En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Park women, properly so called, are those degraded creatures, utterly lost to all sense of shame, who wander about the paths most frequented after nightfall in the Parks, and consent to any species of humiliation for the sake of acquiring a few shillings.

quote by Henry Mayhew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men & Women, Women & Men

Why are women forced to be submissive towards men?
Is it true that men are the more dominant species of human?
I think not
As it is women who have been portrayed as this
By no other than the male species

We are equal
Each possessing different qualities
And both species intertwining each others traits
But there are those few how still believe
That women are inferior to men

To those few I simply say…
Women and men
The differences between us are on the outside only
People do not really talk the way they used to
But they still think that way

We have the same mind
Our spirits are different
Yet somehow they are all still connected
We breathe the same air
And walk the same path

We are alike
We just need to see it
Men & women, women & men.

poem by Natalie Clyne
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Women

Women...
Some budy
Called flower...

Some budy
Called moon...
Some budy

Called Brandy...
Somebudy
Called hourse...

Some budy
Called donkey...
Some budy

Called basterd...
Some calling
Some of word's

Women with women's...
This words are
Not full fill

The women...
World wide
Women is beauty...

Women is sexy...
Thats thats...
But...

Women is what...?
Not only women
Women is your mother...

Women is your sister...
Women is your wife...
Women is doughter...

Women is your gran mother...
Women is your friend...
Not only above...

Women is a human...
Human is women...
Understand too

All women's...
With your heart...
At your humunity...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Straying Sheep

How many sheep are straying
Lost from the Savior's fold!
Upon the lonely mountain, They shiver with the cold:
Within the tangled thickets,
Where poison vines do creep,
And over rocky ledges
Still roam the poor lost sheep.

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

O who will go to find them?
Who, for the Savior's sake,
Will search with tireless patience
Through brier and through brake
Unheeding thirst or hunger,
Who still from day to day,
Will seek, as for treasure,
The sheep that go astray?

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

Say, will you seek to find them?
From pleasant bow'rs of ease
Will you go forth determined
To find the least of these?
For still the Savior calls them,
And looks across the wold,
And still He holds wide open
The door into His fold.

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

How sweet 'twound be at evening
If you and I could say,
"Good Shepherd we've been seeking
The sheep that went astray!
Heartsore and faint with hunger,
We heard them making moan,
And lo! we come at nightfall,
And bear them safely home."

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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The Forest of the Lost

She wanders curiously through
The Forest of the Lost
Past the other creatures of pity
The Lost creatures
She looks and listens
Sees and hears
Nothing and everything
Space and form
Fog rolls in
Growing thicker
It trys to devour her
Like it so easily devours
The other Lost creatures
But her strange aroura
Pitch black and brighter than the sun
Protects her with ease
She does not belong
To the Forest of the Lost
The Forest of the Lost
Belongs to her
She is not Lost
Lost is her
She is magical
Mysterious
Dark and light
Blended together
The Forest of the Lost
Has met its maker
The Lost creatures
Take shape
In the fog
And thank her
And the Girl of the Lost
Guides the creatures back
To the Land of the Found

poem by Shannon Hughes
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I do not think this makes a lot of sense, and I think we should rely on the Park Service to implement the regulations that they have in place with the restrictions so that people can enjoy our parks.

quote by Don Sherwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Day In Park

swings, slides and sand
the park so peaceful early in the day
the sun rising, shadows casting across the grass
the breeze flow so soft, quiet and free
the ball diamond so peaceful and empty
soon the sounds of children laughing and parents chatting
the park comes to life with all to enjoy
dogs playing catch, kids flying kites
grills cooking and picnics galore
the fields so full from footballs to baseballs
playing catch, to playing tag
reading on a bench, laying on a blanket for a tan
the park so pictureous and a masterpiece
It's art and spirit so priceless
we never have enough parks for all to see
to be free and play
Parks nature's playground for us to play

poem by Michael Peterson
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I must mend the ways of my mind. This is a very big place, and I do not know how it works. I am a member of a fragile species, still new to the earth, the youngest creatures of any scale, here only a few moments as evolutionary time is measured, a juvenile species, a child of a species. We are only tentatively set in place, error prone, at risk of fumbling, in real danger at the moment of leaving behind only a thin layer of of our fossils, radioactive at that.

