The glacier was God's great plough set at work ages ago to grind, furrow, and knead over, as it were, the surface of the earth.
quote by Louis Agassiz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Grind
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
I can bend in sixty-eight ways
I have lived for twelve thousand days
Twenty-eight teeth inside my head
Grind three types of things and I'm sad that they're dead
Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind, Grind
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Furrow
An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
For the young horse and the young lad, they're needed yonder now -
The horse, so young and mettled he scarce had known the rein,
That shook his feathered fetlocks and tossed his streaming mane -
The lad that used to drive him, so strong and straight and tall,
That dressed him fine with ribbons and groomed him in the stall.
Ah, there as here, old Captain, we know, both I and you,
He'll drive a straight furrow as he always used to do!
The clods before the ploughshare fall heavily apart,
But never a clod among them so heavy as my heart -
To smell the clean earth breaking and the kind country smells,
And think o' the stink and reek there, and the bursting o' the shells.
An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
And the young horse and the young lad . . . how fare they yonder now?
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Evening Hymn In The Hovels
'WE sow the fertile seed and then we reap it;
We thresh the golden grain; we knead the bread.
Others that eat are glad. In store they keep it,
While we hunger outside with hearts like lead.
Hallelujah!
'We hew the stone and saw it, rear the city.
Others inhabit there in pleasant ease.
We have no thing to ask of them save pity,
No answer they to give but what they please.
Hallelujah!
'Is it for ever, fathers, say, and mothers,
That we must toil and never know the light?
Is it for ever, sisters, say, and brothers,
That they must grind us dead here in the night?
Hallelujah!
'O we who sow, reap, knead, shall we not also
Have strength and pleasure of the food we make?
O we who hew, build, deck, shall we not also
The happiness that we have given partake?
Hallelujah!'
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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The Plougher
Sunset and silence! A man: around him earth savage, earth broken;
Beside him two horses -- a plough!
Earth savage, earth broken, the brutes, the dawn man there in the sunset,
And the Plough that is twin to the Sword, that is founder of cities!
"Brute-tamer, plough-maker, earth-breaker! Can'st hear? There are ages
between us.
Is it praying you are as you stand there alone in the sunset?
"Surely our sky-born gods can be naught to you, earth child and earth
master?
Surely your thoughts are of Pan, or of Wotan, or Dana?
"Yet why give thoughts to the gods? Has Pan led your brutes where they
stumble?
Has Dana numbed pain of the child-bed, or Wotan put hands to your plough?
"What matter your foolish reply! O man, standing lone and bowed earthward,
Your task is a day near its close. Give thanks to the night-given God."
.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Slowly the darkness falls, the broken lands blend with the savage;
The brute-tamer stands by the brutes, a head's breadth only above them.
A head's breadth? Ay, but therein is hell's depth, and the height up to
heaven,
And the thrones of the gods and their halls, their chariots, purples, and
splendors.
poem by Padraic Colum
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To plough a straight furrow, never look back.
The Mill
WINDING and grinding
Round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
Ask not if neighbor
Grind great or small:
Spare not your labor,
Grind your wheat all.
Winding and grinding round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding should never stand still.
Winding and grinding
Work through the day,
Grief never minding--
Grind it away!
What though tears dropping
Rust as they fall?
Have no wheel stopping--
Work comforts all.
