The dullest Olympic sport is curling, whatever 'curling' means.
quote by Andy Rooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vines of Love
Two hearts beating as one
Entwined like a vine
The many colours of love's curling ends
Rolling fingers on canvas
Like soft gentle flaps of butterfly wings
Toe curling sighs of delight
Eating juiciest fruit from the vine
Creeping crawling whatever the calling
Under the moon's light
Twirling curling consuming
Caressing with words
Touching souls
Vine steadied around pillars of stairway
Love shading the night
poem by Persian Khushi
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Creep
the vine underneath a thick foliage
always has a way of making itself seen
so slowly it creeps and climbs
the fence
each brick, each grill, each wall
the tendrils climb
and then when it finally sees the sun
it lets go its happy smile
through its little honeysuckles
i watch and felt the art of the tendrils
curling and curling sprouting and then
blooming.
There is a purpose, there is this vision.
I am keeping it. This vine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How a Little Girl Sang
Ah, she was music in herself,
A symphony of joyousness.
She sang, she sang from finger tips,
From every tremble of her dress.
I saw sweet haunting harmony,
An ecstasy, an ecstasy,
In that strange curling of her lips,
That happy curling of her lips.
And quivering with melody
Those eyes I saw, that tossing head.
And so I saw what music was,
Tho' still accursed with ears of lead.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Rainbow Curling
RAINBOW CURLING
I swear and swear me when rainbow curling
In the premises of her love and life delight
When tears of joy searching the redemption
To quench the thirst of smiles imbecile
The mist of love infallible as I do all peer
Sizzling across the petals of rose fragrant
In the bondage yet unfazed and unflinching
Yet unmeasured in all dimensions surmised
winds of fragrance carrying message I do love
thrums me and my universe to rouse my anger
that trembles along the corridor of my time
tossing on colors of rainbow into realm ecstatic,
poem by Dr subhendu kar
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Conceptual Thinking
Despair has been
Will always be
An everlasting
Entity
A fearsome beast
Beloved friend
An end to a means
A means to an end
Shallow darkness
Unforgiving
This stolen breath
This wasted living
Our last escape
To a dreamless sleep
And in our minds
We always keep
Heavy burdens
Shattered dreams
Endless lies
Silent screams
Curling through
The foggy air
The blatant concept
Of despair
poem by Danielle Jackomin
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When I was in baseball and you went into the clubhouse, you didn't see ball players with curling irons.
quote by Red Barber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Olympic Platinum
If I could reach to the sky and touch it for my country
Get some on my finger and take in its smell
The smell of victory land of the free Olympic dream
My Olympic dream
My promotion scheme
How hard can it be
How high can I jump
How high can I throw
How high can I run
How high can I hold my breath and stay underwater
and wave my legs around in perfect unison with my partner who really doesn't understand me
For my Olympic dream
I'll be like Dwight Stone
I'll be like Bruce Jenner
I'll be like that girl who trained all her life as a distance runner and then tripped with a quarter mile to go
But I I will get up and I will run
I will run with the Georgia peach breeze and I will win
I will win my Olympic dream
The gold's just not good enough
And I don't even think of the bronze
I've ????? my life for Olympic Platinum
Olympic dream
I'll sing like Whitney
My Olympic dream
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I also said, men are like curling irons, they never get out of your hair. And they are like government bonds, they take so long to mature.
quote by Kabir Bedi
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As an Olympic champion gymnast, I have always stayed involved in my sport.
quote by Nadia Comaneci
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A low line of shore was visible at first on the right between the movement of the waves and fog, but when we came further it was lost sight of, and nothing could be seen but the mist curling in the rigging, and a small circle of foam.
quote by John Millington Synge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Olympic
There were ten on run in a race,
Many aiming for Gold, Silver or Bronze.
Others were there, hard in their tries
Not to finish the tenth. It is Olympic.
There were ten teams in a contest,
Each aiming for the three medals.
Others were there to give their best
Not to finish the last. It is Olympic.
