Maybe you're right, boss. It all depends on the way you look at it. Look, one day I had gone to a little village. An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. 'What, grandad' I exclaimed. 'Planting an almond tree' and he, bent as he was, turned round and said, 'My son, I carry on as if I should never die.' I replied, 'And I carry on as if I was going to die any minute.' Which of us was right, boss
quote by Nikos Kazantzakis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Boss Of Me
Yes, no, maybe
I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair, so I just stare at the stain on the wall where
The TV'd been, but ever since we've moved in it's been empty
Why I, why I'm in this room
There is no point explaining
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is a test, but I confess
I like this mess I've made so far
Grade on a curve and you'll observe
I'm right below the horizon
Yes, no, maybe, I don't know
Can you repeat the question?
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big
Life is unfair
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I said to the almond tree, "Friend, speak to me of God," and the almond tree blossomed.
Nikos Kazantzakis in Report to Greco (1961), translated by Peter A. Bien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Whites Of The Almond Tree
THE WHITES OF THE ALMOND TREE
The whites of the almond tree
A shiver down my spine-
The golds and greens,
Olive and pine,
Joy for the eyes-
God Bless the world Outside-
Saint- Simon Park,
Jerusalem Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rather mulberry than almond. (The almond-tree is in blossom earlier than the mulberry.)
Loan Shark's Secretary
She writes on a piece of paper; My Boss is a multi-millionaire
Though he's never been to a school.
Boss questioned her 'What do you write honey'
'I am writing about you sir' Secretary replied.
'Then read it louder' Boss said.
'My Boss knows the secret of success than a learned person.'
When she gets her pay slip the following month she found it has been increased more than a double.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Da Bo$$ Would Like To See You
typed by: [email protected]
Dizzle fizzle! Da bizzle! (Boss!)
Tha bling! Tha bling! (Ah ah ah!) [echoes]
Yeah... Uh uh
It's 2002 [echoes]... And whatchu gon' do? (whatchu gon' do?)
I'ma boss up... Ironically speakin' (uh), or it is generally speakin'...
I'm the ambassador, better yet, the PROFESSOR, of G-OLOGY (of G-ology...)
Just bossin' up right now...
Uh uh... Tha Boss would like to see ya (yeah... yeah)
Tha Boss would like to see ya
Bugsy! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Gotti! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Capone! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Soprano! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
DOGGY! First Black with a casino! (Ah ah)
Tha Boss would like to see ya (who me?)
Yeah, I ain't takin' orders no more (Huh-uh!)
Boss Boss... [echoes]
Uh.. I'm tha Boss (ahh!)
It's my house (my house), and I (and I) leave here (yeah, I'm tha Boss)
It's my house (my house), and I (and I) leave here...
Tha Boss would like to see ya (who?)
Bugsy! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Gotti! Tha Boss would like to see ya... (who? who?)
Capone! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
Soprano! Tha Boss would like to see ya...
DOGGY! Fist Black with a casino (ah ah!)
Boss, boss, boss, boss, boss, boss... [echoes til end]
song performed by by Snoop Dogg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Almond Tree
This snowy cold December morning
the pen
is full of almond branches, leaves
and black gnarled twigs covered
with white blossoms
the scent of that tree is intoxicating
for here on the real earth,
such trees do not ripen,
nor bear the fruit of that tree.
As children our first movement is to sing joyous songs,
innocent voices, filling mountains and dales with arias.
As adults our first movement is toward joy,
yet we give it away, venting full expression
to a gloomy tho not unfamiliar view of life.
once delighted with the world as children
now the world is in a tangle,
for opened eyes have seen only the glow of fires,
massacres, injustices, humiliations,
and the unrelenting shame
of braggarts and despots.
I look at the pen, it's branches, twigs, leaves
now covered, with cherry blossoms
and breathe in the intoxicating scent of that tree
knowing full well such a tree does not grow in dirt
nor can humanity cut down that tree.
That tree does not desire to save
nations or people
heal the sick,
raise the dead,
connive with politicians,
nor change drunkards and fools
with songs of hope...
The only goal is this, only this
that I see and smell the almond tree,
learn to look with love,
heal this heart,
without knowing from various ills-
for that almond tree says to me: Friend
stand in the glow of ripeness with me
not knowing what purpose served.
