For nine years, till the spring of 1881, we lived in Oxford, in a little house north of the Parks, in what was then the newest quarter of the University town.
quote by Mary A. Ward
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oxford Town
Oxford town, oxford town
Evrybodys got their heads bowed down
The sun dont shine above the ground
Aint a-goin down to oxford town
He went down to oxford town
Guns and clubs followed him down
All because his face was brown
Better get away from oxford town
Oxford town around the bend
He come in to the door, he couldnt get in
All because of the color of his skin
What do you think about that, my frien?
Me and my gal, my gals son
We got met with a tear gas bomb
I dont even know why we come
Goin back where we come from
Oxford town in the afternoon
Evrybody singin a sorrowful tune
Two men died neath the mississippi moon
Somebody better investigate soon
Oxford town, oxford town
Evrybodys got their heads bowed down
The sun dont shine above the ground
Aint a-goin down to oxford town
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Looking back, nostalgically
The dreaming spires of Oxford lie
beneath an ever changing sky
A place where students aspire to
the earning of a sporting blue.
Or concentrate their energy
towards a double first degree
Some will succeed and make their mark.
To others just a youthful lark
An honoured university
which has been here for centuries
The town and gown oft disagree
they co exist uneasily
The students come from far and wide
to study by this riverside.
They stay here temporarily.
Then they must move on hopefully.
They leave the dreaming spires behind
as they strike out and try to find.
Some way to make their dreams come true
Some will succeed the elite few
.
On leaving university
you have to face reality.
The dreaming spires reluctantly
must be consigned to memory.
There is so much they need to learn.
As everybody must in turn,
success does not come easily.
Degrees provide no guarantee.
Now is the time when you must show
How much or little that you know.
Demonstrate your ability
and your adaptability..
Convince employers that you can
Do just as well as any man.
Although you lack experience
you have expressed a preference
by choosing them to apply to.
You like the kind of work they do.
If you survive the interview
and they decide to employ you.
Your years at university
As you will very quickly see
have not prepared you to compete.
Your dancing to a different beat.
You have signed on to the Rat race.
The city is a different place
From Oxford and its dreaming spires
where scholars pursue their desires.
All that counts here is success
you have work hard to progress.
Life here is lived by different rules
the city has no time for fools.
You must produce results it seems
If you want to fulfil your dreams.
Although in truth you’d rather be
back at your university.
The dreaming spires of Oxford lie
beneath an ever changing sky.
They do not change, no reason to.
Unlike the students who must do.
16-Mar-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Have Not Been To Oxford Town
Baby grace is the victim
She was 14 years of age
And the wheels are turning, turning
For the finger points at me
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
And the prison priests are decent
My attorney seems sincere
I fear my days are numbered
Lord get me out of here
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
This is your shadow on my wall
This is my flesh and blood
This is what I couldve been
And the wheels are turning and turning
As the 20th century dies
If I had not ripped the fabric
If time had not stood still
If I had not met ramona
If Id only paid my bill
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Alls well
But I have not been to oxford town
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
And the wheels are turning and turning
As the 20th century dies
This is my bunk with two sheets
This is my food though foul
This is what I could have been
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
Alls well
20th century dies
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who is more in touch with the problems of this country? One of those guys who goes off to Oxford or to University of Yale, or someone who has lived in buses, in the Metro, in the street?
quote by Gloria Trevi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imitated From The Japanese
A MOST astonishing thing --
Seventy years have I lived;
(Hurrah for the flowers of Spring,
For Spring is here again.)
Seventy years have I lived
No ragged beggar-man,
Seventy years have I lived,
Seventy years man and boy,
And never have I danced for joy.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Southern Kind Of Life
I grew up along way from here
I slept with the lights on for fifteen years
And Sabbath kept me home on Friday nights
and Daddy sang me Rodgers
just to make everything alright
My town wasn't even on the map
You could pass right through it in twenty seconds flat
But the south was like the whole world to me
it wasn't easy to stay but it was harder to leave
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
Old friends and bibles filled the house
no room for money and no money anyhow
deprived was something we always heard
but to me and my brother it was just another word
I use to think the north was the end
Cause people go there and they don't come back again
but my father's father was a man of the sea
He lived a southern life two blocks away from me
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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News From Grace From California (unedited)
very well, thanks.
today we are officially empty 'nesters'
our youngest just left for school
he has one quarter to go and will graduate this December,
making his college years to 3 and a quarter.
we're so proud.
he'll take the law entrance admission test
this 26th of the month
Thanks, he's thinking
of applying to California top 6 law school, UCLA,
UCBerkeley,
University od Southern California,
Santa Clara University,
UC Davis.
