The World Skips Over Three Drains.
No one lifts their hats these days
As the world skips over three drains.
We forget our lessons learnt
Why not rewrite the books we burnt?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Rewrite
You know, there are these dreary days,
When a melancholic mood holds me in its sway,
Probably something we get as we age, hey?
-
In this twilight hours, we forget tomorrow,
And look back at the days, weeks, and years of long ago.
Look back, and utter a flat, "Oh."
-
Oh, all those things I could've done better or changed.
The walls I could have torn down, a few more broken chains,
Little and big things, everywhere, we wish we could change.
-
If only there was a life remote, press rewind,
Go back, and then our history rewrite.
Rewind and rewrite, our actions of those fateful days and nights.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I learnt pity, sympathy, and what it was like to be at the other end of the stick. Such lessons can't be learnt in lecture halls.
quote by Lionel Blue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Thanksgiving Prayer
I am grateful:
For this day, for those past and those ahead
For my family, who love me despite me.
For Friends both old and new
For life, each day I feel blessed anew
For food and shelter in the midst of want
For health and vitality and lessons learnt.
For the many bridges that will not be burnt.
I am especially grateful for the love of God; unchanging and sustaining. Amen
poem by Monciana Edmondson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Travels In Nihilon
Youve learnt no lessons
All that time so cheaply spent
Theres no youth culture
Only masks they let you rent
Travels, travels in nihilon
Weve seen, no jesus come and gone
Fashion, their vampire
Drapes itself across your back
As you fall from style
It waits rebirth on its rack
Building your whimsy
Hypnotising you to need
Dance goes full circle
One step ahead of your greed
Youve learnt no lessons
All those years to get it right
Flashes of promise
Burn out faster than strobe light
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 02
Two men took useless trouble and strove without any profit, when one of them accumulated property without enjoying it, and the other learnt without practising what he had learnt.
However much science thou mayest acquire
Thou art ignorant when there is no practice in thee.
Neither deeply learned nor a scholar will be
A quadruped loaded with some books.
What information or knowledge does the silly beast posses
Whether it is carrying a load of wood or of books?
Sacrifices
Autumn leaves have fallen
across long forgotten battlefields
where deep below the ground
the dead lie asleep.
Their lives torn apart
by some wicked war.
There they have immortality
for they will age no more.
Their sleep is restless
for from their deaths,
no lessons were learnt
and men and boys keep killing
in constant wicked wars.
On the eleventh hour,
of the eleventh day,
of the eleventh month
we stand in silence
to honour their memory
for the sacrifices they made,
but we have never learnt the lessons
This poem is dedicated to the memory of the men, women and children from all countries that have lost their lives in wars that have plagued our world. May their souls rest in eternal peace.
for which their lives they gave
as the killing still goes on and on.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lessons
Lessons are learnt to display hurt of the unruly parties,
As they joke and burden their souls with grief of life.
Angers are perverse creations, created by demigods,
Which parley with dangers of the soceity they sparkle in.
Solid anger is against all desire, anticipated by the masculine person,
A man, who seeks education and mastery of life.
He cannot ask of the living class, the loving class, the lovely class,
And as a woman he does not act, yet gets fighting with the chieftain,
Only to withdraw his standard and be rejected.
Lessons are learnt and jobs are conducted.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: On School-life
First day we stepped into a school was great-
In uniform with school-bag, looking cute!
We could not walk or run and had a slate;
We learnt to read and write and be not mute.
We learnt the Alphabets: count one to ten!
We ate so happily when school-bell rung;
Our teachers taught us how to hold the pen;
We can’t forget those days when we were young.
Our knowledge improved slowly every day;
Afilled with joy in hearts, we went to play;
Our teachers taught us manners and to pray;
The fees- our parents somehow tried to pay.
Although some hours, some days, we may detest,
The years we spent in school are sure the best!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hats Off to the Woman, Who…
Hats off to the woman, who bears children
With labor-pains, completing family;
Hats off to the woman, who rears the young,
Making her babies suckle at her breasts;
Hats off to the woman, who tends to both
Husband, children, others with care and love;
Hats off to the woman, who does all things
For others’ sake, selflessly all her life;
Hats off to the woman, who keeps the home,
And raises her children in forbearance;
Hats off to the woman, who labors hard
And burns the midnight-oil for family;
Hats off to the woman, who contributes
Fiscally by working in a work-place;
Hats off to the woman, who patiently
Toils, to keep the harmony of her home;
Hats of to the woman, who can also
Extend tender, loving care to old-aged;
Hats off to the woman, who has God first
In life, and sacrifices for the rest;
Hats off to the woman, who can smile
To all, despite her grief, anguish and strife in heart;
Hats off to the woman, who turns the home
A virtual Paradise on earth all life;
Hats off to the woman, who loves to slog,
And toils to raise her family with love;
Hats off to the woman, who’s an angel
To all, by being a good example.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-21-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Days Old
I am but two days old and i have no name,
Pretty young thing but i am nobody to you;
But i do know that i love you.
