Peter Pan
He'd buried his head in manuscripts
And books for twenty years,
He'd kept himself to himself had never
Ventured down the stairs,
His meals were brought on a silver tray
His clothes were laundered and pressed,
No callers came to his stately rooms
To invade his hours of rest.
He'd turned his back on the world out there
When young, and his sister went,
His parents left the estate to him
Though most of the money was spent,
He had no interest in state affairs,
No more in the works of man,
Looked rarely out of the windows
Of his mansion, Maison Grande.
He studied the force of nature,
Tempests, storms, tornado files,
Read books on the brontosaurus,
Mammoths, raptors, crocodiles,
The only women he knew of,
Little girls like his sister Ann,
He lived like a boy forever
In his mind, like Peter Pan.
He didn't hear when the Bailiffs
Took his furniture from below,
Cleaned out the candelabra
Caused his silver trays to go,
Ripped up the hallway carpet
Took the Louis the XVI chairs,
And finally came up knocking
When they exhausted the loot downstairs.
He stood in shock when they carried off
His desk of Baltic Pine,
Ripped the books from the shelves and
Took the last of his stock of wine,
He saw the bills he'd neglected when
The cook came up to quit,
Her owed her three months wages and
That was the least of it.
The man from the real estate came up,
A man called Arty Hook,
The name sat deep in his memory
Had he read it in some old book?
The Maison Grande would have to be sold
Could he please vacate it now,
The outside world burst into his head
Ran furrows across his brow.
His sister came to lead him away,
He went confused, like a child,
He didn't know what he'd have to do
But his thoughts were running wild,
There were people here, and people there
Each wanting a piece of him,
But he had nothing to offer them,
The future was looking grim.
Ann had a friend called Wendy who
Came round to see to his needs,
The first real woman he'd seen up close
Since before his early teens,
He noticed the perfume that she wore,
And watched her walk with a sway,
The child that had lived in the Maison Grande
Was slowly drifting away.
He felt her breath caressing his cheek
When she leaned in close to speak,
And sensed the draw of those ruby lips
And the softness of her cheek,
Her body warmth seemed to comfort him
When they sat on the old divan,
‘Til the night she said, in her negligée,
‘It's time to make you a man! '
They called around to the real estate
Next day, and collared Hook,
‘We won't be selling the Maison Grande
You can take it off your book.
For Wendy's paid off the debtors, and
We're planning to move back in,
I remember you, and the crocodile,
You can try but you'll never win! '
He got a job at the Uni with
The knowledge he had in store,
And made his mark as a tutor
Teaching English Literature,
While Wendy used all her talents to
Remodel the Maison Grande,
And he excelled with his students
When he was teaching Peter Pan.
30 November 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wendy
Wendy, wendy what went wrong
Oh so wrong
We went together for so long
I never thought a guy could cry
til you made it with another guy
Oh wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurt so bad
Wendy, wendy dont lose your head
Lose your head
Wendy dont believe a word he says
I cant picture you with him
His future looks awful dim
Oh wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurt so bad
Wendy I wouldnt hurt you like that
No no no
I thought we had our love down pat
Guess I was wrong
The farthest thing from my mind
Was the day that Id wake up to find
My wendy
Wendy left me alone
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy...
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Across The Rio Grande
(don cook, chick rains)
The lights of laredo dance on the water
And shine in a young mans eyes.
Who stand on the border and dreams of paradise.
Hes heard crazy stories of how people live over in the promised land.
He heard they eat three meals a day, just across the rio grande.
Hes got a wife named maria, and a baby
Named rose, and another one to feed on the way.
Two willing hands, that couldnt find work today.
He stares at the river and curses the future,
That he cant understand.
He knows the child would have a chance, just
Across the rio grande.
Its only a river,
Thats not so deep or wide.
A boy can throw a stone across and
Reach the other side. its just some
Muddy water, cutting through the land.
But a man can make a dream come true
Just across the rio grande.
The lights of laredo dance on the water and
Shine in a young mans eyes. who stand on the
Border and dreams of paradise.
Hes heard crazy stories of how good life is
Over in the promised land, and
Sometimes it seems like God must live just
Across the rio grande.
