En.Citatepedia^®.ro

It's just as sure a recipe for failure to have the right idea fifty years too soon as five years too late.

quote by J.R. Platt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I used to think that cyberspace was fifty years away. What I thought was fifty years away, was only ten years away. And what I thought was ten years away... it was already here. I just wasn't aware of it yet.

quote by Bruce Sterling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fifty Years Of Marriage

With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.

Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.

Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.

They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.

Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.

Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I Don't Think I Will Ever Learn To Be Humble

I don't think I will ever learn to be humble-
After so many years of rejection,
After so many failed efforts at publication,
After so much self- publication,
And in its wake
So little enthusiasm for my work,
After so much pushing of myself
And so little response to that pushing
After so much trying again and again
Over nearly fifty years,
I still write and attempt to push myself forward,
As if there still will come a vindication
A revelation and total transformation
In the way my work is seen-
It appears I will die then as a wannabe,
Still pushing still dreaming still believing
I should be what clearly I am not-
I will never learn to be humble-
I will carry to the grave
My own exaggerated idea of the worth
Of my work and the value of myself.
I will go down to the grave
The fool of my own dream
A lifelong failure.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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That Fifty Year Old Woman

That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.

Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.

A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.

The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.

That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.

That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.

poem by Daniel McCann
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Fifty Marbels

Fifty years of marbeles
Pulled from our jars
One by one
Shared with the love of each other
We've watched as the years melted away
Oh how it seemed like only yesterday
When things were all brand new
Now after these fifty years
Whats left in our jars
Are meant for us to renew
All the good times togather
With all those we met on the way
For when the jars go empty
On to the Lord
We'll spend our days

poem by David Kush
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Failure Is Not An Option, But It Is A Necessity Sometimes

no matter how you plan
there is always that possibility of a failure,
no one has control about
this necessity,

it is not an option to flunk,
you all worked hard for all those years
to earn the title and gain the trust
but not all will make it
some will have to take the bottom
of things
the failure of an endeavor
success cannot exist
without it
one cannot see God
without the
appearance of Evil
one cannot be strong
unless he had been
weak once
i cannot be divine
unless i start
from the bottom line
of my humanity,

if i can see clearly now
it was because i was blind for all those years.

move on, let not that failure
make you fail.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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English Jan

She still has her English accent the one known as English Jan
And she never was a mother nor a wife to any man
She ages without dyes or makeups her hair is silver gray
But do not say about her she has known a better day.

She migrated to Melbourne from Blackpool her Hometown by the Irish sea
When she was in her early twenties in nineteen fifty three
Fifty one years in Australia yet she remains undimmed by time
And more than forty years have passed since she was in her prime.

For forty years a school teacher her retirement she enjoy
And she will make the most of every day until the day she die
She plays bowls on a saturday and on sunday evening after eight
She socializes with her friends and always until late.

On sunday mornings at the Corner cafe she is one I always see
And she does always say hello and smile and wave at me
So down to earth and carefree and untainted by conceit
And one of those good people I feel happy for to meet

She does not use dyes or makeups and she ages in the natural way
And she is one of those nice people who makes a new friend every day
From the English Town of Blackpool by the cold Irish sea
She migrated to Melbourne in nineteen fifty three.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Ell Briddley

Ell Briddley she knows of the hard side of life
For many years she has been a battered wife
Her late husband Jake often bashed her and their only child Joe
He succumbed to cancer some five years ago.

Her twenty years of marriage one might say tough
And of marriage she feels she's had more than enough
The reason is not hard to understand why
That she will not give marriage another try.

At her husband's passing she did not shed tears
She feels her life with him were sad wasted years
Her son Joe is married in a distant town with a one year old son
And she feels quite proud of how well he has done.

Ell Briddley she is fifty seven years old
And for her years she is attractive to behold
To a few proposals of marriage she has said no
She is one who will not give marriage another go.

Ell Briddley is a happy woman today
And the single life seems to suit her okay
For falling for Jake she paid the bitter price
And now she will remain as single by choice.

poem by Francis Duggan
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0009 A palinode

and there was this one
which I was particularly proud of
where I thought I’d caught
just the right pace, then
the change of pace when
the poem goes deeper
and then the perfectly chosen metaphor
with a rallentando
which made it musical
and ended it just
knock-’em-flat
sheer poetry

then last night
I read your poems
for the first time in oh fifty years
and there it was
almost identical and
I realised where I’d got it from
and the part of me that
wasn’t bruised ego wept inwardly without naming any cause

and maybe when I’ve recovered
and demoted my poem in
the collected works of pride
I’ll marvel at the power of poetry even if yours not mine
which can lie low in the mind
for fifty years and not only that
but may well, and here we should be careful
but reflective, respectful even awed,
have subtly infinitesimally but significantly
like some homeopathic almost unquantifiable tincture,
altered my whole life. For fifty years.

now that’s something

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Perfect Pitch

I wish someone would accuse me,
Of stealing my creativity from them.
When I've been doing what I do...
For more than 'fifty' years!
Count them...
Not five, ten or twenty!
But FIFTY years.