Sleep my little one when you are with a wise man,
Sing my sweet one when you want to know who i am;
For i am but two days old and i have no name,
But i am waiting for an intellectual exercise to touch my heart.
You better find out to learn more about me,
Because i am two days old and i only learnt from the womb;
But what can you say to a naked body? !
Since you've now made a bomb which can easily send me to the tomb.
I am but two days old and i have no name,
But you are snapping on my menu books!
And this pretty young thing is about to teach you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Twisted Games
He was lost in a kerosene dream
Fuelled by the urge inside
Always been told not to play with fire
Never was one to abide
It all started way back when
When the neighbor's house burnt down
Hypnotized by the burning flame
And in that flame his love was found
Now time went on like it always does
No one knew about his love affair
Love it was it's a twisted game
Now he's gone with out a prayer
Today he learnt his lesson well
Today he burnt like you do in hell
I wish this tale could end another way
In twisted games we should never play
Now I'll tell you another tale
About a boy who loved his gun
His 45 was his one best friend
Twisted games that can't be won
Another day or so they thought
No one knew what was to come
This little town will never be the same
With a little boy who loved his gun
Today he learnt his lesson well
Today he burnt his one last shell
I wish this tale could end another way
Twisted games we should never play
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Lessons of Love
The wonderous world of art,
The wonderous world of love,
The womderous world of peace,
This is the pen of a humble writer;
The wonderous world of poetry,
The wonderous world of passion,
The wonderous world of romance,
This is the mind of a humble poet;
Of the long pedigree of toil with hopes and dreams,
I now see the light of my village.
Of that unknown tongue and mind,
Let me now repay the lessons of love;
Of the shades of the night falling like,
An artist painting wih his pen;
The nobility of my labour will surely move me on.
On the poet's sculptured face,
The long pedigree of toil;
I now see the lights of my village so,
Let me repay the lessons of love so far learnt.
Of one whose distant footsteps the echo replays,
This day is keen and very strong to me;
Like a look of joy and the thrill of pride.
Once in an ancient city,
Over the laws of the land of peace;
Like an old man's speech to us all when,
We all have the lessons of love to share.
The soft sea air,
Just beyond the billow's reach;
Of a love command that leaves me with many questions.
Build me straight wherever i am,
With your goldfingers like a teacher;
Life always with the lessons of love.
Like a ghost,
I am strong as a youth;
The strain and the stress of life teaches me.
Build me straight wherever ia m like,
A thought in everybody's mind;
For, pleasant is the voice that calls me to dinner.
Like a ghost standing beside her lover's side,
I am still learning the lessons of love;
In it's pleasure and in it's griefs,
Like a bridegroom upon the bosom of the sea.
Love lessons,
Many will still fall behind;
Love lessons,
Of a lovely laughter like water;
Pleasant is the voce that cals me to dinner.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hats divide generally into three classes: offensive hats, defensive hats, and shrapnel.
quote by Katharine Whitehorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sinless
The curves of life
Made me curly.
The time I should have
Stood straight, stuck to my morals
Rather I chose the easier way,
Principles burnt on the bundle of hay.
How I wished to follow Frost,
But 'the road not taken'
Remained untaken...
Action is tougher than words
But I could have done what I uttered
If this greed would not have
Crossed my way...
If I would not have
Been so concerned of my gays...
If my eyes could have
Seen anything else than my pleasures...
If my mind could have
Thought of anyone else than myself...
They said I am unscholary
And threw me into ' learning temples'.
Under the banner of spreading knowledge
They snatched my pure soul.
The more I became aware
The more I dug the well
Of reality, of heartlessness
Of cruelity, of truth...
And there I learnt
To worry about myself
Instead of my mother.
They taught me
How I came alone and would leave alone
Making me forget
That what I inherited
Was much for a debt
That I could ever advent.
Now I am scared to move furthur
Scared of my instincts
That are so unpredictable.
I have become a mystery
For myself.
I never had thought
I could do, what I've done.
I was stainless
Aware of what I could grow into.
I guess that is why I was
Scared of getting older.
Maturity feared me
When I had my childhood.
Though my world wad psuedo
Yet much much better.
Reachable were my dreams,
Fulfilled was my hunger,
Harmless were my desires.