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Il Grande Baboomba
Belli come me
Non ne fanno ancora
Cho una cartola
Che fa paura
Dove vai, dove vai
E prestami la faccia dai
Che devo fare brutta figura
E dopo vado a mille allora
Arriva la bomba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba per te
La rumba e la tromba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba per te
Sani come me
Non ne trovi in giro
Cho una calamita
Per la sfiga
Chi e la star di questo show
E prestami la faccia oh
Che devo fare brutta figura
E dopo vado finche dura
Arriva la bomba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba per te
La rumba e la tromba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba per te
E scoppia la bomba, ole, il grande baboomba e con te
E cala la mutanda, ole, il grande baboomba e per te
My baby, mama, leaves in New Orleans
Yeah, Im a boogie man, shes a queen
Sono un fenomeno e sai perche
Tiro cioccolata, molta cioccolata yeah
Its all right, its all right, its all right
Arriva,arriva,arriva,arriva, arriva la bomba,oh yeah,il grande baboomba per te
La rumba e la tromba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba per te
E scoppia la bomba, oh yeah, il grande baboomba e con te
Che rumba e che tromba
Che rumba e che tromba
Che rumba e che tromba
Il grande baboomba
song performed by by Zucchero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Real-Estate
Real-Estate, real, estate, state, taste, east, eat, ale, tea, set, sale, sales, ate;
In the thirty-seventh year with your love,
And like your battle axe and your weapons of war!
But the horse and its rider are now killed with your bombs! !
Real-Estate, at, as, art, last, late, rate, rates, sea, sear, tear, tears, tale, tales;
And like the muse of love in the land of hatred!
But rise up to the challenges around you and be yourself;
For many wrs ar now waging on!
Real-Estate, ear, era, are, seat, lease, star, rat, tar, tease, salt, ease, sat, ears;
And like your love behind the works of war! !
But be very wise to move on peacefully with your mind;
For the real-estate business is like the muse of your love surrounded with troubles.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not In The Next Few Chapters
I remember how 'old' people seemed,
When they were in their twenties.
And I was then a child...
With a wish to be a teenager.
And I remember walking on my toes,
Wanting to be taller than I was.
Or at least keep up with my father,
Whenever he walked to the neighborhood store.
And I'd walk behind him,
Thinking he was a giant.
And when I then became thirteen,
And my sister Mimmie was still eleven...
I got very bossy.
We were both 'latchkey' kids and...
Well,
I was grown...
I thought.
And I made sure she did things around our apartment,
I just was too 'grown' to do.
Like sweep the floors while I looked at TV.
She hated me.
I didn't care.
I remember being eighteen and being called a 'rainbow',
As the rest of the enlisted boy/men stood at attention...
After arriving at Lackland Air Force Base,
In San Antonio, Texas.
We were called 'rainbow'
Because we were still in our 'civilian' clothes...
And instantly demeaned.
That was their way of making sure we understood,
We were in the military and mom and daddy weren't around.
We were guaranteed to be made full fledged men.
Thirty came in a hurry.
And I had already been divorced and remarried.
And that was in 1977.
I don't know 'why' I didn't like my 40's!
Maybe because they came and went too quickly.
And I was 'still' passing for the age of twenty-five.
That didn't last too long.
In 1987 I got a phone call from my mother,
Telling me my dad was ill and she was concerned.
So as the eldest and only son,
I thought I would leave San Antonio, Texas...
Where I made my home then,
And make a quick weekend trip back to Hartford, Connecticut.
Well...
One very long weekend later,
It is now close to 2011.
My 40's and 50's were a blur.
And today at 63...
With both my parents deceased,
I am just NOW able to say,
I can enjoy every moment of my life consciously.
And feeling a whole lot younger than I look.
I know this may sound crazy, but...
I've got to relive something that I've missed,
Between my 40's and 50's I can remember...
Other than my parents passing away,
And my getting a divorce.
That was number two.
And...
With God's blessing,
I 'hope' not to do a number three.
