Outsider
The many childhood memories that I have
are lonely ones of being an outsider.
I never mixed very well
and was always the last one,
other children wanted to call a friend.
I was a quiet person
who spent much of his time alone
buried deep within his own thoughts.
At classes, I always got the lowest grades,
on vacation I almost always was on my own.
I would sit for hours just pondering on my thoughts.
I never grew out of being an outsider,
different from the rest.
My early life was over shadowed
by younger sister whom my parents adored.
Every achievement that I made
my sister could do it better.
Not only was I an outsider at school,
but also at home a well.
In 1959, I left the shores
of the place I called home
to go back to the place of my birth.
Not until forty-two years later
would, I set foot on that soil again.
Things in the world had changed,
but not so much for me
as I was still a stranger
in the land I called my home.
13 November 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Outsider
(ian hunter)
Death be my mistress, guns be my wife
Breath is my witness and roads are my life
Just give my future's clean as a knife
Far on the way from l.a.
The sun heats the saddle, sand in my hair
Looking for water and there's sweat everywhere
Know that i'm nearer i smell damp air
I ain't tasted coffee for days
When the leaves are down i'll be southward bound
Hunters hunt the outsider.
When the wind grows cold, when the sun grows old,
Nothing holds the outsider
Just killed a man in a town called nightfall
Damned if i can't remember it all
My hand it was shaking but his talk it was tall
I paid for the funeral crew
And it seems like i never reach mexico
They're heading me off every place that i go
I'm sick of the fact that i've got to lay low
What else can an outsider do
I know they're near to me, i don't have to see
Just let me be the outsider
They ain't far behind, they're always on my mind
They won't find the outsider
The outsider
When the leaves are down i'll be southward bound
Hunter's haunt the outsider.
When the wind grows cold, when the sun grows old,
Nothing holds the outsider
The outsider. the outsider.
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Outsider
(ian hunter)
Death be my mistress, guns be my wife
Breath is my witness and roads are my life
Just give my futures clean as a knife
Far on the way from l.a.
The sun heats the saddle, sand in my hair
Looking for water and theres sweat everywhere
Know that Im nearer I smell damp air
I aint tasted coffee for days
When the leaves are down Ill be southward bound
Hunters hunt the outsider.
When the wind grows cold, when the sun grows old,
Nothing holds the outsider
Just killed a man in a town called nightfall
Damned if I cant remember it all
My hand it was shaking but his talk it was tall
I paid for the funeral crew
And it seems like I never reach mexico
Theyre heading me off every place that I go
Im sick of the fact that Ive got to lay low
What else can an outsider do
I know theyre near to me, I dont have to see
Just let me be the outsider
They aint far behind, theyre always on my mind
They wont find the outsider
The outsider
When the leaves are down Ill be southward bound
Hunters haunt the outsider.
When the wind grows cold, when the sun grows old,
Nothing holds the outsider
The outsider. the outsider.
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outsider
Outsider
Someone else is in your arms tonight
While Im all alone and blue
Someone else will kiss and hold you tight
Just the way I used to do
I used to be your love
And now Im your used to be
Outsider, thats me
Youll be dancing cheek to cheek with him
To our favorite melody
And the tender words you speak to him
Will be words you spoke to me
Once I was in your hearts
Now someone else holds the key
Outsider, thats me
*I want you so much (so much)
I can look (you can look) but must not touch
I keep waiting for the phone to ring
But I know its all in vain
When you left me you took everything
But the memories and the pain
I used to be your love
And now Im your used to be
Outsider, thats me
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not To Take Other People Seriously
a father has a child to take care
mothers have fathers
they form a circle of their own
and you who is outside
this circle,
why take them seriously?