Winding and grinding round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding should never stand still.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Mister Rock Of Ages
Mister rock of ages you got time on your hands
Got no worries, got no plans
Bless my soul now youre doin fine
You aint got no axe to grind
Rock of ages tell me where does it stand
Are we bound for the promised land
Bless my soul, I aint ready to die
And my future is in your hands
Mister rock of ages youve been goin on strong
Since time began, til time is done
And so the tide shall run
Mister rock of ages tell me what do you see
Are we bound for eternity
Bless my soul, baby youre doin fine
You aint got no axe to grind
Rock of ages youve got nothing to hide
Got no ego, got no pride
Bless my soul, let me do what I can
For my future is in your hands
Mister rock of ages, the lord of my lease
In times of toil and times of peace
Until my song shall cease
Mister rock of ages, Im a part of you now
I am yours, you belong to be
Bless my soul, let me do what I can
For my future is in your hands
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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California
Blonde haired baby standing by the road
A pistol in her hand and talking on the phone
Said go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Sidewalk gazing diamonds in the sky
Silent movie gods are flashing in your eye
Said go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Lon chaney calling
Spelling out your name
Where everybody's different
But they're all the same
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
You are perfect you are insane
We love to watch you break from the pain
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Hit the lights and
Strip down on the floor
Everybody hates you
But they want some more
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to california
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to california
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Go To) California
Blonde haired baby standing by the road
A pistol in her hand and talking on the phone
Said go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Sidewalk gazing diamonds in the sky
Silent movie Gods are flashing in your eye
Said go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Lon Chaney calling
Spelling out your name
Where everybody's different
But they're all the same
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
You are perfect you are insane
We love to watch you break from the pain
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Hit the lights and
Strip down on the floor
Everybody hates you
But they want some more
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to California
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to California
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mute Marriages
Mute marriages:
the ten-ton block of ice
obstructing the throat, the heart,
the red filter of the liver,
the clogged life.
It is a glacier
in which frozen children swim
ground round with boulders,
pebbles, bits of stone
from other ice ages.
Here a lapis glitters,
here a shard of bottle glass-
valuables & junk:
the history of a house
told in its garbage cans,
the history of a life
in its nightmares.
Speak the dream.
Follow the red thread
of the images.
Defrost the glacier
with the live heat
of your breath,
propelled by the heart's
explosion.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Ages
I am coming out of dark ages
And I lived half way through my life
Also I got my hand dirty in the mud a long time ago
I did it and got my tshirt and that job is over
I am coming out of dark ages
Because I spent most of my life in dark ages
And I saw so many dark skies while I went through my life in dark ages
I am coming ou of the dark ages
To help the children in their daily life
By teaching what is right and wrong
Because the children needs to learn what is right and wrong
So they don't became a criminal when they grew up
Because here on earrth are full of criminals already and we have more than What we can handle
I am coming out of the dark ages
To show my love to the children that lives here on the earth with us
I am coming out of the dark ages
Because I want to play with the children everyday here on the earth Because I know that I can make the children happy for once
poem by Aldo Kraas
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My father was a progressive farmer, and was always ready to lay aside an old plough if he could replace it with one better constructed for its work. All through life, I have ever been ready to buy a better plough.
quote by Andrew Taylor Still
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of the Wheat
We have sung the song of the droving days,
Of the march of the travelling sheep;
By silent stages and lonely ways
Thin, white battalions creep.
But the man who now by the land would thrive
Must his spurs to a plough-share beat.
Is there ever a man in the world alive
To sing the song of the Wheat!
It's west by south of the Great Divide
The grim grey plains run out,
Where the old flock-masters lived and died
In a ceaseless fight with drought.
Weary with waiting and hope deferred
They were ready to own defeat,
Till at last they heard the master-word—
And the master-word was Wheat.
Yarran and Myall and Box and Pine—
’Twas axe and fire for all;
They scarce could tarry to blaze the line
Or wait for the trees to fall,
Ere the team was yoked, and the gates flung wide,
And the dust of the horses’ feet
Rose up like a pillar of smoke to guide
The wonderful march of Wheat.
Furrow by furrow, and fold by fold,
The soil is turned on the plain;
Better than silver and better than gold
Is the surface-mine of the grain;
Better than cattle and better than sheep
In the fight with drought and heat;
For a streak of stubbornness, wide and deep,
Lies hid in a grain of Wheat.
