Helping Tendency Of Your Relatives
The quality of the nine precious stones
is valued after properly washing the dirts;
The quality of the horse is ascertained
after mounting the horse over the saddle;
The impurities and the purity of the gold
are confirmed after melting the gold;
The thankfulness and helping tendency
of your relatives, you will come to know only
when you lost your wealth and be poor!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Looking for my Horse
Just the other day I lost my horse
I lost my horse, I lost it somewhere
Not here for sure or I would find it
My horse is hungry my horse must drink
The flies are horse flies you know
They zoom about my head as if to say
You are sitting on your saddle, you dummy
Your saddle under you, beneath that … a horse
poem by Werner Klokow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Boot and Saddle
I
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
Chorus. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
II
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay—
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
III
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
IV
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Bloomfield from Cavalier Tunes (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Cavalier Tunes: Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay--
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is a Horse?
What is a horse?
A horse has eyes as dainty as a mink.
The grace is interrupted merely by a blink.
A horse is beauty.
What is a horse?
A horse is a tree in a storm that never goes down.
A horse is a weathered rock that stays around.
A horse is ancient.
What is a horse?
A horse waltzes like breeze over rivers.
She curvets and leaps like rain shivers.
A horse is a marionette.
What is a horse?
A horse is determination, that never stops flowing.
A horse is fondness, that never stops growing.
A horse is poetic power.
poem by Lily Whittaker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens the blue from its silvery grey,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?"
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wallabi Joe
The saddle was hung on the stockyard rail,
And the poor old horse stood whisking his tail,
For there never was seen such a regular screw
As Wallabi Joe, of Bunnagaroo;
Whilst the shearers all said, as they say, of course,
That Wallabi Joe's a fine lump of a horse;
But the stockmen said, as they laughed aside,
He'd barely do for a Sunday's ride.
O—oh! poor Wallabi Joe.
"I'm weary of galloping now," he cried,
"I wish I were killed for my hide, my hide;
For my eyes are dim, and my back is sore,
And I feel that my legs won't stand much more."
Now stockman Bill, who took care of his nag,
Put under the saddle a soojee bag,
And off he rode with a whip in his hand
To look for a mob of the R.J. brand.
Now stockman Bill camped out that night,
And he hobbled his horse in a sheltered bight;
Next day of old Joe he found not a track,
So he had to trudge home with his swag on his back.
He searched up and down every gully he knew,
But he found not a hair of his poor old screw,
And the stockmen all said as they laughed at his woe,
"Would you sell us the chance of old Wallabi Joe."
Now as years sped by, and as Bill grew old,
It came into his head to go poking for gold;
So away he went with a spade in his fist,
To hunt for a nugget among the schist.
One day as a gully he chanced to cross,
He came on the bones of his poor old horse;
The hobbles being jammed in a root below
Had occasioned the death of poor Wallabi Joe.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The quality of mercy (conditions apply)
The quality of mercy,
Portia declared,
the quality of mercy is
suspended during the present conflict
the quality of mercy is
not the business of a Minister of Justice
the quality of mercy is
not a matter of individual conscience
the quality of mercy is
too subtle for public discussion
or law
the quality of mercy is
only for Shakespeare and stuff
the quality of mercy is
less stimulating than revenge
the quality of mercy is
no business of yours
the quality of mercy is
no concern of religious authorities
who should stay silent
the quality of mercy is
an outdated concept
the quality of mercy is
nothing to do with forgiveness
or circumstantial evidence
or the remission of sins
the quality of mercy is
no longer a matter of pride
the quality of mercy is
no longer a mark of humanity
the quality of mercy
would be OK if Obama said so
the quality of mercy
is one hell of a hot potato
cooked in oil
the quality of mercy
droppeth as the gentle
dew from heaven
upon a broken fuselage
and it is too much
or too little
for our understanding.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wind Horse
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, gentle Wind horse, you were the last of your kind.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you were running wild and free.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, with this freedom you did nothing but give;
When one called for help you carried them to safety,
No enemy did you have.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave your life one day
To a boy with no leg.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you gave him your endless love.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you now run in the Great Hunting Grounds;
Giving joy to those there, as you did here.
Da naho… It is said,
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, your life was not the last gift
You gave the People.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, you prayed for us, you wished a wish for us.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we remember you through your brother Horse.
Wi: yo: h … It is good.
Wind Horse, Wind Horse, we see you still.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse Is A Horse
A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don't know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!
poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Opal
An opal is a precious stone and it is a
very rare stone indeed. The quality and
quantity are very special to me, I swear.
The quantity does not often outweigh the
Quality of stone, I assure you. But
it is so a stone of great value, to all
to cherish you see. An opal is a gem you
adore; especially like owning a piece of
gold forever more.
poem by Patarica D. Nunn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Genuine As Those Who Know It
Whether it becomes displayed,
Or laid in the shadows to dust...
Quality is eventually discovered.
And known to show what it is.
Quality dusted never ages to rust.
No matter what attempts are made,
By those unappreciative of its value.
A quality that remains to be quality,
Is as genuine as those who know it!
Regardless of what rating it gets.