Through worm filled tufts
in that sweet garden
that almond tree raises it's eyes
and every blossom
enjoys the air it breathes
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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041010b When Routine Change
i talked to my friend who just retired
he was very eager to know what, where,
how everybody is doing this time of year
we talk for a good thirty minutes, he is
keeping himself busy planting spring
veggies, fixing the fence, cleaning yard
he can't remember how young i am
he keep asking me when i will retire
or he wants me to be like him, maybe
i sense he wants to come back to work
retirement has left a void in his life
for one thing, he is not boss anymore
poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boss Man
Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man turn it around
If you dont look away how can I sit down
Look at this load upon my back
Gotta get this wheel back on the track
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no
Holes in my pockets and holes in my shoes
If youre ready for me Im ready for you
The company plan takes all my pay
Got a child in july and another last may
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Push your face down in the coal
cause you got no heart you got no soul
Country lifes the life for me
In ten more years Ill a pensioner be
The younger lad knows when the girls are out
But you might say hes a rural sprout
Boss man boss man what do ya say
Gonna get you alone in the mine some day
Boss man boss man clear the track
Youre gonna tear the skin right offa my back
Boss man, boss man what do ya say
If you cant lend a hand then get outta my way
Itll be murder in the first degree
If you ever lay your hands on me
Boss man boss man pay my rent
A dollar Ive earned is a dollar Ive spent
The company plan takes all my check
For breakin my back and riskin my neck
Boss man boss man what do ya say
I gotta get you alone in the mine some day
I cant hold on but I cant let go
And I cant say yes I cant say no
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Camomile Tea
Outside the sky is light with stars;
There's a hollow roaring from the sea.
And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.
How little I thought, a year ago,
In the horrible cottage upon the Lee
That he and I should be sitting so
And sipping a cup of camomile tea.
Light as feathers the witches fly,
The horn of the moon is plain to see;
By a firefly under a jonquil flower
A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.
We might be fifty, we might be five,
So snug, so compact, so wise are we!
Under the kitchen-table leg
My knee is pressing against his knee.
Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,
The tap is dripping peacefully;
The saucepan shadows on the wall
Are black and round and plain to see.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry me on
Carry me on to the forest whose face is
aglow in light.
I put down golden words
in the raptness of lovely green
with pure conviction I see the reflection of every
standing tree on wild streams
Carry me on to the forest with a
moonlight-rinsed face, to the cootage of peace
where every moment is enriched by sweet
chirping of birds
I place the footprints of murderous men
on every humble tree
Carry me on to the depth of dense forests
I plant one tall tree of love-laden heart
on the flowing breast of every travelling river
I tear off fruitless human blandishings
Carry me on to the eternal free forest,
to the erect trees growing in a slope
I look for pollens of every season in
every tree which donot know how to stoop down
I sculpture on every tree symbols of
futile human pride
Carry me on.
Translated from the Assamese by Pradip Khataniar
poem by Prem Narayan Nath
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Shake The Tree
Id love to take this lying down
But the world we know has lost its crown
All night talk n jazz cigarettes
Is never gonna change this killer town
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Round the corner comes salvation
Made to order is what you found
Why oh why do we fool ourselves
Is it just the need to carry on
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Shake the tree you find
Shake dont cut it down
Glamour takes its toll on you
Throw away whats out of view
Pearls of wisdom hang around your neck
They warm to the touch of your perfect skin
High, high, high, high
High, high, high, high
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To carry on
Shake the tree you find
Shake dont cut it down
Shake the tree you find
(I see her walking in perfect time)
Shake dont cut it down
(she gives me reason)
To carry on
I see her walking
In perfect time
She gives me reason
To never say die
I see her walking
In perfect time (shake)
She gives me reason (the tree you find)
To never say die
Shake the tree you find
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The roman soldier
The Roman Soldier
It was late evening, when walking along the walls of
the ancient city of Chester, I saw him, the old centurion,
he stood alone dreaming of retirement, the land and
slaves he had been promised when he joined the army.
He and his kind was hated here, in his own beloved land
the almond tree stood in ornate regalia whishing spring
welcome by strewing a carpet of flowers on its path.
He didn’t see the two terrorists sneak up on him, when
he did it was too late, and slowed by age he was knifed
repeatedly. I think they must have sensed my presence,
looking my way they stopped, jumped over the parapet
and vanished. I held the centurion’s hands, he opened
his brown eyes, a brave little smile, and said: “Guess
I shan’t see the flowering of the almond tree this year.”
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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Ode to Rheynette
My friend who was slain by those who oppose peace in our coutry
Under the shade of the Water mount, stood
A tree that was planted and watered of God
It grew to a size that Cedars would envy
And more so in beauty and splendor strength
The tree in the wind would stand as a rock
Even in water and flood
And in it and on it and round it would flock
The weary the burdened and sick and the restless
The ones in need of the work of The Blood
The tree would give comfort
The tree did give peace
For the tree was a planting, a working of Him
It often was seen waving and smiling
Inspired by the Breeze
Moving the branches with the greatest of ease
The village and townsmen and leaders oft choose
To sit in the shade and let hair loose
A drink or a biscuit a cake or a meal
Seemed sweeter and warmer and pleasant by the bark
Which also kept carved secrets safe in the dark
Selah
Now rejoicing and singing and crying they came
To witness the Keeper of forest and plain
Put ax to the tree and bring it down low
And form from this gentle, choicest off wood
A living and shining more glorious tree
Eternal in garden
By Her dear Forrester there she then stood
Soli Deo Gloria
poem by Werner Horne
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Discontent
Winter of discontentment
I fear my almond tree has bloomed too early, a few good days,
it and I thought it was spring. Cold wind, they may die before
the flowers are ready to shed their petals and pretend its snow.
