So I write melodies - thirty, forty, fifty - then I cast them off until I have just two or three. If only one is needed, I go see the director and ask him to decide.
quote by Michel Legrand
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At twenty a man is a peacock, at thirty a lion, at forty a camel, at fifty a serpent, at sixty a dog, at seventy an ape, at eighty a nothing at all.
quote by Baltasar Gracian
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At twenty a man will be a peacock, at thirty a lion, at forty a camel, at fifty a serpent, at sixty a dog, at seventy a monkey, and at eighty nothing.
I'll think about things for thirty or forty years before I'll write it.
quote by Richard Brautigan
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The Middle Age For Man
The middle age once was after thirty,
Then after forty and now post fifty.
Now and then, all men agree on one point.
The middle age lasts till they reach seventy.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Backside Of Thirty
They say when you reach
the backside of thirty;
a midlife crisis looms in the air.
Midlife crisis!
Now what the hell is that?
Is it like the flu,
or a summer cold?
If it is, then I had mine,
When I got married
So many years ago.
So what happens?
When you reach the backside of forty.
Is it another midlife crisis,
or are you over the hill there?
Don’t ask me, I don’t know.
A government official once told me,
At the age of forty,
I was too far gone for repair.
That I was on the downward stretch.
Well here I am at sixty two,
and I’ve seen the backside of fifty.
But who really cares?
Your as young as you feel,
and I still feel like a little kid.
I go away at weekend
and play cowboys and Indians,
but in my case it is vicars and Indians
that’s why they call me Dodgy Dave.
Who cares if I’m a blatant fool,
I’m enjoying my life while I got it.
My advise to you,
is when you hit the backside of thirty,
you do the same as I do.
Act a little crazy,
and enjoy everyday you got.
13 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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At A Meeting Of Friends
AUGUST 29, 1859
I REMEMBER--why, yes! God bless me! and was it so long ago?
I fear I'm growing forgetful, as old folks do, you know;
It must have been in 'forty--I would say 'thirty-nine--
We talked this matter over, I and a friend of mine.
He said, 'Well now, old fellow, I'm thinking that you and I,
If we act like other people, shall be older by and by;
What though the bright blue ocean is smooth as a pond can be,
There is always a line of breakers to fringe the broadest sea.
'We're taking it mighty easy, but that is nothing strange,
For up to the age of thirty we spend our years like Change;
But creeping up towards the forties, as fast as the old years fill,
And Time steps in for payment, we seem to change a bill.'
'I know it,' I said, 'old fellow; you speak the solemn truth;
A man can't live to a hundred and likewise keep his youth;
But what if the ten years coming shall silver-streak my hair,
You know I shall then be forty; of course I shall not care.
'At forty a man grows heavy and tired of fun and noise;
Leaves dress to the five-and-twenties and love to the silly boys;
No foppish tricks at forty, no pinching of waists and toes,
But high-low shoes and flannels and good thick worsted hose.'
But one fine August morning I found myself awake
My birthday:--By Jove, I'm forty! Yes, forty, and no mistake!
Why, this is the very milestone, I think I used to hold,
That when a fellow had come to, a fellow would then be old!
But that is the young folks' nonsense; they're full of their
foolish stuff;
A man's in his prime at forty,--I see that plain enough;
At fifty a man is wrinkled, and may be bald or gray;
I call men old at fifty, in spite of all they say.
At last comes another August with mist and rain and shine;
Its mornings are slowly counted and creep to twenty-nine,
And when on the western summits the fading light appears,
It touches with rosy fingers the last of my fifty years.
There have been both men and women whose hearts were firm and bold,
But there never was one of fifty that loved to say 'I'm old';
So any elderly person that strives to shirk his years,
Make him stand up at a table and try him by his peers.
Now here I stand at fifty, my jury gathered round;
Sprinkled with dust of silver, but not yet silver-crowned,
Ready to meet your verdict, waiting to hear it told;
Guilty of fifty summers; speak! Is the verdict _old_.
No! say that his hearing fails him; say that his sight grows dim;
Say that he's getting wrinkled and weak in back and limb,
Losing his wits and temper, but pleading, to make amends,
The youth of his fifty summers he finds in his twenty friends.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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From birth to age eighteen, a girl needs good parents.
From eighteen to thirty-five, she needs good looks.
From thirty-five to fifty-five, she needs a good personality.
