So we do have our exits and our entrances and we are perhaps mere, but I think if one keep a certain joyousness in life which should be in playing, then good for one, but it's slightly more serious than that.
quote by Janet Suzman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sketches have characters, exits, entrances and are vastly different.
quote by David Cross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
No Exit
history teaches us
about the fears of having no exit
i believe it
that somehow there are no exits
but i work upon such premise
what i have now are simply
entrances
though i have no plans to stay
this long
yet i hold on to the assurances
of little permanences
everything passes away
i suppose
what the hell
where is the promised heaven?
i hold on to the grasp of my fingers
my only consolation
there is nobody here anyway
who says he had been there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Discarded Lines From Famous Poems
I wandered lonely as a cloud
that floated on high o'er vales
and hills, when all at once I saw a
crowd of football hooligans so I legged it.
What is this life if full of care,
we have no time to stand and stare,
because the stewards make us sit down.
Solomon Grundy
born on a Monday
christened on a Tuesday
supported Sheffield Wednesday.
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
in a beautiful pea-green boat
they took some honey, and plenty of money,
because mascots weren't allowed on the coach.
If you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs, and blaming it on you,
if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
then you'll make a good manager my son.
All the worlds a stage,
and all the men and women players,
they have their exits and entrances,
that's football for you!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Separated Between Two Walls
between two walls
i find myself in but
i do not tarry, i am,
the resilient wind
and i lift myself up
and see the walls
from a distance.
they say they are
protective of me.
they say they want
to keep me safe
and at bay with what
is right and true.
the walls of fantasy
and the
the walls of reality.
these are not walls
sooner i will make
them myriad openings
exits and entrances
to the house of my
peace and happiness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Part of Their Existence
Some will get it!
Some will not.
Some blueprints are understood,
For what they are!
Should an entire project be dropped...
Or stopped,
Because a disinterested passerby
Tries to 'picture' at a glance...
Where the entrances and exits will be?
If it can't be envisioned,
Why waste time in explanation?
If someone recognizes trash on the street...
But doesn't fathom the concept of a broom!
Garbage will always be considered attractive,
By those who have grown believing it as part of their existence!
'That' has not become associated with a lesson plan!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Im Going Slightly Mad
Words and music by queen
When the outside temperature rises
And the meaning is oh so clear
One thousand and one yellow daffodils
Begin to dance in front of you - oh dear
Are they trying to tell you something
Youre missing that one final screw
Youre simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you havent got a clue
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - ooh oh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Im one card short of a full deck
Im not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
Im not my usual top billing
Im coming down with a fever
Im really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think Im a banana tree
Oh dear
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - uh huh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Ooh ooh ah ah
Ooh ooh ah ah
Im knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
Im driving only three wheels these days
But my dear how about you
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened
It finally happened - oh yes
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Just very slightly mad
And there you have it
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
For A Younger Brother....
we are spaced in a span of
ten long years
we have no bridges
and i am one broker boat without oars
brother
you must understand about the fact of our
misunderstanding
though we showed we tried to make links
upon one post to another
there are no morning glories
i have seen no gates or exits or entrances
there is nothing enticing at all in all these
bickering
brother
we must learn to accept
the wisdom of distance
the comfort of space
we have only thoughts
so far away from each other
and then we live
separate ways again
in a land that welcome us
in a place without a scent of any regret
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Caricatures
Bad mouthing others,
Seems to be always done by those...
Who believe they are on the rise,
Of some social circuit acceptance.
Until they realize,
They have become caricatures...
In an environment of people,
Seeking only to be entertained.
No interest is given,
To create or leave anything that sustains...
Or maintains an historic substance.
Unless what is being created,
'Is' historic and valued as having substance.
And that usually is not determined,
By those staring at entrances and exits...
To approve the arrival of who enters.
With a glance of a nearby clock to acknowledge,
The exact time someone who is talked about...
Leaves and with whom,
If not alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Early Works - Exits
Exits, shame, gone again
the flower of life extinguished.
A blight, a plague
some horrendous wave
beauty of beginning
disfigured in leaving,
but what about the in-between.
Burrowing brows, crowning frowns
head spinning, spinning
time of life lingering on
oh what we pass.
No more tears staining eyes
doubts are faultless
exits, shame, now cease.
Revolving world, around, around
gone it goes spinning wild.
Fragrant flowers smelling pretty,
disappearing rapid sights.
Danger prompts bitter tears
something fine, something gone
exits, shame, who’s to blame.
Fiery suns of mourning clouds
burning fingers stretch forth,
dark crisp falling dust.
Bitter seeds of burning doubts
memories shrink in heated scorn
remembers voices stern, sharp
exits, shame, no longer.
25 September 1979
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life roads
We all have different life roads,
we all think which one to choose,
some choose their road and crawl it,
they have no wish to fly.thinking it's a wit.
