I have been hunted for twenty-one years. I have literally lived in the saddle. I have never known a day of perfect peace.
quote by Frank James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Perfect Part 2
I don’t need perfect cloth
I don’t need perfect hair
What I need is a confidence
I don’t need perfect score
I don’t need perfect job
What I need is a support
I don’t need perfect word
I don’t need perfect dream
What I need is a chance
I don’t need perfect agreement
I don’t need perfect control
What I need is a solution
I don’t need perfect holiday
I don’t need perfect memories
What I need is a peace of mind
I don’t need perfect home
I don’t need perfect family
What I need is a comfort
I don’t need perfect love
I don’t need perfect life
What I need is an understanding
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I Walked Last Night In A District I Lived In For Almost Twenty Years
I WALKED LAST NIGHT IN A DISTRICT I LIVED IN FOR ALMOST TWENTY YEARS
I walked last night in a district I lived in for almost twenty years
I came back after being away for a time
To visit an old and ailing friend
The streets were empty and lonely as they often were then-
I thought for the first time I understood how lonely the district itself is-
‘A lonely district’
I wondered how I managed to live there all those years
And how anyone still manages to live there-
I looked up at the sky and wrote in my mind a small poem of a kind I wrote many of in my years there
I remembered teachers and friends who had lived there
No longer of this district or any district on earth
I wondered how life goes and how from so many years so much life has been lived without having any place in my memory
I felt as empty inside as the district without
I did not have to wait long for the bus
And relieved inside it I put my heart to home
So many years had been lived there
I remembered taking my small children to the playground there
Now they thank G-d have children of their own
Oh the years go by and the life we have lived in them largely dies
Forever to be unknown again-
I put my heart and mind in a different direction
And began to do what I always do – not think of the district again
Life is this mystery and question we live through and never wholly possess even as we are experiencing it
How long before all will be gone for me
Including the district I live in now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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On Himself
A wearied pilgrim I have wander'd here,
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world; 'tis true
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his gray hairs doth his lustres tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well:
One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he
Of all those three-score has not lived half three:
He lives who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
poem by Robert Herrick
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The design of the God
Growth and generation for twenty years.
Health and reproduction for twenty years.
Breath and degeneration for twenty years.
Since then live sans passion, the God’s design.
20.11.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Twenty years a child twenty years running wild twenty years a mature man-and after that, praying.
Twenty years a child; twenty years running wild; twenty years a mature man -- and after that, praying.
Twenty Years Hence
Twenty years hence my eyes may grow
If not quite dim, yet rather so,
Still yours from others they shall know
Twenty years hence.
Twenty years hence though it may hap
That I be called to take a nap
In a cool cell where thunderclap
Was never heard,
There breathe but o'er my arch of grass
A not too sadly sighed Alas,
And I shall catch, ere you can pass,
That winged word.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Saddle
Saddle, addle, sad, add, deal, dad;
But, on the same day with your muse! !
From me and, to you;
For, the alter split apart and,
The ashes poured out from the alter.
Saddle, lead, lad, led, seal, sea, ale, dead;
And of your high places! !
But, she cried out for mercy!
And, like the muse of your offerings.
A son shall be born in your house as a sign! !
Because, the gift of peace had bbeen offered to you;
And, you need to saddle on to the land of joy.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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I have had to empty two family homes during the last few years - first, the house that had been my grandmother's since 1923, and then my own country home, which we had lived in for over twenty years.
quote by Penelope Lively
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epitaph
I lived in those times. For a thousand years
I have been dead. Not fallen, but hunted;
When all human decency was imprisoned,
I was free amongst the masked slaves.
I lived in those times, yet I was free.
I watched the river, the earth, the sky,
Turning around me, keeping their balance,
The seasons provided their birds and their honey.
You who live, what have you made of your luck?
Do you regret the time when I struggled?
Have you cultivated for the common harvest?
Have you enriched the town I lived in?
Living men, think nothing of me. I am dead.
Nothing survives of my spirit or my body.
poem by Robert Desnos
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Saddle Up
Saddle up.
This ride we're taking,
Wont be easy.
Saddle up.
We're taking the direct route,
Without a scenic tease.
Saddle up.
This ride we're taking,
Wont be easy.
Saddle up.
We're taking the direct route,
Without a scenic tease.
I've got to speed up that peace,
That waits for me.
All that mess about aggression!
And who's got a better weapon,
To teach a lesson.
Ain't getting one thing done!
But keeping people on the run!
Saddle up.
This ride we're taking,
Wont be easy.
Saddle up.