When the stock is swept by the hand of fate,
Deep down in his bed of clay
The brave brown Wheat will lie and wait
For the resurrection day:
Lie hid while the whole world thinks him dead;
But the Spring-rain, soft and sweet,
Will over the steaming paddocks spread
The first green flush of the Wheat.
Green and amber and gold it grows
When the sun sinks late in the West;
And the breeze sweeps over the rippling rows
Where the quail and the skylark nest.
Mountain or river or shining star,
There’s never a sight can beat—
Away to the sky-line stretching far—
A sea of the ripening Wheat.
When the burning harvest sun sinks low,
And the shadows stretch on the plain,
The roaring strippers come and go
Like ships on a sea of grain;
Till the lurching, groaning waggons bear
Their tale of the load complete.
Of the world’s great work he has done his share
Who has gathered a crop of wheat.
Princes and Potentates and Czars,
They travel in regal state,
But old King Wheat has a thousand cars
For his trip to the water-gate;
And his thousand steamships breast the tide
And plough thro’ the wind and sleet
To the lands where the teeming millions bide
That say: “Thank God for Wheat!”
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A Sad State Of Freedom
You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
you are free to slave for others--
you are free to make the rich richer.
The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.
Your head bent as if half-cut from the nape,
your arms long, hanging,
your saunter about in your great freedom:
you're free
with the freedom of being unemployed.
You love your country
as the nearest, most precious thing to you.
But one day, for example,
they may endorse it over to America,
and you, too, with your great freedom--
you have the freedom to become an air-base.
You may proclaim that one must live
not as a tool, a number or a link
but as a human being--
then at once they handcuff your wrists.
You are free to be arrested, imprisoned
and even hanged.
There's neither an iron, wooden
nor a tulle curtain
in your life;
there's no need to choose freedom:
you are free.
But this kind of freedom
is a sad affair under the stars.
Translated by Taner Baybars
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Hated and Loved
Hated are the cruel of the ages,
Their emotions are stronger than stone and pages.
Hated are the young of the ages,
Where are endeavours, the support and fences?
Hated are the sportsmen of the ages
Who cancel their dreams and farmhouses.
Hated are the professions of the ages
That send messages.
Hated are men and women of the ages
Who work with people in the madhouses.
Hatred is a disease we conquered when love sustained us,
When love was cherished in absoluteness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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To The Husbandman
SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;
Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last.
Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding,
E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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My Father cuts a Furrow
My father cuts a furrow, true lines does he run,
My father cuts a furrow, no horses did he have,
My father cuts a furrow no fields, hills of grass,
My fathers furrows were wisdom,
This is what he had.
To his dying day his gait was straight and true,
My father was not a farmer, for the city,
All he knew.
As father cut his furrow, so does hit son, I am told,
The wisdom my Father passed on to lay dormant,
Many years, put on hold, not until the age of 78 did
I realize, not much time left, as I too was growing old,
So I write my poetry from my fathers wisdom,
That was willed to me, only way to have my stories told.
As father cut his furrow, so does his son, to pass
The wisdom, that was left from father,
God Bless his soul.
poem by Charles Garcia
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Le Grind
So u found me
Good, Im glad
This is prince
The cool of cools
Some of u may not know this
But some of u may know
Some of u may not want 2 know
We r here 2 do service
Please dont try 2 stop us
4 we come regardless
4 we r strong as we r intelligent
So come vibe with us
Welcome to the funk bible
The new testament
People get ready, nouveau dance here
All the girls and all the boys,
Get close, have no fear, (have no fear)
Were gonna do le grind yall
Got u where I want u
And girl its going 2 feel so good, (feel so good)
Up and down, up and down, on the beat yall
Like a pony would, pony would
Le grind
All the boys, grab a girl, get down on the floor
This funky beats gonna show u,
Gonna show u what your hips r made 4
Nouveau grind, come on (people)
People its much 2 late,
Its much 2 late 2 be shy
London, what does big ben say?