quote by Lewis Thomas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Unwanted Fish Bycatch Exploited

unwanted fish caught
used to be surplus past
discarded before boat
returned to process port

bycatch now being kept
degraded taken to market
view fishery management
plans focus only on target

species leaving bycatch caught
species heavily exploited bought
scientific control without forgot
scientific monitoring without plot

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Cat House

The Cat House

Morning in Aruba, the cock has crowed three times and
men get out of beds that have been slept in by hundreds
of other men. They are sad men, lost in thought what they
did in the night do not bring relief but shame.
Taxis are waiting to bring them back onboard; some are
so overwhelmed by the tardiness of it all that they need
rum & coke to drown the sense of self loathing.
In the court yard an old woman swipes the dance floor,
a cat sleeps in the cooling breeze, it and the old woman
know the same men will back at nightfall.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Humbling The Pride

Shame is nothing but humbling the pride.
It will forbid you doing anything
That attracts humiliation or contempt.
Shame is a powerful weapon of mankind.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I think all women in Hollywood are known as sex symbols. That's what our purpose is in this business. You're merchandised, you're a product. You're sold and it's based on sex. But that's okay. I think women should be empowered by that, not degraded.

quote by Megan Fox
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Scottish Cow

They call you a cow
When you walk down the street
That doesn't make any sense to me,
As I have been to a farm once before
And cows there, I have seen.
So I would like to know why
You are called that name
And what does it really mean,
As you don't look or act like a cow
But maybe there's something, I haven't seen.
Your daughters bow their head
Whenever they are next to you
As though as they are ashamed,
Is it their fault for that name your called
If not, then who is to be blamed.
Women still point at you
And the men they still smile
Whenever that you walk by
I still don't understand the name your called,
But maybe one day, I will ask you why.
Questions come to my mind
About the word your called
Every time that you are walking past,
Like will they ever stop calling you a cow
Or will that name forever last.
As you don't moo
And you are not fat at all
And certainly your not cover up in fur,
But your called a cow on a daily bases
And to me that seems so absurd.
So when your daughters get older
Will they also be called cows
Just like you their dear old mother
Maybe that's why they are bowing their heads
They are pretending or wishing they are some other.
And the women they still point
As the men they still smile and talk
Whenever you walk that mile,
Then maybe in fact you are what you are
And maybe indeed, you are a cow.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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We're going to raise a lost generation of children unless they are properly disciplined and properly spanked.

quote by Charles Eddie Wiseman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I lost

It started out real slowly
A few simple hyms and haws
I changed them just to suit you
But then I lost it all.

I lost the way I used to laugh
At times quite dumb and silly.
I lost the way I used to think
Of life in a big city.

I lost my sense of independence
Which I once held so strong
I lost my sense of humor
Ever since you came along.

I lost my sense of flair
That made me shine so bright.
I even lost my favorite Bear
That I used to hold so tight.

But worst of all
I lost me sense
of being who I am

And so tonight
I take it back
No matter what you care
For its not right
To lose so much
Just to gain dispair.

poem by Catherine Raymond
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Men make the mistake of thinking that because women can't see the sense in violence, they must be passive creatures. It's just not true. In one important way, at least, men are the passive sex. Given a choice, they will always opt for the status quo. They hate change of any kind, and they fight against it constantly. On the other hand, what women want is stability, which when you stop to think about it is a very different animal.

quote by Eric Lustbader
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pathways Of Life

i walk the
straight path and no
one noticed me,

the straight path
is the most ordinary one
you can have here

at first it was boring
when no one
notices you

so i tried the twisted
path
the one that is crooked
from bottom to
top

the old women scolded
me and the old men said
i am a
big disappointment

the men and women of my
generation
still did not mind

they are busy
taking their own paths
and these are the
paths
which are neither crooked
nor straight

sometimes we look at each
other
and we nod
without saying a word
we feel
that we perfectly understand
each other
all along

there are paths you know
which are neither wrong
nor right

they simply have to
be trodden

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Valuation

THE old Squire said, as he stood by his gate,
And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by,
'In spite of my bank stock and real estate,
You are better off, Deacon, than I.

