If you injure your neighbour, better not do it by halves.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Probablys (Life Poem)
Two halves would not be one,
If our paths had never crossed,
And we went our separate ways,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves on different paths,
But we were meant to be,
If not sooner than later, but
Where would we probably be?
Two halves in separate worlds,
Spinning apart never knowing,
They were meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves would be unfulfilled,
Because if we’re apart too long,
I feel empty and lost in space,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves of two worlds collided,
When years ago you said yes,
Our worlds are meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves became whole, and
The part of our lives apart, is not
Going to be that question of,
Where would we probably be?
poem by Ian Beckett
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Neighbour
Neighbour
is good
Friend...
Neighbour is
good relation...
Neighbour is
Your brother...
Neighbour is
Your sister...
Neighbour is
Your mother...
Neighbour is
father and gran father...
All are thear...
Neighbour is
Not neighbour...also
your family...
Love it...
Help it...
Enjoy it...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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A lie does not consist in the indirect position of words, but in the desire and intention, by false speaking, to deceive and injure your neighbour.
quote by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prudent Simplicity (Translated From Owen)
That thou mayst injure no man, dove-like be,
And serpent-like, that none may injure thee!
poem by William Cowper
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To injure an opponent is to injure yourself. To control aggression without inflicting injury in the Art of Peace.
quote by Morihei Ueshiba
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Henry Layton
Whoever thou art who passest by
Know that my father was gentle,
And my mother was violent,
While I was born the whole of such hostile halves,
Not intermixed and fused,
But each distinct, feebly soldered together.
Some of you saw me as gentle,
Some as violent,
Some as both.
But neither half of me wrought my ruin.
It was the falling asunder of halves,
Never a part of each other,
That left me a lifeless soul.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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That past is still within our living memory, a time when neighbour helped neighbour, sharing what little they had out of necessity, as well as decency.
quote by Mary McAleese
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Noise
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
A swimmer without a life-jacket!
But, i will live to lead you on peacefully;
However, this noise around you is like a hammer hitting the head of the nail.
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
Creating the silent war within your neighbourhood!
And like the heart of a summer around many others;
For, i know when it matters most.
Try to learn and try to live with one another,
Try to do your best without disturbing your neighbour!
For, this noise will surely not bring you peace among them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Buy your neighbour's ox, and woo your neighbour's daughter.
Neighbour once over the hedge, neighbour over it again.
The Rich and the Poor
The rich are not the poor, forming laziness
In the ranks of the workers.
A smile appears on the earners of money,
The art of effects is learnt,
Hearing will combine with seeing
As names are being named.
They sicken and injure the children
Often.
This is riches, this is not poverty,
For we injure and smash the very people begotten.
We as the confident people of hard earning
Learn of the heads.
They smash our heads like savage masters
As if we are slaves, slavery works.
I want a gift for my children
But others want themselves to be fed.
Why not die and let the children live?
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Am Graced
I am graced and I greet you with open arms,
Hands are stretched out to keep your heart.
My heart has good wishes for you,
I want to complain, I need some time to explain.
The neighbour is to be loved,
That neighbour is you and my heart.
I want to marry the dream of my choice,
That next-door person is you, my choice.
I read the complaint I make, and I have warmth,
For warm feelings deliver a peace.
You are to be loved like the one next-door,
The neighbour of decisions, no lies.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Feud’s abode
Feud is born and exists
Where affinity or identity rules.
Brother vs. brother and Neighbour vs. neighbour,
Have more hatred and less harmony.
25.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Surroundings-31
Neighbour's Prey
He's clearing his throat for months, may be hungry or thirsty
Pitiable nuisance, they don't even seem to offer and eat
So much disturbance.Ho, neighbour's prey getting the goat surroundings'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Weah
Deep empathy!
Weah is my neighbour with words;
But, i have to visit 'Manhyia Palace' to meet the elders.
Everywhere is beautiful and everyone is beautiful as well,
Everywhere is needed and everyone is needed as well,
Because, everywhere on this earth is overseas! !
Oh yes, over the seas to meet you with my words.
Deep empathy!
Come and let me take you to my neighbour;
For, it is time for you to know Weah my neighbour.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Does The Lotus Shrink Away For Everyone?