From fifty-five on, she needs good cash.
quote by Sophie Tucker
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I have these visions of myself being thirty, thirty-five, forty having a family.
quote by Nastassja Kinski
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He that is not gallant at twenty, strong at thirty, rich at forty, or experienced at fifty, will never be gallant, strong, rich, or prudent.
Shimshon
To have thirty sons and thirty daughters from your many wives,
Like the customs of a bride;
To have forty sons and thirty grandsons in your life,
Like the customs of a bridegroom;
But, out of love came something so sweet.
Yo are barren but now you will conceive and bear a son,
Like the dreadlocks of Shimshon!
But my best friend had taken my wife away.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Fifteen, Maybe Sixteen Things to Worry About
My pants could maybe fall down when I dive off the diving board.
My nose could maybe keep growing and never quit.
Miss Brearly could ask me to spell words like stomach and special.
(Stumick and speshul?)
I could play tag all day and always be "it."
Jay Spievack, who's fourteen feet tall, could want to fight me.
My mom and my dad--like Ted's--could want a divorce.
Miss Brearly could ask me a question about Afghanistan.
(Who's Afghanistan?)
Somebody maybe could make me ride a horse.
My mother could maybe decide that I needed more liver.
My dad could decide that I needed less TV.
Miss Brearly could say that I have to write script and stop printing.
(I'm better at printing.)
Chris could decide to stop being friends with me.
The world could maybe come to an end on next Tuesday.
The ceiling could maybe come crashing on my head.
I maybe could run out of things for me to worry about.
And then I'd have to do my homework instead.
poem by Judith Viorst
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That's what I find with any good song, you just have to let it happen. Out of about twenty songs you might write, one of any significance. It might be thirty or forty, but I just keep churning them out and churning them out in hope that one of them will stick.
quote by Mick Ralphs
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Life Begins At 40
- wed like to welcome you here to the dakota country and western club
And in return for miss yoko onos wonderful gift of a very strange...
Id like,this morning, to sing you a little ditty that occured to me in the throes of my sleep
Its called life begins at 40
They say life begins at forty,
Age is just a state of mind.
If all thats true,
You know, that Ive been dead for thirty-nine.
And if life begins at forty,
Well, I hope it aint the same
Its been tough enough without that stuff
I dont wanna to be born again.
Well, I tried to sweep the slate clean
With a new broom evry day
If that dont work,
Ill jerk around until my next birtday
Yeah, life begins at forty,
Age is just a state of mind.
Well, if all thats true
You know that Ive been dead for thirty-nine.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
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Life Begins At 40
- wed like to welcome you here to the dakota country and western club
And in return for miss yoko onos wonderful gift of a very strange...
Id like,this morning, to sing you a little ditty that occured to me in the throes of my sleep
Its called life begins at 40
They say life begins at forty,
Age is just a state of mind.
If all thats true,
You know, that Ive been dead for thirty-nine.
And if life begins at forty,
Well, I hope it aint the same
Its been tough enough without that stuff
I dont wanna to be born again.
Well, I tried to sweep the slate clean
With a new broom evry day
If that dont work,
Ill jerk around until my next birtday
Yeah, life begins at forty,
Age is just a state of mind.
Well, if all thats true
You know that Ive been dead for thirty-nine.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
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Touchdown Tennessee
(Dean Dillon/ Kenny Chesney)
(This limited edition single was released as a Tribute to John
Ward - the Voice of the Vols. A portion of all sales proceeds
were delivered to the St. Jude's Children's Hospital and to
the John Ward Scholarship Fund.)
(Voice over by announcer)
Tennessee, Halloway rolling out this way, needs a block,
Halloway looking, Halloway on the run, Halloway at the ten,
Halloway at the five, Halloway dives!
Give him six! Give him six large ones.
(Switches to a different game, same announcer)
Back is Kelly, the score 22-17, the dive, Touchdown!
Big 'Oleans in the Superdome!
(Start song)
With a voice you could hear all the way to Rocky Top
Play by Play for thirty one years, it never stopped
We heard twenty, fifteen, ten and five
Your voice was our eyes and we could see
Touchdown Tennesee.
(Announcer again)
It is Gault, pulling it down at the six, Gault, ten, fifteen,
Twenty, Gault outside, Gault thirty, Gault thirty-five,
Gault forty, Gault forty-five, fifty, forty-five, forty,
Yes sir, Willie Gault, ladies and gentlemen, is running
All the way to the state capital. Give him six.....Willie Gault!
