I've led this empty life for over forty years and now I can pass that heritage on and ensure that the misery will continue for at least one more generation.
quote by Larry David
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forty Years Of Warning
Why did God wait forty years after the death and resurrection of Jesus?
An entire generation?
Before was fulfilled the prophecy of Jesus about the destruction of the Temple and fate of Jerusalem!
The number forty is symbolic of trial testing and punishment in Biblical symbolism.
Moses lead the Israelites through forty years of punishment in the wilderness before a new generation
was allowed to enter
the promised land.
Was waiting this forty years
to definitively
prove God's patience?
To allow the Jews time to repent
to turn back to God
to exhibit appropriate
behaviour and worship
so that God could
bless them as God desired
instead of punishing
them as he had warned?
Copyright © Terence GeorgeCraddock
See also 'Temple And City Were Destroyed In 70 A.D.! ' and 'The Fall Of The Temple In 70 A.D.! '
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Generation Lost
In life’s profusion
I stagger down lonely streets
looking for what I lost
when my life made its retreat.
Fame’s walls are hollow
empty footsteps echo there
of those who tried
and missed out on life’s fanfare.
Like me, they walk in desolation
no umbrella to cover their soul
from the dark clouds of misery
that empties no pity on anyone
whom it rains upon.
Alleyways of lonely drinkers
and lost dreams
whose lives they no longer own.
Lost souls in life’s misery
we see them everywhere
products of a discarded generation
for whom no one cares.
They huddle in cardboard towers
that they call home.
This generation lost
from life’s society.
22 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Heritage Hills Class Of Eighty-One
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Here it is, the year two thousand eleven
Thirty years, thirty years, where did it go
Saddened to learn a few are gone on to Heaven
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
My, oh my, where did the time fly
Wow…victories, tears, joy, and fun
Being a grandparent is love not to deny
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Some led the life of the moth to the flame
Many went on to higher knowledge
Knowing happiness in a life that's tame
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
One time Providence dealt us a course unknown
We handled it, conquered it, survived it
Now, we bask in seeing our children grown
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Yes, we are middle aged and gray
A few aches, a few pains, but no complaints
It's class reunion time…oh what a great day
poem by Charles Hancock
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Our Heritage
This is our heritage; the far-flung grass,
The golden stubble and the dark-red moor;
Men pass and perish as the swift years pass,
But wide and wind-swept still the fields endure.
This is our heritage; the love of sport,
A fair ambition and a friendly strife,
The rivalry of farm and camp and court,
The keen endeavour of a clean, hard life.
The hoofs of horses on the trampled lea,
The crash and rattle of the broken rail
Where the first flight ride reckless, knee to knee,
And bold men face the dangers of the vale.
The cry of hounds, the holloa and the horn ;
The lean red shadows where the foxes run;
To these and all their challenge we were born,
And these we leave behind us, sire to son.
This is the heritage that none can take,
The gift we hold, the gift we give again,
And this the spirit that no Time can break,
So long as England and her fields remain.
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Girl of Fifteen
Girl of fifteen,
I see you each morning from my window
As you pass on your way to school.
I do more than see, I watch you.
I furtively draw the curtain aside.
And my heart leaps through my eyes
And follows you down the street;
Leaving me behind, half-hid
And wholly ashamed.
What holds me back,
Half-hid behind the curtains and wholly ashamed,
But my forty years beyond your fifteen?
Girl of fifteen, as you pass
There passes, too, a lightning flash of time
In which you lift those forty summers off my head,
And take those forty winters out of my heart.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Seconds Of Pleasure
You say you dont desire me,
Shes only a hired hand,
Now you are tired of me.
Expensive care is meaningless,
Feeling nothing and caring less.
Cut off at the pass,
She knows where you were headed,
She wants double-time or a temporary wedding.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she? with forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
I thought I knew you too well,
Now I find the man is a mystery,
And the promises you made
Are really only ancient history.
Everyday goes by without a hitch,
You say the urge becomes an itch.
You say that Im no go for you, thats rich,
Or am I being bitchy?
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
And the hands on the clock move so precisley,
You say you only kissed her once or twice.
You didnt do it for love, you didnt even do it with stealth.
I cant help you now,
I cant help myself.
Commited to life and then commuted to the outskirts.
I was living for thirty minutes at a time
With a break in the middle for adverts.
You treat me like a piece of human furniture.
You say when? you sad soul,
If you can look all that you like,
But I wont let you touch and poke.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she ? forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soundtrack To A Generation
The smell of trees. can only be that way. on a sunny day.
Floating through the open window. to the cool inside.
Where we lay side by side. how can anything we feel. ever
Mean so much. as a summer love? how can anything we
Need. ever get in touch. with the meaning of.