Not in the next 'few' chapters I hope to write!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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my little sister's GONE: (
She was five when her sister left
And with her gone she felt like she experienced death
She was too young to even know what that meant
Apart for seven months is what they spent
Her older sister was her best friend
She always looked up to her
Her smile she would always lend
She witnessed drugs
Barely given a hug
Barely shown any love
And just when she lost hope
Her sister would always show up
At the most needed time
Her sister never knew it
But she always completed her inside
And then her sister would go away again
And the same thing would happen
Then suddenly her sister stopped coming around
For a better life is what she thought she had found
A better life that didn’t include her
But she never knew that every day
Her sister thought about her
She always wondered where her sister went
And why she always left without their lives together spent
One day she gotten taken away
To a family friend
And for a while she would stay
But she was still mistreated
Barely eaten
Always hit
But she never told her sister this shyt
When her sister would call
She’d say I’m okay
Cause her sisters on speaker phone
What more could she really say
Her sister always promised that she would visit
And every day she waited
Hoping she’d keep it
But then she realized she was stuck
But knew that her sister still had love
It was just hard for her to see her face
And she felt like in this world she had no place
One day her sister came for her
She went to church and looked for her
She asked where is my little sister
And they all replied GONE
That’s when I soon discovered what exactly had been done
I always promised my sister Shilah that I would come and see her
And she waited until she finally gave up
And now she’s gone and I know it’s my fault
If I had only come sooner
She would still be here
She would still know that I cared
She waited for me to keep my promise
And I did but it was too late
and now i feel dis-honest
poem by Shilesha Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister (feat. Faith Evans)
[Hook]
Sister You Don't Have To Cry
Everything Will Be Alright
My Sister You Don't Have To Weep
Cuz Things Are Getting Better
[Verse I]
A Mother Worries About The Son She Raised
Alone Cuz He Is Fighting With Danger And
It's Getting Close, But He Won't Listen
She Prays To God And Asks Him Would You Please
Protect Him But She Is Not Alone
[Verse II]
A Young Girl's Lying About The Weight She's
Gaining Because She Is Hiding A Baby
That Her Boyfriend Says He Didn't Father
He Said He Was In Love But Now He Can't
Be Bothered But Keep Your Head Up High
Little Sister
[Verse III]
Strugglin, Trying, Working Days And School At
Night The Bills Are Piling, Patience Low And
Pressures High And You Can't Take It. You Say
You'll Just Throw Up Your Hands But You Can Make
It. Somebody Understands.
[Bridge]
Strong And You're Beautiful
You Should See, You Should Know
Strong And You're Beautiful
Sister, Sister [Repeat]
Hook-------Out
song performed by by Kelly Price
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Of The World
Hello one and all
Was it you I used to know
Cant you hear me call
On this old ham radio
All I got to say Im alive and feeling fine
If you come my way
You can share my poison wine
No marigolds in the promised land
Theres a hole in the ground
Where they used to grow
Any man left on the rio grande
Is the king of the world
As far as I know
I dont want your bread
I dont need your helping hand
I cant be no savage
I cant be no highwayman
Show me where you are
You and I will spend this day
Driving in my car
Through the ruins of santa fe
No marigolds in the promised land
Theres a hole in the ground
Where they used to grow
Any man left on the rio grande
Is the king of the world
As far as I know
Im reading last years papers
Although I dont know why
Assassins cons and rapers
Might as well die
If you come around
No more pain and no regrets
Watch the sun go brown
Smoking cobalt cigarettes
Theres no need to hide
Taking things the easy way
If I stay inside
I might live til saturday
No marigolds in the promised land
Theres a hole in the ground
Where they used to grow
Any man left on the rio grande
Is the king of the world
As far as I know
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Océan de terre
J'ai bâti une maison au milieu de l'Océan
Ses fenêtres sont les fleuves qui s'écoulent de mes yeux
Des poulpes grouillent partout où se tiennent les murailles
Entendez battre leur triple cœur et leur bec cogner aux vitres
Maison humide
Maison ardente
Saison rapide
Saison qui chante
Les avions pondent des œufs
Attention on va jeter l'ancre
Attention à l'encre que l'on jette
Il serait bon que vous vinssiez du ciel
Le chèvrefeuille du ciel grimpe
Les poulpes terrestres palpitent
Et puis nous sommes tant et tant à être nos propres fossoyeurs
Pâles poulpes des vagues crayeuses ô poulpes aux becs pâles
Autour de la maison il y a cet océan que tu connais
