From our broadcasting box you can't see any grass at all. It is simply a carpet of humanity.
quote by Richie Benaud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Ballad of the Carpet Bag
Ho! Darkies, don't you hear dose voters cryin'
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get to de Poll, you must get there flyin';
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel by de road, you must travel by de train,
And the things what you've done you will have to explain,
And the things what you've promised, you must promise 'em again.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must pack up a volume of Coghlan's Figures,
Pack dat carpet bag!
And a lot o' little jokes to amuse those niggers.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must wheedle all de gals with a twinkle of your eye,
You must bob down your head when de eggs begin to fly.
Oh! those eggs what they're saving, and they'll throw 'em by and by.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get upon a stump, you must practise speakin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must follow Georgie Reid or Alfred Deakin.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must come to de scratch, or you're bound to fail,
For it ain't any time to be sittin' on de rail,
Or de votes that you'll get -- they won't keep you out o' jail.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
And supposin' that you're beat, and you feel like cryin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must hustle back to work -- just to keep from dyin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel second-class when you travel by de train,
For you haven't got a pass on de end of your chain,
While the other fellow's packing for de great campaign.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seemed like everything I tried to do in broadcasting and as a player before that turned out successfully. I was succeeding. I got to the top of the heap in every facet of broadcasting.
quote by Pat Summerall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Which is supposed to mean they're doing something in their broadcasting they would not do is they were simply out to maximize profit; if they were really public service institutions, not purely profit maximizing institutions.
quote by Robert McChesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dress of Snow
“Dress of snow”
In a snow covered coffin
Her remains were laid to rest
Her god created a snow blanket
For one of his best
She lived a life so pure
Always thinking of others
Now a carpet of snow lay
For the mother of mothers
Not walking on a carpet of red
Her carpet was just right for her
A carpet of pure driven snow
Just as pure as her
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Season’s Carpet
I sat on a bench,
and watched the autumn leave fall.
A gentle breeze would shake them loose,
until they drifted to the ground.
Soon there is a carpet of leaves,
red, yellow and brown,
dancing with the wind
inches above the ground.
Another season ending,
as the autumn leave come drift down.
Winter would soon be here,
with another carpet grand.
This one would be a carpet white with snow,
and would stretch right across the land.
Another carpet for another season
would soon be close at hand.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.
quote by Helen Keller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simply Living / California Grass
Fields of dark green grass
Getting sunburned in the summer.
The green turns brown, then
Bleached white gold.
The Spring brings rain;
The smell of new life
The gold turns green again
Its life seems brand new.
Grass lives so simply,
Changing with the weather.
Too bad that's not true
For people like me and you.
Simply living seems so much better
Than the way people do.
poem by Tom O'Connor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaves in the Autumn
Speading its crunchy carpet
To replace green grass
haiku by Jyoti Sunit Chaudhary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Underdog And The Stranger
sometimes we simply have to be vulnerable
to be mortal
and it happens when we extend a hand and let the other feel
that your hands are real
with blood and veins and flesh and bones
that when someone gets a sharp knife and slices your wrist
you bleed real blood
because you are not a ghost, a virtual image of somebody else,
because you are not a mannequin or wood,
or someone else appearing in another person's name
vulnerability is humanity, it happens when you walk alone and you
wear your face without a mask, a veil, a hat, a head dress,
it happens when you expose yourself
to someone and you tell him that you are lonely and you need a friend
that the weather is cold and that you need someone to be with
simply to talk without any self-interest at all
then someone laughs at you and even tells that if you keep
following him he will kick you in the ass
that there is simply no possibility of a connection between a hand to another hand
anymore
vulnerability is when you finally accept that other people are strangers too
and they do not have time for any other intrusion
for another stranger like me
vulnerability is simply letting the other person know that you have no other name except your name that you have no other reserved spare tire for
yourself except yourself
that you are yourself and that you are hurt is vulnerability
but that is not the end of it all
vulnerability is also realizing that you are finally human
and that you have learned to live with this humanity
despite the strangeness and the weakness
as others keep the wall within themselves
fortifying fences and excluding
others till the end of night
till another day
and another
night
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the world's audience hall, the simple blade of grass sits on the same carpet with the sunbeams, and the stars of midnight.
quote by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark tempest
slip on a rock in
a moss carpet.