How fought and not who got
Is the game of Olympic
16.09.2000, Pkmd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Here were these college kids beating the Soviets and going on to the Olympic Gold Medal. To me, that's the greatest upset of all time in any sport that I can think of.
The Zimbabwe Rose
She brought such colour to our town her and her flowery clothes
With her dark and wavy curling hair the dark Zimbabwe rose
Her smile lit up the dullest day the warmth in her hello
And she will make many new friends where ever she will go.
A young woman in her early twenties her beauty I recall
And I a male of average height beside her did seem small
Yet she was not conceited and she was free of guile
And how her white teeth glittered each time that she did smile.
The Autumn weather here for her too cold she missed the warm sunshine
And for her home in Africa Zimbabwe's rose did pine
She went back to her Homeland we miss her happy face
And the Town now without her seems much a duller place.
She missed her family and friends and her Homeland far away
And the weather far too cold for her so here she did not stay
She brought such colour to our Town her and her flowery clothes
And we who knew her miss her so the dark Zimbabwe Rose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Squash has the credentials to become an olympic event and our goal is to see the sport in the 2008 Beijing Olympics. We are working towards this and will keep trying even if our bid is not successful.
quote by Jahangir Khan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Much Worrying As To What Happens To My Inheritance When I Die....
what i like
for the moment
for the moment
is this
favorite dog of mine
curling under my
feet
soft brown hair
touching
my toes
do i have really to
worry about the
future
mother?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When You Finally Find Your Hands Empty
on the day when you find
your hands empty
and you have nothing to
touch or
grab when you feel
nothing
to say when you are more
delighted on the silence
of your solitude
there is no other choice
but to close again
all your fingers like
a baby curling back
to sleep
because now as you
breathe
you have become full again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oh Brother, Who Knows!
Brother,
She could be doing anything right now—
She could be making love,
But she’s probably serving domestic beers
To the undergraduate boys who come in
To get drunk on her.
They don’t have a chance….
Brother,
She could be doing anything right now—
She could be on her pink tricycle
Ringing her bell up and down frat row,
Trying to draw the attention of the ice-cream truck,
Because she has a craving for praline….
Brother,
She could be doing anything right now,
But who knows….
She said I shouldn’t feel this way toward her,
Or anyone, who I haven’t seen for most of a decade;
I shouldn’t think about the ways she goes
But, brother, how can she know—
Oh Brother,
How can she know the ruby fire
She ignites in your soul?
How can she know the singing rivers
Of sunlight her name brings when spoken out loud—
Even God sings when he walks into her bar
To sit down and buy a round after a hard day’s hangover
For all the good Catholic boys who bat their eyes
At her in choreographed Christianity?
Oh Brother,
How can she know
The way her amber hair flows—
Oh, the way her amber hair flows
Curling, curling like lovers around
Lips, fingers, and toes….
So when we just look at her,
Around, around the world goes….
Oh Brother,
How can she know
The way my heart goes, swimming
Silently around her too afraid to approach—
I’ve unbuttoned my shirt for her and stood there bared
Waiting for her stare to tattoo my heart,
But she’s a mighty fare Clair
Running about in the world,
Changing to water and trees whenever no one is looking,
Whenever she fancies,
But I’m not supposed to think of these things
Because I don’t know her….
But, Oh Brother,
Who knows!
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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What do I find in a kiss?
What do I find in a kiss?
The toe curling nerves of bliss
Sedimentary, tingling
Yes…
Intermingling
Yes…
Fluidity, pings
Like a broken glass
In that desire to clasp
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Facing this wall
I see this face
My face
I like it
it is still my face as it was
When I first saw it
No regrets
Time has been true to me
Despite
I can tell the loss and gains
I can hold them all again
Somehow
Nosedive and eyeblink
Tongue curling
To my teeth
Greet the day without misgivings
Everything is alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wolf Cub
rolled up in a ball
in the curling hollow
of your heart...
the wolf cub sleeps,
milk dripping from his chin....
dreaming of blood,
shadow and flesh....
your heart races!
the wind whispers
his lullaby...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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