Et qui ne se repose jamais
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chance
I do not remember who you are
everything escapes from my hand
through the spaces between my fingers
into this nameless land
My life is woven out of water
noting stays and everything goes
my memory is a river
forever running its way out of history
I am nothing desired
I am nothing stopped
I come and go any time and any way
alone and ten times alone
I do not have a single breath to mourn for
And always I give out myself for souvenirs
each time passing for something else
for you and those like you
and what I am will be
what I will be for each one of you
the city of flowers, eyes of the loam
describe shelter: piece of crap
>weak roof, could be blown off anytime
>cardboard walls, easy to put apart when gov’t wants them out
malnourished child reading book
>lamp source of light
>skips parts with words s/he doesnt understand
>books saved by father from fire, father loved books
>father died trying to save more things, leaving behind: 2 children + wife
>mother died giving birth to a still born
whistles from outside
>sister is back, she shouts at the perverts
child comes out with a stick
>drunkards earn enough to get drunk
>they push him/her, throws a pail of water
>dirty water dripping from body of the child
>”useless aral, you should work, inutil! ”
sister helps him/her, shouts at men
>no one bothers to help a “dirty” woman
sister prepares food she bought
>she coughs, months na ang ubo
>angry, “dont turn on lamp unless kailangan, mahal gas”
sister leaves
>not touching the child for fear of infection
>”matulog ka na, tagal pa ako balik”
>puts off the lamp
malnourished child turns on the lamp
>reads book again
* reprinted from a friend's collection
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Supervision
The teacher prayed to God above for wisdom day-by-day,
For only He had perfect love and insights to relay.
The teacher saw the vision come and looked at it amazed,
For it was meant for all not some, yet not a word was phrased.
From clouds on high, the book birds flew about the teacher's head
And some of these the teacher knew, for they were fondly read.
Then other book birds circled round with titles yet unknown,
With treasure chests as yet unfound, with cherished truths unshown.
Imagine books left on the shelves, unread, unshared for years...
Deprived of these to help ourselves, no thoughts between our ears.
What use would Mankind ever gain if great books were not read?
The teacher thanked God for the brain that chose not to be dead.
And so it was, the teacher smiled! The course ahead made sense.
From now on, books for every child, for families and friends.
In every language known to Man, God's Word can preach Good News,
If we but do the best we can to help each student choose.
The teacher's heart was filled with hope with all God had revealed,
For books would help the students cope, as if each were a shield.
Both fact and fiction serve us well, if willing we would be
To learn the lessons that they tell, for truth shall set us free!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Real Man
When I was a child
I thought as a child
I spoke as a child
I didnt know better
But now Im a man
I look like a man
Im old as a man
And I should know better
Got my head in the sky
And my mind knows what it wants
But my body just drags me down
And my world is something you cant see
But its still very real to me
You can find it in the hole where I keep my soul
There it is - way down inside me
Theres a real man
Forget about my body and be a real man
I see with my heart
I hear with my heart
I feel with my heart
Sometimes it works better
And some so-called friends put me down
And they pity me for trying
Bad emotions push me around
But the vision shines on and on
It will shine when we all are gone
And Id like to add a little sparkle while Im here
Light it up - way down inside me
Theres a real man
Forget about bad feelings and be a real man
Some mens world is only hate and money
Afraid of everything and they laugh at nothing
And they only live to criticize
You can laugh at me now [ha ha ha]
But the time comes to everybody
When you must decide
When that day finally comes along
You might wish youd been a little more strong
Then youll wake up in the morning cryin
Oh my god
There it is - way down inside me
Its a real man
You got to grow up sometime
Be a real man
Suffer them slings and arrows
Be a real man
Now be a real man
Dont sell yourself for nothing
Be a real man
Dont take no crap from no one
Be a real man
Get your trip together
Be a real man
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giving and Receiving-Taking and Empty
She carried his memory with her-
wore it like a necklace.
It was
embedded in her body-
every place he had touched-
issued silent body sighs
asking her to go back to him,
to have him touch her that way again.
It was her he'd kissed
her loins, her heart, all caressed-
all made love to
by him.
She would have forgotten
but her body did not
-could not.
