If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.
quote by Abigail Van Buren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you want a place in the sun, you have to expect a few blisters.
quote by Loretta Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandpa Danie Brand
When at sixteen
he had to survive in the field
many times he was hungry
he was delivered to the sun,
the wind and rain
and at times were half frozen,
but he took shots at Englishmen
(who burned their farm to the ground)
past when his gun barrel
were glowing white-hot
and burnt blisters on his hands
and those blisters
became open wounds
as he kept firing
and as a child
I saw those scars
and he was a man
who served God
and gave his tithe
and took good care of his workers,
but he could not tolerate an Englishman.
Still there’s something of him in me
to stand against
the oppression of my people
until it ends.
[Reference: Second Anglo-Boer war.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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He who burns his posteriors must sit on blisters.
Another Day In Paradise
She calls out to the man on the street
sir, can you help me?
Its cold and Ive nowhere to sleep,
Is there somewhere you can tell me?
He walks on, doesnt look back
He pretends he cant hear her
Starts to whistle as he crosses the street
Seems embarrassed to be there
Oh think twice, its another day for
You and me in paradise
Oh think twice, its just another day for you,
You and me in paradise
She calls out to the man on the street
He can see shes been crying
Shes got blisters on the soles of her feet
Cant walk but shes trying
Oh think twice...
Oh lord, is there nothing more anybody can do
Oh lord, there must be something you can say
You can tell from the lines on her face
You can see that shes been there
Probably been moved on from every place
cos she didnt fit in there
Oh think twice...
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being constantly with children was like wearing a pair of shoes that were expensive and too small. She couldn't bear to throw them out, but they gave her blisters.
quote by Beryl Bainbridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I remember in the early days when we played six nights a week for a month and I was doing my long drum solo every night. My hands were covered in blisters.
quote by John Bonham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light
The light, it flickers
Your light, travelling down so deep
Illumination
I have been cold, I have been blind
You have come to change my mind
I can put my faith in you
The light, it blisters
Your light, coming down so bright
Transformation
Turn it up, give me some room to grow
Turn it up, give me that sense to know
I have been cold, I have been blind
You were sent to change my mind
I can put my faith in you
For something ordinary
It's so extraordinary
I trust, I put my faith in you
In you
In you, in you
In you, in you
The light, it glitters
Your light, when I stand this close
It's almost blinding
Turn it up, give me some room to grow
Turn it up, give me the sense to know
I have been changed, I have become
I am flame, I am sun
I'm the reflection of you
For something ordinary
It's so extraordinary
I trust, I put my faith in you
In you
In you, in you
In you, in you
In you, you, you
For something ordinary
It's so extraordinary
I just, I put my faith in you
In you
In you, in you
In you, you, you
It flickers
It blisters
It glitters
In you, in you
In you, you, you
You are
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Portrait in Georgia
Hair-braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes-fagots,
Lips-old scars, or the first red blisters,
Breath-the last sweet scent of cane,
And her slim body, white as the ash
of black flesh after flame.
poem by Jean Toomer
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Portrait in Georgia
Hair--braided chestnut,
coiled like a lyncher's rope,
Eyes--fagots,
Lips--old scars, or the first red blisters,
Breath--the last sweet scent of cane,
And her slim body, white as the ash
of black flesh after flame.
poem by Jean Toomer
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My son now is 22 months old, he's been playing since he was 12 months old and he gets standing ovations on the drums. He's been with us since he was 10 weeks old, he's been on the drums. He's got blisters on his fingers before he can even talk.
Tattoo
Some people might say that I am a prude
Because of my body, and it is not tattooed,
But I am no animal, and no ones property or slave
So having myself marked, that I do not crave,
My body indeed is a piece of art
Not a road sign to stop, or go, or where to park,
My body is the way that it was when I was born
And if I want decorations, colorful clothes will be worn,
I look in a mirror and I see myself
With the cuts and burns and blisters and all else,
There is no markings on my body that I will be ashamed
And all that I have, pridefully it will be claimed,
I do not need a tattoo to express who I am
And if you don't accept my views, I don't give a damn,
I will not allow any person to place any inking upon my skin
As I know for myself and soul that is just a sin,
I am proud of my body with no shame or any guilt
With no tattoos or markings I am the temple that GOD built,
I am not a showoff or braggart or a follower which is true
That is why this man, will never have a tattoo.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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It's Summer
It’s summer.
Dogs barking in closed cars.
It’s summer.
Blisters from your new sandals.
It’s summer.
Flabby asses eating their shorts.
