Fame [He held a book in his knotty paws]
He held a book in his knotty paws,
And its title grand read he:
'The Chronicles of the Kings' it was,
By the History Companee.
'I'm a monarch,' he said
(But a tear he shed)
'And my picter here you see.
'Great and lasting is my renown,
However the wits may flout
As wide almost as this blessed town'
(But he winced as if with gout).
'I paid 'em like sin
For to put me in,
But it's O, and O, to be out!'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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River Arnon
River Arnon, i am writing that you may read;
'Israyl is my son and my first-born'.
Of the foreskin,
Of the circumcision,
Of the blood;
Like a flame of fire from within a bush in Mount Horeb.
Who gave man his mouth?
Who gave woman her mouth?
Now do use straw to make bricks and learn from it,
For i am on three days journey into the desert.
Of the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israyl,
Of the Book of the Chronicles of the Africans
Of the Book of the Chronicles of Ghana,
Of the Book of the Chronicles of my clan,
Your son succeeded you and my son will succeed me as well.
River Arnon, i am writing that you may read;
For their gods will be thorns by your side!
Hear oh sweet river,
Listen all you who have ears;
Let us put the Earth into a better shape.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Kings Will Be Kings
(m&l - weikath)
All you have said is still in my ears
You must have thought youre infallible
Oh no oh no
Youre not gonna say that much anymore
Welcome to my peculiar dreams
Fact is that here
Im the master of reality
Hard to see?
But its real tand you will read me
So many ways to go
Before were sanctified
Few will be chosen ones
Until we fade and die
Kings will be kings
Paws will bw paws
Aeons of tears wild and severe
Blessed be the young
Strong enought to bear
What before long
Will come, will be, might never desapear
I know hat preides before the fall
How can I fall if theres none left at all
Tell me, tell me
How far can one fall from down below?
Its either time or evryone round
To show us what or who can be
Exchangeable, disposeable
In the game of life were playing
Close to eternity
I spread my wings and fly
Like from a distant age
I rule and you obey
Kings will be kings
Paws will bw paws
Aeons of tears wild and severe
Blessed be the young
Strong enought to bear
What before long
Will come, will be, might never desapear
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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To Those Who Love Footy
To those who love footy a man of renown
The legend of sport from the little bush town
Footballers of his calibre hard to be found
On Grand Final day he was best on ground
But Tim the young artist one who doesn't like football
Says legends of sport don't interest him at all
To him the renowned locally raised footy player seems quite ordinary
Though many with him on that would disagree
He says sports fans elite sports people over-rate
That they are not worthy of the title of great
The greats of human history that historians recall
Were not sports people or never played football
And he says of the locally raised football legend I'm not putting him down
When I say he's an ordinary bloke from an ordinary town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Broom Tree
I am sitting under the broom tree watching you,
And you came along to the entrance of my love;
But like the book of the chronicles,
I will still record what i see from here for others to read.
Sheath, heat, hat, he, as, at, has, she, the, heal!
Sitting under the broom tree to see what you are doing;
Sheath, sat, eat, ate, hate, sea, ale, seal, tea!
I'm sitting under the broom tree watching you;
And like the book of the chronicles to respect your muse.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Red Is The Blood
You are one who is born to lead
A very fine person indeed
And great things we hear of you and read
Though red is the blood we all bleed.
Your name is sir and your wife's name is dame
And you are not strangers to fame
And despite the title in your name
Your blood it is red just the same
As those in the poor side of town
Poor strangers to wealth and renown
The blood that flow through their heart to their head
Than your blood is no less a red.
You are a World renowned athlete
And the best of all Nations you've beat
You stride out so graceful and tall
Though your blood it is red after all.
The royal one wears a diamond crown
As in a horse drawn carriage she is driven through the town
But to live food and water she need
And red is the blood that she bleed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You all know that each title in the Chronicles has a chess theme; that's partly because of the overall design of the Chronicles themselves - the game of chess as an analogue of the game of life.
quote by Dorothy Dunnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying Wolf Inside
With a cry, with a whimper, she lets out a sigh.
Her spirit, her joy, her love gone dry.
An elevated head held high,
Drop goes a tear, she insists she’s fine, but it’s only a lie.
A step toward the moon,
A woeful howl coming soon.
Whoosh, a breeze her long beautiful white fur,
Her memories of happiness, it’s all a blur.
Spreading her paws, they go out wide.
Her eyes sparkle in sorrow, but also with great pride.
With the dip of her head, arise once again.
She let out a howl, her pain was slain.
poem by ayam Rose Estelle
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Academics Are Daft
Wanted to quote striking lines from a book
by someone called Richard D-v-np-rt-Hin-s
who left a teaching position delineating a
social history of drugs then saw no words
of his book may be quoted except by
express permission of the author
With trepidation I copied only part of the
author's name not daring to mention the
book's title for fear of being pursued for
quoting it - a light went up - no wonder
people don't read, worries about copy-
right means we can't do anything
With a text we come across, luckily I bought
this book through a library donation, paid only
half a dollar for it - so there, getting to read it
for next to nothing - I'm glad that most people
detest reading, intellectual snobbery protecting
author's rights makes it inaccessible
Being boring to boot except to a bookworm,
nobody else interested, keeping it exclusive
demanding payment for repeating any word
from it authors make sure nobody interested
in a factual account of cold facts - if they wish
to remain incognito, ignored by the masses
It is fine with me; I may not breathe a word
about this fellow's research and conclusions
he might as well have buried his gift under a
bushel for fear of anyone reading it without
paying exorbitant amounts and that for stuff
that is not entertaining - seems to me
Academics are rather daft - he used to be
a lecturer…
Saturday 19 May 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Read Me
Read me like you would read your favourite book
A fine wine
A line that is not mine
That baits the tongue
And hooks you in
Read me like you would read a star with just one look
And see a whole constellation rising
Where you fear to tred
Come read each word each turn of phrase
Each slight of hand
Each tone
The careful wits display
Of art
That's choreographed
Like trees in may
That bud
Be careful of the bee that feeds within
If suddenly disturbed it has an awful STING!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Beauty
I pricked my finger on a thorn
and saw my blood run red.