Quarterback roll right. It was a long throw down field to Willie Gault.
For a second no one knew if it was caught.
We heard twenty, fifteen, ten and five
Your voice was our eyes and we could see
Touchdown Tennesee.
Your voice painted us a picture of all the losses and the wins
And it's so hard to imagine a game without your voice again
Saying twenty, fifteen, ten and five,
Your voice was our eyes and we could see
Touchdown Tennessee.
(Announcer again)
To the thirty-five, down to the thirty, twenty-five, twenty,
Fifteen, ten, He carries the ball all the way for one touchdown!
Phillip running through, around, over and underneath
Defenders for South Carolina, takes the ball all the way
Home for a miraculous touchdown and...
(Song)
So thank you, John. What a run, it's been fun for us all
Oh the way our hearts pounded when you called
Twenty, fifteen, ten and five
Your voice was our eyes and we could see
Touchdown Tennessee.
(Announcer)
Manning sneaks, pitches forward, falls down, as yet,
No whistle, Manning rolling to the right side, motions
To throw down into the end-zone, and it is touchdown!
Tennesse!
(Song)
So thank you, John...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
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I Remember
I remember being ten years old
And wondering what I would be?
I talked it over with my father
And he said, “We’ll see.”
I remember being twenty years old
And wondering all about life.
I found myself getting married
And learning to be a wife.
I remember being thirty years old
With 2 sons at my side.
I saw a few strands of gray hair
Which I tried to hide.
I remember being forty-five
And birthdays coming too soon.
I was teaching kids all about music
And waiting for vacations in June.
I remember when I turned fifty
And my body started to change.
The hormonal and emotional challenges
All became so strange.
I remember becoming fifty-eight
When retirement came my way.
I thought to myself, “ Now what do I do? ”
On every single day?
I remember becoming seventy
When breast cancer came to me.
I decided I wanted to live some more
So I created poetry.
All that I remember from that point on
Is where I am today
Using this pen that’s in my hand.
It’s become my way to say
Thank You.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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So, it becomes an exercise in futility if you write something that does not express the film as the director wishes. It's still their ball game. It's their show. I think any successful composer learns how to dance around the director's impulses.
quote by Danny Elfman
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Thirty-nine
O hapless day! O wretched day!
I hoped you'd pass me by--
Alas, the years have sneaked away
And all is changed but I!
Had I the power, I would remand
You to a gloom condign,
But here you've crept upon me and
I--I am thirty-nine!
Now, were I thirty-five, I could
Assume a flippant guise;
Or, were I forty years, I should
Undoubtedly look wise;
For forty years are said to bring
Sedateness superfine;
But thirty-nine don't mean a thing--
À bas with thirty-nine!
You healthy, hulking girls and boys,--
What makes you grow so fast?
Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise--
I'm tough and bound to last!
No, no--I'm old and withered too--
I feel my powers decline
(Yet none believes this can be true
Of one at thirty-nine).
And you, dear girl with velvet eyes,
I wonder what you mean
Through all our keen anxieties
By keeping sweet sixteen.
With your dear love to warm my heart,
Wretch were I to repine;
I was but jesting at the start--
I'm glad I'm thirty-nine!
So, little children, roar and race
As blithely as you can,
And, sweetheart, let your tender grace
Exalt the Day and Man;
For then these factors (I'll engage)
All subtly shall combine
To make both juvenile and sage
The one who's thirty-nine!
Yes, after all, I'm free to say
I would much rather be
Standing as I do stand to-day,
'Twixt devil and deep sea;
For though my face be dark with care
Or with a grimace shine,
Each haply falls unto my share,
For I am thirty-nine!
'Tis passing meet to make good cheer
And lord it like a king,
Since only once we catch the year
That doesn't mean a thing.
O happy day! O gracious day!
I pledge thee in this wine--
Come, let us journey on our way
A year, good Thirty-Nine!
poem by Eugene Field
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Poetic Style and Form
Forty words:
Monday is Haiku day
Tuesday is Nonet
Wednesday I write Rictameter
Thursday Triolet
Friday is my Tanka day
But Saturday's the best
Because I write a Sonnet
A literary quest...
Then I face Sunday's challenge:
'Forty Words' the final test.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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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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