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Can you Remember?

Yes, I still remember
The whole thing in a way;
Edge and exactitude
Depend on the day.

Of all that prodigious scene
There seems scanty loss,
Though mists mainly float and screen
Canal, spire and fosse;

Though commonly I fail to name
That once obvious Hill,
And where we went and whence we came
To be killed, or kill.
Those mists are spiritual
And luminous-obscure,
Evolved of countless circumstance
Of which I am sure;

Of which, at the instance
Of sound, smell, change and stir,
New-old shapes for ever
Intensely recur.

And some are sparkling, laughing, singing,
Young, heroic, mild;
And some incurable, twisted,
Shrieking, dumb, defiled.

poem by Edmund Blunden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

How To Tell The Story Of The Cloud

you know how is it with the clouds
the more with air
and mists

they always change and they do it
as quickly as a wink

you know what clouds do
the form upon you some stories
the rainy ones sometimes and you shed tears
in the same manner with the air and mists

the air passes and sometimes you do not even feel it
and so you miss the story that it is bringing
the story of a journey
into somewhere

and the mists bring you some notes about what to do
in the darkness of the night
yet you tarry on the grass and on the side of the hill

you miss the essence of our beings
we are ghosts and we do not know where we are hidden.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is All About Us, Our Beings Lost, Dissipated

the ideas come and they do not wait.
they enter your door and they do not knock.
they leave without any permission from your house.
they have colored wings and they simply fly away upon their liking.

they are so beautiful and deep and glistening.
enlightening and you miss them

now you sit there, speechless on the blankness of your world.
why did you not write when they were here beautifully dancing and singing?

you know how is it with the clouds
the more with air
and mists

they always change and they do it
as quickly as a wink

you know what clouds do
the form upon you some stories
the rainy ones sometimes and you shed tears
in the same manner with the air and mists

the air passes and sometimes you do not even feel it
and so you miss the story that it is bringing
the story of a journey
into somewhere

and the mists bring you some notes about what to do
in the darkness of the night
yet you tarry on the grass and on the side of the hill

you miss the essence of our beings
we are ghosts and we do not know where we are hidden.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Changes

the ideas come and they do not wait.
they enter your door and they do not knock.
they leave without any permission from your house.
they have colored wings and they simply fly away upon their liking.

they are so beautiful and deep and glistening.
enlightening and you miss them

now you sit there, speechless on the blankness of your world.
why did you not write when they were here beautifully dancing and singing?

you know how is it with the clouds
the more with air
and mists

they always change and they do it
as quickly as a wink

you know what clouds do
the form upon you some stories
the rainy ones sometimes and you shed tears
in the same manner with the air and mists

the air passes and sometimes you do not even feel it
and so you miss the story that it is bringing
the story of a journey
into somewhere

and the mists bring you some notes about what to do
in the darkness of the night
yet you tarry on the grass and on the side of the hill

you miss the essence of our beings
we are ghosts and we do not know where we are hidden.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mild the mist upon the hill

Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.

O, I'm gone back to the days of youth,
I am a child once more,
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
And near the old hall door

I watch this cloudy evening fall
After a day of rain;
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
The horizon's mountain chain.

The damp stands on the long green grass
As thick as morning's tears,
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
That breathe of other years.

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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What A Beautiful Sound

beautiful sounds
that stir the heart
free awakening soul
lift flight sky spirit

sound of river running wide unified flowing
sound of creek running downhill leaping splashing
sound of stillness crisp haunting in still mountain morning
sound of wind timeless moving over through forest trees growing

sound of whispers retracting as first soft snow flutters falling
sound of soft rain tender kissing warm earth embraces water waiting
sound of rain heavy droplets embracing dancing love symphony greeting

sound of storm clouds fast running painting sky black spiraling
sound of thunder freedom singing vibrating through poet laughing
sound of morning awaking to gentle joy of my young daughters laughing

a beautiful sound is bliss joy of young daughters happiness laughing
a beautiful sound is healthy children fed soul wonder bliss laughing
a beautiful sound is our well fed children in joy mind song laughing
a beautiful sound is God smiling with me in child mind song laughing

poem by Terence George Craddock
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This Daddy Thing

I remember
waking up to the sound
saturday morning cartoons
G.I. Joes raging war
on that carpet battlefield
in your bedroom

Barefoot
stepping on toy cars
Causing panic at the Indianapolis five hundred
two hundred laps on the living room floor
Laughing outloud to myself
wondering just what I got myself into

This daddy thing
got my nerves on edge
got my tongue twisted
Come toss the football with me
tell me how fish swim like that
what makes the rain
This daddy thing
it just keeps getting better day by day
When I look into his amazing innocent eyes
this daddy thing
is the greatest feeling

Why is the sun so high up in the sky
touches us so why can't we touch it too
And can you tell me
why stars only come out at night
Is it so they can catch our wishes
before they fall

