It is almost possible to predict one or two days in advance, within a rather broad range of probability, what the weather is going to be; it is even thought that it will not be impossible to publish daily forecasts, which would be very useful to soci.
quote by Antoine Lavoisier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Weather's Wet!
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
I wish I could just stay in bed,
But I must go to work today,
I'm safe beneath the warm duvet,
Not thinking ‘bout the day ahead,
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
If only I could stay away,
I'd rather be at home instead,
But I must go to work today,
"Get up, get out, and earn your pay! "
A little voice screams in my head.
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
A normal British summer's day,
With forecasts of more rain ahead,
But I must go to work today,
I wish there were another way,
In which to earn my daily bread,
The weather's wet, and skies are grey,
But I must go to work today.
poem by Graeme Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unrealistic Are These Wishes
Some seek a pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow...
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
And...
Others seek clouds lined,
With silver to behold.
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
Nothing is impossible to believe.
Or...
Too impossible to receive.
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
Some seek a pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow...
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
And...
Others seek clouds lined,
With silver to behold.
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
Yet...
Kept are unrealistic wishes.
Nothing is impossible to believe.
Or...
Too impossible to receive.
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
And...
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
Some seek a pot of gold,
At the end of a rainbow...
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict.
And...
Others seek clouds lined,
With silver to behold.
But,
Unrealistic are these wishes to predict,
For...
Anyone who's not a wisher!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Send it to someone who can publish it. And if they won't publish it, send it to someone else who can publish it! And keep sending it! Of course, if no one will publish it, at that point you might want to think about doing something other than writing.
quote by Robert B. Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is a broad range of reaction to the work, as there is a broad range of work I make.
quote by Jim Hodges
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Social Isobars
I think they should do weather forecasts,
for heavy social-pressure:
who's talking to whom,
and who is under the weather.
It would be much nicer,
under sunny summer skies.
The only time we celebrate,
is when someone dies.
So come on, rouse yourself,
and ease the social chill.
Don't just take a sip,
or dropp the simple pill.
Talk to your neighbour,
tell him or her a yarn.
Just remember -
it's the social cloth we darn.
poem by Daniel Norton Smith
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We need to have as broad a range as possible, because life itself has that kind of range.
quote by John Eaton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Weather Report
When
the weatherman
tells
you
it might rain
it might not rain
He says
the sun will shine
but it might as well not shine
There is
a probability
he says
Too many variables
involved
When
he says
there is
a thunderstorm
You're pretty
sure
about a storm
somewhere
But just look
out your window
to make
sure
it is there
What good
is
a weather report
if you have to see
for yourself?
It's better not
to walk out your door
If you depend
on the weather
out there
poem by Cesar Nascimento
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I won't predict anything historic. But nothing is impossible.
quote by Michael Phelps
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Recently Found Lost Piece
The days between Saturdays
are too many and too long.
I cherish my Saturdays and Sundays,
but they seem to fly by too soon.
I need them to go as slowly
as those other days.
Those other days - are work days.
And, if you take note,
they seem to drag on and one -
and for the most part,
the weather is quite pleasant.
My weekend days
are meant for fun and relaxation -
but where did the pleasant weather go?
No one wants, needs, or appreciates
the foul weather that waits
for the weekend to happen.
Impossible
If they had ever told me how sweet a kiss could be
I would have said impossible, impossible for me
And if they said Id find you beyond the rainbows end
I would have said impossible, impossible, my friend
To dream about what might have been
Is strange enough for me
But now it seems Im living in
A dream too beautiful to be
If they had said a moonbeam could calm a stormy sea
I would have said impossible but now at last I see
That nothing is impossible if you are here with me
I would have said impossible but now at last I see
That nothing is impossible if you are here with me
song performed by by Nat King Cole, music by Steve Allen, lyrics by Steve Allen (1956)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The probability of life originating from accident is comparable to the probability of the unabridged dictionary resulting from an explosion in a printing shop.
quote by Edwin Conklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Knows
Each day the dawn rises
and the sun begins to shine,
but what if one day
there was no sun no more
and the skies remain black.
