I have often felt a motion of love to leave some hints in writing of my experience of the goodness of God, and now, in the thirty-sixth year of my age, I begin this work.
quote by John Woolman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
It Is Always Difficult To Begin The Week
IT IS ALWAYS DIFFICULT TO BEGIN THE WEEK
It is always difficult to begin the week
One's body is lost in a previous sleep
One's mind is still held down and back
Into resting -
The world is bleak
It is empty and difficult
I am empty inside
I have nothing to do
I have too much to do-
Still I must begin
I will do the usual routine assignments
Slowly I will get back into the motion and mind of my work
I am already trying now-
Even a small effort should bring forth suggestions for further effort
It will take time
Slowly I will find the way
From task to task
Into the real work -
Somehow the week will begin again
It always does-
Though now I am still slow and not there yet
I feel as if in writing this
I have somehow already begun to work again-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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You Must Work To Make Ends Meet
Have you ever felt so tired as you struggle out of bed
And switch off the alarm clock with a throbbing in your head
At five thirty in the morning as dawn's lamp brighten the sky
And the fluting of the butcherbird to you is not a thing of joy.
And your wife she is still sleeping on the bed snoring she lay
You must make your own breakfast at five thirty a m of the new day
And as you leave for work at six thirty the children are asleep
But to work to keep your wife and family is a duty you must keep.
Your boss drives a new Mercedes which he need not share with his wife
He's just bought her a new B M W such are the ways of life
You work so hard for that man for what would seem as average pay
And you must drive in your old mid eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
And when you ask your boss for a raise to you he always say
More young men come to me almost begging for a job start every day
You can forget a raise in wages and if you decide to quit that is okay
I won't even ask you for to stay on if working for me you don't wish to stay.
You do not like the man you work for he does not pay you nearly enough
Though you have just got to hang in there even though the going is tough
But you must work just to make ends meet you have got big bills to pay
And you drive your old eighties Datsun to and from the work yard every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Yeah I'm thirty-six, but on the show I'm thirty-two. Nobody wants to watch a thirty-six year old woman, so they decided to make me thirty-two. Much more appealing somehow.
quote by Ellen DeGeneres
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirty three years
Thirty three years
~
Soon I turn thirty three
And wonder what I have to show
I feel I have achieved very little
And have been going nowhere fast
I fear I am stuck in my ways
And this is my lot for life
I sit alone in writing this morning
With my usual coffee for one
I have loved, had my heart broken
Let opportunities slip away
Now I tend to do nothing
At least I wont feel hurt that way
I have spent time in solitary
And lost touch with the world
Please try and remember that
To excuse my lack of social grace
The pace of each year is picking up
While I am still young in some eyes
Still may yet have a lot to achieve
I look at the past thirty two years
And see myself an old man
Lonely and turning thirty three
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Bit in the middle
I work forty miles from home,
so I drive eighty miles a day.
I quite enjoy the journey
it give me time to pray.
I rise at six thirty each moning
so I can get an early start.
I leave work at five thirty,
in the winter I just drive in the dark.
I don't mind all the driving,
in fact it gives me a rest.
It's just the work in the middle
thats the bit that I detest.
poem by Maurice Diplock
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Necessary Artistic Deletions
deleted approximately fifty good draft seed poems
not because they were bad but because were too good
each could have born fruit to ten twenty thirty poems
this would take days a week a few weeks writing out
in total months a year a year of full fool time writing
time gap economy denies artistry an extensive write out
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Shaved
He had wore a beard every since his early teens.
It had been at least thirty years since anyone saw him without it.
For those thirty years he felt he had something to hide.
But yesterday he shaved and freed himself from the thirty year mask he had been wearing.
He said it feels good to no longer have that itchy heavy beard weighing him down.
Yesterday he shaved when he finally told everyone he is gay.
Silence Is Not Its Own Poem
Silence is not its own poem-
Writing is breaking the silence-
If I try to begin a New Year in writing,
I must force myself against my own emptiness-
Here it is
I have begun-
Silence is no longer here,
At least in my writing words down.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Belonging
Let me navigate the resentment
in non-verbal manner, I go in myself,
dislocating the whole experience
of goodness for vulnerability
I was stung a hundred times
into playing a role not of mine
deceiving the life,
which was on the other side of self.
This encounter with hypocrisy in meditation
was very gratifying.
I begin trying a repetitive motion
of my hand to ward off evil,
and find a parallel home for a second thought.
At night I travel to galaxy of waste,
the perfect paradox of failure
where time clones a beautiful mistake
which will hop from man to man.
poem by Satish Verma
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Sixth Place and Sliding
Below children and grandchildren plus old friends,
My rank in importance continually descends.
Then ahead there's bridge and constant reading,
Which result so sadly in my sixth place seeding.
I find it appalling that I'm in the sixth spot and falling;
Slipping and sliding at the time of this writing.
