The oldest of the arts and the youngest of the professions.
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Hardly any human being is capable of pursuing two professions or two arts rightly.
We will not bend or fail until the blood of every last Jew from the youngest child to the oldest elder is spilt to redeem our land!
quote by Yasser Arafat
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My youngest son, who is now the drummer in my band, lives in Brooklyn. My oldest son is about to move out to California, and my daughters are both out of town.
quote by Herbie Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They've Come
Today my mother and sisters
came to see me.
I had been alone a long time
with my poems, my pride . . . almost nothing.
My sister---the oldest---is grown up,
is blondish. An elemental dream
goes through her eyes: I told the youngest
"Life is sweet. Everything bad comes to an end."
My mother smiled as those who understand souls
tend to do;
She placed two hands on my shoulders.
She's staring at me . . .
and tears spring from my eyes.
We ate together in the warmest room
of the house.
Spring sky . . . to see it
all the windows were opened.
And while we talked together quietly
of so much that is old and forgotten,
My sister---the youngest---interrupts:
"The swallows are flying by us."
poem by Alfonsina Storni
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Statue
My mother built this statue.
As I lay there scattered
across the floor.
Broken glass shattered
everywhere.
As I lay there helplessly
I begin to cry. Realizing I ruined my life,
trying to make my life as busy as
possible.
Neglecting my children saying the same thing
over, and over again.
My oldest as stubborn as a mule.
Middle child as crabby as a piranha.
My youngest as sensitive as a rusty nail that someone stepped on.
Screening there calls,
so I don’t have to deal with them.
Come home as tired as an old dog,
my youngest sitting on my bed waiting for my arrival.
I look at her and I know what she wants,
but I’m too tired to do anything.
See her tears in her eyes,
and my heart sinks.-
I know I’ve disappointed her,
knowing that her heart is dieing,
is making mine die more inside.
poem by Chantel Braatz
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Life To It's Fullest
Today is the
Oldest you've
Ever been
And the
Youngest you'll
Ever be again
So live life to
The fullest each
And every day
The time will
Come for worrying
But for now
Don't let life
Slip through your
Fingers and live
To regret the
Choices you
Didn't make
poem by Autumn Winds
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Just Because I'm the Youngest
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
Doesn't mean I can't do anything.
Doesn't mean i'm a spoiled brat.
Doesn't mean i'm a jerk.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
I'm not stuck up.
I'm not afraid to get hurt.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
Doesn't mean I can't be a tom'boy.
Doesn't mean I get what I want.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family~ let me be me.
poem by Ebil Parker
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Power and The Use Of It
Few come to know truth.
The power and the use of it.
With a significance that overrides...
Liars and their alibis.
And what hides behind their eyes...
What is there to be seen and/or isn't.
And that's why many folks foolishly lie!
Those that do not know,
Truth exposes...
The youngest and the oldest.
There is no discrimination.
Or affordable subdivisions.
Few come to know truth,
For what it is.
So many don't know,
What telling the truth gives.
But those who do know what truth is,
Live it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A City of The Old
A mature old man from the myth raised a question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth? . '
when you are old, you will understand more about hope.The city of the Old without hope is the city with lots of hope in the myth.
kitchen, bathroom, market, forest, stock-market, shares prices, bank accounts, logistics plus and minus; the archeology of the old men's skills on carrying travelling bags.
what is the difference between old-aged homes and theatres?
the tide is rising up.
what is your last words?
A sandwithed present moment between the past and the future
congested aesthetics
Buddha said, 'Human beings exist only for a moment'
for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment vfor a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment
where is your hope escaping?
Is this bank account important for you?
Is the kitchen important for you?
Is the bathroom important important for you?
The bathroom said, 'I clean it again and again and who is making dirty again and again?
Let's listen to the birthrooms' voices.
A mature old man from the myth raised a big question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth?
waling to the east and looking backwards,
this is the oldest myth on earth.
In ther city of the old, nothingness, autobiography, biography, courage, nurseries, paddy fields,
internet, goggle-earth and butterflies
old man in the myth, the myth in old man; old man in the city, the city in the old man
a matur, old man raised a infant question, 'who is the oldest poet on earth now? '
I saw the youngest poet on earth in Phenom Penh in 2004.
Still Young
A wrinkled man
Writing of his love that he longs to hold
Remembers he is still young
A women walking with a cane
To help her a long her retired ways
Remembers she is still young
The child holding on dearly
To his mother thinks
He is old
Why we believe that age really matters
Age is just a number
Youth is not a time of life it is a
State of mind
The oldest of men and the youngest of girls are all young
Just in different ways we might
Not know it yet
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Determined And Disciplined
I had been once told,
My advice given to those...
Wanting careers in the performing arts,
Was a bit too frightening, bleak and stark.
And would scare them away from the field.
Well,
My attitude about that is this...
If it is something desired one wishes,
They will find a way to do it regardless...
Of the opposition,
Seeking to diminish a mind determined and disciplined.