Her body had melted in the hot;
rose again and again
in the bubbling up
to remind her of what it missed.
..
She sometimes times would imitate
his touch
but her body was not consoled.
She could have her mind
imagine his touch
but the mind was not good enough
to compare with the real thing.
She over-reacted on city streets when
people accidently bumped her;
another body close
caused memories to stir..
She held her books close;
placed them flat against her breasts
absent-mindedly
to emulate his touch.
She slept in a ball to gain warmth
from her own thighs
held close to her.
She was an open book.
Every page missed him.
Her mind could not focus
amid those body cries
coming in the still night.
She could not see
in her midnight stumblings
wandering her own room
blind body seeking
trembling heart seeking
what it remembered
but no longer had.
Body rules the night
and mind rules the day
but nigh-time lasts an eternity
and knows how to cry.
She reached for the phone.
It was a call. Only a call.
Just to hear his voice and then she would hang up.
Maybe that would reduce the yearning between her legs.
Just a little thing.
She set aside the little toys she had bought unused.
Maybe they would help; maybe not.
But not now.
Her hand was attached to her body
and her body took charge
directed the hand, dialing the number,
butterflies fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
Breath bated, not breathing, she was riveted
awaiting the sound of his voice.
It came with a big 'hello'
But
But, it was only the answering machine.
She relaxed listening to every syllable. 'I am not here right now but I would like to know that you called. Leave your name and number and I will get back to as soon as I can'
Even his voice mail message made her remember his caring
hearing 'I will get back to you as soon as I can.'
He was like that. He was always willing, willing to meet you half-way in everything. He made love that way too. He was the giver and she was the taker.
Before him she had been with Bart.
Bart the Taker. He took out of bed
and he took in bed.
He never gave out of bed and he never gave in bed either.
Bart left you empty and then rolled over and went to sleep.
So she became a taker, saying that she would not be taken from again like that.
So she took from Joel
because she felt it was her turn
and he was so willing to give.
He gave and he gave and she took.
The day came he ceased wanting to give
grew tired of of her demands, of her traffic cop attitude in bed
and was gone. Didn't answer phone calls.
Avoided her, offered only silence.
She hung up trying slowly
with her hand
trying
to send him the message through the hung-up phone
that she had changed-
that she was now able to give..
But he was not there to see,
or to hear her,
to feel the change that she had achieved.
Taking too much
had left her empty.
and giving
even when she wanted to
did not feel real
even when she desperately
wanted to.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rio Grande
Now this was what Macpherson told
While waiting in the stand;
A reckless rider, over-bold,
The only man with hands to hold
The rushing Rio Grande.
He said, “This day I bid good-bye
To bit and bridle rein,
To ditches deep and fences high,
For I have dreamed a dream, and I
Shall never ride again.
“I dreamt last night I rode this race
That I today must ride,
And cantering down to take my place
I saw full many an old friend’s face
Come stealing to my side.
“Dead men on horses long since dead,
They clustered on the track;
The champions of the days long fled,
They moved around with noiseless tread—
Bay, chestnut, brown, and black.
“And one man on a big grey steed
Rode up and waved his hand;
Said he, ‘We help a friend in need,
And we have come to give a lead
To you and Rio Grande.
“‘For you must give the field the slip;
So never draw the rein,
But keep him moving with the whip,
And, if he falter, set your lip
And rouse him up again.
“‘But when you reach the big stone wall
Put down your bridle-hand
And let him sail-he cannot fall,
But don’t you interfere at all;
You trust old Rio Grande.’
“We started, and in front we showed,
The big horse running free:
Right fearlessly and game he strode,
And by my side those dead men rode
Whom no one else could see.
“As silently as flies a bird,
They rode on either hand;
At every fence I plainly heard
The phantom leader give the word,
‘Make room for Rio Grande!’
“I spurred him on to get the lead,
n I chanced full many a fall;
But swifter still each phantom steed
Kept with me, and at racing speed
We reached the big stone wall.
“And there the phantoms on each side
Drew in and blocked his leap;
‘Make room! make room!’ I loudly cried,
But right in front they seemed to ride—
I cursed them in my sleep.
“He never flinched, he faced it game,
He struck it with his chest,
And every stone burst out in flame—
And Rio Grande and I became
Phantoms among the rest.