We are both stalwarts, when I first came here it was but
a sapling. I have a fire roaring and the dog no one looks after
is sleeping on the chair near the fire. Weather bad I didn’t have
the heart to leave it outside. I’m not prince Charles I don’t talk
to trees, but I do give it a friendly slap on its trunk if no one is
looking. I’m a sucker for down and outs, today I bought a chicken
dinner for the Roma woman who begs outside the supermarket.
A guard came and told me I mustn’t feed them, like they should
be some sort of animals. I love my almond tree it reminds me
of mother when she was sick and old, but beautiful in her frailty.
There was little I could do only tell of my love for her.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Job Interview
Boss lady: Tommy you got Id? ,
Tommyizzle: Hold on let me check,
Boss lady: Now I know you new,
Tommyizzle: What you mean new?
Boss lady: New at job hunting,
Tommyizzle: Now hold up (Never New) !
Boss lady: Tell you what,
Tommyizzle: What?
Boss lady: Will let you have a job,
Tommyizzle: How?
Boss lady: if you fill this out,
Tommyizzle: ok but that's ten dollars,
Boss lady: Ain't I paying you? ,
Tommyizzle: Yeah but you know,
Boss lady: I'm not your woman (But a Boss lady)
Tommyizzle: Ok
poem by Tommy Laster
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Aftermath
'The Tree Still Stands! '
Exclaimed the boy clasping his hands
To his Father who was walking the rear,
And to his Grandfather who was nowhere near.
For happy was He.
For standing there so straight and tall
Was the tree whose limbs He crawled
And the branches from which He played,
And the root where His head once laid.
And the many leaves.
Now the Father whom hearing His Son
Came to his side in a moment run
Then He stopped; for the tree He saw
Then the Father just stood in awe,
And uttered; 'my old friend'.
For standing there was His friend
From which before His youth was spent
By climbing and playing games,
And hiding under, from the cold and rain.
And the wind.
Then the Grandfather came strolling up
And He paused, in a moment hush
To reflect to a different year
When He was a Child, and He cried a tear.
And He clasped His hands.
For he was then again a Child
And then again He cried and smiled,
For He remembered His Father and He,
And how together they planted a tree.
And it still stands.
'Thank GOD the tree still stands! '
Cried the Grandfather clasping His hands.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Big Boss Man
(words & music by smith - dixon)
Big boss man, cant you hear me when I call?
Big boss man, cant you hear me when I call?
Cant you hear me when I call?
Well you aint so big, you know youre just tall thats all, all right
Well you got me workin boss man
Workin round the clock
I wanna little drink of water
But you wont let big al stop
Big boss man now cant you hear me when I call? all right
I said you aint so big, you know youre just tall thats all
Big boss man, why cant you hear me when I call? all right
You know you aint so big, I said youre just tall thats all, all right
Im gonna get me a boss man
One whos gonna treat me right
I work hard in the day time
Rest easy at night
Big boss man, cant you hear me when I call? cant you hear me when I call?
I said you aint so big, youre just tall thats all
Im gonna get me a boss man
One thats gonna treat me right
I work hard in the evenin
Rest easy at night
Big boss man, big boss man, cant you hear me when I call?
I said you aint so big, youre just tall thats all
All right, big boss man
Its all right
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Sunset
Pour the eyes, crystal soul
Venus radiant, tears of wax
The skin listens exquisite, the roots.
Drying out on the green valley
Draw by the river monsoon
Carry by flutes in the air
Citing, misleading
Planting pressed cracks.
In the pots, boiling soft
Pink sunset at the back door
A young olive tree whisper
The autumn night, warm like calm rain
poem by Luca Menin
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Southern California
how i wish to say:
'You are so beautiful
Southern California...
i see
In Southern California
the wine makers
Planting their grapes
in their fields '
but i have never been
to Southern California
and i would be lying
if not bluffing to say
the same,
but let me (see) er, SAY:
Barangay Dos, Katipunan
You are so beautiful to me
the muscled arms of
Filipino farmers are plowing
the brown muddy fields
while the women bow down
wearing their buri hats
planting the rice......
i am watching them
under a tree
the wind blows
on my luxury.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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