The daring edelweiss
among the grass swords.
tanka by Cornelia Atanasiu from Caligrafiile clipei (1999), translated by Magdalena Dale
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My view is quite simple. When your dog pees on the carpet, you do not give away your dog. You say, This dog is special. I have to teach him not to pee on the carpet. I feel exactly the same way about men. They need to be taught things.
quote by Jacqueline Bisset
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prosperity to humanity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
I brought to you
Love and solidarity
Peace and harmony
Kings go to war
And humanity fall
But i brought prosperity to humanity
So why then should you curse me
Instead of blessing me
I need you to love me
For it is prosperity
I brought to humanity
It power and glory to humanity
Accountability and transparency
A higher levity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
poem by Matt Ancient
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Simply grass....! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Grass is very pretty;
But it’s not simply grass,
Or just stuff of lawns.
If you go up and close,
You see a world
Of flowers, waiting
To be discovered.
Grass flowers keep a low profile;
Their colour, height not loud
To scream from far off…
But as I sit on grass
On a humid day, As Sun goes down
West in May,
Or at mid-noon in December
On an icy cold day;
Somehow they remind me
Of a six month old,
Who first learns to crawl
And raises his neck and turns
To make eye contact
With his mom.
The innocence writ large
On their face
Is their unique scent.
Although not effervescent;
Yet timid… by no means.
What if they grow under trees?
Or wherever they get
To assert themselves.
They deserve applause for
Holding their own
On frail stems.
They arrest my gaze,
And I feel more than certain
God is in small details.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Perfect Day
Through a field of early summer grass
we walked holding hands,
stopping only to smile and kiss;
love was easy to understand.
We talked of our love for each other
on this perfect warm sunny day.
It was as if we were in another world
and life was beautiful this way.
We laughed and aimlessly wandered
then stopped, and passionately kissed.
A deep feeling of desire came upon us
and we didn’t want to resist.
A carpet of untouched grass beckoned,
the most perfect place to be found.
Away from watchers and prying eyes
we made naked love on the ground.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is nothing fantastic or ultradimansional about crab grass... unless you are an sf writer, in which case pretty soon you are viewing crab grass with suspicion. What are it's real motives And who sent it here in the first place It only looks like crab grass. That's what they want us to think it is. One day the crab grass suit will fall off and their true identity will be revealed. By then the Pentagon will be full of crab grass and it'll be too late. The crab grass, or what we took to be crab grass, will dictate terms.
quote by Philip K. Dick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do some broadcasting and speaking as well.
quote by Chuck Daly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opportunities are often missed because we are broadcasting when we should be listening.
The Wild Hills
Fly me across the wild hills in autumn,
With soft amber shades, brown, russet and brick,
Peach, copper and bronze all blending together,
A carpet of sadness, in this sight so tragic.
Fly me across the wild hills in winter,
With amethyst shades, puce, purple and grey,
Blue, ebony and pewter, all fusing together,
A carpet of starkness, in this scene of decay.
Fly me across the wild hills in springtime,
With pale emerald shades, sage, olive and lime,
White, yellow and silver, all mingling together,
A carpet of lushness, in this new view sublime.
Fly me across the wild hills in summer,
With magenta bright shades, pink, dark mauve and red,
Lemon, orange and gold all in harmony together,
A carpet of richness, in this panorama spread.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What kind of god?
What would we want with a god of no mystery
A god so simply contained
Within the limits of human history?
Why would we want
A god we could handle
What good would that be?
If we were able
We'd simply manipulate this god
To serve the greater needs of 'me'.
But, where then
- filled with an empty faith in ourselves -
Would we stand?
With only our egos
Above the clouds
And our heads in the sand.
What god
- of all we suppose -
Could possibly be,
Enough god
To fulfill the deep desire
Of insatiable humanity?
Only one the need fits
Beyond our ability
To own and fully know,
Tis the same that
We shall never master
Nor control.
This kind of god
Mysteriously in others we can see,
The kind of God
With a captial 'G'.
'Those who have not been told shall see, those who have not heard shall ponder it.'
- Isaiah.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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