We're taking the direct route,
Without a scenic tease.
Saddle up.
This ride we're taking,
Wont be easy.
Saddle up.
We're taking the direct route,
Without a scenic tease.
I've got to speed up that peace,
That waits for me.
All that mess about aggression!
And who's got a better weapon,
To teach a lesson.
Ain't getting one thing done!
But keeping people on the run!
I'm not accustomed to the cunning!
Saddle up.
This ride we're taking,
Wont be easy.
Saddle up.
We're taking the direct route,
Without a scenic tease.
If you wont to share that chaos,
You can have the piece I leave.
Or saddle up with me...
And let them keep this sick disease!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Knight's Leap: A Legend of Altenar
'So the foemen have fired the gate, men of mine;
And the water is spent and gone?
Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine:
I never shall drink but this one.
'And reach me my harness, and saddle my horse,
And lead him me round to the door:
He must take such a leap to-night perforce,
As horse never took before.
'I have fought my fight, I have lived my life,
I have drunk my share of wine;
From Trier to Coln there was never a knight
Led a merrier life than mine.
'I have lived by the saddle for years two score;
And if I must die on tree,
Then the old saddle tree, which has borne me of yore,
Is the properest timber for me.
'So now to show bishop, and burgher, and priest,
How the Altenahr hawk can die:
If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest,
He must take to his wings and fly.'
He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine,
And he mounted his horse at the door;
And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine,
As man never drained before.
He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight,
And he leapt him out over the wall;
Out over the cliff, out into the night,
Three hundred feet of fall.
They found him next morning below in the glen,
With never a bone in him whole-
A mass or a prayer, now, good gentlemen,
For such a bold rider's soul.
Eversley, 1864.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Twenty Years
I burned the bridge. There's no going back.
Would never be ten or fifteen again.
Opening my eyes to a blood red sky
Designed with black and all shades of darkness
Inscribed in it was 'Welcome To Life'
I cried and cried, everyone smiled and grinned
I really don't wanna be here but ssshh
You can't say that, life is for living
The dead hath no friendship with the living
Holding the back of hope's hand
On the other hand holding tightly
The photograph of the days of my life.
I run for my dear...not so dear life
Here comes the seasons changing on me again
When it rains, it pours, I drown, and become rain
When it shines, it burns, I ignite, and become passion
There's been no rain, I prayed
Took an umbrella, with faith in my chest
I chilled under the sky for an answer
It didn't rain, so I went for a gin
Twenty years. Twenty failures. One cynic.
Pure Russian water wash through my bleeding soul.
Twenty years looking for something
Not sure what, the whole world is moving
I'm standing, chilling, and stilling
A confused fish, stuck in life, a tough shore
Death and nothingness, the peaceful ocean
How do you fill up an empty heart?
Twenty years with an empty side
The best way to give your life a meaning
Is to give someone's life a meaning
Twenty years, I've sounded an alarm
To the higher heavens, to the Only one
But how do you give what you don't have?
Twenty years. Twenty heartbreaks. Twenty failures. Twenty prayers.
Twenty kisses. Twenty goodbyes.
Twenty attempts. Still breathing.
Twenty caresses by Him who wooed me young
He who loves and chases me old
Yet His absence is chilling and silence, killing.
Twenty years. Of clueless motions.
And the crowds' mental insanity.
Twenty years. History has told her story.
Time is penning my story.
I repeat again; I wish I knew
At any point knew how life should be lived.
Twenty years. Prince Charming. Remained a frog, or perhaps had disdain for sleeping beauty.
Twenty years. The rain is pouring, my heart is needing
But the umbrella's missing.
Disney made me dream...weak...love
My prince charming in shining armour is...a...fairy...in a child's tale.
Gloom is norm. Loneliness is my bestie.
Twenty years. What do you want to be in Twenty years?
I wish you well.
Me? I'm just searching...for the sea.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Tomb of Ignatos
Here I'm not the Kleon famous in Alexandria
(where they're not easily dazzled)
for my marvelous houses, my gardens,
for my horses and chariots,
for the jewels and silks I wore.
Far from it—here I'm not that Kleon:
his twenty-eight years are to be wiped out.
I'm Ignatios, lector, who came to his senses very late;
but even so, in that way I lived ten happy months
in the peace, the security of Christ.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Twenty Years Ago
It's been a long time since I walked
Through this old town
But oh how the memories start to flow
And there's the old movie house
They finally closed it down
You could find me there every Friday night
Twenty years ago.
I worked the counter at the drugstore down the street
But nobody's left there I would know
On Saturday mornings that's where
All my friends would meet
You'd be surprised to know what a dime would buy
Twenty years ago.