Though they were fake
Yet I had a 'smile',
My greatest asset.
Atleast I was happy.
I am not the alone to blame
I was happy being ignorant.
But you all wanted me to rise,
To step out and face the world.
And when I coloured myself in its shades
You consider me raw, you put blames.
How I wish to relive those moments,
Moments when I was unaware.
Days when I was called innocent
Days of unreality
Days when fairies existed
Days when I was a child
Days when I was SINLESS.....
poem by Jaya Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mystery
Life sure is a mystery,
Every day we repeat our history,
A giant lake,
Filled with all our mistakes,
Lessons never learnt,
Even when our sons are burnt!
Every now and then,
Just before we go around the bend,
Someone becomes a true friend,
Allowing our hearts to mend,
Maybe we can set a new trend!
Why do we hurt each other?
Brothers turns on one another!
Time to do whats' right!
Lets set our souls alight!
Never could understand my fellow man,
Unrest spreading across our lovely land,
No need to hide!
Gotta open our hearts wide,
And let each other sneak inside!
21 June 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lessons from the Sea
I was out one day to learn lessons from the sea.
The sea so deep and wide,
It is used to take you from place to place
It appears that nothing lies inside
My eyes can see what appears to be its end
The margin of the horizon,
But the closer I get, the end disappears
A mystery to everyone
The sea communicates with me, now and then
In a language of its own
I may never understand every word it speaks
Just like the seagulls, above it flown
The lessons learnt at sea, must be taught by the sea
For a substitute, there is One other
If there were no sea, where would the lessons be?
Only through that of my mother
A mother’s love, is like the wide open sea
That never stops to flow,
It matters not, the child you’ve been
Her love never ceases to glow
poem by Troy Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh, The Hats At Ascot
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
What a wonderful show on view,
Ladies parading,
Horses invading
The Course, for a race or two.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
With all their bows and frills,
The fantastic styles,
And the Ladies smiles,
Will always give one such thrills.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
An event that is Oh so true,
Just to outshine,
And look divine,
Is what the Ladies do.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Are way out and so very fine,
And with the Queen,
One must be seen,
As one watches the select equine.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Seen up and down the Course,
A glass of champers,
And gourmet hampers,
And a win on your favourite horse.
Oh, the hats at Ascot,
Which the Ladies heads do grace,
The Gents black toppers,
And the Champion Show stoppers,
Are all at this fashionable place.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocent Lady
Mother, you were source of inspiration for many
Still you were my mother
Gentle, suave and beautiful
You came from mountains
Maiden as innocent as mother nature
You were sucked into this mundane world
A mortal woman who never learnt her lessons
Even while fighting vagaries of this life
Remained innocent but could not teach this quality to anyone
Understood and taken for granted, kept on fighting a lone battle
Never got justice but fought for justice
Taught me a few lessons in wordly ways which I could never learn
Died in harness, but rememberd after death
Will you ever know, who were you?
poem by Hitesh Katyal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My School
The school I went to was the best
In Coimbatore town, in those days;
It gave me knowledge and life’s zest,
And made me wholesome, in much ways!
The school was built by Father Pat,
Near Puliakulam road grandly;
In Standard five, I firstly sat,
And loved my school very dearly!
My principal, Father Lawrence
Was strict with students, yet loved them;
My heart was full of reverence,
As every teacher was a gem!
With dedication, teachers taught;
All students got very good marks;
The mischief-makers were soon caught-
Although some were like giant sharks!
Each Monday morn, we wore a tie;
The Indian flag was hoisted then;
We sang the National Anthem high,
And marched to music like big men!
We had our drills, once in a way;
In evenings, we played some games;
And once a year, it was Sports-day!
Some naughty students used nick-names!
But in the class, we were perfect;
We had a desk each to keep books;
Our teachers told every defect;
The naughty ones were caught by looks!
My school-days were the best in life;
We learnt our lessons all by heart;
We never knew the world or strife;
The day arrived then to depart!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-14-2007
Fondly dedicated to all my school-mates
At CGMHSS, CBE
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After Sixty................
You learnt
Something or a lot
For sixty years or more
Keeping your nose
To the grindstone
It’s time to halt
Come on! Throw away
Those grammar books
Discard those language lessons
Try something akin
To your hunching spine
Help fellow humans
Or chant the names
Of the Divine
Of what use, is stock pile
When it is not for consume
Of what use is knowledge
When it cannot blossom
Into true wisdom
Look at the twilight welkin
The milk is getting sour
Add some butter milk
You can savor
Sweet curd tomorrow
poem by Sathya Narayana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!