I winced but focused on the rose
beside the thorn instead.
For pain is nothing compared to beauty.
It's just a temporary phase.
But the rose beside the thorn that hurts
is worthy of all praise.
I pressed the rose inside my book
so that it would last.
I saw the thorn that pricked my finger
but the moment of that had passed.
For lasting pain recedes in time
but beauty stays with you.
Now as I reopen the book once more
It's only the beauty I view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Education
At school I sometimes read a book,
And learned a lot of lessons;
Some small amount of pains I took,
And showed much acquiescence
In what my masters said, good men!
Yet after all I quite
Forgot the most of it: but then
I learned to write.
At Lincoln's Inn I'd read a brief,
Abstract a title, study
Great paper-piles, beyond belief
Inelegant and muddy:
The whole of these as time went by
I soon forgot: indeed
I tried to: yes: but by and by
I learned to read.
By help of Latin, Greek and Law
I now can write and read too:
Then perish each forgotten saw,
Each fact I do not need too:
But still whichever way I turn
At one sad task I stick:
I fear that I shall never learn
Arithmetic.
poem by James Kenneth Stephen
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Ridicule
Gout that strives at you manages pleasure,
Due to homogeny of ridicule on the side.
Danger of honest honey matters most,
Gout arrives forming a honeycreeper.
This illness I confine to the organs
Envelops my mind most, then my feet and joints.
I am hominoid like the blessed men and women,
Piercing us with pleasure, pictures so pickled
With distaste of picnics.
Piety is the taste of death that gout brings,
For we are deathly on the side of angels
That caress the objects we design,
And there is more ridicule to come.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The History Of You And Me
Everytime you think of me.
Write it all down in your diary.
And never forget you were mine.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
On every page that you write.
Move your pen, with those old memories of me.
Holding me in your arms.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Try not to miss a word.
Don't miss a single word, about those old romantic nights.
The nights you spent with me.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Yaahh! The history of you and me....
Love Song Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1990,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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The Old Man's Wish
If I live to be old, for I find I go down,
Let this be my fate: In a country town
May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
Near a shady grove, and a murmuring brook,
With the ocean at distance, whereupon I may look,
With a spacious plain without hedge or stile,
And an easy pad-nag to ride out a mile.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With Horace and Petrarch, and two or three more
Of the best wits that reign'd in the ages before,
With roast mutton, rather than ven'son or veal,
And clean though coarse linen at every meal.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a pudding on Sundays, with stout humming liquor,
And remnants of Latin to welcome the vicar,
With Monte-Fiascone or Burgundy wine,
To drink the King's health as oft as I dine.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
With a courage undaunted may I face my last day,
And when I am dead may the better sort say,
In the morning when sober, in the evening when mellow,
He's gone, and left not behind him his fellow.
May I govern my passion with an absolute sway,
And grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Read A Book
Und wenn ich einen Wunsch frei htte
Ich wnschte wrden wir verstehen
Alle Schatten hinter uns lassen
nur weies Licht vor uns zu sehen
No hate, no fight hearts killing
I wish no trouble anymore
There's nothing more to tell about
There's nothing left to be decided
Just read a book
So, read a book about love (reaching love)
Read a book, read a book about love
Und wenn du einen Wunsch frei httest
Ich wnschte, wrdest du verstehen
Nur weies Licht vor uns zu sehen
And if we just should be together
oh, we could feel so warm an tight
All we need is only two of us
to show the world that we've decided to
read a book
to read a book about love (reaching love) ...
Take a look about yesterday
I guess you know
that you're here to stay
Read a book, ...
Read a book, read a book about love (rep many times)
Read a book, ... (rep till fade)
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Parables - From Heaven There Fell Upon The Foaming Wave
From Heaven there fell upon the foaming wave
A timid drop; the flood with anger roared,--
But God, its modest boldness to reward,
Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave.
Its form the mussel captive took,
And to its lasting glory and renown,
The pearl now glistens in our monarch's crown,
With gentle gleam and loving look.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Don't Shed A Tear
Cab fare to nowhere is what you are
A white line to an exit sign is what you are
Oh but I saw in you, now I see through
Don't shed a tear for me, my life won't end without you
Long as the night will be, the sun will rise without you
A locked door on a candy store is what you are
A slim chance in tight pants is what you are
All that I loved you for, I want it more
Don't shed a tear for me, my life won't end without you
Long as the night will be, the sun will rise without you
You are giving what I'm not taking
I'm not missing what we ain't making
Oh but I saw in you, now I see through
Don't shed a tear for me, my life won't end without you
Long as the night will be, the sun will rise without you
Don't shed a tear for me, my life won't end without you
Long as the night will be, the sun will rise without you
Don't shed no tears,
I don't need a thing
song performed by by Paul Carrack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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