I worked hard in gymnastics since the time I was six years old until I retired at 23 years of age.
quote by Nadia Comaneci
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After All These Years I Today Do Not Know What To Do With Myself
AFTER ALL THESE YEARS I TODAY DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WIITH MYSELF
After all these years
I today do not know what to do with myself-
I have worked for such a long time
And now it feels as if I have no work-
I am a writer and I am writing now
So there is at least that -
But what must it be for so many retired people
Who after so many years
Find themselves with nothing to do?
How lost one is when one has so much time
And nothing to do with oneself
Except feel one's own uselessness
And inability to really do anything.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is That All There Is?
'Is this all there is too life? '
I over heard my husband say.
I worked and slaved my life away,
And worked for little pay.
Now I am retired, and working harder then, I ever did before.
Is this all there is?
I thought there would be so much more!
I am lucky if I'll live till I'm old,
All my friends I knew did not!
Is that what we had all worked our lives for,
And what is it we have got?
Cars' not paid for, the morgage still due,
Had to take a loan on the house,
For those braces for son Drew.
I am walking a bit much slower,
My legs and feet have pain.
How much longer do I have too work,
I was'nt looking at doing this again!
Retirement is not as our Fathers' knew,
When they retired, and sailed the oceans blue!
Mom and Dad got a ticket and traveled,
They enjoyed those Golden Years,
Only enjoyed and known by few!
Is this all there is?
Because I wanted to enjoy my end years with you,
I guess I'll make the best of what we've got,
You have me, and I'm blessed to have you!
poem by Linda Winchell
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Because up to sixteen years old you feel gymnastics more. You can show your emotion, grace, like woman gymnastics, not kid's gymnastics. I feel I have good shape, and I can do it elements everything, but, it's not competition for me.
quote by Olga Korbut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Workaholic
He retired from his job on his sixty fifth birthday
But he did not enjoy the work free life
And he died just nine months into his retirement
To be mourned by his family and his wife.
It has been said he was a workaholic
And that he was one who worked as hard as two
And he felt bored without a job to go to
And he pined away as many like him do.
His problem was he did not have a hobby
And a working life the life he loved and knew
A good man for his wife and family and his Country
But good men just like bad men must die too.
For forty seven years he worked for the same employers
And to the end to his bosses was true
His parting gift from them a wrist watch and box of chocolates
And a well done and a shake hands and thank you.
He must have been one who truly liked his bosses
To have worked for them for forty seven years
His last day on the job it was his saddest
And as he left he fought to choke the tears.
His problem was that he did not have a hobby
And he only lived for each working day
And when he left the workforce in his sixties
He fell into ill health and pined away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I mean, they're threatening - my career is over. You know, everything I've worked so hard. I've worked extremely hard since about 17 years old, you know, as a White House intern on up.
quote by Andrea Mackris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I worked with practically everybody in the business in all of the years in NBC, but I worked personally many years with people like Crosby and Sinatra, so of course that was a great ground school for me.
quote by Skitch Henderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I knew this man
i knew this man some years ago
dearly beloved by four and two
back to fro his love went too
five of five he was and served
so to him a reward well deserved
I knew this man some years ago
worked the woods and suffered stings
lo among the rich he lives and pings
to whom benevolence was a reflex
and nothing came along was complex
i knew this man some years ago
who in zodiac learns a fable
and in unity became so able
over the Niger citadel he grew a lion
then he joined this army in Zion
i knew this man some years ago
he fell in love and changed his mind
now he hard sought someone to find
stood a lie to cute fairy tale damsel
how he christened her his own damisel
i knew this man some years ago
has broad shoulders and bulging chest
his time and strength he did well invest
i knew this man who loved himself
i knew this man in none but myself
poem by Ray Anyasi
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Five Long Years
(by eddie boyd)
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve to put me out.
I got a job in a steel mill, shucking steel like a slave.
Five long years, every friday I come straight back home with all my pay.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve to put me out.
I finally learned my lesson, should a long time ago.
The next woman that I marry, she gonna work and bring me the dough.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve,
She had the nerve,
She had the nerve,
She had the nerve to put me out.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taxman, Mr. Thief
You work hard, you make money
There ain't no on in the world who can stop you
You work hard, you went hungry
Now the taxman is out to get you
You worked hard
And slaved and slaved for years
Break your back sweat a lot
Well, it's just not fair
He hates you, he loves money
And he'll steal your s**t and think that it's funny
Like the beatles he ain't human
Now the taxman is out to get you
You worked hard
And slaved and slaved for years
You played
And you played and played for years
Taxman, mr. heath (he's a thief)
He's looking for run-in, yeah
Taxman, mr. heath (he's a thief)
He's looking for run-in, yeah
You work hard, you make money
There ain't no on in the world who can stop you
You work hard, you went hungry
Now the taxman is out to get you
You worked hard
And slaved and slaved for years
Break your back sweat a lot
Well, it's just not fair
Taxman, mr. heath (he's a thief)
He's looking for run-in, yeah
Taxman, mr. heath (he's a thief)
He's looking for run-in, yeah
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is Payment Price This Poet Pays
My friend is a salary man luckily gainfully employed
five days a week for eight hours a day he earns his pay.
