But I could also start F1 or rallying. I love rallying much more.
quote by Valentino Rossi
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Related quotes
What we're seeing early on is Democrats rallying around Al Gore, Republicans rallying around George Bush and the difficulty of anybody else to get any room in the race.
quote by Stuart Rothenberg
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'Never again' is the rallying cry for all who believe that mankind must speak out against genocide.
quote by Jon Corzine
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There is no real justification for a requirement that a budget of any sort should be balanced, except as a rallying point for those who seek to hamstring government.
quote by William Vickrey
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My command, less than ten thousand, had found the battle on the Plank road in retreat, little less than a panic. In a few hours we changed defeat to victory, the broken divisions of the Third Corps rallying in their rear.
quote by James Longstreet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feminism - the word - can give us a handle, a rallying point, a common ground, and help us build a bridge. Why not claim the gift of the word as a place to begin?
quote by Betty Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Of Words (Acrostic)
Wrestling with his conscience
Abstaining from verbal exchange
Regretting his wrods
Offended by obscenities
Forgetting his ticket
What is happening now?
Obnoxious little men
Rallying in no mans land
Dire consequences
Spasmodic verbal abuse.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Patriotism
There was a time when it was counted high
To be a patriot--whether by the zeal
Of peaceful labour for the country's weal,
Or by the courage in her cause to die:
FOR KING AND COUNTRY was a rallying cry
That turned men's hearts to fire, their nerves to steel;
Not to unheeding ears did it appeal,
A pulpit formula, a platform lie.
Only a fool will wantonly desire
That war should come, outpouring blood and fire,
And bringing grief and hunger in her train.
And yet, if there be found no other way,
God send us war, and with it send the day
When love of country shall be real again!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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To Massachusetts
WHAT though around thee blazes
No fiery rallying sign?
From all thy own high places,
Give heaven the light of thine!
What though unthrilled, unmoving,
The statesman stand apart,
And comes no warm approving
From Mammon's crowded mart?
Still, let the land be shaken
By a summons of thine own!
By all save truth forsaken,
Stand fast with that alone!
Shrink not from strife unequal!
With the best is always hope;
And ever in the sequel
God holds the right side up!
But when, with thine uniting,
Come voices long and loud,
And far-off hills are writing
Thy fire-words on the cloud;
When from Penobscot's fountains
A deep response is heard,
And across the Western mountains
Rolls back thy rallying word;
Shall thy line of battle falter,
With its allies just in view?
Oh, by hearth and holy altar,
My fatherland, be true!
Fling abroad thy scrolls of freedom!
Speed them onward far and fast!
Over hill and valley speed them,
Like the sibyl's on the blast!
Lo! The Empire State is shaking
The shackles from her hand;
With the rugged North is waking
The level sunset land!
On they come, the free battalions!
East and West and North they come,
And the heart-beat of the millions
Is the beat of Freedom's drum.
'To the tyrant's plot no favor!
No heed to place-fed knaves!
Bar and bolt the door forever
Against the land of slaves!'
Hear it, mother Earth, and hear it,
The heavens above us spread!
The land is roused, — its spirit
Was sleeping, but not dead!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Whole of it came not at once
762
The Whole of it came not at once—
'Twas Murder by degrees—
A Thrust—and then for Life a chance—
The Bliss to cauterize—
The Cat reprieves the Mouse
She eases from her teeth
Just long enough for Hope to tease—
Then mashes it to death—
'Tis Life's award—to die—
Contenteder if once—
Than dying half—then rallying
For consciouser Eclipse—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Managing My Free Time Until We Meet
I have been aching and craving
Was watching as the clock ticked by.
I've been rallying
Finding ways to keep close in your view.
I've been seeking and searching looking for ease.
I've been stretching and leaning and waiting to get on my knees.
I've been practicing crawling and kneeling
Without haste.
I've been licking my lips
Simply starving for your taste.
I've been coming up with ways to get you on the ground.
How to make you blow fast without making a sound.
So when you feel tight and are looking for release.
I will slip you in my mouth and swallow some peace.
poem by Raechael Woodroof
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The Plausibility Of Illogic, Inherent
All rallying around the cause, may take but a pause;
Think most, must they, about 'innocence clause'!