It’s summer.
poem by Jane Brunton
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Same Place, Same Time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
The coffee’s hot
And the company is good
Conversation flows, as it should
A joke or two
And when all is said and done
We’re right back to where we begun
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
These crowded streets
I balance tight roped on the curb
Car screeches past, a scream is heard
De ja vu
Yes I’ve been here before
Time moves slowly as traffic stalls
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Break
It was good
You were sublime
I’m so glad that we spent the time
Time is short
What we have is rare
Love is oxygen with you there
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Copyright 2006 (updated 2010)
poem by Colin Coplin
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Working Up A Sweat
Aw, When you touch there, honey
Makes my blood perspire
You got my body flaming
Like a California fire
Pulsing, pounding, pushing
No longer in control
Heatwave in my brain
Smolder in my soul
You got me workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Spontaneous combustion
Scientific fact
But your approach to friction
An unnatural act
Bells I hear ain't fire drills
I hope you understand
It's a bona fide five alarmer
Melting in my hand
You got me workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Yeah, yeah
I've been playing all night long
'Bout time I was gettin' home
But I've, ooh
Dante's famed inferno
Was a trip to hell and back
But you and a bottle in a cheap hotel
Screams pyromaniac
Bandages came off today
Really feeling sick
The hardest part's explainin'
All those blisters on my - nose!
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
'Bout time I was gettin' home
But I've, ooh
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Assurances
How far could I walk,
how many a mile
if I knew you would be there?
As many steps as I could take
over hills and stones alike.
And it would be a glorious hike
if I knew you would be there.
I would not mind the blisters.
I would not feel the pain.
I would welcome all of it
if I knew you would be there.
But there are no assurances
that my travel and travails,
that I would gladly bear
would have me find you there.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Place
There is a place
In my heart that still dances
A place in my soul that sings
- And sings, and dances and dances -
A place so deep, so set
A place that even the mundane drudgery
The routine day-to-day
Can not kill
A place so close, so distant
A place that was, and is yet to come
A place where belief originates and lives
The birth place of
The most human humanity
The most divine divinity
A place where
Majesty, mystery and magic still speak
A place of all origins.
Some will not hear it any longer.
But, I still listen...
Waiting... hoping... trusting...believing...
The Place... is real.
It's way out there - it's everywhere...
It is ever within.
This Place... is my place.
It has called to me by name
Since the day of birth,
It's name is simple and profound;
I call him
Jesus.
He calls me
'My child.'
It's to him we go.
It's for us he came.
He is where I belong.
I am always on the Way
To the Place
Where he is.
The Place... home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Definition of happiness
ITS A place we have all been to:
a place were difficulties are forgotten
were only joyful events are certain
its a place you cant go to everyday
when you get there not long enough you can stay
a place safe and secure
a shield that deflects any bad thing that could accrue
a place were poise and pride are not neglected
a place were negative thoughts, ideas are not selected
a place far away from here
a place that does not recognize fear
a place that needs along time to get to
yet you arrive and forget any negative thing you have been through
a place that effects so deep
a place were you cant fall asleep
a place that does not exist
yet we have all been there I still insist
a place that’s not defined as a dream or a fantasy
a place that is only called happiness and ecstasy
Yet it is the most beautiful place
where sound of laughter and shape of smile race
on ones face like it would be in grace
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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I'll send the feather from my Hat!
687
I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows—but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket—worn by faded Child—
Confronting eyes long—comforted—
Blisters the Adamant!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Generations
I awoke to a threat that was empty, and a grandstand of Im not through with you yet
A slamming door becomes my punctuation
I escape for a thrill ride with my friends, they agree to be temporary guardians
Man, its so appreciated, summer day intoxicated
With those who can relate, 2 months, a day, a wakeup
Drink it down, dear brother, their generation smothers you
And well leave no trail to discover
Build a callus sister, theyre generation blisters
Another wakeup with the morning hung over, we gonna pack up or waste another killer day
Then our heads exploded, overload when we decide
Hello... were so out of here, hitchhike to canada with backpacks full of cigarettes and beer
Man, its so appreciated, summer day intoxicated
With those who can relate, 2 months, a day, a wakeup
Drink it down, dear brother..
Listen up dear father, your generation bothers me and Ill leave you to grieve
With my mother
Build a callus sister, theyre generation blisters
Now empty your bottles and open the throttles, theres plenty of fighting ahead
Those fists werent made for resting your head
Shield your eyes, dear mother, from the pain that hovers
Round the mess of a man youve uncovered
Drink it down, dear brother...
Well blister
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blame
Iced is my heart, where the wind fades to grey - Infamous to black is my shadow, always clawing to my back - Scars which blisters the walls in my mind - My writs, cut beyond the pain in time - The light to the tunnel, awaiting of a promise into the end, unseen - The noise, the demons voice flakes the flames - Burning the answers of my sin, i am the one, i am to blame.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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