Why is the ocean blue
why is red not orange
or even purple
Somethings just can't be explained
just the way this world was made

poem by Daniel Wittfoth
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Young, Dumb & Ugly

We're dangerous dudes, we got bad attitudes
Most of our brain cells are gone
We were born to be bad, you better not make us mad
Or we just might toilet paper your lawn
We got a reputation 'round these parts
We only leave a ten percent tip
Sometimes we don't return our shoping carts
Stay out of our way and don't you give us no lip
'cause we're young... dumb and ugly
That's what we are
We're so young... young, dumb and ugly
We wear black leather in the hottest weather
You can't imagine the smell
We got three-day stubble, our names spell trouble
T-r-u-b-e-l
Reaisin' hell, bendin' the rules just a little
We're livin' only for thrills
We squeeze our tooothpaste tubes from the middle
And wait until the last minute to pay our telephone bills
'cause we're young... dumb and ugly
You better believe it
We're young... young, dumb and ugly
I'll tell you again
We're so young... young, dumb and ugly
We're comin' to your town
Yeah, we're young... young, dumb and ugly
We're wild, reckless men, we're on a rampage again
We drive with just one hand on the wheel
Danger's in our soul, we're goin' out of control
Swimmin' right after a big heavy meal
We're there wherever trouble's starting
We're rebels without a clue
We drink milk right from the carton
And keep our library books 'till they're way overdue
'cause we're young... dumb and ugly
That's what we are
We're so young... young, dumb and ugly
You can't stop us
We're young... we're so young, dumb and ugly
Young, dumb & ugly
We're young... we're young, dumb and ugly
So ugly
Young... dumb... & ugly

song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young, Dumb and Beautiful

Young, dumb and beautiful
She is everything I need
Young, dumb and beautiful
She means the world to me

Young, dumb and beautiful
A flower for the world to see
Young, dumb and beautiful
So glad she loves me

I used to stare into her eye's in awe
The passion we shared made my heart fall
I hope she knows she means the world to me
Never thought someone so beautiful would ever love me

So many countless nights I yearned for true love
Prayed for God to send me an angel from above
Now I know that some prayers come true
Because every morning when I wake its next to you

Young, dumb and beautiful
Thank you for being mine
Young, dumb and beautiful
A love to grow with time

As I hold your hand down this bright road.
Gonna tell you something that Ive never told.
Want you to know I love you so.
Let us share our hearts forever more.

Young, dumb and beautiful
Blow a kiss into the breeze
Young, dumb and beautiful
She's brought me to my knee's

poem by Lance Carthen
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Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)

Passing through a long stretch of woodlands
and fields above the hills,
we saw a terrain with knolls in circles,
where the mountain-rat Shivaji held sway,
with a drawn sword when the Moghuls ruled India.
When we were going up, the shining bunds of lights
one above the other on the slopes of the hills,
made our jaunt fascinating!

A fine morning drizzle fell to make the hills smile
and the spreading mists tried in vain to veil the hills
from our ravening looks.
The mists were wreathing upwards
while our eyes were scaling down the slopes.
And it was a vertiginous dropp to the vales below!

Sparkling sparks of teachers, my friends were,
taking neck or nothing risks
and travelling in routes unheard of
to retreat into hills and forests,
not as jungle bandits with prize catches
or as bogus ascetics with all delicacies
but with passions unbridled
to get wet in the breeze of the hills
and be shrouded in the all pervading mists.
------------

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young, Dumb Ugly

Were dangerous dudes, we got bad attitudes
Most of our brain cells are gone
We were born to be bad, you better not make us mad
Or we just might toilet paper your lawn
We got a reputation round these parts
We only leave a ten percent tip
Sometimes we dont return our shoping carts
Stay out of our way and dont you give us no lip
cause were young... dumb and ugly
Thats what we are
Were so young... young, dumb and ugly
We wear black leather in the hottest weather
You cant imagine the smell
We got three-day stubble, our names spell trouble
T-r-u-b-e-l
Reaisin hell, bendin the rules just a little
Were livin only for thrills
We squeeze our tooothpaste tubes from the middle
And wait until the last minute to pay our telephone bills
cause were young... dumb and ugly
You better believe it
Were young... young, dumb and ugly
Ill tell you again
Were so young... young, dumb and ugly
Were comin to your town
Yeah, were young... young, dumb and ugly
Were wild, reckless men, were on a rampage again
We drive with just one hand on the wheel
Dangers in our soul, were goin out of control
Swimmin right after a big heavy meal
Were there wherever troubles starting
Were rebels without a clue
We drink milk right from the carton
And keep our library books till theyre way overdue
cause were young... dumb and ugly
Thats what we are
Were so young... young, dumb and ugly
You cant stop us
Were young... were so young, dumb and ugly
Young, dumb & ugly
Were young... were young, dumb and ugly
So ugly
Young... dumb... & ugly

song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep This In Your Mind And Soul All The Time

Keep this in your mind and soul all the time,
No boat is going to float over your threshold.
To allow you to wine and dine.