'That's impossible!
How could that be?
You have 'yet' to leave your fourties! '

Well...er, uh.
You're right!
What am I thinking?
It just 'seems' as if I've been doing this...
For so very long.
At least...
Thirty anyway.

'Tell us the story about how you were breast feeding,
While your mother accompanied you on the piano...
As you sang Ave Maria.'

That was 'not' Ave Maria.
It was the First Noel.

And don't laugh!
I still pride myself for having perfect pitch!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Idea

I been thinking sitting on a pole.
I'm getting sick of doing what I'm told.
Just me and the mirror and my brain.
But that was when I got an idea.
Came like a gun and shot in my ear.
Don't you think it's time you got up and stood alone?

Fifteen years I lay down on the ground.
I couldn't feel any noise or hear any sound.
Fifteen million years I spent down the line.
But that was when I got an idea.
Came like a gun and shot in my ear.
Don't you think it's time you got up and stood alone?
Get up and stand alone

music

That was when I got an idea.
Came like a gun and shot in my ear.
Don't you think it's time you got up and stood alone?
Get up and stand alone.

That's when I got an idea (repeat and fade out)

song performed by by Bee Gees from Idea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cleverness is the self destruction.

Ordovician Era was extinct
some 450 million years ago.
Devonian Era was extinct
some 350 million years ago.
Late Triassic Era was extinct
some 190 million years ago.
For destruction and extinction
The cause is not elucidated.
I am sure the human is the cause
for the end of Late Cretaceous
Era,65 million years old.
What is the use of wisdom
and his conquest of the world
save that it hastens the end?
25.05.2001, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The electronic media introduced this idea to the larger audience very, very quickly. We spent years and years and years meeting with activists all over Europe to lay the groundwork for a political response, as we did here.

quote by Jeremy Rifkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Joe Murphy

When i was a Schoolboy Father Joe Murphy was a young man
I recall him and his Brothers Doney and the late Johnny Dan
And though of my existence he hardly would know
One cannot help but remember the great Father Joe.

Fifty five years as a priest something to celebrate
The man has been blessed in his great gift of faith
To his own higher self and to his god true
We must give him credit since credit he is due.

Devoted to his god by good example he lead
At living a good life one who does succeed
A credit to Millstreet and the pride of his clan
The great Father Joe is a wonderful man.

In this age of the cheapening values in life
With warring and famines and poverty rife
A story like Father Joe's a great story to hear
There's still hope for humanity it does appear.

Fifty five years a priest is something well worth a boast
To Father Joe Murphy we will drink a toast
He was in his prime years when i was quite young
And surely his praises deserve to be sung.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Our Times

Our Times

13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Next Thirty Years

(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Suicide

For fifty years,
Cruel, insatiable Old World.
You have punched me over the heart
Till you made me cough blood.
The few paltry things I gathered
You snatched out of my hands.
You have knocked the cup from my thirsty lips.
You have laughed at my hunger of body and soul.

You look at me now and think,
'He is still strong,
There ought to be twenty more years of good punching there.
At the end of that time he will be old and broken,
Not able to strike back,
But cringing and crying for leave
To live a little longer.'

Those twenty, pitiful, extra years
Would please you more than the fifty past,
Would they not, Old World?
Well, I hold them up before your greedy eyes,
And snatch them away as I laugh in your face,
Ha! Ha!
Bang —!

poem by James Weldon Johnson
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From here it sounds great to say we'll all get together soon, but all I know is this: you can call me fifty days or fifty years from now and I'll be glad to see you.

quote by Richard Hooker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I feel great. I feel younger. And I don't feel anything at all. I don't know who knows, but right now I'm, how, how many years have I, fifty five, something like that. Forty three years old. And I feel like seventeen, like twenty five years ago.

quote by Olga Korbut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Tree -Lined Street/ I Walk Down Everyday

THE TREE –LINED STREET / I WALK DOWN EVERYDAY

The tree- lined street
I walk down everyday
Its beauty-
How long has it been this way?
Twenty? Fifty years?
How many years will it remain?
Everything goes away
A hundred years? Two – thousand years?
All is waiting
To go away forever-
And what will become of all this world?
These beauties we have seen?

Another day. Another day.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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