when you are an outsider and an outsider is always an outsider
there is no way for you to be there
for as old as humanity
those that belong to them be it chattels,
slaves,
things,
pots, kettles, horns,
sticks, glasses,
dresses, coats and ties
and children
and parents
and grandparents
they always have themselves
and you do not have them
as they do not have you too
so if i were you
and as you consider me a wise man
take time with your journey
enjoy every moment
pick those flowers along the way
whistle
dance
and if you must
plunge into that cool river beside the path
at the foot of the mountain
savor the water
relax
and just be yourself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outsider
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
everything you know
everything you know
it disturbs me so
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Everything you know
Everything you know
It disturbs me so
Everybody's gotta push me
Push me around
Everybody tryed to put me
Tryed to put me down
I messed up everyone
I've already had all my fun
More troubles are gonna come
I've already had all my fun
Oh yeah yeah yeah
Everybody try to push me
Push me around
Everybody try to put me
Try to put me down
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Oh I'm an outsider outside of everything
Everything you know
Everything you know
It disturbs me so
song performed by by Green Day from Shenanigans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Outsider
There is a person, sometimes big, sometimes small
Who has a tendency to stay away from it all
When the rest of the proceedings are looked at, with wonder
This person is what everyone calls the quintessential Outsider
The Outsider could be a scavenger or a hangman
Or anybody considered unusual by a layman
He could be the maligned goalkeeper in a soccer game
Or a war-weary soldier, back to civilian life, devoid of fame
He wants to be in the thick of action, but cannot do so
He is misunderstood by a friend, as much as by a foe
His position is always lonely, always desolate, always solitary
Whether he be in a high-pressure game or the military
In every type of setting, he is a stranger
To some, he is a misfit; to some, a danger
To the well-established norms and stereotypes of the world
He is a character whose thoughts are best not unfurled
He refuses to give in to sycophancy, in this world so biased
Or conform to convention, so he is ostracized
No one seems to have time for his views
And thus his boredom with life blows a fuse
So, he is reduced to a mere observer
Of circumstances, which he becomes with little fervour
And in this way, he enlarges his experience
Of the development of life, surroundings and conscience
poem by Rony Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home:
Home…
Home is where you were born.
Home is where you were raised,
Home is were you grew up,
Home was what had shaped you,
Home is what gave you your foundation
And what help you grow into something amazing,
Home is what you left behind to become something bigger,
Home is what you remember many years after leaving,
Home is what you become missing for,
Home is where you crave to be when you're done with you adventures,
Even thought you left home, for another place,
Home has never left,
It's still there,
On the same old street,
With the same old lawn,
With the same old people,
Just waiting there,
For you and only you,
It is there for you and only you,
Because with out it,
Without a home,
You wouldn't have a place to go back to,
A place was you can call your own..well, home...
poem by Sherry Painter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outsider
Noone want to hang with me because I was an Asian
They laugh at me and laugh behind my back
I feel like an
Outsider
Everything was bad
Nothing going to change
I was so sad and hurt
They don't even know me and never give me chance
I feel like an
Outsider
What can I do?
They keep gossip about me and giving me dirty looks
Before it was hard to have friends
Now it's ok
Everyone accept me for who I am and didn't judge me anymore
I'm not only lonely girl anymore
Everything turn around and I'm happy
Outsider
poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outsider
I am the one outside the group
outside the circle
the one who fell through
the holes in the net
The stranger
the outsider
I came close
and you said come closer;
and I made every effort -
eager, naïve and persistent -
but you had sophistication;
you always have sophistication;
and you played with me;
you needed bodies and responses
to fill in forms and information
and your Bureau of Statistics
and I was there - guided, directed
and you knew
all the while,
I was the stranger, the outsider
And you whispered to one another
while your smooth talk was practiced and distinct
I was the stranger, am the outsider
which you knew all the while
which I only saw late in the hour
and so I live now at the borders, at the periphery
and now when we walk past each other
we gaze at each other with caution
with careful disregard
poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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One of the things that Ang brings to all of his projects is his deep sense of being a double exile, an outsider's outsider.
quote by Larry McMurtry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home Sweet Home
Met this girl called josephine and took her up on my machine
We had a little fun and now we got a little one
Had to get married, being chased out of town
Found ourselves a place to live, we put all our money down
Call it home sweet home, home sweet home
Eleven floors up in a tower block
Happy just to have a home
Ive gone and changed the lock on our home
Nothing really worked out right, things got broke,
They stayed that way
None of our friends came around at night and little sam got
No place to play
Weve got to get out of here, bill she said Ive been telling
You all the while
When I came home from work that night shed jumped out the
Window with our chiled
From our home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to take a rest, just a place ot make our nest
-- we call it our home
When the insurance money came through seemed dirty didnt
Know what to do
Took the cash went down the casino, down on the wheel
On the double
And I won, oh yes I won, like I never won before
Bought myself a country house with an antique carved
Oak door
It was home sweet home, home sweet home
Just a place to lay our head think of all those things we said
About in our home sweet home.
