A Love Song
O! Hernia! My hernia.
'Twas here we parted dear
A parting that for four long weeks
Held me in sickness here.
But three short hours I knew you, love
Well I remember yet
I left a tram in Collins street
And suddenly, we met.
No mortal could have parted us
While reason held its sway
They drugged me, Gentle Hernia
And carried you away.
And then I knew my Hernia
Where ere what ere you are
Our parting at Coonara Street
Has left me with a scar.
A scar that I shall bear thro life
A memory of you.
And Hernia! O Hernia,
My bank-book has one too.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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What They Were Never Meant To Explore
I have chances to believe
While my dog drinks his fill of water, and my muse
Is in another house,
Around her, her children as if at a fair-
In the theatre of her television, her favorite telenovela;
And her umbilical hernia mending,
So in a week or more we might make love again,
While the airplanes keep on roaring,
Roaring: going straight at it,
Reaching their destinations skipped across the seas-
The mermaids in their grottos, the gods at their
Ease,
And never a single creature here on the earth ever missing
What they were never meant to explore.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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An Early Retirement
There's an ad on TV about retiring.
I'm not worried about retiring.
I'm retiring from life early.
It means I'm not... traditionally
going to live long enough to retire.
Just like all the old boiler makers in trade.
Who worked all those years, welding
inside pipes, and other enclosed spaces, places.
Sucking in all those harmful toxic fumes.
None of them lived long enough to retire.
Just like my father the carpenter.
An era when honest men daily worked up a blinder.
Just like my father hardest working carpenter.
Who worked all those long years, man-handling
heavy loads. Concreting, steel, heavy beams.
Straining the heart, arteries, neck, back, hands.
Working up a triple hernia. Before being killed
off, from lead based paint, and asbestos residue.
It is only management! And white collar workers!
Who have to worry, about saving, for retirement.
Worrying about, all that extra weight, accumulating.
On their lard asses, from all that gourmet cuisine.
While a real worker, will think he's done himself
proud, on pizza, fish and chips, and a few beers.
Just the ticket. Just the ticket. For a really good time.
Just about the only ticket, a real worker can afford.
To purchase, on his dismal daily pay, while paying rent.
Workers are dying. Instead of worrying about retiring.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Street Of Dreams
I heard the sound of voices in the night
Spellbound there was someone calling
I looked around no one was in sight
Pulled down I just kept on falling
Ive seen this place before
You were standing by my side
Ive seen your face before tonight
Maybe I just see what I want it to be
I know its a mystery
Do you remember me on a street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
There you stood a distant memory
So good like we never parted
Said to myself I knew youd set me free
And here we are right back where we started
Soemthings come over me
And I dont know what to feel
Maybe this fantasy is real
Now I know I see what I want it to be
But its still a mystery
Do you remember me on the street of dreams
Running through my memory
On the street of dreams
You are on every face I see
On the street of dreams
Solo
Tell me have you always been
On the street of dreams
Will we ever meet again my friend
Do you know just what it meand to be
On the street of dreams
Never know just who youll see do ya
On the street of dreams
You can be who you want to be oh yeah
I can hear you calling me
I can feel you haunting me
Haunting me
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Separation
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were good—
’Twas paltry things that wrecked our lives
As well I knew they would.
The people said our love was dead,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we loved each other less
We’d not have quarrelled so.
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were kind,
We listened to what others said
And both of us were blind.
The people said ’twas selfishness,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we both more selfish been
We’d not have parted so.
But still when all seems lost on earth
Then heaven sets a sign—
Kneel down beside your lonely bed,
And I will kneel by mine,
And let us pray for happy days—
Like those of long ago.