'We're both growing old, and the end's drawing near,
You have less of this world to resign,
But in Heaven's appraisal your assets, I fear,
Will reckon up greater than mine.

'They say I am rich, but I'm feeling so poor,
I wish I could swap with you even
The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store
For the shillings and pence you have given.'

'Well, Squire,' said the Deacon, with shrewd
common sense,
While his eye had a twinkle of fun,
'Let your pounds take the way of my shillings
and pence,
And the thing can be easily done!'

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Variations Upon Love

I
For God's sake, let me love you, and give over
These tedious protestations of a lover;
We're of one mind to love, and there's no let:
Remember that, and all the rest forget.
And let's be happy, mistress, while we may,
Ere yet to-morrow shall be called to-day.
To-morrow may be heedless, idle-hearted:
One night's enough for love to have met and parted.
Then be it now, and I'll not say that I
In many several deaths for you would die;
And I'll not ask you to declare that you
Will longer love than women mostly do.
Leave words to them whom words, not doings, move,
And let our silence answer for our love.
II
Oh, woman! I am jealous of the eyes
That look upon you; all my looks are spies
That do but lurk and follow you about,
Restless to find some guilty secret out.
I am unhappy if I see you not,
Unhappy if I see you; tell me what
That smile betokens? what close thing is hid
Beneath the half-way lifting of a lid?
Who is it, tell me, I so dread to meet,
Just as we turn the corner of the street?
Daily I search your baffling eyes to see
Who knows what new admitted company?
And, sick with dread to find the thing I seek,
I tremble at the name you do not speak.
III
I know your lips are bought like any fruit;
I know your love, and of your love the root;
I know your kisses toll for love that dies
In kissing, to be buried in your eyes;
I know I am degraded for your sake,
And that my shame will not so much as make
Your glory, or be reckoned in the debt
Of memories you are mindful to forget.
All this I know, and, knowing it, I come
Delighted to my daily martyrdom;
And, rich in love beyond the common store,
Become for you a beggar, to implore
The broken crumbs that from your table fall,
Freely, in your indifference, on all.
IV
I loved her; and you say she loved me not.
Well, if I loved her? And if she forgot,
Well, I have not forgotten even yet:
Time, and spent tears, may teach me to forget.
And so she loves another, and did then
When she was heaven and earth to me, and when,
Truly, she made me happy. It may be:
I only know how good she was to me.
Friend, to have loved, to have been made happy thus,
What better fate has life in store for us,
The dream of life from which we have to wake,
Happier, why not? why not for a dream's sake?
To have been loved is well, and well enough
For any man: but 'tis enough to love.

poem by Arthur Symons
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I Search

I search for that something called an Identity
I search for the eternally dynamic being called 'me'

I search for that ever-elusive ray of Hope
That'll steady my walk on life's tightrope

I search for that stroke of Brilliance
That'll make me stand out among millions

I search for that much-needed Common Sense
That'll help me to decipher utter nonsense

I search for that slippery thing called Fame
That'll erase all my past memories of shame

I search for that quality called Tenacity
That'll help me cope with life's complexity

I search for that something called a Carefree Life
That'll remove me from worries and Danger's knife

I search for something called an Identity
And I still search for that being called 'me'

poem by Rony Patra
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Shame On You

Somebody tryin to take my soul
Nobody gotta hear my rock n roll
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
No leader, steady as a ghost
Tooth sweeter, powdering her nose
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
A-smith, old hank pank
Pulling down your knickers
Ah, who you gonna spank
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Joe perry, oh, mr style
Some kind of killer bee
Buzz a while
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Bogus honey, square dance close
Grab your partner, bring it home n dosey, dosey
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you baby
Seemin jazzy bein shipped in
Wilds of the stanley
Try to given in
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you baby
Seven or eleven
Go to roll the dice
Am I in heaven
Or am I in miami vice
Shame, shame, shame on you babe
Shame, shame, shame on you baby

song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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