Alone you must now be in your fraudulent belief-
Making you now guilty, as an affection thief!
Perhaps not do you realize what is your blame-
All which has happened then, an even greater shame!
All now know the secret, that from even me, you harbored:
That which, to keep from other's knowledge, you labored!
Why then might you have occasion to ponder,
The plausibility of illogic, inherent, I wonder?
Then too, why might you believe and pass to others
The unconscienable, buried once, deep undercover?
Wherest ever you may go, know this, please:
Look ever shall thee guilty, as thought of mine, does decrease!
Maurice Harris,21 December 2007
poem by Maurice Harris
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A Day in the Fast Lane
Wait a minute
What was this day about?
Going by so swiftly
Like a sail in the sun
Hurried day passages
Flowing into evening's
Gentle whisper's
Time for repose
And gentle reflection
Discussion
Rallying debates
And soft recollections
Collections of the days
Import
Of moments spent
In life altering turns
And acceptance
From far-away Souls
Never mind
When so much has
Happened in fast time
Blink and one misses
The flow of white clouds
Against the sunset's
Paisley sky
And perhaps
Just perhaps
By vagabonds
Like you and i
poem by Theodora Onken
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Latent Ridiculousness
Good Morning!
Hope your day of making and finding excuses,
Is a productive one.
At least you will not be alone.
So many are beginning to discover this.
And your wish to procrastinate for the rest of your life,
Today has been validated by others just like you...
Who have waited until it was too late,
To pretend they have had concerns for others.
But I will say it is great to see,
So many people now rallying to protect their values.
Although hysterical this may be...
It is still wonderful to see such latent ridiculousness.
'You meant to say, Historical to see.'
And you must be a lost vacationer?
Because you have clearly wander into the wrong space,
And at the wrong time...
When I am in need of no one,
To help me express or define what's on my mind.
Got it?
Now get to leaving and make it for good.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It happened one day
To Comrade Leon.Trotsky!
Today is the May Day isn't it?
I dreamed last night the mass rallying in my poor heedless island for solidarity.
This may be a soliloquy my dear comrade.
Oh! What a catastrophe?
A headless inhuman jackal was forced to split your precious brain into halves by the cruel hearts.
* To Comrade poetess Sandra.Fowler in gratitude.
(Many thanks for your valuable prayers and our political asylum petition referred to an immigration judge for further inquiries in Los Angeles on the 10 th of June,2008)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Africa For The Africans
Say! Africa for the Africans,
Like America for the Americans:
This the rallying cry for a nation,
Be it in peace or revolution.
Blacks are men, no longer cringing fools;
They demand a place, not like weak tools;
But among the world of nations great
They demand a free self-governing state.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Great Africa wakes;
She is calling her sons, and none forsakes,
But to colors of the nation runs,
Even though assailed by enemy guns.
Cry it loud, and shout it Ion' hurrah!
Time has changed, so hail! New Africa!
We are now awakened, rights to see:
We shall fight for dearest liberty.
Mighty kingdoms have been truly reared
On the bones of blackmen, facts declared;
History tells this awful, pungent truth,
Africa awakes to her rights forsooth.
Europe cries to Europeans, ho!
Asiatics claim Asia, so
Australia for Australians,
And Africa for the Africans.
Blackmen's hands have joined now together,
They will fight and brave all death's weather,
Motherland to save, and make her free,
Spreading joy for all to live and see.
None shall turn us back, in freedom's name,
We go marching like to men of fame
Who have given laws and codes to kings,
Sending evil flying on crippled wings.
Blackmen shall in groups reassemble,
Rich and poor and the great and humble:
Justice shall be their rallying cry,
When millions of soldiers pass us by.