A whole life waiting? wishing suddenly. that its going to be
The real thing. or separating. try your luck again. its just
Part of the adventure.
Holy cow. you do it to me now. the soundtrack to a
Generation. oh, wow. youre getting to me now. the
Soundtrack to a generation.
Another tune. before the light has gone. and well be on
Our way. the sounds and smells. will always linger on.
Theyre in my heart today.
We feel so lucky then. the worlds a massive place. but we
Run into each other. just one small happening. an accident
Of fate. or the work of co-conspirators? but if we knew.
What could it do. to help us now?
Holy cow. you do it to me now. the soundtrack to a
Generation. anyhow. just give it to me now. the
Soundtrack to a generation. oh wow. you really got me
Now. the soundtrack to a generation. holy cow. youre
Getting to me now. the soundtrack to a generation.
Years have gone on in between. but all I knew at
Seventeen. is all I know now now. through times of joy and
Suffering. the music flavours everything. thats all I know
Now.
Holy cow. you do it to me now. the soundtrack to a
Generation. oh wow. you really got me now. the
Soundtrack to a generation. anyhow just give it to me
Now. the soundtrack to a generation.
Just give it. youre getting. you do it you really got me now.
The soundtrack to a generation. oh wow. just give it.
Youre getting. you do it.
You really got me now. the soundtrack to a generation.
Oh wow. you really got me now. the soundtrack to a
Generation.
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Told
For forty four years now
Each morning I woke up
I go straight to prepare
A cup of coffee for my wife
It's a ritual that I do
For forty four years
Not that she asks for it
But it's what I love to do
Love is what commands me
To lit a kettle to boil a water
For she likes it when its so hot
A coffee she drinks quite early
Suddenly, now that it's our anniversary
I do the thing I 've been doing ever since
We got married for forty four years back
Yet for the first time I am told just so today
That the coffee I served her now tasted bad
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Generation To Generation
In a house which becomes a home,
one hands down and another takes up
the heritage of mind and heart,
laughter and tears, musings and deeds.
Love, like a carefully loaded ship,
crosses the gulf between the generations.
Therefore, we do not neglect the ceremonies
of our passage: when we wed, when we die,
and when we are blessed with a child;
When we depart and when we return;
When we plant and when we harvest.
Let us bring up our children. It is not
the place of some official to hand to them
their heritage.
If others impart to our children our knowledge
and ideals, they will lose all of us that is
wordless and full of wonder.
Let us build memories in our children,
lest they drag out joyless lives,
lest they allow treasures to be lost because
they have not been given the keys.
We live, not by things, but by the meanings
of things. It is needful to transmit the passwords
from generation to generation.
poem by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
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As The Years Pass Along
When the snow is gone,
we will remember this winter
for a long time to come.
We will remember being told not to go to work,
now that never happened before.
We will remember of being snow in,
and that has never happened before.
Yes, we will all have memories to share
as the years pass along,
of the biggest snowfall
we had in over forty years.
We will talk about it with affection,
forgetting the moans some people had.
We will laugh at how the authorities
like always were never prepared.
How we had to walk for a change
for there were no buses to be had.
We will remember the community spirit,
something we have not seen in years.
Memories will compound memories
with a few exaggerations to be had
as the years pass along.
13 January 2010
poem by David Harris
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Politicizing Life, Religiously
Those elected to represent their constituents,
To present their interests politically...
Are being accused of politicizing life,
Religiously.
As if a preference with efforts,
To camouflaged their deeds...
Would be for those delusioned more suitably acceptable,
To relieve them of a feeding on misleading deceptions.
Although not mentioned...
Is the expense of blatant hypocrisy.
Regardless of the process or method of selection.
However...
What part of life lived to be experienced,
Has not been witnessed...
By those observing their quality of life diminish?
As arguments between politicians continue,
Regardless of affiliation, ethnic heritage or creed.
What part of life lived to be experienced,
Protects with a prevention...
A stopping of the increase of taxes,
Attached to everyone who is forced to pay.
If this is not politicizing life,
Than why are those choosing to live as is their right...
Harrassed on a daily basis by those provoked,
Who solicit actively for funds and voters...
To ensure 'politically' with their religious overtones,
That 'all' beliefs should be kept in the best of 'their' interests.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This emergency spending measure is certainly only the beginning, since we here in Washington will continue to work closely with the president and emergency agencies to ensure they continue receiving the funding they need.
