After the outbreak of war, in April 1940, we left Geneva with our three children aged 4 years, 2 years and 2 weeks only to become part of the disordered refugee crowds fleeing across France from the German army.
quote by James Meade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Morning Will Be Gone Soon
THE MORNING WILL BE GONE SOON
The morning will be gone soon
With little done
And certainly what I should have done
Not done.
Life will be gone soon
And so much left behind
Unfinished disordered
Years of effort
Years of waste.
But who am I?
And why does it matter?
One more among the billions
Who has been here
And will not be here
Ever again.
The days are passing
The years have passed
My life is almost done
And what have I done?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wallace Ferguson
There at Geneva where Mt. Blanc floated above
The wine-hued lake like a cloud, when a breeze was blown
Out of an empty sky of blue, and the roaring Rhone
Hurried under the bridge through chasms of rock;
And the music along the cafés was part of the splendor
Of dancing water under a torrent of light;
And the purer part of the genius of Jean Rousseau
Was the silent music of all we saw or heard --
There at Geneva, I say, was the rapture less
Because I could not link myself with the I of yore,
When twenty years before I wandered about Spoon River?
Nor remember what I was nor what I felt?
We live in the hour all free of the hours gone by.
Therefore, O soul, if you lose yourself in death,
And wake in some Geneva by some Mt. Blanc,
What do you care if you know not yourself as the you
Who lived and loved in a little corner of earth
Known as Spoon River ages and ages vanished?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Just a Month
400 years of oppression
200 years of slavery
100 years of racism
50 years of segregation
We marched for days
Boycotted for weeks
Fought for years
And we only get one month out of 12
What the hell
poem by Bron Dayvid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Future Is The Children's
The future is the children's and I am of the past
And I too had my young years but nothing ever last
On looking back the Seasons how quickly the years have gone
Old age is fast approaching and the clock ticks on and on.
The future is the children's the children of today
They have the gift of youth with them though youth with them won't stay
On looking back decades from now when time has left them slow
They will wonder as I do where did the years to go.
The years are catching up one me and time has left me gray
And the future is the children's that would be true to say
The people in their sixties are running out of time
And few of them will be living when today's children are in their prime.
The future is the children's and to them alone belong
And those who will tell you differently have somehow got it wrong
But the hands of time keep turning and time on none does wait
And all of us are branded with an invisible use by date.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broremann’s War
Spring,1945, German troops in his town were walking about not
carrying arms, they spoke to the locals in a friendly manner.
Looking back it was peace before the peace. Near Broremann's home
there was a tall house occupied by old non- commissioned officers,
middle-aged men in their thirties with children, gave the kids
chocolate and sweets (after the war the building was taken over by
Mormons) .
British troops arrived, put a canteen in a disused fish factory,
the German troops had surrendered. Broremann got white bread
with spam from the British. The Germans left by train; many
of the town´s people came to wave goodbye, there was no
dislike against the common soldiers, wrath was directed at the
local Gestapo who had betrayed their country by being crueler
than the enemy and by sporting rimless Himmler glasses.
Years later Broremann met a docker in Hamburg who had spent
five war years in his town. They drank together and declared
it had been a peaceful war.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Under The Washington Elm, Cambridge
APRIL 27,1861
EIGHTY years have passed, and more,
Since under the brave old tree
Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore
They would follow the sign their banners bore,
And fight till the land was free.
Half of their work was done,
Half is left to do,--
Cambridge, and Concord, and Lexington!
When the battle is fought and won,
What shall be told of you?
Hark!--'t is the south-wind moans,--
Who are the martyrs down?
Ah, the marrow was true in your children's bones
That sprinkled with blood the cursed stones
Of the murder-haunted town!
What if the storm-clouds blow?
What if the green leaves fall?
Better the crashing tempest's throe
Than the army of worms that gnawed below;
Trample them one and all!
Then, when the battle is won,
And the land from traitors free,
Our children shall tell of the strife begun
When Liberty's second April sun
Was bright on our brave old tree!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I studied German at school. I lived in Berlin for two years and had a German girlfriend for five years, so I don't find speaking German particularly difficult. Singing was slightly more difficult.
quote by Martin Gore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Irish Guards
1918
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so young at our trade,
For we had the honour at Fontenoy
Of meeting the Guards' Brigade.
'Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare,
And Lee that led us then,
And after a hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Old Days! The wild geese are flighting,
Head to fhe sform as they faced if before !
For where there are Irish there's bound to be fighting,
And when there's no fighting, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
The fashion's all for khaki now,
But once through France we went
Full-dressed in scarlet Army cloth,
The English-left at Ghent.
They're fighting on our side to-day
But, before they changed their clothes,
The half of Europe knew our fame,
As all of Ireland knows!