Ah! had we knelt together then
We’d not have parted so.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Pharmacy Fat Man
After my yearly physical
I stopped by the pharmacy
To buy some niacin pills
A fat man stood ahead of me
He easily weighed 400 pounds
I stood for what seemed like hours
Pharmacist was giving instructions
How many pills and do’s & don’ts
I mused, “Why so many drugs? ”
The answer was crystal clear
Severe obesity was the culprit
Did the fat man suffer from,
Hypertension, high cholesterol
Diabetes, enlarged heart, varicose veins
Acid reflux, hernia and lymph edema
All of these potentially fatal diseases
Because of poor food choices
And lack of exercise
His Doctor was treating symptoms
The fat man was ignoring the cause
Wanting only relief and a quick fix…
ROTMS
From Wikipedia;
“Obesity in the United States has been increasingly cited as a major health issue in recent decades. While many industrialized countries have experienced similar increases, obesity rates in the United States are among the highest in the world with as of 2007 74.1 % of adults being overweight or obese.[2]
Estimates of the number of obese American adults have been steadily expanding, from 19.4% in 1997,24.5% in 2004[3] to 26.6% in 2007.[4]
The direct medical cost of obesity and indirect economic loss to obesity has been estimated to be as high as $51.64 billion and $99.2 billion in 1995, respectively; [5] this rose to $61 billion and $117 billion in 2000.[6] Researchers for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and RTI International estimate that in 2003, obesity-attributable medical expenditures reached $75 billion.[7]”
poem by Ray Lucero
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Song Of Long Ago
LONG ago, long ago,
When the hawthorn buds were pearly
And the birds sang, late and early,
All the songs that lovers know,
How we lingered in the lane,
Kissed and parted, kissed again,
Parted, laggard foot and slow!
What a pretty world we knew
Dressed in moonlight, dreams and dew,
Long ago, my first sweet sweetheart,
Long ago!
Long ago, long ago,
When the wind was on the river
Where the lights and shadows shiver,
And the streets were all aglow.
In the gaudy gas-lit street
We two parted, sweet, my sweet,
And the crowd went to and fro,
And your veil was wet with tears
For the inevitable years--
Long ago, my last sweet sweetheart,
Long ago!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Thank You For Loving Me
Its hard for me to say the things
I want to say sometimes
Theres no one here but you and me
And that broken old street light
Lock the doors
Well leave the world outside
All Ive got to give to you
Are these five words when i
Chorus:
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldnt see
For parting my lips
When I couldnt breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes
The skys a different blue
Cross my heart
I wear no disguise
If I tried, youd make believe
That you believed my lies
Chorus:
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldnt see
For parting my lips
When I couldnt breathe
Thank you for loving me
You pick me up when I fall down
You ring the bell before they count me out
If I was drowning you would part the sea
And risk your own life to rescue me
Solo
Lock the doors
Well leave the world outside
All Ive got to give to you
Are these five words when i
Chorus:
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldnt see
You parted my lips
When I couldnt breathe
Thank you for loving me
When I couldnt fly
Oh, you gave me wings
You parted my lips
When I couldnt breathe
Thank you for loving me
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Street Only Knew Your Name
Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old scar, new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
Old scar on the hand
New scar on the head
Same pain, different trouble
First came shock
Then hurt became blue
Blue’s gone leaving scar
Old scar, white scar
New scar, hidden well
When morning’s gone, nights always come
Craving old scar, leaving new scar
Old scar, new scar
Stitched together by excellent tailor
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Since You Left
My dear, since you left
Rain of tears have been
Falling down my eyes.
My dear, when you left
My eyes knew no smile,
You took all with you
When you left.
My dear, what would I do
If not for your beautyful smile.
My dear, since you left
This cold has become
My best friend without
You to hold?
Since you left, my dear
Since you left.
My life knew no other you.
I love you my dear,
I love you.
Would you come back now
And stay as close to my heart
Like you were,
Before you left.
Now you know I love you
My dear, I love you.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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That Long Scar
The scar on my leg
Was once very painful
It runs the length of my leg
I never shed a tear
It was so hard to hold it all back
But now that its a scar
I don't look at it
Now that I notice it again
The memory is just a memory
I don't even remember the pain
I don't remember how I felt
I know it hurt but that's all
But I do remember how it happened.
That Ill never forget...
poem by Lizzy Henry
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The Rose
In my hand I held the rose
As I would a woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the touch, sight and beauty that I knew,
When the kiss of beauty, once had blew.
I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
And then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became the body and the petals became the skin,
Then I held her lightly, within the wind.
The rose held me, as I had held her
The two of us had become one
Then the act of God had prevailed that day
For he commanded the wind to take the rose away.
And towards the heavens She had flew,
As though to join the love that I once had knew.
In my hand there laid a thorn
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth, I then laid the thorn
So love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream,
Knowing never again, will it be seen.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Woman Dear
In my hand I held the rose
As I would a Woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the beauty that I had knew
When the kiss of beauty, once did flew.
I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
Then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became a body and the petals became her skin.
Then I held her softly, within the wind.
The rose held me as I held her
The two of us had became one,
Then the act of GOD prevailed that day,
For he commanded the wind to take her away.