(time 2 do the grind)
No hear u say (time 2 do the grind)
Le grind
Baby, I gotcha where I wantcha,
Now I gotcha where I wantcha, wantcha
Ce soir, [la chantez], all night long (all night long)
Ce soir, [la chantez], all night long (all night long)
{{ french: tonight, sing it }}
Hey pretty mama, with the long hair
Is that your boyfriend?
Ha, I dont care
Cuz I can do, said I can do
Tricks he can never do
When I get naked, well see the real u
Am I getting thru? (grind)
I gotcha where I wantcha (baby)
Baby, baby
Piano man, put it where it feel good
Grind, grind, grind, grind
Le grind, grind, le grind, grind
This party, this party is gonna last all night
When I give the cue scream, alright?
Party (party)
Party (party)
U say it, party (party)
Clap your hands double time
All the boys say yeah yeah (yeah yeah)
All the girls say oh yeah (oh yeah)
Now all u others say hell yeah (hell yeah)
Too sexy, grind, grind
(not yet bonnie)
Grind, grind, grind, le grind
Grind, grind, le grind, oh ya
People, get ready, nouveau dance here
Girls and boys, get close, have no fear
(grind) doin the grind, doin the grind, in here
(put it where it feels good)
Hey yeah
I do believe that weve... truly touched on something... nouveau
(la la la la la la)
(la la la la la la)
Ooowww, cmon, am I in the right place? (la la la la la la la)
(dont move) (la la la la la la)
Ooh, r u sure baby? r u sure (la la la la la la)
Im in the right place? (la la la la la la la)
(dont move, dont move)
(grind, grind)
Cmon (grind, grind, grind, grind, grind, grind)
Girl put it where it feel good
(grind, grind, grind)
Not there, not there (grind, grind, grind, grind)
Put it where it feels good (grind, grind, grind, grind)
Slow down (grind)
Slammin
Le grind
Up and down, up and down, feels so good
Up and down, up and down, like a pony would
Up and down, up and down, feels so good
Up and down, up and down,
Like a pony would (like a pony would)
Like a pony would (like a pony would)
Like a pony would
Le grind
Uh, slammin
Grind, grind (serve it up, frankie)
Slammin
Put it where it feel good
Grind
People (get ready, people, noveau dance here)
(people, get ready, doin the grind)
(up in here, up in here)
People, get ready (grind, grind)
((frankie, how do u know...))
Le grind, grind
Grind
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Expectations
(eric carmen)
Seems everyday
Im gettin harder pressed
To find a reason to shave
Watchin the hours
Just slippin away
No motivation to get out of bed
And carry on the charade
Caught in a dream thats goin astray
Oh, all those great expectations
Seems they never work out, never work out
The way that I plan
All those great expectations
Why they never work out, never work out
I cant understand
And just when I think
That things are goin right
I get a call from l.a.
Sorry to say were changin your song
I try to reason
But I cant get through
Theyre gonna do it their way
What can I say
Theyve never been wrong
Oh, all those great expectations
Seems they never work out, never work out
The way that I plan
All those great expectations
Why they never work out, never work out
I cant understand
Life is just a game of chance
I think somebody said so
Sometimes you get a hula hoop
Sometimes you get an edsel
Oh, all those great expectations
Seems they never work out, never work out
The way that I plan
All those great expectations
Why they never work out, never work out
I cant understand
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whip
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fortune hunter
your uninterrupted lamp
has
torch light out the
parasite in their closet
like an erosion that called
the black pot of sacrifice of the perpetrator
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fervent farmer
your crude instrument
has
uprooted the unwanted ornament
in the vineyard
like locus waiting the planter
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The lean steward
you never sleep nor slumber
in the quest of monitoring the
offender in the field like Nigeria
EFCC punching out the beautiful criminals
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The no nonsense headmaster
with this
masquerade Cain whipping
the deaf prefect in the school of moral
The whip that caution the senior wife
is at the top of the roof for
YOU
poem by Samuel Abimbola Aladetan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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