I also for decades worked my days for weekly monthly pay.
I studied hard put in extra time to fully earn my worker pay,
years sped by I worked and worked to earn hard earned pay,
now for a time a time and a half I do not work this way.
I write I write each day by day or through long night.
I work far harder than I did employed in salary fight.
I live on savings hard earned to earn a right to write.
I charge not chance reader read or read not just as you like.
I work I sacrifice to give gift of love as free as stars above.
I give in time in thought in words in wisdom I give in love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Remembering October
October has arrived
once again and I
can feel the air
getting fridged as
it was ten years ago.
Its hard to believe how
fast the sands of time
have come and gone
through these winding
paths of truth and
deciete.
The memories that day
when you were set into
the earth for on final time
has become blurry through
the passage of time.
Ten years.
Its almost ten years that
have gone by and I have
yet to return to your
resting place.
In the prime of your brillance
the hammer fell and its hard
to even grasp the reason.
But I remember you tonight
as I do sometimes.
A toast to you and to the
heavens that now hold you
eternally.
poem by Jose Armando Guzman
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All Those Years
Come on in and take your coat off
Come on in and sit down
If I seem a little nervous
Ive been walkin shaky ground
Ive been alone since she left me
And Im not quite sure what to do
So if I call her name Im sorry
Its all those years are hard to lose
Chorus:
All those years with just one woman
Was all gone in just a day
All those years with just one woman
Makes it hard to try to find a brand new way
After all those years
I guess I should take down her picture
And try to put your mind at ease
And tell myself its really over
And put aside this misery
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I made my first Australian senior team when I was 16, first Olympics when I was 19, and I retired. I'm 32, I retired four years ago, so a good third of my life or nearly a third of my life has been all about running.
quote by Cathy Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I probably worked every single entertainment medium, including some that don't exist. I worked the circus, carnival, I had my own medicine show, I worked 18 years of radio.
And With Faith....
i have tried, especially in my later years,
to surround myself with people who know
more than i do, whose understanding is
deeper...
people of diverse backgrounds, who hold
strong opinions... strongwilled people, who
are not afraid to speak and to stand...
and i've worked hard on learning the art
of listening... you'd be amazed what there
is to hear!
especially old people, who've worked and
struggled for years, passionate people with
dreams, hopes, and needs.
what i write is a mixture of my journey and
theirs.... but arent all journeys interwoven?
it seems i'm in constant contact with god,
in various forms, simple acts, usually when
least expected.
i guess what i'm trying to say is thank you...
something i think we all forget to do.
let us live these waning moments with passion,
with storm, with gratitude, and with faith!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Jer McCarthy
He transported cattle for farmers to and from the marts in Kanturk, Macroom and Millstreet
A well liked fellow and known far and wide
And up and down the narrow roads of Muskerry and Duhallow
He often journeyed through that scenic countryside.
He worked so hard for to earn his honest living
For trucking cattle never is an easy job
On dark and wet and slippery roads in depths of Winter
There are far easier ways for to earn one's living bob.
Still Jer McCarthy seemed to like the job he worked at
As he was a people person you might say
He gave good service to the local farmers
And I hope he is alive and well today.
I wonder is he still transporting cattle?
For he's well past retirement age by now
And life as we grow older doesn't get easier
And all of us to father time must bow.
I know that I am looked on as old fashioned
For I am one still rooted in the past
I still recall the years when I was younger
But on looking back the time just went so fast.
At times I feel that I feel over nostalgic
When my eyes mist over with nostalgic tears
As I recall kind souls like Jer McCarthy
And the role models of my younger years
Many people feel that the future only matter
And their younger years they often don't recall
But when I recall my boyhood in Duhallow
I'm remembering my happiest days of all.
And when I remember one like Jer McCarthy
Who worked so hard for to earn his living pay
I feel somehow that the past is worth recalling
And I hope he's still alive and well today
poem by Francis Duggan
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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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By Our Side
I can remember that time of the year
That my mom worked every day and night
In which she got every little sleep
It was of hard for her to do because always shed tears
But she had a promise that she swore to keep
I know that felt a lot of body aches and pain
She did every to put that little bit of money in the jar
But the more she put away was much more of a gain
She either walked or caught the bus because we had no car
Even thought we always had little money
We barely saw her but her voice on the phone
And she said, ' I will keep my promise honey.'
I known it was hard to having to take care of us alone
Yes, those days we hard on her and us
But she always kept her promise to provide
Even though we had some unwanted thing, but we never put up a fuss
Yes those years were hard for a Single Mom, but I am glad she always was there By Our Side
poem by Frank Pulver
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My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foss School Dedication
Banding together from the Indians
There was always a white-mans school
No matter what went on around them
Children were taught the golden rule
But of course as the time went on
More children were enrolled
In 1900 100 children attended
So many stories could be told
For now is the dedication
After all these years are past
So many folks gathered together
They are dedicated and steadfast
People have worked hard
To keep learning a priority
Throughout the difficult years at Foss
Even with white folks were a minority
Don’t you think it’s wonderful
When we gather for a cause
Tell stories of the past
Take time perhaps to pause?
poem by Marilyn Lott
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