After the war, prompted by the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris, I entered Parliament so that a priest could speak out for the poor, as canon law at that time still permitted.
quote by Abbe Pierre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Love Paris
Every time I look down on this timeless town,
Whether blue or gray be her skies,
Whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize that...
I love paris in the spring time
I love paris in the fall
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles
I
Love paris in the winter when it drizzles
I love paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love
Paris, why oh why do I love paris
Because my love is here
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canon law itself says for one case of guilt, a priest can be dismissed from the clerical state. One.
quote by Roger Mahony
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn's Song
.
.
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
the chill refreshes
as a new day is born
the colors golden, and green
so peaceful, and serene
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
voices rip
a quiet now torn
footsteps slide in a pattern
smiles appear
glances of wonder clear
as a cardinal disappears
just like a breeze
a cardinal sang this autumn morn
a melody unheard before
ignored by many
cherished by me
it’s meomory forever more
as flickers of red touch the sky
i ponder the question why
a cardinal sings this autumn morn
.
I Love Paris
Nat king cole
(cole porter)
(can-can)
Every time I look down on this timeless town
Whether blue or gray be her skies.
Whether loud be her cheers or soft be her tears,
More and more do I realize:
I love paris in the springtime.
I love paris in the fall.
I love paris in the winter when it drizzles,
I love paris in the summer when it sizzles.
I love paris every moment,
Every moment of the year.
I love paris, why, oh why do I love paris?
Because my love is near.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life of a Roman Catholic Priest
A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.
A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.
A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!
A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.
A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!
A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!
Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.
Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010
poem by John Celes
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Paris, Please Accept Me, As A Human Refugee
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
the patience, eating the happiness
the pain, eating the patience
and the pain, eating the pain
I AM SICK, paris
treat me, sister
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
exile, on my papers
restrained, ..
in my lines
so free me, paris
treat me, paris
I BELONG TO YOU, ..
sister
my home, the colours of MONET
my room, is a water flower
my air..
is the scent of FRANCE
and my refuge..
is a place by RENOIR shrine
so take me paris..
as your..
renoirian..
REFUGEE.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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Cardinal Sin
Where do you go when your conscience takes over
Do you crawl to your corner and cry.
Did you imagine, that no one would notice
Just a secret to take when you die.
All the world is watching you, every tongue is
Screaming fool.
How are your dreams, do they claw at your sleep
Making darkness a place you despise,
Where is the god, that once was your strength
Are you sure he was there from the start.
All the world is watching you, nowhere you can hide,
Every tongue is screaming fool, only satan hears your cries.
When you sin cardinal sin, you make your bed and on it you must
Lie,
And your futures looking grim, but did you ever give a damn
About the child, hes running wild.
When you sin cardinal sin, dont expect the world will treat you
Well,
We say oh, go to hell.
We point the finger, sin cardinal sin, laugh in your face, sin
Cardinal sin,
We point the finger, laugh in your face,
Cos youre no better than the rest of the human race.
Oh sin cardinal sin, oh sin cardinal sin.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art is not the application of a canon of beauty but what the instinct and the brain can conceive beyond any canon. When we love a woman we don't start measuring her limbs.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris in Spring
The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.
I know the Bois is twinkling
In a sort of hazy sheen,
And down the Champs the gray old arch
Stands cold and still between.
But the walk is flecked with sunlight
Where the great acacias lean,
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And the leaves are growing green.
The sun's gone in, the sparkle's dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time's come again.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
poem by James Fenton
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Going To Paris
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
As the storm gathers slowly
We eat fishheads and snails
The mate jumps up, throws down a line
To a man overboard for the ninetieth time
And then he says with a wink
Sometimes I think
Ive been doing this forever!
We are going to paris
In a ship called the ? ?
There are signs in the sky at night
That the captain says hes seen
I keep books under my pillow
And read them before I sleep
Strange places I go to,
Strange companies I keep
We are going to paris
We are one and thirty strong
I can feel it in the air
Well be there before long
The wind has come
Like a man insane, insane
We are going to paris
It rains and it rains
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
We are going to paris
In a ship with red sails
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Girl Named Fred
Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.
poem by David Harris
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High Priest Of Rhythmic Noise
Its been a long time, baby
High priest of rhytmic noise
Living inside of me
I been goin round in ciricles
And Ive considered first degree
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sin
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
You look strange, thats what I like
You look strange like me
Fit to be tied, a little bedtime story
Next position please
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sing
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Forever is a long long time
If you can...
Im a ...little tiny plastic pills
From my little plastic pills
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris(Lil Sis)
Paris is her name
Paris she beautiful
she got a pretty smile
pretty walk
pretty size
Paris..
Nice
cool
real
short
loveable person
Paris
take what u got and work it
let your haterz hate
your haterz are your biggest fanz
show that beauty
stop hiding it..
To My Bestfriend/ Lil Sis Paris Aka Mizz Killin U H**z
poem by Angel Wade
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The affluence of the rich excites the indignation of the poor, who are often both driven by want, and prompted by envy, to invade his possessions.
quote by Adam Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris Song
Paris so beautiful at night
And during the day is beautiful also
The Eiffel Tower is located in the center of Paris
But all the flowers in Paris are blooming in the parks
And at la seine
Yes spring is heret in Paris
And I am enjoying the spring
But the flowers in the parks here in Paris are beautiful
Because they are a show of colors
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Ode To Venus
Who says Paris was wrong
in giving the golden apple to Venus -
I would have done the same
if I were Paris...
Ah! but I wish I were Paris
I'd have said-
I don't want Helen for one life-time,
I want you Venus for one little moment;
a moment of kiss form you
is worth a life-time husbandship of Helen.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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In Democracy People Are Supreme
In democracy people are supreme
People elected their representatives
And sent to parliament to make laws
On behalf of them.
To make democracy a success
Endemic protest is necessary
To make the representatives in order
They should cautioned.
People are the soul of parliament
Parliament can change but not people
People are the root parliament is foot.
Come to the people O parliamentarian
O representatives of people
People are your master
You are there in different posts to
Serve the people and to do all welfare works.
Democratic institutions are for the people
Without people the state is a big zero
In democracy people are supreme
Do not handle the people in whim.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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In Paris
The houses are close to sky,
And sky is lower to earth - attraction?
In great and joyful Paris town
I feel the same and secret anguish.
The boulevards keep noise in evening,
The last ray of the sun is gone.
And everywhere you see people,
Walking in pairs, in accord.
I am alone here. Its so sweety
To lean to chestnut with my head!
And in my heart the Rostand's greetings
In verses, as in Moscow left.
And Paris in the night is alien and poor,
The previous delirium is better to my heart!
I'm going to home - the voilets're there,
And someone's portrait smart!
There a look in a sad-brer's manner,
There a profile on the wall.
Rostand and martyr of the Reidt there,
And Sara - will in dream come all!
In great and joyful Paris I am dreaming
About green grass and white clouds.
And then - the laugh, shadows nearer,
And pain is deep, as long before time.
poem by Marina Tsvetaeva (June 1909), translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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The public treasure has been duly applied to the uses to which it was appropriated by Parliament, and regular accounts have been annually laid before Parliament, of every article of expense.
quote by Robert Walpole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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