It was a small provincial place with great people and I had a happy childhood growing up in Queens.
quote by Fran Drescher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smalltown
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
You say, no one famous ever came from here
When youre growing up in a small town
And youre having a nervous breakdown
And you think that youll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live
Where did picasso come from
Theres no michelangelo coming from pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
Im the part sinking below
When youre growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes, gay and fatty
People look at you funny
When youre in a small town
My father worked in construction
Its not something for which Im suited
Oh, what is something for which you are suited
Getting out of here
I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in new york city
As this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go
Im no dali coming from pittsburgh
No adorable lisping capote
My hero, oh, do you think I could meet him
Id camp out at his front door
There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out
When youre growing up in a small town
You know youll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town
You hate it and youll know you have to leave
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
Five
Feeling lousy is seeing this lady laughing
She does her thing with confidence like she
Knows everything; what to do with this
Matter called
Everything,
She knows her place and claims it as hers,
She tells you, you are never like her doing so well
In fame,
Glory, and
Honor,
She has her circle of friends, a nice reliable computer
And an internet facility
To get her on top
On top of shape, on top of everything,
Yes, this everything,
Which she has control of,
And feeling so lousy, I wish how I can be like her,
This great woman of everything
But then, I wonder, I have my place, where she can never be,
This lowly place, this small space she detests,
This is mine, I am small,
This small place I have
Where she can never be
And I own this,
Enough for me,
I am happy.
And, oh well, I do not like everything,
Too big to handle and
I know
I would be unhappy by then.
I simply like myself being small.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feeling lousy
Feeling lousy is seeing this lady laughing
She does her thing with confidence like she
Knows everything; what to do with this
Matter called
Everything,
She knows her place and claims it as hers,
She tells you, you are never like her doing so well
In fame,
Glory, and
Honor,
She has her circle of friends, a nice reliable computer
And an internet facility
To get her on top
On top of shape, on top of everything,
Yes, this everything,
Which she has control of,
And feeling so lousy, I wish how I can be like her,
This great woman of everything
But then, I wonder, I have my place, where she can never be,
This lowly place, this small space she detests,
This is mine, I am small,
This small place I have
Where she can never be
And I own this,
Enough for me,
I am happy.
And, oh well, I do not like everything,
Too big to handle and
I know
I would be unhappy by then.
I simply like myself being small.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quebec Death With Dignity Oct 21st,2012
Our biggest breach of justice was the Sue Rodriguez case,
When all normal Canadians got a pompous slap in the face,
Denied death with dignity; no matter what your cancer disease,
It might be a provincial issue if Pauline says 'Please.'
Pauline Marois, premier of Quebec, wants death with dignity,
But she has a minority government, so can't get finicky,
And we live in a land where less than half the people vote,
Where Charter of Rights and democracy may run on remote.
Pauline Marois is the only premier that can get their attention,
True enough, she might cause some federal-provincial tension,
But death with dignity should be part of all provincial health events,
And provincial politicians should not bow down and relent.
poem by James Bredin
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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We are very grateful for what the Ontario provincial government is doing, and for cooperation from provincial and local police forces all across Canada.
quote by Paul Cellucci
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There’s something in the rain
There’s something in the rain
that makes my plants jump
and there are beans
growing in a row in stools
and tomatoes that stand around in small bushes
and beetroot everywhere
and there are carrots
growing between the other vegetables
and onions pushing out fingers
like grasses,
but the spinach
fills the whole place
and at the end of the garden
there’s parsley coming out in places.
At times I wonder if the Creator
is also as happy and excited
about His earth
and if everything
makes a impact in his heart
and I see the wonders
of His magnificent works
in the world around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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0007 Rilke on Solitude
If you notice that solitude is great,
rejoice because of this.
For what would solitude be
that had no greatness? There is
but one solitude, and that is great,
and not easy to bear,
and to almost everybody come hours
when they would gladly erxchange it for any sort of intercourse,
however banal and cheap; with the first comer,
with the unworthiest...
but perhaps those are the very hours
when solitude grows, for
its growing is as painful as the growing of boys
and sad as the beginning of springtimes.