It's hard for them to learn the truth of life,
such people go with the tide
and fear like a hare living in a form with fright;
their feelings and soul are hidden,
they are always afraid to be bitten;
they take life as a boring groove,
it's so difficult for them to move.
Some people think that happiness -
living in a golden cage.
They speak with rage about freedom;
the golden cage is their stage.
In relation to some of those who get freedom:
they fuss, they dash about,
don't know what to do with it
and their life also becomes a rut,
they step on their own foot.
May be Shakespeare's famous words were true
'Life is a stage, and we are all actors'.
We all have entrances and our exits,
we take them as facts and persist.
But I would like to sing a song for those
who were not afraid to fall
but did everything in their power,
strained themselves in the utmost.
They had enough courage and strength
to get up and go on up the hill,
having their greatest will
they can surely pay for their life bill.
The science of life is so complicated
and only by God it can be rated.
But the roads of life are all self created.
Larisa R(Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer
Echo of the clocktower, footstep
in the alleyway, sweep
of the wind sifting the leaves.
Jeweller of the spiderweb, connoisseur
of autumn’s opulence, blade of lightning
harvesting the sky.
Keeper of the small gate, choreographer
of entrances and exits, midnight
whisper travelling the wires.
Seducer, healer, deity or thief,
I will see you soon enough—
in the shadow of the rainfall,
in the brief violet darkening a sunset—
but until then I pray watch over him
as a mountain guards its covert ore
and the harsh falcon its flightless young.
poem by Dana Gioia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All the World's a Stage
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
poem by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poison Love
The all exits and entrances past me
Leave two choices before me
I have too choose none or both
The dilemma acts as a poison on my mind
Unable to grab the memories, I lack
Graced by god! Heaven is mine, I could say
I have both failure and past thus I have
The hindrance created by the hampering talent
Leaves me nowhere! I have to give a fresh start
Thus, on my mind, That poison acts as a foe
I had the wrath, without my love, on me
Poison-her love-is that poison of sea
That is now and there killing inside me.
poem by Vizard Dhawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jaques: All the world‘s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse‘s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress‘ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon‘s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper‘d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
line from As You Like It, Act II, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
I Want The Universe
Depressed and taken by stress,
The woes of infinite space are understood;
This space continues to guide the heart
And all those hearts of a blessed variety.
Chiefs shall consider chemicals for their bodies,
Astronauts keep biological experiments.
The defeated reign over the victorious,
And clear universes stand alongside ours.
Then be cautious if you consider woes
To be the confusion in the midst of alien attack.
Absurd and breakable, the space-man
Connects us with living-space,
The ever-living cosmos,
The significant place
For entrances
And exits.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You And I
you and i
mere illusions
created through
this body to test our
strength and resolve to
loosen this grip on the earth
you and i
mere shadows
of a great light playing
an eternal hide and seek
22dec2009
11.42hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There is an organic affinity between joyousness and tenderness, and their companionship in the saintly life need in no way occasion surprise.
quote by William James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Art For Art's Sake
it is art for art's sake
nothing more nothing less
shy away from popularity
delve on the magnanimity of
your day to day task
this art for art's sake
like scribbling for nothing
just scribbling and scribbling
like hearing and then writing
brown leaves fall upon
brown leaves on the ground
over the roots of trees
decay comes like everything
destined to be rotten
and then you sleep on some
cool shade
smelling the flavor of your
silent labor
art for art's sake
who needs your rating?
art for art's sake is like breathing
getting in your lungs
what is invisible to the eye
and yet so essential
the inevitable and the inextricable
the ineluctable the inexorable
it is like taking all the entrances
and then accepting
that there are no exits
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To mourn the death?
Leaving home for school is a death.
Leaving school for service is a death.
Retiring from service is a death.
Every parting is a death.
Every meeting is a birth
Every death leads you to a birth.
Every birth leads thus to a death.
As many entrances as there are exits,
Till the arrival of corporal death,
Beyond which we have no evidence
17.08.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Seven Ages of Wise
Parliament's a stage,
And all the Politicians merely players!
They have their exits and entrances,
And Wise doth in his time play many parts,
His acts being seven changes.
First the Runner,
With spiked shoe he spurns the cinder track,
And just for once runs straight.
The next the Student,
Burning the midnight oil with Adam Smith
For Cobden Medals.
Next the youthful member,
With shining morning face, creeping between
Two seasoned leaders into place and power
Before his whiskers grow.
The next the bravo.
Jealous of greater men, he cries, "Ha, Ha!
Beware Bernardo's dagger!" -- and would strike
His friend i' th' back.
Then come a sudden change.
Once more a child, he comes with quick-turned coat,
New friends, new doctrines, and new principles,
Lets Friedman loose, and wrecks the Government.
Then leads the horny-handed sons of toil
By many a specious promise to their doom
In Arbitration Courts.
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange, disastrous history.
He aims at Judgeships and Commissionerships,
But, failing, passes on to mere oblivion.
Sans place, sans power, sans pay, sans everything.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!