Quality can not be rated against,
That which it has no peers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Golden Bird, Painted Black
From beginning I heard
India was a golden bird,
Mughals, Britishers arrived
Looted wealth and destroyed
As she had wealth natural
Precious stones and pearl
Real gold, range of mineral
And knowledge of spiritual.
Hard work of noble citizens
Has mounted wealth again
But many citizens still feel pity
They are to live below poverty.
The amount involved in scams
Amount brought to Swiss bank,
Can run India totally tax free,
Not less the decades of three.
As said hundred trillion rupees
Is deposited in banks of Swiss,
Mere interest at Indian bank rate,
Can change poor people’s fate.
People below poverty can
Easily get per capita income.
India was a bird of gold,
India is still a bird of gold
But in black, it is painted
Her worthyness is dented.
If this black is removed,
Will again shine like gold.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No One That Is Living Has A Quality Owed
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living...
Just to sit!
And to get.
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
To receive without a risk.
And if they don't,
They throw a fit.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
To receive without a risk.
And if they don't,
They throw a fit.
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
To demand and magically get.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Barren Waste
Mount, ride my Prince, son of our Queen,
Lead us to Gold.
Pale is the horse, the dim white horse,
That I now do hold.
Our Queen sent us here, to Cebu,
Most cruel land.
Here we stand, awaiting her command,
Take my hand.
Now you will be lost, silent and pale,
Son of the Queen.
Lead us to Cebu, Land of Gold,
Never to be seen.
poem by Jerome Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pale Horse And His Rider
Recorded by hank williams, sr. (with audrey williams)
Words and music by johnny bailes, ervin staggs, zeke clements
And muriel deason wright (aka kitty wells)
[g] listen poor sinner; youre driftin away
>from the dear saviour; whos pleading to-[d] day
[g] what will you do; when the saviour aint [c] nigh
When the pale [g] horse and his [d] rider goes [g] by?
The time now aint long; when the saviour will come
Then youll be judged; by the deeds you have done
On that judgement day; youll weep and youll cry
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
When that trumpet sounds; on the sinners below
Not even the angels; in heaven will know
Thens when youll wish; you had jesus nigh
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
Wont you redeem; your poor wicked soul
You cant pay your way; with silver and gold
If youre not saved; youll be lost in the night
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Pale Horse & His Rider
Recorded by hank williams, sr. (with audrey williams)
Words and music by johnny bailes, ervin staggs, zeke clements
And muriel deason wright (aka kitty wells)
[g] listen poor sinner; youre driftin away
>from the dear saviour; whos pleading to-[d] day
[g] what will you do; when the saviour aint [c] nigh
When the pale [g] horse and his [d] rider goes [g] by?
The time now aint long; when the saviour will come
Then youll be judged; by the deeds you have done
On that judgement day; youll weep and youll cry
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
When that trumpet sounds; on the sinners below
Not even the angels; in heaven will know
Thens when youll wish; you had jesus nigh
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
Wont you redeem; your poor wicked soul
You cant pay your way; with silver and gold
If youre not saved; youll be lost in the night
When the pale horse and his rider goes by?
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ghost Song
An old man and an old horse moved slowly and steadily
towards the furthest mountain.
An old man on an old horse.
The old man thought of the many times he'd been thrown;
the old horse, how many times he'd been ridden.
They weren't in no great rush.
The old man sat straight in the saddle, head held high.
The old horse kept his head high too,
letting his feet choose the way as they
searched the clouds looking for any old friends
they had passed on the way.
A soft gentle rain started to fall,
the horse stopped, the old man bent over
and stroked his friend's neck
poem by William Mendelson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Horse
riding together,
you and your horse.
as you run against the wind all you call hear is-
the wind wipping your ears,
the horse's hooves thundering beneath you,
the chains of your bit as the horse pulls against the reins,
and the faint sound of the horse behind you.
your horse stops,
the horse behind you catches up.
the race is over,
freedom will have to wait until next time.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Created Wealth Versus Inherited Wealth
rich man
or woman
poor born
with
abilities
gifts
which enable
him or her
to fast prosper
meet a market
need or potential
to self develop
economically
to create wealth
statistically
such workaholics
may be too busy
to ever relax enough
to enjoy
their wealth
for long
so driven
by need
to achieve
constantly
changing
set goals
their
own
set
maximum
economic
potential
inherited wealth
especially old wealth
is a very different
animal
wealth
takes
a lot
of time
care
not all
relatives
share in
or
equally
in
bequeathed
inheritance
of fortunes
when
it
comes
to the acid test
good hearts
are found among
rich and poor
percentages
of goodness
the quality
of any heart
not as easily
defined
as cliché
experts
assert
weigh
hearts
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Horse For Dinner
A horse A horse
My kingdom for a horse,
A horse A horse
For the main course
Muscles of might
Pulled so tight,
A body of organs
All for a meal
Why a horse?
Why not a deer?
A horse does the work,
A deer will just peer
A horse is strong
a deer has no uses,
so there for a deer
suffers the abuses
Condemned is a deer
as from the day it's born,
until the day it dies
and its meaty flesh torn
So why a horse
if a deer has no uses?
because I am a man
Who too, has suffered too many abuses
poem by John McAdam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!