Then towards the heavens I saw her flew.
As though to join the love that I once had knew.
In my hand there laid a thorn,
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth I then laid the thorn
So the love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream.
Knowing never again, will it be seen.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Winner
The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, 'Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
Yeah, he's a winner.'
But I'd had myself about five too many, and I walked up tall and proud,
I faced his back and I faced the fact that he'd never stooped or bowed.
I said, 'Tiger Man, you're a pussycat,' and a hush fell on the crowd,
I said, 'Let's you and me go outside and see who's the winner'
Well, he gripped the bar with one big hairy hand and he braced against the wall,
He slowly looked up from his beer....my God, that man was tall.
He said, 'Boy, I see you're a scrapper, so just before you fall,
I'm gonna tell you just a little what a means to be a winner.'
He said, 'You see these bright white smilin' teeth, you know they ain't my own.
Mine rolled away like Chiclets down a street in San Antone.
But I left that person cursin', nursin' seven broken bones.
And he only broke three of mine, and that make me a winner.'
He said, 'Behind his grin, I got a steel pin that holds my jaw in place.
A trophy of my most successful motorcycle race.
And every mornin' when I wake and touch this scar across my face,
It reminds me of all I got by bein' a winner.
Now my broken back was the dyin' act of handsome Harry Clay
That sticky Cincinnatti night I stole his wife away.
But that woman, she gets uglier and meaner every day.
But I got her, boy, and that's what makes me a winner.
You gotta speak loud when you challenge me, son, 'cause it's hard for me to hear
With this twisted neck and these migraine pains and this cauliflower ear.
'N' if it weren't for this glass eye of mine, I'd shed a happy tear
To think of all you'll get by bein' a winner.
I got arthuritic elbows, boy, I got dislocated knees,
From pickin' fights with thunderstorms and chargin' into trees.
And my nose been broke so often I might lose it if I sneeze.
And, son, you say you still wanna be a winner?
My spine is short three vertebrae and my hip is screwed together.
My ankles warn me every time there'll be a change in weather.
Guess I kicked too many asses, and when the kicks all get together,
They sure can slow you down when you're a winner.
My knuckles are so swollen I can hardly make a fist.
Who would have thought old Charlie had a blade taped to his wrist?
And my blind eye's where he cut me, and my good eye's where he missed.
Yeah, you lose a couple of things when you're a winner.
My head is just a bunch of clumps and lumps and bumps and scars
From chargin' broken bottles and buttin' crowded bars.
And this hernia, well, it only proves a man can't lift a car.
But you're expected to do it all when you're a winner.
Got a steel plate inside my skull, underneath this store-bought hair.
My pelvis is aluminum from takin' ladies' dares.
And if you had a magnet, son, you could lift me off my chair.
I'm a man of steel, but I'm rustin', what a winner.
I got a perforated ulcer, I got strictures and incisions.
My prostate's barely holdin' up from those all-night collisions.
And I'll have to fight two of you because of my double vision.
You're lookin' sick, son, that ain't right for a winner.
Winnin' that last stock-car race cost me my favorite toes.
Winnin' that factory foreman's job, it browned and broke my nose.
And these hemorrhoids come from winnin' all them goddamn rodeos.
Sometimes it's a pain in the butt to be a winner.
In the war, I got the Purple Heart, that's why my nerves are gone.
And I ruined my liver in drinkin' contests, which I always won.
And I should be retired now, rockin' on my lawn,
But you losers keep comin' on, makin' me a winner.
When I walk, you can hear my pelvis rattle, creak and crack
From my great Olympic Hump-Off with that nymphomaniac,
After which I spent the next six weeks in traction on my back,
While whe walked off smilin', leavin' me the winner.
Now, as I kick in your family jewels, you'll notice my left leg drags,
And this jacket's kinda padded up where my right shoulder sags,
And there's a special part of me I keep in this paper bag,
And I'll show it to you, if you want to see all of the winner.
So I never play the violin and I seldom dance or ski.
They say there never was a hero brave and strong as me.
But when you're this year's hero, son, you're next year's used-to-be.
And that's the facts of life, when you're a winner.
Now, you remind me a lot of my younger days with your knuckles clenchin' white.
But, boy, I'm gonna sit right here and sip this beer all night.
And if there's somethin' you gotta prove by winnin' some silly fight,
Well, OK, I quit, I lose, son, you're the winner.'