The acceptance will depend
on the admission test
and GPA.
with regards to the gpa
i'm confident since
he's been a consistent deans lister
our second child is now a registered nurse
and working in central California
and had his first place
less than 5 minutes drive from Kara,
his sister.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Melancholy Math of Life
First quarter is filled with doubts and fears.
Second quarter is infected with jabs and jeers.
Third quarter recoups these wasted years.
Last quarter reminisces lost smiles and cheers.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Woozy
Lovely...
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Even though it's sandy and dusty
Adjust my position on my cushion
Time is a treasure cause it's oh-so-dear
Lying here at my leisure on air
And the sun is really high in the sky
How am I supposed to 'do the dew'
When it's too hot to move
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
Nobody in bed with me
I need room to be where I want to be
No need to zoom or rush
In fact, take out the bass in case we need more hush
Less percussion, a little less pushing and shoving
Take it easy, you could even get sleazy
Come around, watch a movie with the sound down
And get woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy, yeah
I'm woozy
song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was born in a very small town in North Dakota, a town of only about 350 people. I lived there until I was 13. It was a marvelous advantage to grow up in a small town where you knew everybody.
quote by Warren Christopher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny McCarthy
He lived in a small house near the Town of Millstreet
At Inchaleigh close to the greyhound track
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac.
He was unmarried never fathered children
Which seems a pity as he'd have made a good dad
In his twilight years he walked his terrier Brandy
And Johnny said the best dog I have had.
He was a house painter and decorator
And he worked hard to earn his every bob
And those he worked for gave him more employment
For Johnny always did a tasty job.
Some people thought him to be a bit grumpy
But is there a perfect person anyway?
When hung over after a night out drinking
One can hardly feel too cheerful the next day.
He was an honest man Johnny McCarthy
A character of sorts in his own way
Since he last walked to Millstreet Town with his dog Brandy
On looking back it seems like yesterday.
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac
He lived at Inchaleigh close to the Town of Millstreet
In his small house close to the greyhound track
poem by Francis Duggan
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Town And Country
THE Sun tells to Trafalgar Square
His old and radiant story,
And touches in the young spring air
The pepper-pots to glory.
Spring's robe down Piccadilly floats,
The parks glow with her treasure,
And button-holes of morning coats
Rhyme with her royal pleasure.
Now persons beautifully dressed
In Bond-street shop and saunter,
And town--by Spring's soft breath caressed--
Would as its mistress vaunt her.
But far away from square and street,
Where willows shine and shiver,
The splendour of her silver feet
Is on the wood and river.
She laughs among the tree-roots brown,
Among the dewy clover,
For Spring coquets but with the town;
The country is her lover.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I broke down while at Oxford, was rejected by a record number of medical tribunals during the War, and finally got permission to leave Oxford and do civilian work till the War ended.
quote by Leonard Alfred George Strong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anecdote For Fathers
By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inland Revenue Service).
And is it so? Can Folly stalk
And aim her unrespecting darts
In shades where grave Professors walk
And Bachelors of Arts?
I have a boy, not six years old,
A sprite of birth and lineage high:
His birth I did myself behold,
His caste is in his eye.
And oh! his limbs are full of grace,
His boyish beauty past compare:
His mother's joy to wash his face,
And mine to brush his hair!
One morn we strolled on our short walk,
With four goloshes on our shoes,
And held the customary talk
That parents love to use.
(And oft I turn it into verse,
And write it down upon a page,
Which, being sold, supplies my purse
And ministers to age.)
So as we paced the curving High,
To view the sights of Oxford town
We raised our feet (like Nelly Bly),
And then we put them down.
'Now, little Edward, answer me'—
I said, and clutched him by the gown—
'At Cambridge would you rather be,
Or here in Oxford town?'