“And then I woke, and for a space
All nerveless did I seem;
For I have ridden many a race
But never one at such a pace
As in that fearful dream.
“And I am sure as man can be
That out upon the track
Those phantoms that men cannot see
Are waiting now to ride with me;
And I shall not come back.
“For I must ride the dead men’s race,
And follow their command;
’Twere worse than death, the foul disgrace
If I should fear to take my place
Today on Rio Grande.”
He mounted, and a jest he threw,
With never sign of gloom;
But all who heard the story knew
That Jack Macpherson, brave and true,
Was going to his doom.
They started, and the big black steed
Came flashing past the stand;
All single-handed in the lead
He strode along at racing speed,
The mighty Rio Grande.
But on his ribs the whalebone stung—
A madness, sure, it seemed—
And soon it rose on every tongue
That Jack Macpherson rode among
The creatures he had dreamed.
He looked to left, and looked to right,
As though men rode beside;
And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white,
Raced at his jumps in headlong flight
And cleared them in his stride.
But when they reached the big stone wall,
Down went the bridle-hand,
And loud we heard Macpherson call
“Make room, or half the field will fall!
Make room for Rio Grande!”
“He’s down! he’s down!” And horse and man
Lay quiet side by side!
No need the pallid face to scan,
We knew with Rio Grande he ran
The race the dead men ride.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Straight To The Man
Saying this revalation, call delia station
An initiation, all youd better beware
Wholl cast the first stone?
Skin to the bone, bring it all on home, bring it on for jerome
So, new castle, build a brand new castle, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Straight to the man
On an island of traders, you know theyre tryin to fade ya
No-one can train you, no-one evade you, no-one can fade you
Saying dont be late, no, the train wont wait
Saying dont be late, no, the boat cant wait
Saying dont be late, no, the train nor
The boat or the train cant wait, yeah
Do the do, do the do, do the do do
Do the do, do the do do do
Do the do, do the do do do do do do do do
The, heading straight for the man
Oh, you know theyll never evade you
So now I stand here, love cuts down a revolver
Am stern damn in sodom and gomorrah
So Im singing to king stone, your teaching its on
They say its a fable, though I was made able
I slipped through the net, wanna bet its a ramble, a sandstorm
One slip you dont ever forget, who could ever forget?
You know I never forget
Straight to the man
Oh, you know theyre trying to fade you
Saw this revalation, call delia station
I don;t need no powder, one kinder, easy blind ya
Yeah the ice of grande bretagne owes a debt
Say the ice of grande bretagne
All the eyes of grande bretagne all the eyes of
Grande bretagne owes a debt
Yeah the eyes of grande bretagne all eyes of
Grande bretagne owes us a debt
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane and You and the Gatekeeper
You sat with Jane
on the grass
in the field
beneath the Downs
she was looking
at the sky
and you
were watching her
her profile
her hair pulled back
in a ponytail
her eyes bright
as new coins
her pale blue dress
and white ankle socks
and brown sandals
she followed a butterfly
fluttering by
a Gatekeeper
she said
where?
you said
there that butterfly
it's called a Gatekeeper
you turned to watch
the butterfly
she had pointed to
as it fluttered off
down the field
stopping now and then
to land on flowers
I love butterflies
she said
how do you know
all their names?
you asked
I read Daddy's books
he has a number of books
on butterflies and moths
she said
she lay back
on the grass
and stared
at the sky
you lay down
beside her
your hands
behind your head
she smelt of lavender
you noticed
you breathed it in
let it fill within you
don't you read books?
she asked
turning to look at you
taking in your white shirt
and blue jeans
I'm reading a book on birds
you said
I bought it in town
the other week
that's a start
she said smiling
I guess so
you said
I didn't realize
there were so many kinds
she studied you
as you spoke
resting her head
on her hand
maybe we can go looking
for nests next year
when they begin
to nest again
she said
ok
you said
not to touch though
she said
just to look
birds don't like
their nests disturbed
in London
we only have sparrows
and pigeons
you said
how boring
she said
you watched
her lips moving
as she spoke
her eyes on you
studying you
I'm glad you're here
you said
glad to be here
she replied
she touched her fingers
to her lips
and blew you a kiss
and you did likewise
seeing a new world
in her deep dark eyes.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rio Grande's Last Race
Now this was what Macpherson told
While waiting in the stand;
A reckless rider, over-bold,
The only man with hands to hold
The rushing Rio Grande.