To be solitary, the way one was solitary as a child,
when the grownups went around involved with things
that seemed important and big
because they themselves looked so busy
and because one comprehended nothing of their doings.
Be close to things; they will not desert you;
there are the nights still
and the winds that go through the trees
and across many lands;
among things and with the animals
everything is still full of happening
in which you may participate;
and children are still the way you were as a child,
sad like that and happy,
- and if you think of your childhood
you live among them again.
(Abstracted from Rilke's letters to a young poet)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Sunshine Estate
There is a place which I have created
It is fictional, it is mine
Called Sunshine Estate
In this place, everyone is happy
People who hurt people do not exist
So no one is hurt
In this place, everyone is simple
People who create drama do not exist
So there is never any
In this place, everyone is normal
People do not judge
So prejudice does not exist
In this place, the sun always shines
Even when it rains
So there is still a rainbow
In Sunshine Estate
Everything and everyone is perfect
and Everyone is happy
pity its just a place of my imagination
poem by Tahlia Hilton
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Happy Everything
I'd love to wish you,
'happy everything',
I want to kiss you,
'bless everything'
I need to sing,
'Happy everything'
I want to shout,
'Happy everything', to you
The sun is out,
bright blue is the sky.
nothing out of place, were all gonna try
'Happy everything'
People sing.......'Happy everything'
The priest chant..'Happy everything'
The kids cry........'Happy everything'
Everyone wants..'Happy everything'
Everything is happy,
we are all so glad.
Everything is happy,
please don't be so sad.
poem by David Darbyshire
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Sameness They Only Embrace
The wealthiest person in the place far from financial renown
And the poorest one is very poor in the poor Country Town
Where everyone knows everyone your business not your own
And even family secrets by everyone else known.
This not a Town for migrants not many migrants live here
The locals do not embrace difference that's how it does appear
But of course there are exceptions though their type in the minority
Who speak out for the fair go in a place of cultural poverty.
Not a place of great commerce and few evolved thinkers live here
In the pubs they talk of work and football between spells of guzzling beer
They feel happy in their sameness it is difference they do fear
Though quite knowledgeable in football and their football heroes they revere.
A small rural Town in the country a few hours drive from anywhere
A place of a small population where many things in common they do share
The people with a fondness for sameness and sameness they only embrace
And if to them you have different interests amongst them you feel out of place.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sure, my childhood was unusual. All these eccentric, wild people frequented our home: rock stars, drag queens, models, bikers, freaks. But I was not this little rich girl. My mom and I lived in an apartment.
quote by Liv Tyler
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Childhood Memories
Childhood memories are often steeped in mystery.
The older we get the memories exclude
sometimes things we might find painful as we journeyed on.
I tried to visualise my childhood as a happy one,
though I know in my heart it was a very much lonely one.
Not only was I shy, but I never mixed very well.
I spent so much of my time nearly always on my own.
The only exciting time I can remember
was one summer I spent with friends of my father
whom I referred to as Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim.
For the two months I spent with them
in a small town called Allison
hold some of the best memories of my childhood.
It was away from my parents
and into someone’s house that cared.
I went fishing every day
in the stream at the end of the garden,
made many friends
and had one of the most enjoyable times
of my childhood
that will always live within me.
5-6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Childhood lost
Lost was my childhood.
Taken from around me from bastards who hurt me.
They were happy playing their games.
Maybe becuase it gave them fame.
All it gave me was pain.
My childhood was lost.
It was taken from me by bastards like you.
As A little girl I was always angry the teachers would say.
If only they knew the truth.
If only they knew why I had so much anger.
It was becuase my childhood was being taken from me.
I never could trust people well after that 9 times.
I hate all of you 5 bastards.
You stole my childhood.
Now later on as I grow older.
It affects me still.
I'm still angry.
My anger has never gone away.