(after A.G. Visser)
Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away
an expensive car stops on the sidewalk,
there’s an old legend that returns to me
when the sultan Mirza Khan goes on a pilgrimage
with many knights
on his way to Ispahan with his caravan
and he’s just left when the neighbour’s wife rushes past
without loosing a moment.
Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away
where in the darkness of night he leaves
to be involved with his commitments
with many knights,
while the winter wind cuts through me,
the gaze of the neighbour’s wife chills the leaving car,
there’s an old legend that returns to me
where in the palace Fatima made herself lovely
and the sultan had just left
to be involved with his commitments,
the neighbour’s wife hurries and do not want to avoid her lover
and I read insubordination, pleasure and rebellion on her face,
early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away.
When a horseman appears as the emir of the Badewyn
Fatima is naked, young and slender
and the sultan had just left
and the neighbour is really dedicated
exemplary, friendly and he wears glasses,
there’s an old legend that returns to me
where they meet each other and make love for hours
when the purple iris blooms in the cup of the holy lotus
and Fatima is naked, young and slender
and the neighbour is with other knights when his wife is wooed
while she is begging for other attention.
Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away,
there’s an old legend that returns to me:
Does the lotus shrink away for everyone, does it wither
when the sultan Mirza Khan goes on a pilgrimage
when the purple iris blooms in the cup of the holy lotus
on his way to Ispahan with his caravan?
[Reference: “Divan” by A.G. Visser.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Crane
A neighbour finds a crane noble
who neither warns nor boasts.
Ripples, hindrance to scheme,
trigger the neighbour's dream
of visiting a lake, as needed,
but living in the sky
where nobility's required:
'An albatross, you know,
would flop around down here;
should always only fly.
I disdain the ripples.
I keep my thought on high.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Winter (parody)
(with apologies to fanie olivier)
Already early in May you can feel the wind gallop,
it is already cutting icily from twelve o’clock
and blows sand
leaves and old plastic bags sky-high.
Across the street the neighbour’s drain is overflowing
and sewerage flows along at the end of the yard,
while the other neighbour’s wife forwardly winks at me
and she’s a flamboyant girl,
her husband is well built and somewhat angry
and she has got a teenage daughter, who draws attention like her mother,
dressing at times somewhat nakedly,
while the neighbour comforts himself with bottles of brandy,
sometimes wanting to know about his wife’s wiles from me,
when I see pain and grief eating at him.
[Reference: “winter” by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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From an Upper Verandah
What happier haunt could the gods allot
For loftiest musing to sage or bard?—
Yet I would that this upper verandah did not
Look down on my beautiful Neighbour's Back-yard!
I stir the afflatus: Descend, O ye Nine!
Let the crystalline gates of the soul be unbarred!
No. My thoughts will keep running in one fixed line—
The clothes-line that hangs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Let me gaze on the hills; let me think of the sea;
Of the dawn rosy-fingered—the night silver-starred:—
(What dear little feet must the owner's be
Of those stockings that hang in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Let me tune my soul to a measure devout:—
Ah, the musical mood is all jangled and jarred,
While things with borders, and things without,
Keep flutt'ring down there in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Are the True and the Good and the Beautiful dead,
That I win not one gleam of Pierian regard?
(Does she suffer, I wonder, from cold in the head?—
Such a lot of mouchoirs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Comes the fit. While it sways me, high themes would I sing!
Prometheus! Achilles! Have at you! En grade!
Alexander the Great—(oh that I were a string
On that apron hung out in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
I will shut my eyes fast—I have hit it at last,
Now my purest Ideals flit by me unmarred;
And odours of memory rise from the past,
(And an odour of suds from my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Ah, yes! when the eyelids together are prest,
Every vestige of earth we throw off and discard.
(These are flannels, I think. Is she weak in the chest?—
There! I'm looking again at my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Since the Muses back out, let Philosophy in:
Let me ponder its problems cold and hard.
Ah! Philosophy dies in a celibate grin
At that bolster-case down in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Oh shame on my rapidly silvering hairs!
Oh shame on this veteran battered and scarred!
I to be witched with these frilled—affairs!
Confound my neighbour! Confound her Back-yard!
Why seek for the blossoms of Auld Lang Syne,
When the boughs where they budded are blasted and charred?—
Faugh! the whole concern's too alkaline—
It's washing day in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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