Though my greatest concern is where it all will end…
How far down the depths will my position descend?
Now that I'm old, unhealthy and not very attractive,
Will the next level ahead be a person more active?
I don't smoke, can't drink and sex is just a concept.
Maybe sixth place is too high for someone so inept.
At the end no matter how far I sank or my final rank,
Her love made it worthwhile so I'll have her to thank.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Dont Break This Rhythm
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
All this momentum keeps stealing through
Across the cornfields, through all the marshland
Theres nothing gonna stop this thing
Clear the trees, burn the brushwood
Bring the diggers in, Im gonna move this earth
Lay the big stones, put down the sleepers
Haul the steel in, I will beat this land
Dont care how but, Im coming through here
Whatever it takes, oh
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Right through these fences, cut through the stone walls
Dig out the tunnels from a solid stone
There she is, but so surrounded
All those fancy men with soft white hands
Come all this distance, that should be me there
Whatever it takes (whatever it takes), oh
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
Dont break this rhythm, dont break this motion
We work together in sympathy
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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Commenting (Please Read)
This poem is dedicated to a very dear friend in Canada.
Melvina Germain.
The first person who left a heart prints on my work almost a year and a half ago. Mel, a million thanks from me.
Love and Hugs.
David xxxx
Some people read your work
and then pass on their way,
never leaving a comment
whether they liked it or not.
For any writer good or bad,
unless someone makes a comment on your work,
you feel left out in the cold.
For those who think that comments do not help,
let me tell you what comments have done for me.
For six or seven years I had given up writing,
I swore I would never lift my pen again.
Then in January 2007,
I posted a few old poems on a poetry site.
I was confused and lost at the time.
Never though for one moment
anyone would want to read my humble work.
I was wrong.
Through the comments I received,
I started writing again.
Since the 19th January 2007 to today the 14th June 2008
I have written 1132 poems, a 80,000 word novel,
collaborated on over 20 poems
with two young ladies half a world away from me
and published my first book of poetry.
For under a year and a half
that is not a bad record
and it happened through the encouragement in comments.
So the next time you read someone work
and there is a space for a comment,
leave one please.
Those little heart prints can change someone’s life
and encourage them on to do better things.
Your comment does not have to be lengthy,
just a word or two will do.
Remember it is good to help someone
and by leaving a comment,
that is just what you will do.
I always leave a comment on everything I read
knowing how others comments have helped me.
14 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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I Am An Old Man Writing A Poem
I AM AN OLD MAN WRITING A POEM
I am an old man writing a poem
I have been writing a poem all my life
The lines seem somewhat blurred now
But what I have written
Will say I hope
Something of what we are
And what we have been
And what we will be.
I am an old man still writing a poem
And I love with all my heart all those
Who have lived their lives-
in one way or another – with me
I do not know how to thank you-
I write these lines to thank you
And pray for the goodness and blessing
Of your lives and the lives of those you love-
And will love-
Now here
And in all your time to come.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Be Good
Be a good person
Goodness has no tribe
Goodness has no village
Goodness has no other name
Goodness thrives on any land
In the desert
Goodness is oasis
In the wilderness
Goodness is a pathway
Goodness is required anywhere
It is food to man
It nourishes the giver
And gives happiness to the receiver
Goodness is pleasant
So be good
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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To Heal From A Slow Mending To Grow
If something once strongly felt,
Is no longer there...
Existing to feel naturally,
Even the presence of a hypnotist...
Masquerading as a magician,
Will not be able to restore those natural feelings.
Not to be felt when back at a time remembered,
Those feelings from one's heart were freely given.
When those feelings felt begin to leave,
They do not return to make a reappearance.
Anyone who has experienced this emotionally...
To heal from a slow mending to grow,
Up...
To forgive and forget,
Knows....
Once something is felt to leave, it goes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy New Year
Happy New Year
Find a new hobby
Find a new honey
Happy New Year
Quickly a year has come and gone
In blistery winter another year is born
First we celebrate as a nation
Champagne, wind and spectacular fireworks displays
Finally we contemplate on New Year resolutions
Happy New Year
Learn to eat healthy
Yearn to be wealthy
Happy New Year
Fiercely learn to walk before you run
This experience through the year is rather fun
With thirst set these principles in motion
Before you awaken the next day
With red jelly eyes from a hangover situation
Happy New Year
Give up the smart smoking
Forgive more and start joking
Happy New Year
Happy New Year
Obtain a skill, perhaps a university degree
Always remember nothing is ever for free
Happy New Year
In this festive season
Problems are precious gems
And there is an obvious reason
We learn critical lessons from them
Copyright 2010 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
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As soon as I started writing Julia, by which I mean while writing its first sentence, I felt a sudden, reassuring charge of excitement. I knew it was going to work.
quote by Peter Straub
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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