And those skating through creative professions,
Seeking the ease by which to pursue a dream...
Can do that to realize the heights of mediocrity.
However...
A greatness achieved takes a lot of hard work.
And very little sleep to give it life to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Oldest Baby In The World
Shes got the mind of a child
And a body peaking over the hill
Well, she would if she could
And she should but nobody will
With her nails painted red
And her hair so unnaturally curled
Well I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Shes tasted the night life
But its left her with nothing but hunger
And all the available men
Seem to think that they want something younger
But youth is a costume
And the beauty within lies unfurled
And I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Fast horses win races
And royal flushes beat aces
And everyones playing to keep
So lets turn out the lights
And rock that old baby to sleep
She loves the sound of the rain
But you know shes still afraid of the thunder
She keeps a head full of hope
And a heart thats so full of wonder
She may look like a woman
But shes still some daddys little girl
And I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
Yes, I think that she may be
The oldest baby in the world
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blame It On The Arabs
summer vacation!
i witness a wisp
of the american dream
he flung his youngest over the balcony
of the 15th floor of the high rise hotel
then he flung his oldest over
as she entered the room
he jumped
her next husband
will never hear
her bitching
about his driving
disney thrives
is this really america?
land of the free
is this really america?
home of the brave
all the ghosts have brain damage
and the prophets
are at the track
im stretched out in the back
of a '62 cadillac
me casa es su coacha
poem by Nat Z. Punx
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My 3 J's
My oldest son
Motherhood so new
I learn as he grows
My middle son
Motherhood a little easier
I learn as he grows
My youngest son
Motherhood a breeze
I learn as he grows
My 3 J's have made me a mother, mother - in - law and grandmother
With love and forgivness I have learned
Everything is new
Never a little eaiser
Not always a breeze
With my 3 J's
I continue to learn as they grow
poem by Sheila Cooper
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To me, the extraordinary aspect of martial arts lies in its simplicity. The easy way is also the right way, and martial arts is nothing at all special; the closer to the true way of martial arts, the less wastage of expression there is.
We're under the Arts Council under the Minister for the Arts. The Minister for the Arts and the Minister for Industrial Development have great difficulty in agreeing over who should fund what in terms of film.
quote by Ann Macbeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written in March
The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon:
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
poem by William Wordsworth
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A playwright in a lunatic asylum
The Psychiatrist read the script and said;
'I am your doctor my brothers and sisters.'
'It's a common saying and we too whispered the same line
When we're enrolled to this college.' A colleague interupts.
'But now we're almost cured' Someone muttered.
'What's your religion? ' Doctor inquired a patient
He tells; ' My Dad is a Strong Catholic and mother is a simple Buddhist,
Sister eloped with a Muslim and the youngest brother converted to Hindu.'
'Sorry you need my religion isn't it?
He wants to give me a scholarship to Harvard University it seems.'
My religion is Oxygen.'
'What, A new religion? '
'No doctor the oldest religion since the beginning and once that stopped
All the sages go to hell or Heaven who knows? '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Oldest Game Played
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
Initiating disturbances,
And claiming to be victimized...
Is decreasing in its effectiveness.
People finally are opening their eyes.
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
They begin with pretense to befriend someone.
Like the smile of a demon,
To ensure its welcome.
And then to make claims...
Of something despicable the innocent one has done,
To then defame and assassinate good character...
With a perception that success,
Is soon to be won!
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
Those 'Woe is me I don't know what happened' facades...
Are being stripped away for what they are.
Those who deceive and lie,
With pity party invitations...
Have devastated friendships and relationships,
Behind masqueraded false faces.
The oldest game played,
Is coming to an end.
And those who have played it,
Are being exposed for perpetuating them.
'Why would they lie like that?
Deceive and create conflict? '
~What is it that you have they might perceive,
As a value to them? ~
'Well...
Nothing I haven't with them shared.'
~They did not want it shared!
They wanted it theirs.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Oldest Profession
Dress in sequence, wearing shoes of pretense
The Oldest Profession glides into view
With devoted help from the media
It invades our minds with all kinds of lies under the guise of protection
It is my personal election
The Oldest Profession does not care how things are done
As long as it is number one
It’s not prejudice against anyone
Many times it’s disguised as fun
It travels from coast to coast
And has the audacity to boast about it’s conquest
Dressed in sequence wearing shoes of pretense
The Oldest Profession glides into view
Now it’s horrendous acts aren’t always behind closed doors
Our children are taught about them in folklores
We glorify the horrors as we sit n our parlors and sip tea
From our childhood and up
We’ve accepted this cup of deceit and we repeat it to our
Love ones
Now the name has been changed to protect the game
But we the people are hip what’s going on
We know this profession does not belong in existence
This profession has destroyed life
Promoted chaos and strife
One thing it has never had and never will have, silence
The Oldest Profession in the world is not prostitution
It is Violence
poem by Josephine DixonBanks
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