Old Days! The wild geese are flying,
Head to the sform as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's memory undying,
And when we forget, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
From Barry Wood to Gouzeaucourt,
From Boyne to Pilkem Ridge,
The ancient days come back no more
Than water under the bridge.
But the bridge it stands and the water runs
As red as yesterday,
And the Irish move to the sound of the guns
Like salmon to the sea.
Old Days! The wild geese are ranging,
Head to fhe storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish their hearts are unchanging,
And when they are changed, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so new in the ring,
For we carried our packs with Marshal Saxe
When Louis was our King.
But Douglas Haig's our Marshal now
And we're King George's men,
And after one hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Ah, France! And did we stand by you,
When life was made splendid with gifts and rewards?
Ah, France! And will we deny you
In the hour of your agony, Mother of Swords?
Old Days! The wild geese are flighing,
Head to the storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's loving and fighting
And when we stop either, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pilot Can At The Queer Of God
Oh god
Has she always lived here?
(I think she has)
Oh god
Has she always looked like that?
(I think she has)
Oh god
God, has she forgot me?
(I think she has)
Oh god
Has she joined the army?
(I think she has)
Oh god
Has she left here?
(I think she has)
In her grown up years
In her pilot years
(yes she has)
Like she came from outerspace
Oh god
Has she turned queer?
(yes she has)
In her grown up years
In a pilot dream
(yes she has)
Like she came from outer space
And now shes got helicopters
(yes she has)
Repeat 5 times
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I retire to make way for an abler man. In my four years as attorney general I have aged about ten years, but when I have get back to the practice of law, I hope to show those lawyers that I still have some vitality left.
quote by Alexander Henry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dear Motherland Of France
DEDICATED TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF FRANCE
Our Motherland, dear Motherland,
The source of beauty and of Art,
Who but thy children understand
The love which permeates each heart!
We see, through rainbow-tints of tears,
Thy glory of a thousand years.
O country of the Great and Free,
We live for thee, we live for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
O Motherland, both blithe and brave,
What magic lies in thy name-France!
Yet can thy radiant mien be grave,
And stern thy ever-smiling glance.
And when thy sons and daughters know
That enemies would lay thee low
And dim thy fame on land and sea,
We fight for thee, we fight for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
Dear Motherland of joy and mirth,
Dear Motherland of faith divine,
A thousand years the wondering earth
Has seen thy star in splendour shine.
Still shall it see that star of France
Its splendour and its light enhance.
Dear Motherland, when it need be
We die for thee, we die for thee,
Dear Motherland of France.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: My Mother in Old-age
Octogenarian now, how well she writes,
My mother to me still, in her own hand!
The Scriptures, good advice, how well she cites!
Her old-aged pen serves like a fairy’s wand!
She has been doing thus for years and years;
Though old-aged, by sheer will-power she lives;
Tho’ slightly deaf and blocked by wax, her ears;
Her eyes see well! What advice she just gives!
Her only plea to me was to write back;
I used to visit her often, not now;
Of keeping children good, she had the knack;
She is my mother great who has such love.
God give her health of body, mind, I pray;
Indeed, she is my mother sweet, I say.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Caught Between Two Guys
Tell me tell me tell me,
Tell me what to do.
Cause I’m lost I’m lost I’m lost,
And don’t know what to do.
Two great guys, one great girl,
And they ask me to choose.
One’s left for the army two years ago,
He’s coming home and wants to have another go.
I’m lost I'm lost I'm lost,
And don’t know what to do.
The other’s been a great friend.
He’s always been there,
And promised to be until the end.
Tell me tell me tell me,
Tell me what to do.
Cause I’m lost I’m lost I’m lost,
And don’t know what to do.
Two great guys, one great girl,
And they ask me to choose.
I’ve loved one for years,
And years still to come.
While the other it’s been two year,
And yes, I guess I’ve missed him some.
Do I turn left?
Do I turn right?
Or do I go strain on my own?
Do I take the hand of the army brave?
Or the one whose road is already paved?
Tell me tell me tell me,
Tell me what to do.
Cause I’m lost I’m lost I’m lost,
And don’t know what to do.
Two great guys, one great girl,
And they ask me to choose.
copyright 2007
poem by Jess Schwarcz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Seeing A Photograph
A photo of an ageing face stirs an old memory
He is plainly not a shadow of the man he used to be
His balding head is hoary gray his hair it was dark brown
When we played football as teenagers in the park in our Hometown.
He was a sprightly youth back then two years younger than I
On looking back the decades the years just seemed to fly
He played football worked in the fields and walked miles every day
But like me he seems the worst for wear the years have left us gray.
Perhaps we would be strangers now if by chance we did meet
We might not recognize each other in passing on the street
We age a little every day time of us all takes care
And leaves us looking in the end the very worst for wear.
