I've said it once and I'll say it a a hundred times, I'm forty-four years old.
quote by Satchel Paige
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hundred Times Over
A hundred times over words have flowed through my fingers to the keys
A hundred times over I have released the freedom that is in my mind,
A hundred times over I have become one with my inter most longing,
A hundred times over I have taken a journey to show you my own world.
A hundred times over I have written of pain and life, of sorrow and joy,
A hundred times over I have used my art to show you what's in my mind
A hundred times over again I will show you.
A hundred times over I have cried for those, whose names are untold,
A hundred times over I have showed you their pain.
A hundred times over I have become their connection to you,
A hundred times over I have showed you the beauty of our world,
A hundred times over I have taken you somewhere you may never see,
A hundred times over my words have screamed the horror of darkness,
A hundred times over I have sung to you the beauty of light,
A hundred times over I have taken your hand to lead you to a new place
A hundred time over I have written for those who have no words to write
A hundred times over I have tried to show truth in a world of lies,
A hundred times over I have have tried to show the world's beauty,
A hundred times over again I will lead down these paths,
A hundred times over and over again I will show you reality,
A hundred times over and over again I shall show you my world,
A hundred times over and over again until you have memorised truth,
A hundred times over again until you can repeat what I have told,
A hundred times over again shall I create an art of words, time, of life.
A hundred times over again I shall do this,
A hundred times over again.
A hundred times over.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever Young
In life there is only one certainty
and that is one day we will die,
it is only a question of
how and when that remains a mystery.
Scientist the whole world over
would love to find the solution
that could extend our lives,
letting us live longer
yet remain in good health.
As the population now
is living longer with each passing year.
Four hundred years ago
if you were forty you were old,
but now at forty we are still young.
In another four hundred years,
people who are one hundred
may be classed as being young.
The world can only wait and see.
4 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midnight
They put away the DDT now
But gave metal to the sea
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
The only eagle, only tree
Within a desert that was green
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
The melting ice will fuel the sea
By burning gold from ancient tree
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
This is progress, this is sin
Injecting poison in her skin
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Computation
For my first twenty years, since yesterday,
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on favours past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last;
Tears drown'd one hundred, and sighs blew out two;
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you;
Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life; but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One Hundred Ripples
One hundred ripples I mark today
One hundred steps along my way
One hundred steps lead to the pond
One hundred trees there do surround
One hundred birds nesting among the trees
One hundred bees filling the air with these
One hundred bees buzzing about in the air
One hundred flowers are pollinating there
One hundred flowers provide the aromas sweet
For one hundred bouquets given to lovers as treat
One hundred lovers walk the winding pathway
One hundred times to find romance there each day
One hundred times they will reach to explore
One hundred pebbles found along the pond shore
One hundred pebbles carry wishes through the air
One hundred ripples on surface creating there
One hundred ripples then spreading out will begin
One hundred waves soon lapping at the shore again
One hundred waves providing the means for
One hundred more pebbles to reach the shore
One hundred pebbles scatter along the pathway
One hundred steps retraced at the end of the day
One hundred small steps... this latest poem was conceived to denote
One hundred little ripples... spreading from 100 poems I wrote
poem by Mary Havran
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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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A Hundred Years From Now
(words & music by flatt - scruggs)
Well a hundred years from now I wont be crying
A hundred years from now I wont be blue
My heart will have to forget that we ever met
But I wont care a hundred years from now
Ill never forget sweetheart the night you told me
That you could live without my love somehow
Thats all in the past I knew it wouldnt last
But I wont care a hundred years from now
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Every peak crumbles
Four hundred million years ago,
Three hundred million years ago,
Two hundred million years ago,
And seventy million years ago,
The world had witnessed
In succession,
Major calamities of the major species,
The Dinosaur being the last victim.
Next, in midway, are we, the Homo sapiens?
30.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poor Paddy
[the pogues version]
-----------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
The corduroy breeches I put on
Me corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From hartlepool I moved to crewe
Found myself a job to do
A working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke the shovel across me knee
I went to work for the company
On the leeds to selby railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the liverpool shore
My belly was empty me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
Im sick to my guts of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
And working on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
The old bugger was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im sick to my death of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the railway
[paddy works on the railway]
---------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
My corduroy breeches I put on
My corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-two
I didnt know what I should do
I didnt know what I should do
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I sailed away across the sea
I sailed away across the sea
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on columbias shore
I landed on columbias shore
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When daniel oconnell he was alive
When daniel oconnell he was alive
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I made my trade to carrying bricks
I made my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
Poor paddy was thinking of going to heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
In eighteen hundred and forty-eight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
I learned to drink my whiskey straight
To work upon the railway, the railway
Im weary of the railway
Poor paddy works on the railway
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hundred Years With You
A hundred years with you
is all I want.
You may get old
you may get bald
but don't get sick
don't die young
because a hundred years with you
is all I want.
Just stay fit
just stay alive
because a hundred years with you
is all I want.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Stafford's Cabin
Once there was a cabin here, and once there was a man;
And something happened here before my memory began.
Time has made the two of them the fuel of one flame
And all we have of them is now a legend and a name.
All I have to say is what an old man said to me,
And that would seem to be as much as there will ever be.
“Fifty years ago it was we found it where it sat.”—
And forty years ago it was old Archibald said that.
“An apple tree that’s yet alive saw something, I suppose,
Of what it was that happened there, and what no mortal knows.
Some one on the mountain heard far off a master shriek,
And then there was a light that showed the way for men to seek.
“We found it in the morning with an iron bar behind,
And there were chains around it; but no search could ever find,
Either in the ashes that were left, or anywhere,
A sign to tell of who or what had been with Stafford there.
“Stafford was a likely man with ideas of his own—
Though I could never like the kind that likes to live alone;
And when you met, you found his eyes were always on your shoes,
As if they did the talking when he asked you for the news.
“That’s all, my son. Were I to talk for half a hundred years
I’d never clear away from there the cloud that never clears.
We buried what was left of it,—the bar, too, and the chains;
And only for the apple tree there’s nothing that remains.”
Forty years ago it was I heard the old man say,
“That’s all, my son.”—And here again I find the place to-day,
Deserted and told only by the tree that knows the most,
And overgrown with golden-rod as if there were no ghost.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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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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Edu-mac-cation
‘EDU-MAC-CATION’
I am going back to school to finish my education
Something, I should have done forty years ago
Will I succeed this time around?
Oh dear, I very much hope so
I have tried several times before
Somehow, I always failed
Couldn’t concentrate, hadn’t the patience
Think it’s time I got it nailed
GCSE’s in Maths and English
I have to follow those paths
Not so bad at English
Bloody useless at Maths
That was when I was in school
All of forty years ago
I was jack the lad back then
Now I really want to know
I know it has been coined before
Now, I believe it to be the truth
What some clever person said
Education is wasted on the youth
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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My ancestors wandered lost in the wilderness for forty years because even in biblical times, men would not stop to ask for directions.
quote by Elayne Boosler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I feel very proud that we have managed to stay together. In these forty years we have made forty-six films. Each one has brought a certain name and contribution to cinema.
quote by Ismail Merchant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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LXXXV
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the
spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the
vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang
one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred
years.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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