Forty Years
(on the 10th anniversary of the end of world war ii)
Here in berlin - people line up to get in
To wait for the end - living in glorious sin
Theyve looked around - and now there is no looking back
To when rivers ran red - now its the sky that grows black
Shadows are cast as two giants roam over the earth
We light a match - but what is that little flame worth
Once allies danced and sang
But it was forty years ago
Here in d.c. - they talk about euro-disease
And how the french are always so damn hard to please
Otions are passed in brussels but no one agrees
And no one walks tall - but no-one gets down on their knees
Once allies laughed and drank
But it was forty years ago
Where I come from
They dont like americans much
They think theyre so loud, so tasteless, and so out of touch
Stiff upper lips are curled into permanent sneers
Self-satisfied
Awaiting the next forty years
Once allies cried and cheered
But it was forty years ago
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My parents only had one argument in forty-five years. It lasted forty-three years.
quote by Cathy Ladman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's All Future Life We Betray
For our children will there be a tomorrow,
That's our responsibility now,
Are we leaving them with heartbreak and sorrow?
Will it be misery on them we endow?
Are we doing enough to ensure a good life?
For all of our future generations,
Or will we leave them with nothing but strife,
All caused by our present creations.
Nuclear power and our weapons of woe,
Are now getting out of control,
Mass destruction created wherever we go,
We are tearing out our Earths soul.
Our resources on Earth are dwindling fast,
As each second another life is born,
Less to go round means before time has passed,
We leave someone else feeling forlorn.
If we continue on our present course,
Our species future will be in serious doubt,
Humans from reality they tend to divorce,
It's the very laws of nature we flout.
Would you watch your child starving to death?
While you eat your ten course meal,
Well we watch as others take their last breath,
Without giving a damn how they feel.
We have the resources we have the power,
To alleviate their suffering forever,
But mention the cost and the financiers glower,
It's neither cost effective nor clever.
Profit is what motivates the Human Being,
Not morality or sympathy for others,
The starving can die whilst the rich are out skiing,
Self-interest and greed are what smothers.
When we leave the vulnerable unable to cope,
To ensure we enjoy life today,
As they die in despair without any hope,
‘' It's All Future Life We Betray ‘'
What I try to do for my readers is to pass on some of the things that I found out about being thirteen after doing it for forty years.
quote by Diane Duane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Star-Gazer
Forty-two years ago (to me if to no one else
The number is of some interest) it was a brilliant starry night
And the westward train was empty and had no corridors
So darting from side to side I could catch the unwonted sight
Of those almost intolerably bright
Holes, punched in the sky, which excited me partly because
Of their Latin names and partly because I had read in the textbooks
How very far off they were, it seemed their light
Had left them (some at least) long years before I was.
And this remembering now I mark that what
Light was leaving some of them at least then,
Forty-two years ago, will never arrive
In time for me to catch it, which light when
It does get here may find that there is not
Anyone left alive
To run from side to side in a late night train
Admiring it and adding noughts in vain.
poem by Louis Macneice
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Not Part of the Mix
I can decide not to accept.
And most times I do not hesitate,
In procrastination.
Or I can choose between singing the blues.
To a thumbing of my nose to misery.
Either way...
It is still 'my' life!
And...
Not a perception of what someone else believes.
My life is real to me to live it completely,
With happiness if I so please.
And I do,
Wish a life...
Free of disturbing obstacles.
And,
To continue...
If any part of my life concerns you,
That too will be shared!
But if it doesn't...
You need not worry,
About a judgement on me to pass.
Most likely it will be ignored...by me!
Since my gratefulness is directed,
To the only 'One' that has bestowed upon me blessings!
And in my eyes, mind, body and soul...
You are not part of 'that mix' on any transfixing level.
All of this here you see,
Is God made.
Whether you like it or not to accept or reject.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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a Birthday
It’s full moon tonight
and yellow like Citrine
some golden rays
decent down to me
and it’s forty-five years
since my full moon first broke
in the dark onyx night.
The morning sun is ruby red
till it turns shining diamond bright
in a sapphire blue sky
and too intense to look at
and it’s forty-five years
since the first time
that I saw light.
The years flash past
and in this summer of my life
I wish that perennial
could my summer be,
but autumn has already
laid its hands on me
and there are grey specs in my hair.
poem by Gert Strydom
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She was in the profession
She stopped her work at her lawn when she saw me
and leaned over the fence and we talked for over two hours
with my elbow on her posts and my feet resting
against the palings.
She had worked forty years in the same profession
and had seen generations through the doors. She
had enjoyed her work and people still call her to
tell her about themselves; they express their gratitude
and how much of a difference she had made.
She walked down the fence, waved her arms
and returned to the corner where I stood.
But what was work for?
she asked.
Forty years doing what was good for others
but nothing that was good for myself.
What was work for? she sighed.
What were forty years for? It destroyed me.
(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))
poem by Raj Arumugam
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