All becuase my childhood was lost too you
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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When I Was A Child
when I was a child
so very small
so very young
so very long ago
I had a few
very small wishes
I wanted to
leave this world
a little better
than I found it
I wanted to
be less sinning
than I was
sinned against
I wanted to
give God a good
life witness
from my heart
I wanted to help
people not realizing
many wanted to help
themselves unjustly
very small wishes
so easy to perceive
in innocent childhood years
so hard to lifetime complete
I am glad I kept
my innocence
much longer
than most children
growing up today
I am glad I lived
in an age of values
less are proud to affirm
I am glad truth
was born in my heart
for it is truly better
to give than to receive
I am glad and I smile
because it is to some uncool
but I am still in many ways
that simple childish fool.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Right Thing
Let others probe the mystery if they can.
Time-harried prisoners of Shall and Will-
The right thing happens to the happy man.
The bird flies out, the bird flies back again;
The hill becomes the valley, and is still;
Let others delve that mystery if they can.
God bless the roots!-Body and soul are one!
The small become the great, the great the small;
The right thing happens to the happy man.
Child of the dark, he can out leap the sun,
His being single, and that being all:
The right thing happens to the happy man.
Or he sits still, a solid figure when
The self-destructive shake the common wall;
Takes to himself what mystery he can,
And, praising change as the slow night comes on,
Wills what he would, surrendering his will
Till mystery is no more: No more he can.
The right thing happens to the happy man.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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The Land where I was Born
HAVE you ever been down to my countree
Where the trees are green and tall?
The days are long and the heavens are high,
But the people there are small.
There is no work there; it is always play;
The sun is sweet in the morn;
But a thousand dark things walk at night
In the land where I was born.
Have you ever been down to my countree
Where the birds made happy Spring?
The parrots screamed from the honey-trees,
And the jays hopped chattering.
Strange were the ways of the water-birds
In the brown swamps, night and morn;
I knew the roads they had in the reeds
In the land where I was born.
Have you ever been down to my countree?
Have you ridden the horses there?
They had silver manes, and we made them prance
And plunge and gallop and rear.
We were knights of the olden time,
When the old chain-mail was worn:
The swords would flash and the helmets crash
In the land where I was born.
Have you ever been down to my countree?
It was full of smiling queens:
They had flaxen hair, they were white and fair,
But they never reached their teens.
Their shoes were small and their dreams were tall:
Wonderful frocks were worn;
But the queens all strayed from the place we played,
In the land where I was born.
I know you have been to my countree
Though I never saw you there;
I know you have loved all things I have loved,
Flowery, sweet, and fair.
The days were long,—it was always play;
But we,—we were tired and worn;
They could not welcome us back again
To the land where I was born.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Growing Up In Public
Some people are into the power of power
The absolute corrupting power, that makes great men insane
While some people find their refreshment in action
The manipulation, encroachment and destruction of their inferiors
Growing up in public, growing up in public
Growing up in public, growing up in public with your pants down
Some people are into sadistic pleasures
They whet their desires and drool in your ears
Theyre quasi-effeminate characters in love with oral gratification
They edify your integrities, so they can play on your fears
Theyre gonna do you in public, cause youre growing up in public
Theyre gonna do it to you in public,
cause youre growing up in public with your pants down
Some people think being a man is unmanly
Some people think that the whole concepts a joke
But some people think being a man is the whole point
And then some people wish theyd never awoke
Up from a dream of nightmarish proportions
Down to a size neither regal nor calm
A prince hamlet caught the middle between reason and instinct
Caught in the middle with your pants down again
Caught in the middle, Im really caught in the middle
Im caught in the middle, caught in the middle deciding about you
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Used To Be My Playground
Chorus (first time without background vocals):
This used to be my playground [used to be]
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask
(Long and movie versions only:)
(chorus)
Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday [can't say goodbye]
(chorus)
No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday [the dream]
Those are words I'll never say [I'll never say]
This used to be my playground [used to be]
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy
(Short and movie versions only:)
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me
(Movie version only:)
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place
This used to be our playground [used to be]
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me
song performed by by Madonna from Something To Remember
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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