Here in England we live at a slower pace, have more time to enjoy things - like good jazz.
quote by Chris Barber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A Little Slower
Drive a little slower,
Take a look around,
Remember the houses,
The yellow stripes of time.
Walk a little slower,
Breathe in the fresh air,
Remember the look in strangers' eyes.
The glimpse into another's life.
Eat a little slower,
Take a moment to taste each taste,
Remember the server's name,
The complex simplicity of food.
Talk a littler slower,
Think about each word being said,
Remember each reply,
The interactions that form the day.
Move a little slower,
Pay attention to each muscle,
Remember how it feels,
The connect to the world.
Breathe a little slower,
Think about each breath,
Remember the heart beating in your chest,
The key to everything else.
Love a little slower,
Show your love and don't just say it,
Remember to put love above money,
The fuel to our success.
Laugh a little slower,
Really feel the emotion,
Remember to laugh often,
The relief from stress.
Dance a little slower,
Hold onto each word and note of music,
Remember the rhythm and beat,
The movements of life.
Live a little slower,
Take time to make your life what you want,
Remember that you only have one chance,
The choice to sit back or to live to the fullest.
Exist a little slower and you will know what happiness is.
By: Bethany M.
May 2,2012
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canada is a good country to be from. It has a gentler slower pace - it lends perspective.
Dont Grow Yet, Baby
walk a little slower baby
it is getting harder and harder
to walk into your steps
you are growing up too fast
your steps are getting bigger
and bigger
mine are getting slower
and slower
and it is hard to keep up
soon you will be all grown up
so please slow down a little
just a little...
so I can enjoy a little more
of you... being my little girl
Daddy
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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Dont Grow Yet, Baby
walk a little slower baby
it is getting harder and harder
to walk into your steps
you are growing up too fast
your steps are getting bigger
and bigger
mine are getting slower
and slower
and it is hard to keep up
soon you will be all grown up
so please slow down a little
just a little...
so I can enjoy a little more
of you...being my little girl
Daddy
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Dan C
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Time's Two Faces
A clock has one face, but time has two…
One is of hope: the other a shrew.
I strain at the pinnacle in sight of both ways.
One is of past years; the other mere days.
As I squint for a better view of the days,
The apex slants more towards the shrew's gaze.
My only chance lies in a much slower pace,
Hoping to enjoy days before they change face.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jazz is the last refuge of the untalented. Jazz musicians enjoy themselves more than anyone listening to them does.
quote by Tony Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think jazz is good, but I don't enjoy it. It's not for me.
My Life
My life
Can be challenged and diffcult
We all that bad and good days
I can’t give up on myself because
It’s not going good or my way
I shouldn’t let anyone make my choices
I’m not going to listen to them
All of is nonsense and they're waste of time to me
It my decision that going happen in
My life
There is no time to lose
Life is too short to do that
You don’t realized it until something tragedy happen
I’m sick and tired of sitting at home and doing nothing all day
Staring at clock won’t make it go by fast
Time to go out there and achieve my dreams
That what I’m here for
As well have fun like partying
Wohooo come on this
My life
I’m going live this way
I will chill and enjoy the summer
I want to try new adventures and new things
I want to see what I’m good and not good at
I have no time to waste
I want to travel and see whole world
Anything is possible is you just believe it
Hey who can’t blame me
This is
My life
Not your
So live it to fullest and what’s going to happen is up to me
I’m 18 years old
It’s laid in my hand
There is going to be time when I’m down,
Other time I be all happy and good mood
There is nothing going stop me and going bring me down because they are jerk
Nothing to worry about them, but me
I have no regrets, now I finally forget the pasts and memories of you for good
I feel so good again
Summer has changes me and
My life
If you need me I’m not here right now
I’m out having good time
Seven days a week
I’m going live this way and is
My life
Times where I’m going to lose and win
Is ok I’m fine with it
I go with flow
Is rocking right now and good life I have now
My life
poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't enjoy good food. I don't enjoy flashy cars. I don't care if I live in a dump. I don't enjoy good clothes. This is the best I've dressed in months.
quote by Jack Kevorkian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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England, My England
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:--
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mail'd hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There 's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England--
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Moons Ago
This time and in this season,
Many moons ago
I remember having those ambitions,
To possess and impress.
With a wealth of good health,
And youthfulness.
This time and in this season,
Many moons ago
The pace of life seemed a bit slower.
And those with beliefs of it being,
Never too late to pursue dreams
Procrastinated with excuses made.
Dreams,
Whether done day ot night
Have their way of accepting a delay,
Of an appearance to have them touched.
When carrying a basketfull of priorities
To put them off as temporary necessities,
Time will give to see them produced.
This time and in this moment,
As I reflect with an aging process
I have learned to respect
A hesitatiing to put off that which I wish to do.
But not to do them,
Seems to me to be a bit foolish.
Since there is nothing I will sit in waiting,
For an approval to be made.
Or an acceptance to be given.
I've earned that right,
In the seeking to please the life I live.
I have earned that right,
To like or dislike what I choose.
This time and in this moment,
My wishes as they are
Have given me a gratefulness,
To feel blessed and thankful
For a basicness that brings to me the most joy.
That many moons ago I did not know!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I enjoy playing clubs. I still enjoy the closeness of the nightclub venue. However, after a certain period of time and after playing around some of the clubs in New YorkI felt that jazz should be presented in a more prestigious atmosphere.
quote by Sonny Rollins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Get To England
When we get to england
Will we know when weve arrived?
When we get to england
Will we know if she has died?
Does the girl with the dogs
Still live in the big house
On the corner?
Are the boys collecting frogs
Still marching away
To die in war?
Like its all from a dream
Like its all from some history book
Didnt look too hard
Did I miss something that I should have seen?
When we get to england
Will it still be there?
When we get to england
Will we know where weve arrived?
When we get to england
Will a kiss bring her alive?
Once a farmer in the field
Had to grow enough
To feed his family
Now they pay him for his yield
Just to burn it down
And throw away
Like its all from a dream
Like its all in a crystal ball
Did it fall so hard?
Rest in pieces on a village green
When we get to england
Will it still be there?
When we get to england
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life vs Time
The greatest enemy of life is time
Time always gets in the way
No matter how much we try to avoid
It follows you around
When we laugh
When we're happy
When we're innocent
Time goes by so fast
When we're depressed
When we're blue
When we're not right
Time goes so slow
No matter how much we pray for time to go fast when we're sad
It goes slower than the three toe sloth
But life can't live without time
Time doesn't exit without life
Because there's time
Everybody tires to do things in a hurry
Thinking that time will go by fast.
poem by XXXHolix Fire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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