En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Hemispheres

Milton's 'May' is of renewal,
Blesses sun's stoked fuel.

Well may May-north warmth inspire,
May-south brings wintry rants:
Hibernate your skimpy wardrobe,
Get out your beanie, where's my pants?

poem by Douglas Scotney
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Beanie G. And The Rose Tattoo

Come here talkin', like a schoolboy fool
Cute and rotten
Ooh, beanie g. and your rose tattoo
Keep on rockin' like the geator say (keep on)
White clogs knockin'
Oh, oh, oh, beanie g. wonder can you play?
Don't be no punk, don't be no candy ass
Don't flunk the test, then expect to pass
Don't understand, and yet afraid to ask
So why you wanna waste your time?
Rose guitar bleeding on your arm
Day-glo farm boy
Oh, beanie g. with your rose tattoo
Oh, beanie g.
Just tell me, where you learnt to rock 'n' roll
You got your licks, but you forgot your soul
You play real hot, but you leave me cold
So why do you wanna, waste my time?
Listen g. boy, better get in line, g.boy
And it's a long one, 'cause the gigs are hard to find
Beanie g. and the rose tattoo
Oh, beanie g. ( g. boy)
Oh, beanie g. ( keep on )
Oh, beanie g. ( g. boy ).

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North And South Of The River

I want to reach out over the Loch
And feel your hand across the water
Walk with you along an unapproved road
Not looking over my shoulder
I want to see, and I want to hear
To understand your fears
But we're north and south of the river
I've been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over
A young man running from what he didn't understand
The wind from the Loch just get colder, colder
There was a badness that had its way
But love wasn't lost, love will have its day
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Can we stop playing these old tattoos
Darling I don't have the answer
I want to meet you where you are
I don't need you to surrender
'Cause there's no feeling that's so alone
As when the one you're hurting is your own
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Some high ground is not worth taking
Some connections are not worth making
There's an old church bell no longer ringing
Some old songs are not worth bringing
North...
(Higher ground is not worth taking)
North and south of the river

song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North & South Of The River

I want to reach out over the loch
And feel your hand across the water
Walk with you along an unapproved road
Not looking over my shoulder
I want to see, and I want to hear
To understand your fears
But were north and south of the river
Ive been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over
A young man running from what he didnt understand
The wind from the loch just get colder, colder
There was a badness that had its way
But love wasnt lost, love will have its day
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Can we stop playing these old tattoos
Darling I dont have the answer
I want to meet you where you are
I dont need you to surrender
cause theres no feeling thats so alone
As when the one youre hurting is your own
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
North and south of the river
Some high ground is not worth taking
Some connections are not worth making
Theres an old church bell no longer ringing
Some old songs are not worth bringing
North...
(higher ground is not worth taking)
North and south of the river

song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The End of 'Ulysses'-a triple-barrelled limerick

'Ulysses' is a buck of a ride
Wherever you get on inside.
The end is no canter
Molly's a ranter
Stopping she cannot abide.

She rants a long distance
To Gibraltar for instance.
She's trained hard for the meet.
You can't begrudge her her feat.
But then she pulls down her pants.

And rants, on the potty no less,
Raves about Poldy's largess,
Lists bucks she's had in the sack,
Likes a Bloom tongue in her crack.
We've had a buck of a ride by her 'Yes'.

poem by Douglas Scotney
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Six Directions

East brings life
West brings death
North bestows wisdom
South promises innocence
Below lay Hades
Above Heaven wafts
One man...
Six directions

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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4. Blow me down

The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew

The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed

The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best

The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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It's been stolen

Newgrange
The rain is hammering on our windows,
it's changed,
last week it was still warm
almost summer rain.

Now it's been stolen
along with the sun
dragged south
to give us our endless winter

To make it worse they mess with the clocks
make the darkness worse
the night longer.
I need the light and the sun!

I need that week in Seville again
tapas bars open on the street
sun hot on my skin
bright in my eyes, a joyful atmosphere

The south stole the sun
for their summer ration
but it seems to me most humans are in the north
so it's time to renegotiate

We need a better year
How about two extra months of sun up here
though that may upset the gods
those behind the barrows and stone circles

Where at the moment of the winter solstice
the prayers are answered
and each day that follows brings the sun
a few minutes closer

So I guess we are stuck with it
the cold winds from the north
sucking tha last warmth from the land
and those damp westerlies giving us grey damp

So out with the wellies
the waterproofs, hats and gloves
Let's get out the casseroles
and make a joyful and comforting stew.

poem by Robin Pratt
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Only let the North exert as much moral influence over the South, as the South has exerted demoralizing influence over the North, and slavery would die amid the flame of Christian remonstrance, and faithful rebuke, and holy indignation.

quote by Angelina Grimke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hughley Steeple

The vane on Hughley steeple
Veers bright, a far-known sign,
And there lie Hughley people
And there lie friends of mine.
Tall in their midst the tower
Divides the shade and sun,
And the clock strikes the hour
And tells the time to none.

To south the headstones cluster,
The sunny mounds lie thick;
The dead are more in muster
At Hughley than the quick.
North, for a soon-told number,
Chill graves the sexton delves,
And steeple-shadowed slumber
The slayers of themselves.

To north, to south, lie parted,
With Hughley tower above,
The kind, the single-hearted,
The lads I used to love.
And, south or north, 'tis only
A choice of friends one knows,
And I shall ne'er be lonely
Asleep with these or those.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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In Spirit Today

Today is a new day.
A new beginning. A new end.

Today may not show up tomorrow,
so I look positively at everything it has to send.