My boy replied with tiny frown
(He'd been a year at Cavendish),
'I'd rather dwell in Oxford town,
If I could have my wish.'
'Now, little Edward, say why so;
My little Edward, tell me why.'
'Well, really, Pa, I hardly know.'
'Remarkable!' said I:
'For Cambridge has her 'King's Parade,'
And much the more becoming gown;
Why should you slight her so,' I said,
'Compared with Oxford town?'
At this my boy hung down his head,
While sterner grew the parent's eye;
And six-and-thirty times I said,
'Come, Edward, tell me why?'
For I loved Cambridge (where they deal—
How strange!—in butter by the yard);
And so, with every third appeal,
I hit him rather hard.
Twelve times I struck, as may be seen
(For three times twelve is thirty-six),
When in a shop the Magazine
His tearful sight did fix.
He saw it plain, it made him smile,
And thus to me he made reply:—
'At Oxford there's a Crocodile;
And that's the reason why.'
Oh, Mr. Editor! my heart
For deeper lore would seldom yearn,
Could I believe the hundredth part
Of what from you I learn.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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The House Sparrows
The house sparrows in Spring under house eaves build their nests of hay
And renowned for their chirping they chirp all the day
In cypress and hedges from predators they hide
Familiar in gardens they are known Worldwide.
Brought to this Land by people from Lands far away
Around human dwellings they are happy to stay
Of shyness and lack of self confidence house sparrows are free
And on their worth or lack of worth some choose to disagree.
Originally from Africa of the weaver family
In gardens and Parklands them one often see
Familiar in their feathers of light gray and brown
They search for crumbs under the park benches in the parks of the Town.
The common house sparrows are birds everyone know
Familiar to gardens and to the hedgerow
Classified as songbirds though they don't have a song
They are famed as chirpers they chirp all day long.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Two years later, I went to the University of Minnesota from which I was on leave for several years during the war as a member of Statistical Research Group at Columbia University.
quote by George Stigler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House On Centerville Road
We stopped beside the highway
And gazed at the old house
I told my wife, “That’s where I lived”
When I was just a little sprout
It looked smaller than it once did
Back so many years ago
Even then it was old and creaky
But, as a kid, I didn’t know
Weathered boards were loose and falling
Saplings grew up through the porch
The old tin roof was rusted orange
And the yard looked like a forest
Here dwells my oldest memories
From so many years ago
When our young family lived here
In the house on Centerville road
Those walls once rang with laughter
And the energy of two young lads
Riding stick horses all around the place
Trying to “herd” our collie, Pat
But, Pat knew more than we did
When she’d hear Mama shout
She’d turn us back from the road
And herd two boys toward the house
Dad got a job and we moved to town
Well before I started school
So, my memories are short and sketchy
But, I’ve found there are quite a few
My wife retrieved her camera
And as I turned the key to go
Snapped a picture from her window
Of the house on Centerville road
10/07/07
poem by C.R. Clark
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CV
PALAZZO PAGANI
This is the house where, twenty years ago,
They spent a Spring and Summer. This shut gate
Would lead you to the terrace, and below
To a rose garden long since desolate.
Here they once lived. How often I have sat
Till it was dusk among the olive trees,
Waiting to hear their coming horse--hoofs grate
Upon the gravel; till the freshening breeze
Bore down a sound of voices. Even yet
A broken echo of their laughter rings
Through the deserted terraces; and see,
While I am speaking, from the parapet
There is a hand put forth, and some one flings
Her very window open overhead.
--How sweet it is, this scent of rosemary!
--These are the last tears I shall ever shed.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A lot of girls annoy me who go to university - one girl told me she was going to Oxford because it was something to do between leaving school and getting married. And I've got to pay for that being an income tax payer.
quote by Jeffrey Bernard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Of September
The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray
It does seem another cool late Winter's day
But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing
Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring
The first day of September the day of the year
When to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere
The Spring she arrives for her three months stay
With much warmer weather just a few weeks away
The Spring has arrived with her wildflowers and green
And her beauty in gardens and parks to be seen
Spring she arrives and she brings with her new life
And in parks and gardens Nature's beauty is rife
For the first day of September a cool chill in the breeze
But the birds chirp and whistle on the bushes and trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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