All my memories from those days come gather round me
What I'd give if they could take me back in time
It almost seems like yesterday
Where do the good times go?
Life was so much easier twenty years ago.
I guess I should stop by Mr. Johnson's hardware store
His only son was my friend Joe
But he joined the army back in 1964
How could we know he would never come back
Twenty years ago...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace was bought at its cost
I fought for ten years and won a case,
With a view to putting me in peace.
Had I not pursued the case, those years
I would have lived with that peace.
17.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty Days
Twenty days are barely gone,
I was merry all the day.
Folly was my butt of scorn.
Now the fool myself I play.
Wit and learning ruled my head,
Logic and economy.
All the books I ever read
Taught me only vanity.
Most of all it moved my mirth
Womankind the world should rule.
Man, the lord of all the Earth!
He, forsooth, a woman's tool!
Cherry lip and glancing eye!
What were rosy cheeks to me?
Beauty's truth was but a lie--
Witness tomes of history!
Twenty days had barely run.
Twenty years they well might be.
All my wisdom was undone,
Reason bade good--night to me.
Her hair was of the red red gold,
Her blue eyes looked me through and through.
She was twenty--three years old,
I was twenty years and two.
Fortune, fame, I freely give,
Honour's self, if so she please,
Sweetly in her smile to live
Other twenty days like these.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Twenty Years
There are twenty years to go
Twenty ways to know
Who'll wear
Who'll wear the hat
There are twenty years to go
The best of all I hope
Enjoy the ride
The medicine show
Thems the breaks
For we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
There are twenty years to go
The faithful and the low
The best of starts, the broken heart, the stone
There are twenty years to go
The punch-drunk and the blow
The worst of starts, the mercy part, the foam
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
But it's you I take cos you're the truth, not I
There are twenty years to go
A golden age I know
But all will pass and end too fast you know
There are twenty years to go
And many friends I hope
Though some may hold the rose
Some hold the rope
That's the end - and that's the start of it
That's the whole - and that's the part of it
That's the high - and that's the heart of it
That's the long - and that's the short of it
That's the best - and that's the test in it
That's the doubt - the doubt, the trust in it
That's the sight - and that's the sound of it
That's the gift - and that's the trick in it
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Year 2113
Year 2113,
Blazed the bill-board.
In the city named Earth
Moved about young people.
No senior citizens, no babies,
Only the youth; born young,
From birth tubes.
Human beings inhabit Earth,
In perfect harmony with the elements,
Made consistent by them.
No morning rush for office,
No monotonous household chores.
Everyday, for a few hours, one works,
On one's personal Super Computer,
The rest of the day is one's own to spend.
One would think they enjoy life to the full,
But they are busy bees in search of time
To add to their allocated twenty-five years.
Time is the new currency,
It measures wealth, power and happiness.
At birth each person is gifted
Twenty five years of life.
Everyone has the right to add
Seconds, minutes and hours
Or even to lose them injudiciously.
Time can be increased by ingenuity,
Force, skill, begging and borrowing.
One can gain it by physical favours too.
Survival of the fittest is prevalent.
One has to be competent in adding to
Their share of twenty-five years.
One earns in time and pays in time,
Earnings automatically add time,
Payments subtract it.
From I D cards stamped on their hands,
Everyone can check the time left to them.
When the card shows ‘0'; one falls dead.
No need for doctors, no hospitals.
Physically you are in perfect health,
Only your time on earth is over.
You are replaced by another being,
Time allotted - Twenty-five years.
Crimes are all time related;
Stealing, cheating, misleading,
Murder by taking away time.
Offenders are punished by time deletion,
(According to the severity of the crime) .
The ultimate punishment meted out
To a time felony is
Taking away time forever.
Permanence in death is a deterrent to crime.
When nothing else stops criminals,
The final punishment of obliteration does.
People at times reach saturation.
They have lived hundreds of years,
Earning time by various activities,
Both legal and illegal;
Stealing from the feeble and the gullible.
Having lived long enough,
They decide to end their lives.
They make the necessary announcement
And arrange to give away time in charity.
Ostentatiously they donate their time and die.
They become heroes.
The term'die' is a misnomer.
No one actually dies in the year 2113.
Death is not final, as we understand it,
Except for grave offenders,
Who have forfeited their right to live.
The genes are kept safely, and;
After a lot of official consideration
Certain changes are made in them.
After a refreshing rest of a decade or two,
People are reborn as new personalities,
With a generous gift of Twenty-five years.