Today I believe in my inner self,
where ego rapidly descends.

Today I believe in my dreams,
and the promises it brings.

Today I wont try to be right,
as it's right as it is.

Today I take chances,
by leaping into the wind.

Today I feel one,
with the forests serene beauty I exercise in.

Today I drink water,
and feel it flowing through my skin.

Today I fuel my body with glorious food,
experiencing the vast tastes of life as I chew.

Today I stop to smell the flowers,
and let the sent take me to you.

While pondering and analyzing,
the perfection of a life so true.

Today I continue to play, love and learn.
Letting these experiences inspire me,
so that I can inspire in return.

Today I hope to create a person,
better then yesterday,
greater then tomorrow,
living fully in today.

♥

poem by Emma Hayes
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In Your Mind There Remains Unrest

If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.

If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.

You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.

You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.

If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Adolescent hormones…

I have a devil in my pants
With a three pronged lance
Look here? Look there?
Look everywhere?
The whores of Babylon
And the wenches of France
Are serving up a dance
In my pants, in my pants
In my pants,
Yet; my heart wants romance.

poem by Mark Heathcote
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Individuals

In the west we look to the east.
In the east we look to the west.
In the south we look to the north
and in the north we look to the south.
Wherever we are we look to the opposite
for the mystical sunshine
we see in others eyes.
That promise of plenty
everyone seems to have.

Each life is individual
to be lived the same way.
Each will have separate roads
along which to travel.
Each will find something
in what others have declined.
Each will find a path
to the heaven that they seek
as the individuals we are.

20 September 2010

poem by David Harris
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A change of wardrobe

A change of wardrobe
~
a time has come to change
throw out the tattered rags
the old worn threads
usher in some new colour
brighter and more cheerful
something fresh to wear
a more comfortable fit
a sharper look to be seen in
a time has come to change
redress the wardrobe
and improve the self
cast away the old suits
which had seen better days
and step out to be seen
a newer you awaits
a change of wardrobe

poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Last Flower

Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Goodbye My Baby

today you were laid to rest
such a shame
because you were truely the best
so very brave and not the least bit shy
quricky and funny
just a top sorta guy
the times we talked
meant so much to me
i laughed at your moonwalk
and you asked about my family

i made fun of your beanie
you told me i was jealous
laughed it off and called me a meanie

you talked to my mummy
and to no supprise
you made a great impression
she thought you were a lovely guy

then you had the band at the ball call my name
i was kinda embarrsed
the other girls felt the same

you added me on facey
just to say sorry
i told you it was funny now
and not to worry

you were so stoked
because after all
it was a pretty funny joke

so i must confess
baby i miss you
in peace may you rest
RIP.

poem by Classic Girl
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Gassed & Stoked - Loss

Well you covered your tracks and now I cant see you
You had your ashes scattered at sea
Theres no grave to visit, no tombstone to look at
You were in the new york times obituary
Theres no record, no tape, no book, no movie
Some photographs and memories
Sometimes I dial your phone number by mistake
And this is what I hear
This is no longer a working number, baby
Please redial your call
This is no longer a working number
Your party doesnt live here anymore
This is no longer a working number
If you still require help
Stay on the line and an operator
Will try to bail you out
I knew I should have seen you that thursday
I knew I shouldnt have left
But you sounded so good, your spirits so up
I thought Id see you next week
I say over and over if I had half a brain
If I had half a brain in my head
I wouldnt sit here dialing a wrong number
And listening to what some recording said
This is no longer a working number
Please redial your call
This is no longer a working number
Your party doesnt live here anymore
This is no longer a working number
Well, if you still require help
Stay on the line and an operator
Will try to bail you out
I knew I should have written, written things down
I always say Ill never forget
Who can forget a one-eyed pilot
Whos a concert pianist, ah
A painter, a poet, songwriter supreme
My friends are blending in my head
Theyre melting into one great spirit
And that spirit isnt dead
Now I may not remember everything that you said
But I remember all the sings youve done
And not a day goes by not an hour
When I dont try to be like you
You were gassed, stoked and rarin to go
And you were that way all of the time
So I guess you know why Im laughing at myselves
Every time I dial the wrong line
This is no longer a working number, baby
This is no longer a working number
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go
Gassed, stoked and rarin to go

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now my eyes are turned from the South to the North, and I want to lead one more Expedition. This will be the last... to the North Pole.

quote by Ernest Shackleton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grant—1885

BLESSED are Pain, the smiter,
And Sorrow, the uniter!
For one afflicted lies—
A symboled sacrifice—
And all our rancor dies!

No North, no South! O stern-faced Chief,
One weeping ours, one cowled Grief—-
Thy Country—bowed in prayer and tear—
For North and South—above thy bier!

For North and South! O Soldier grim,
The broken ones to weep for him
Who broke them! He whose terrors blazed
In smoking harvests, cities razed;
Whose Fate-like glance sent fear and chill;
Whose wordless lips spake deathless will—
Till all was shattered, all was lost—
All hands dropped down—all War's red cost
Laid there in ashes—Hope and Hate
And Shame and Glory!

Death and Fate
Fall back! Another touch is thine;
He drank not of thy poisoned wine,
Nor blindly met thy blind-thrown lance,
Nor died for sightless time or chance—
But waited, suffered, bowed and tried,
Till all the dross was purified;
Till every well of hate was dried;
And North and South in sorrow vied,
And then—at God's own calling—died!

poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Many years ago, I concluded that a few hair shirts were part of the mental wardrobe of every man. The president differs from other men in that he has a more extensive wardrobe.

quote by Herbert Clark Hoover
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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