Look for that day, coming, surely soon,
When the sons of Ham will show no coon
Could the mighty deeds of valor do
Which shall bring giants for peace to sue
Hurrah! Hurrah! Better times are near;
Let us front the conflict and prepare;
Greet the world as soldiers, bravely true:
'Sunder not,' Africa shouts to you.
poem by Marcus Mosiah Garvey
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The Ballet Of The Fifth Year
Where the sea gulls sleep or indeed where they fly
Is a place of different traffic. Although I
Consider the fishing bay (where I see them dip and curve
And purely glide) a place that weakens the nerve
Of will, and closes my eyes, as they should not be
(They should burn like the street-light all night quietly,
So that whatever is present will be known to me),
Nevertheless the gulls and the imagination
Of where they sleep, which comes to creation
In strict shape and color, from their dallying
Their wings slowly, and suddenly rallying
Over, up, down the arabesque of descent,
Is an old act enacted, my fabulous intent
When I skated, afraid of policemen, five years old,
In the winter sunset, sorrowful and cold,
Hardly attained to thought, but old enough to know
Such grace, so self-contained, was the best escape to know.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Start to Love
Gotta start to love
Gotta start to love
In the beginning you were all about me....
Now it seems you have no time for me....
You gotta start to love, You gotta start to love
Start to love, Start to love, Start to love
You seem so far away................... So far away
I wanted you to stay....
Like the water, by the sand.............
I need you to hold my hand...........
Dreaming of another land............. Dont leave my side........
You gotta start to love, You gotta start the love
You gotta start to love, You gotta start to love
Start to love, Start to love, Start to love
You seem so far away................... So far away
I wanted you to stay....
Wonder if you will ever come back to me?
Where did the love go? I want it like it used to be............
You gotta start the love, You gotta start to love
Start to love, Start to love, Start to love
You seem so far away................... So far away
I wanted you to stay....
poem by Sita Cabrera
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Nobody Believes
Nobody believes in love-
not even me.
Love is the thing
you wait
to end.
Love is the thing
that will not,
cannot work.
Love is the thing
they warn you of-
the dire parents,
the friends
with their dead
marriages,
their crushed hopes.
Nothing crushes hope
but the will to make
the heart
like rock.
That will is strong.
The rock-heart stands
when the love songs crumble,
their yellowing sheet music
kept in a drawer,
their sweet hugs & tugs
forgotten,
like the merest air
of an old New England
spring.
Spring comes again
& again,
& the rock-hearts
feel the sap rising
thinking it is sex,
thinking the glands alone
cause this tumult
to the innards,
this hidden spring,
this secret river
which is hope.
Let them put it down
to sex!
Let them say
we worship Dionysus,
Bacchus, Pan,
but not the proper
gods.
Let them have
the proper gods-
Jahweh
with his heart like rock,
Christ with his blood
& thorns,
Mammon with his stock certificates,
his rates, his rates,
his bull markets,
& his late rallies.
We are rallying
alone.
We spit our love
into the wind.
Nobody can bear
to watch
our love.
Except the muse
who smiles
& sends
these
poems.
poem by Erica Jong
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Jacob Godbey
How did you feel, you libertarians,
Who spent your talents rallying noble reasons
Around the saloon, as if Liberty
Was not to be found anywhere except at the bar
Or at a table, guzzling?
How did you feel, Ben Pantier, and the rest of you,
Who almost stoned me for a tyrant,
Garbed as a moralist,
And as a wry-faced ascetic frowning upon Yorkshire pudding,
Roast beef and ale and good will and rosy cheer --
Things you never saw in a grog-shop in your life?
How did you feel after I was dead and gone,
And your goddess, Liberty, unmasked as a strumpet,
Selling out the streets of Spoon River
To the insolent giants
Who manned the saloons from afar?
Did it occur to you that personal liberty
Is liberty of the mind,
Rather than of the belly?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Good Morning Mr Magpie
'Good Morning Mr Magpie'
She saluted, then returned to her grounded
fact-based faith in her own impersonal reality.
Dismissal of her own superstitions,
seemed impossible.
She'd put it down to hard-ass habits
and the cudgels of conditioning
with which we all are kneaded.
Meanwhile in the treetops,
the wood pigeons were rallying.
The magpie's attention saw no salutes,
just a glint of an egg in a ray from the sun.
He cared not who had moved the branch
that let the sunlight through.
He cared not how, an avalanche
had spawned a breeze that this way blew.
He cared not how the leaves had parted
just as he had chanced to fly
through places where the pigeons darted,
inviting his unwelcomed eye.
He held no concept of the quandry
filling his spectator's mind.
She paused, when pegging out her laundry,
and branded Nature, so unkind.
Cold coveter of shiny things, just as so many men...
'Good Morning Mr Magpie', she saluted once again.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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