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childhood Memories
Childhood memories are often steeped in mystery.
The older we get the memories exclude
sometimes things we might find painful as we journeyed on.
I tried to visualise my childhood as a happy one,
though I know in my heart it was a very much lonely one.
Not only was I shy, but I never mixed very well.
I spent so much of my time nearly always on my own.
The only exciting time I can remember
was one summer I spent with friends of my father
whom I referred to as Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jim.
For the two months I spent with them
in a small town called Allison
hold some of the best memories of my childhood.
It was away from my parents
and into someone’s house that cared.
I went fishing every day
in the stream at the end of the garden,
made many friends
and had one of the most enjoyable times
of my childhood
that will always live within me.
5-6 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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He Feels The Time Is Ripe
Where many do live for local renown
The ageing fringe dweller in the old country town
Has never played football with the local club
And always drinks on his own when he is in the pub.
Since he does not talk about the local club's latest loss or win
He remains an outsider and does not fit in
Though he has lived here for ten years as an outsider he remain
The status of a local he has yet to attain.
He feels a decade of his life enough to have spent here
He will move to the bigger town early next year
This not a town for one such as he an artist and a talented man
More suited to a footballer or a football fan.
In the old country town he does not have a friend
And his stay in the place is coming to an end
In his early to mid fifties his best days long gone
And he feels the time is ripe for him to move on.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back Home
(Dolly Parton)
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home
Why I can't believe it's been this long
Since I've seen mom and dad
When I left my mountain home behind
I left them both so sad
My brothers and my sisters that were babies then are grown
Years have past and now at last, I'm on my way back home
Back home, back home
Yes I'm going back home
To the factory smoke and city life, I'm sayin' so long
I've shed a lot of tears through all the years that I've been gone
And I've spent a lot of time a' wishin' I could go back home
I got a letter from mama an'
Mama asked me if I'd come back home
She says it sure is lonesome now
Since all of us kids are all growed up and gone
I just can't hardly stand the thoughts of
Momma and daddy being left there all alone
That's really all I need to know
And now I'm on the road back home
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home
To the smog an' smoke an' city life, I'm sayin' so long
I've shed a lot of tears through all the years that I've been gone
And I've spent a lot of time a' wishin' I could go back home
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heart Left
What happens when you feel
the heart is missing
out of something you once loved?
The entrails still linger
and everything is just an empty shell.
The family atmosphere
that once was there is gone
leaving you to feel like a stranger
with nothing to call home.
There are still faces,
but to you none has a name.
You can still remember the fun and smiles
of not so long ago
before the heart left
a body with an empty shell.
You wonder why it happened,
why everything went so wrong
leaving you to feel an outsider
in a place you once call a home.
31 May 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orleans
My sister was named Orleans
After the town where she was born,
Dear Orleans, my best friend,
A little girl with hazel eyes,
Dear Orleans, please don’t cry,
Hold my hand and stay with me,
And never say good bye.
My sister grew up beautiful
Like so many little girls do,
My sister Orleans, late one night,
Danced with a man named Lou.
Dear Orleans, please come home,
Mama and daddy and I
Are waiting here for you.
My sister never came home that night,
And daddy called the law,
Mama paced the floor till dawn
And wrung her hands till they were raw,
Dear Orleans, we waited till
The police came to our house
And told us what they saw.
My sister had been ravished bad
And left to die alone.
The man called Lou had fled the town
And by morning he was gone.
Dear Orleans, thank God you lived,
Though you’ll never be the same,
At least you’re safe at home.