He said, `This day I bid good-bye
To bit and bridle rein,
To ditches deep and fences high,
For I have dreamed a dream, and I
Shall never ride again.
`I dreamt last night I rode this race
That I to-day must ride,
And cant'ring down to take my place
I saw full many an old friend's face
Come stealing to my side.
`Dead men on horses long since dead,
They clustered on the track;
The champions of the days long fled,
They moved around with noiseless tread -
Bay, chestnut, brown, and black.
`And one man on a big grey steed
Rode up and waved his hand;
Said he, "We help a friend in need,
And we have come to give a lead
To you and Rio Grande.
`"For you must give the field the slip,
So never draw the rein,
But keep him moving with the whip,
And if he falter - set your lip
And rouse him up again.
`"But when you reach the big stone wall,
Put down your bridle hand
And let him sail - he cannot fall -
But don't you interfere at all;
You trust old Rio Grande."
`We started, and in front we showed,
The big horse running free:
Right fearlessly and game he strode,
And by my side those dead men rode
Whom no one else could see.
`As silently as flies a bird,
They rode on either hand;
At every fence I plainly heard
The phantom leader give the word,
"Make room for Rio Grande!"
`I spurred him on to get the lead,
I chanced full many a fall;
But swifter still each phantom steed
Kept with me, and at racing speed
We reached the big stone wall.
`And there the phantoms on each side
Drew in and blocked his leap;
"Make room! make room!" I loudly cried,
But right in front they seemed to ride -
I cursed them in my sleep. `He never flinched, he faced it game,
He struck it with his chest,
And every stone burst out in flame,
And Rio Grande and I became
As phantoms with the rest.
`And then I woke, and for a space
All nerveless did I seem;
For I have ridden many a race,
But never one at such a pace
As in that fearful dream.
`And I am sure as man can be
That out upon the track,
Those phantoms that men cannot see
Are waiting now to ride with me,
And I shall not come back.
`For I must ride the dead men's race,
And follow their command;
'Twere worse than death, the foul disgrace
If I should fear to take my place
To-day on Rio Grande.'
He mounted, and a jest he threw,
With never sign of gloom;
But all who heard the story knew
That Jack Macpherson, brave and true,
Was going to his doom.
They started, and the big black steed
Came flashing past the stand;
All single-handed in the lead
He strode along at racing speed,
The mighty Rio Grande.
But on his ribs the whalebone stung,
A madness it did seem!
And soon it rose on every tongue
That Jack Macpherson rode among
The creatures of his dream.
He looked to left and looked to right,
As though men rode beside;
And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white,
Raced at his jumps in headlong flight
And cleared them in his stride.
But when they reached the big stone wall,
Down went the bridle-hand,
And loud we heard Macpherson call,
`Make room, or half the field will fall!
Make room for Rio Grande!'
. . . . .
`He's down! he's down!' And horse and man
Lay quiet side by side!
No need the pallid face to scan,
We knew with Rio Grande he ran
The race the dead men ride.
A.B. (Banjo) Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sister's Are Good Friends
Even if she is not a real sister to me,
And even if she was not around to see me get awards and graduate,
She is like a sister to me, teaching me to cook,
She always cares if I ate that day or not.
Sometimes too protective- but we have a lot of fun,
Not all days are filled with sun constantly-
We argue at times and swear we are done talking-
She treatens to not talk in general at all and I just say I want talk to her-
But we both understand that will never be the case
We will be there in winter, spring, summer, and fall.
I am protective over her at time, I will call just to make sure she is safe.
She will get me to stay in,
When I have no one to go with by saying it is her law as a older sister.
Though hard to understand she is hard on me like a blister-
But there is never a doubt she does it out of love
unlike a lot of people who liked to be called mrs. or mr.
Good sisters are like close friends- they give love like a lot of doves,
But always are looking out for each other
And if they are older and you live in a cold state make you wear gloves
Whether by blood or heart- they are a gift from above.
poem by Rita Hawkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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