A photograph of one I knew from many years ago
And he has aged as I have aged time on us all does show
We played football together when we were near to our life's prime
But in the end we all lose out to ageless father time.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm April the seventh
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with drops of rain beating my heart away
with drops of wine dried in my mouth
and tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
sitting in the dark room
after a head over heal night
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a scarf around my neck
and high heels on my feet
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a book I'm about to read
a cigarette I am about to smoke
and the tango I've just danced
it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart
it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a kiss left on my left hand
feet shuffling all along the floor
and the tango I've just danced
all tinkling across my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Years Go By
Tell me how the years go by
Its been a long long time
Tell me how your plans fell through
And how you changed your mind
Tell me bout the hearts you broke
How many have you known
Tell me how the years went by
And left you all alone
Tell me dear
I want to hear
bout the lost and wasted years
Tell me when now tell me why
Tell me how the years go by
Tell me how the years go by
Like borrowed dancing shoes
That gather dust beneath your ned
Mislaid and seldom used
Like a heart that haunts a phone booth
On a corner far from home
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Close your eyes
Tell me what do you see
Its an imperfect world
Still we dream perfect dreams
Its no big surprise when were down on our knees
Truth isnt always what we will believe.
Tell me how the years go by
In seasons at your door
And how the things you left me for
Dont matter anymore
Tell me how the more we learn
The more we leave unknown
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Alone
Close your eyes (x3)
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Remembering Titanic 100 Years
The tale couldn't have been written better
Like a great novel that really happened
Uncertainness in unknowable future
The spirit of end left a mind opened
The magnificence of the ship to match
Scale only by the folly of people
Who drove in hell through the darkness then switch
More lives of unthinkable possible
A detailed timeline of the ship's few days
A timeline of the last night of their life
Blossoming romance tragedy always
Hits a unconscious dream with a luck wife
The juxtaposition of rich and poor
The gender roles played out into the door
March 30,2012 Hormish Garden of Toronto 10: 00-12: 00 am
Highlights of Titanic
Long as three football fields
Tall as 11-story building
Room for 2,500 and more passengers
April 10,1912: Noon - Titanic leaves, Southamption, England
April 10: 6: 30 pm - Titanic stops in Cherbourg, France
April 11: 11: 30 am -Titanic stops in Queenstown, Ireland
April 11-April 14 -Titanic travels toward New York.
April 14: 11: 40 pm - Titanic strikes iceberg
April 15: 00: 25 am - Passengers(women & children first) begin to be loaded into lifeboats
April 15：2: 20 am - Titanic sinks
April 15: 4: 10 am - Carpathia reaches first lifeboat of survivors
April 15 - April 18 - Carpathia sails toward New York
April 18：9: 00 pm - survivors arrive in New York
Much of the planning of Titanic was done by a man named Thomas Andrews
The captain of the Titanic was Edward Smith who had sailed for nearly 40 years and was planning to retire after the Titanic's first voyage
One of the richest men in the world who named John Jacob Astor was on his way home from his honeymoon in Europe and Egypt with his new wife Madeleine
The captain of the Carpathia was Arthur Rostron who was headed from New York to the Mediterranean Sea. In all,706 people were rescued by the Carpathia, over 1,500 had been lost
poem by Hormish Woo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
German Hamburg E-Coli Outbreak
locally grown bean sprouts have been identified as likely cause
an alert is issued sent out immediately warning people to stop
eating sprouts in mixed salads agriculture ministry has warned
of local German source for Hamburg outbreak just makes sense
after all Hamburg was E-Coli outbreak origin point epicenter...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Frequent Microscoping
They do not wish to be held accountable,
For anything they did...
Two weeks ago.
Not one of them accepts or expects,
Their lack of responsibility...
To follow them as a blemish,
The rest of their lives.
On the other hand...
Every detail of my childhood,
From preschool years...
Until I left high school years ago,
Is there to remind everyone...
Of my imperfections!
With a frequent microscoping of my deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Young William And Young April
Young William and young April
Met in the park one day.
Young William said to April,
'Why did you come this way? '
Young April said to William,
'I thought I might see you.'
Young William, then to April,
'It's funny, what you do.'
Young April gave to William
A sweet, young childhood kiss.
Young William said to April,
'Don't bother me like this.'
Young April stood in silence,
Not knowing what to do.
Then young William turned away.
Young April, torn in two.
Young William said, 'Don't follow me.'
Away from her he fled.
April then, sat down and cried,
And wished that she was dead.
William never came again.
At least, for many years.
Fearful that young April still,
Might be there shedding tears.
William walked the park again.
It seemed just like before.
Wondering if he might see her.
Young April, there once more.
Young William never noticed.
The roses hid it well.
The place they found Young April.
The place she used to dwell.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!