The world would become cold
and life would fade away.
The human race would then know
its judgement day.
Scientists predict that day
is a long way off
and we will never see it in our lifetime.
No one can predict what tomorrow will bring,
nor can we predict when the sun will ever die.
We all hope it will be never,
but really, who knows?
25 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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It is impossible to predict the time and progress of revolution. It is governed by its own more or less mysterious laws.
quote by Vladimir Lenin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kabul Weather Forecast
Weather Forecast in Kabul.
Rain in Kabul, the weather woman on TV said.
and I wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
Slippery roads and confused drones, what do
I know? Perhaps the rain is just what the poppy
fields need right now. Weather forecast on T. V
is pure entertainment, all respectable channels
have a person with a map who looks confident
when trying to predict the tomorrow. Danish
bomber pilots listen to weather forecast too,
will there be sun over Libya? Kaddafi hasn’t any
more planes left, we are now bombing his tanks.
No-fly –zone? I didn’t know tanks could fly. Rain
in Chad, that’s sad, they like Kaddafi he has been
helpful to this poor country. Never mind all that
he’s a despot and so says all of us.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The current understanding was that it was impossible to predict how something would evolve because it was a very turbulent environment full of things interacting with each other.
quote by Kevin Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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k
't was nineteen ninety something
the end of a century a re-do re-new
bright through millennium piercing
ages ages long creeds into broad brands 'k
we thought would never end
broken slips into the land of Thai
on tip of a holiday never brought any weather with
said nothing no word no eye no nothing at all
no weather at all just climates on the ice caps
sea stones and ice for a winter too cold for a 'k
thought of sort of broken news the breaking hearts
marching lines for a re-do re-new re-done trilogies
prologues epilogues maximes tombstones empty signs
stand stripped and astray deep sorrow hooded
who on top of what whenever understood
all the ways of all the aches 'k
did you
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Michael Crichton
Michael Crichton would be dismayed
to read about his pirate days.
Poor Michael, there is worse in store.
They plan to publish at least one more.
When living, Michael published much
and proved to have the Midas touch.
No matter, Michael, that you’re gone
Your bibliography still goes on.
When Authors pay the boatman’s fee
Their fans crave more, quite naturally.
No Shakespeare lover could refuse
To give “Cardenio” rave reviews.
And when Jim Croce breathed no more
He “sang” on for a decade more.
But stuff that Authors didn’t publish
could prove to be unworthy rubbish.
(And some that sees the light of day
Might have been better hid away)
So if there’s work on your hard drive
You wouldn’t publish if alive
Dear Authors I do you entreat
When in extremis, press “delete”
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In matters of truth the fact that you don't want to publish something is, nine times out of ten, a proof that you ought to publish it.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impossible Dreamer
The street was loud
From an angry crowd and
I thought of you, I thought of you
Dreamer
Land of the free
No hungry bellies
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And in the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
The moon was bright
Like day for night
And I thought of you
I thought of you
Dreamer
No acid rain
Love without pain
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And at the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
The room was dark
And full of sharks
And I thought of you
I thought of you
Dreamer
Give peace a chance
Dont think just dance
Impossible
Impossible dreamer
In the darkest part of the night
Blue shadows conjure you
And at the brightest height of the daylight
Sometimes I blink cause I think I see you
Dreaming like you do
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Give Me A Cowboy Poet
48 minutes since I met him
48 seconds he took to decide
He went down on one knee
And asked me to be his bride.
48 days to our wedding
He with that glint in his eyes
He was a big beefy feller
That filled all my desires.
He wore a big hat and spurs
Had leggins of fringed leather
He rode 48 hours on the range
And was happy in all kinds of weather.
His life was done his body tired
I stroked his weather beaten face
48 years we'd been married
Now he's done with this earthly place.
Just give me a cowboy poet
So I can start a brand new day
48 Loved ones gathered round
As the good Lord took him away.
poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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