So I stumbled from that barroom not so tall and not so proud,
And behind me I could hear the hoots of laughter from the crowd.
But my eyes still see and my nose still works and my teeth are still in my mouth.
And y'know...I guess that makes me...a winner.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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When The Running Stops
When the Running Stops
In the enclose, outside the slaughterhouse, sheep were running in rings,
first to the left, and then to the right; in the end there was only one left
and it was too tired to run. I have lost two more friends, feel as I’m
the only sheep left in the enclosure and too tired to run. Heartache and
fun, we had it all in our adolescence. Then our way parted, but you never
forget a childhood friend.
Two years ago I was going to see them, a reunion of school friends going
back fifty years. In the end I didn’t go, knew we would talk a lot first then
fall silent. What we remembered was our friendship then and the past is
another country, as the poet says.
I knew the chasm of years could not be bridged, over meal and too much
wine. One of my friends sent me a photo of the party, a group of old men
I would have walked past in the street and not recognized any of them.
I put the photo up on the wall in my office, but soon took it down again.
Time is a cruel enemy I cry for them and me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Love and Parting
Your wedding dress is not ready yet,
A choir does not sing in our honor,
But time is hurrying us not to forget
The horses that ask for honeymooners.
If only the troika would not lose its way
And the bells would never stop ringing.
Parting is a high price for the love to pay,
Two friends for eternal love are singing.
We've opened the love gate ourselves,
We've harnessed the happiest troika,
And here is something looming tells:
Love and parting are always an alliance.
The holy science -to hear each other
Through years, through times and life
Two friends are eternal - love and parting
They pass through our hearts with a strife.
The longer our life is- the years are shorter,
The sweeter the voice of our friends,
Each meeting becomes much warmer,
Love and then parting our life demands.
The bank, then the river, the sun, then the storm,
The twittering swallows, then cawing of crows,
Love and parting - they two eternal roads form,
Love and parting- this duet always together goes.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Angel
I met an angel on the street this morning
Maybe it was late last night
You see I haven't been to sleep
There's music in my feet
And I haven't stopped to think about it twice
Oh yeah
Well you wouldn't recognize her this angel
Oh for she's not the celestial type
She had no pair of wings
I don't even think she sings
And the words that she spoke were no heavenly hype
Somehow she knew that I'd been thinking about you
Somehow she knew the city held no light
Somehow she knew that I just needed a reason
To tell you the things that I feel in the night
Oh let it show
If you love them then let them know
Oh let it show
If you love them then let them know
Well that was all that she said she had for me
All that she'd been sent down to say
So she straightened up her rags
And she walked off with her bags
Back into her city jail
Away oh yeah
So this is how I've come to you this morning
To tell you of a secret in my heart
I'll bring it to your feet
I'll dance it in the street
You know I love you
I love you
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ring-Pull Chain
‘It’s all I can do to remember
Your face, your look or your smile,
You left one day, but you didn’t say
You’d be gone for many a mile;
For many a mile and fortune
That you took in your pocket then,
You left me chained to the window-pane
To welcome you back again.’
‘I stared for many a morning,
I cried for many a night,
But kept my pain on a ring-pull chain
I counted by candle-light.
A link for each day you wandered,
A yard for each month you strayed,
Three hundred feet back in Stanley Street
Is waiting to be unmade.’
‘You took my love at the parting
But me, you left behind,
My love was never returned, so lost
I followed, travelling blind.
My tears I wove in the ring-pull chain
To save for the day we met,
But steel corrodes, and the old crossroads
Have never been rained on yet.’
‘The days of ‘sorry’ are over,
The long regret’s begun,
I came to see if the memory
Would dare to call me ‘son’.
If I ever have a child in trust
While life is lost in pain,
I may well go, but my love will show,
And there’ll be no ring-pull chain.’
25 June 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Our street light
there we would sit
under the street light
free from the dark
just you and me
having a laugh
talking bout the good times
talking bout the bad
however messed up our lives were
watever pain we were in
the street light would heal us and set us free again
it was our getaway
it was our thing
the street light brought us together
the street light brought us the end
i still remember that street light like that special glow you had my friend
the street light brought us fun
the street light brought us love
the street light brought us warmth as we lay and look at the stars above
i was happy under the street light
as i knew you were too
comforting each other was all we used to do
the street light may be faded
the street light may be dull
but lets just remember the street light kept us going strong!
poem by Brad Brown
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