get
The faster my heart beats
Dont stop yet
cos theres lots more we can see
Well be makin love makin love
While the sun shines
I have spent my whole life long just trying to find you
Now Im not gonna let it slip away
Chorus:
Wish it could always be this way
To always cherish the love we make
Because if life is what we make it
Then lets make it
Always be this way
Youre my darling
And youll always be
My mm mm mm
My everything
Well be makin love makin love
I have spent my whole life long just waiting to find you
Now Im not gonna let it slip away
Chorus
I have spent my whole life long just waiting to find you
Now Im not gonna let it slip away
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mischief
Let those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
In harmless sport or healthful play
He did not pass his time away,
Nor took his pleasure in it;
For mischief was his only joy:
No book, or work, or even toy,
Could please him for a minute.
A neighbour's house he'd slyly pass,
And throw a stone to break the glass,
And then enjoy the joke!
Or, if a window open stood,
He'd throw in stones, or bits of wood,
To frighten all the folk.
If travellers passing chanced to stay,
Of idle Jim to ask the way,
He never told them right;
And then, quite harden'd in his sin,
Rejoiced to see them taken in,
And laugh'd with all his might.
He'd tie a string across the street,
Just to entangle people's feet,
And make them tumble down:
Indeed, he was disliked so much,
That no good boy would play with such
A nuisance to the town.
At last the neighbours, in despair,
This mischief would no longer bear:
And so to end the tale,
This lad, to cure him of his ways,
Was sent to spend some dismal days
Within the county jail.
poem by Jane Taylor
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The Idle Wind
The idle wind blows all the day.
I wish it blew my care away.
The idle wind blows all day long
And weaves a burden to my song
Upon the melancholy flight
Of youth and beauty and delight.
The idle wind blows all the day.
I wish it blew my care away.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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Life long...
Life long dreams made
Life long debts paid
Life long fights won
Life long task done
Life long sorrow averted
Life long disasters diverted
Life long promises kept
Life long tears were wept
Life long hate is bound
Life long Love is found
Life long hearts as one
Life long end will come
poem by Troy Williams
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Work-Girls' Holiday
A lady has a thousand ways
Of doing nothing all her days,
And so she thinks that they're well spent,
She can be idle and content.
But when I have a holiday
I have forgotten how to play.
I could rest idly under trees
When there's some sun or little breeze
Or if the wind should prove too strong
Could lie in bed the whole day long.
But any leisured girl would say
That that was waste of holiday.
Perhaps if I had weeks to spend
In doing nothing without end,
I might learn better how to shirk
And never want to go to work.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Why do we want to love?
Why do we beg for love?
Why do we die without attention?
Why do we prefer to be two instead of one?
Why do we seek warmth from a body that is not ours?
Why do we want to be special in the eyes of others?
Is life a gift too precious to be spent alone?
Is being alone a thought too cold?
Do we love as we long to be loved?
Or is life simply a gift
Too great to be spent on you
and you alone.
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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Life
Do not look
for fairness in this life,
for you will not find it
as the reason to be living
and will seek it forever.
Do not live life
just as a passer by,
or you will not mind it
and it will pass.
without adding true meaning.
Partake in anything
that you can
and make of everything
something great.
Care for others and love greatly
and experience everything,
that life brings to you.
In the end
when all passions
and life is spent,
you will have had it all
poem by Gert Strydom
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Chant For Dark Hours
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Book shop.
(Lady, make your mind up, and wait your life away.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Crap game.
(He said he'd come at moonrise, and here's another day!)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Bar-room.
(Wait about, and hang about, and that's the way it goes.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Woman.
(Heaven never send me another one of those!)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Golf course.
(Read a book, and sew a seam, and slumber if you can.)
Some men, some men
Cannot pass a
Haberdasher's.
(All your life you wait around for some damn man!)
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Liberty
The last light has gone out of the world, except
This moonlight lying on the grass like frost
Beyond the brink of the tall elm's shadow.
It is as if everything else had slept
Many an age, unforgotten and lost -
The men that were, the things done, long ago,
All I have thought; and but the moon and I
Live yet and here stand idle over a grave
Where all is buried. Both have liberty
To dream what we could do if we were free
To do some thing we had desired long,
The moon and I. There's none less free than who
Does nothing and has nothing else to do,
Being free only for what is not to his mind,
And nothing is to his mind. If every hour
Like this one passing that I have spent among
The wiser others when I have forgot
To wonder whether I was free or not,
Were piled before me, and not lost behind,
And I could take and carry them away
I should be rich; or if 1 had the power
To wipe out every one and not again
Regret, I should be rich to be so poor.
And yet I still am half in love with pain,
With what is imperfect, with both tears and mirth,
With things that have an end, with life and earth,
And this moon that leaves me dark within the door.
poem by Edward Thomas
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The Name
THY name was once the magic spell, by which my thoughts were bound,
And burning dreams of light and love were wakened by that sound;
My heart beat quick when stranger tongues, with idle praise or blame,
Awoke its deepest thrill of life, to tremble at that name.
Long years--long years have passed away, and altered is thy brow;
And we who met so gladly once, must meet as strangers now:
The friends of yore come round me still, but talk no more of thee;
'Tis idle ev'n to wish it now--for what art thou to me?
Yet still thy name, thy blessed name, my lonely bosom fills,
Like an echo that hath lost itself among the distant hills,
Which still, with melancholy note, keeps faintly lingering on,
When the jocund sound that woke it first is gone--for ever gone.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Misfortune That
Misfortune that
I am unable to know
My mistakes and faults
And you kept me here
In this cage as a
Life prisoner and
Kept me idle.
Misfortune that
Here I am
And with my consent
And I know not
When to go
And where and you
Kept me idle.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Arise
Why sit ye idly dreaming all the day,
While the golden, precious hours flit away?
See you not the day is waning, waning fast?
That the morn's already vanished in the past?
When the glowing noon approaches, we will rest
Who have worked through all the morning; but at best,
If you work with zeal and ardor till the night,
You can only make the wasted moments right.
Think you life was made for dreaming, nothing more,
When God's work lies all unfinished at your door?
Souls to save and hearts to strengthen--ah! such work,
Such a richly freighted labor, who would shirk?
Then arise, O idle dreamer! Dreams are sweet,
But better flowers are growing at your feet.
If you crush, or pass unheeding, idle friend,
You shall answer for their ruin in the end.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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