My sister Orleans grew a life
Conceived through hate and fear;
We tried to hide it from the town
But soon it became clear.
Dear Orleans, hid her shame
As day by day she swelled
And the baby’s birth drew near.
My sister thrashed and cried in bed
On the day the sun was high;
She begged for mercy and release
Till we heard the infant cry
Dear Orleans, reached out for him
I wrapped him in a towel
And watched her baby die.
poem by Caroline Misner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outsider
I'm an outsider
Outside of everything
I'm an outsider
Outside of everything
I'm an outsider
Outside of everything
Everything you know
Everything you know
It disturbs me so
Everybody tried to push me
Push me around
Everybody tried to put me
Try to put me down
All messed up
song performed by by Ramones from Subterranean Jungle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brother Bill
This is the sad true story about my brother Bill
who was four years older than me.
He was born and then tossed aside by his mother
who left him to his father’s parents to raise,
then promptly disappeared out of his life forever.
My grandparents brought him up
hoping his father would take care of him
when he returned from the war.
His father also my dad returned from the war
married with another son and didn’t want to know.
They gave him a nickname in private
so no one else would know.
In private, they always called him Dopey.
My sister and I were told
our grandparents had adopted him
and he was nothing to do with us.
When my dad’s parents died in 1958 and 59
plans were made to come back to England
where my mother’s parents were still alive
and leave Bill far behind.
Then as his mother had done eighteen years before
his father abandoned him as well.
For a while, he had to live on the streets
taking handout from where ever he could.
He was arrested for vagrancy and sent to jail.
Getting out he got himself a job and began to build a life.
He got married and started a family,
until one night he came home
and found his wife in bed with another man,
and a divorce followed and he was alone again.
Then after 25 years, his job vanished
and he had to find another.
One day in 2000, he got a telephone call
and did not know whether to believe it or not.
It was a call he never thought he would ever get,
a call from his younger brother - me.
As we talked on the phone, some truths came to pass
his brother and his sister did not know about him.
They were told he had been adopted
and were nothing to do with them.
However, I had found the truth,
which incensed my mother enough to disown me.
We met one another for the first time
after forty-two years in 2001 and again in 2002.
In 2003, this sad story ends,
in the March of that year
Bill succumbed to a heart attack.
His final words were a testament to his life.
No one loved me enough to care.
The sad truth is someone did
and that someone was me.
We never had enough time together,
circumstances kept us apart,
but he was my brother
and will remain in my heart.
2 November 2009
Authors Note:
The facts are as Bill told them to me. A sad refrain to a wonderful guy who was tainted by my parents as being bad and no good. If the truth were known he was probably better than the both of them. He was a guy who would give you the shirt of his back if you needed it. My brother Bill, may he now rest in peace.
DVH - 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The place I call home
I'm leaving now.
I'm going home.
I'm leaving now.
To the place I call home.
I won't come back.
I'll be at home.
I'll be happy there.
The place I call home.
Where the birds sing.
And the flowers dance.
Where the wind whispers.
In the place I call home.
The children play.
The stars sparkle.
The dogs bark.
In the place I call home.
I'm going now.
To my home.
Where I'll live freely
In the place I call home
poem by MyLittle Secret
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home, Sweet Home
The childhood home wherein children, we stayed;
The cottage old in which we ate and prayed;
The humble garden, on our own, we laid;
The roof that leaked in rain, though rent was paid!
The tranquil place where parents gave us love;
The wonderful compound, where we worked, ‘wow! ’
The trees and plants that grew by heaven’s grace;
The sun, moon, rain, at which we loved to gaze!
That was the lovely place, in which we lived;
The home we kept quite clean and chores were shared;
Our parents slogged for us and deeply cared;
We sometimes fought although amity ruled!
Our father’s strictness taught us good conduct;
Our mother’s fondness disciplined our mind;
The help we rendered, made us feel the warmth;
Home, sweet home, was great despite some faults!
Home, sweet home, brings memories evergreen;
Comfortable, our mother’s house, had been;
Those days were most pleasant, despite our toil;
We lost our hearts upon that very soil!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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