If you've got the melody and the rhythm with rhyme,
You've got to move this from your mind to your feet.
No one but you can make real whatever it is,
You want to chew with your teeth.
If you have a need to eat...
You are the one that has to cook.
You alone have to supply and stir up the heat!

Keep this in your mind and soul all the time,
No boat is going to float over your threshold.
To allow you to wine and dine.

You can not sit on your wishes and dreams,
Expecting to be given a change of scene.
Get up and make it real what it is you wish.
Get up and make it real what it is you dream.
No boat is going to float over your threshold,
Anytime soon.
If you're not prepared to row or energize that boat...
You might as well float off and go back to sleep.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Mists Of The Mountain

we sit here facing the mists of
the mountains
this November as we escape
city life
we catch a glimpse of who we are
what we really are

the mists slowly fade away and we stop
to ponder
we exhale we inhale we taste a moment
of life
we feel a little of death
we prepare for the next step

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Up Away From That Thing

Get up away from that thing
Andmove to the obscure rhythm
Get up away from that thing
Try to get out of their reach
Get up away from that screen
And create a look of your own
Get up away from that screen
Create a life of your own
Untie yourself from that tube
And move in a way they cant fathom
Get up away from that thing
Theres more to the world
Than say show me

song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Government Can't Solve

The government can't solve our spiritual problems
only we the people can
all we need to raise our consciousness
across this bountiful land.
Government can only make laws
for our society is not yet highly evolved.
We need to start this spiritual change at home-
raising children that are able to express freely
what is wrong.
Change our way of thinking about who we are,
We are not victims anymore
we are strong spiritual shining stars.
Written by Christina Sunrise on April 14,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Am I Still Me?

I am not dead though I should be
There’s very little left of me.
I do not live merely exist
My mind is clouded the mist persists

I can’t remember anything
Although I try there is nothing
I don’t know where I am or why
I wonder sometimes who am I

Then the mists descend again
I don’t know where I am or when.
My body lives my mind has fled.
Dementia which I used to dread.

Has destroyed my ability
To think at all coherently
I am not happy nor am I sad.
I would not know if I was glad.

I should be dead but I am not.
The art of living I forgot.
The mists do lift occasionally
And I remember I am me.

Although my body is quite fit
Without my mind what use is it?
Am still me or just a shell
condemned to a living hell.

Am I still me?

I am not dead though I should be
There’s very little left of me.
I do not live merely exist
My mind is clouded the mist persists

I can’t remember anything
Although I try there is nothing
I don’t know where I am or why
I wonder sometimes who am I

Then the mists descend again
I don’t know where I am or when.
My body lives my mind has fled.
Dementia which I used to dread.

Has destroyed my ability
To think at all coherently
I am not happy nor am I sad.
I would not know if I was glad.

I should be dead but I am not.
The art of living I forgot.
The mists do lift occasionally
And I remember I am me.

Although my body is quite fit
Without my mind what use is it?
Am still me or just a shell
condemned to a living hell.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queensday in May

The fool on the hill
made us pay his bill
of uncomfortability
loss of stabilty
ability to trust.

La Fou on a needle
a memo of the war
reminding us of
how people can be
when they lose
their drift
in a black car jar.

In a black car jar
with his neck
streched
to the back
he lost his goal
his inner control
killed seven
and killed self.

The fool on the hill
made us pay his bill
of uncomfortability
loss of stabilty
ability to trust.

Our old Guilder says on it's rim: ' ïn God we trust! ' with on one faceside a portray of Beatrix our Queen, on the Euro we only kept the Queens face. By the way: Beatrix keeps her queensday on ex-Queens' Juliana 's birthday (her mother)

In dedication of all the victims and their beloved ones.

I do believe that this young man Karsten wasn't going to kill anyone especially not the Queen, his life was solitairly and full of disappointments and he probably wanted to catch a nice day in the sun. (let all speculations be speculations) untill he was annoyed by something something
inside him snapped and drove him in this deadmansdrive to this deadendsdrive.

Madrason 13-05-2009

poem by Madrason writer
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Busload Of Faith

You cant depend on your family
You cant depend on your friends
You cant depend on a beginning
You cant depend on an end
You cant depend on intelligence
Ooohhh, you cant depend on god
You can only depend on one thing
You need a busload of faith to get by, watch, baby
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
You need a busload of faith to get by
You can depend on the worst always happening
You can depend on a murderers drive
You can bet that if he rapes somebody
Therell be no trouble having a child
You can bet that if she aborts it
Pro-lifers will attack her with rage
You can depend on the worst always happening
You need a busload of faith to get by, yeah
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by, baby
Busload of faith to get by
You cant depend on the goodly hearted
The goodly hearted made lamp-shades and soap
You cant depend on the sacrament
No father, no holy ghost
You cant depend on any churches
Unless theres real estate you want to buy
You cant depend on a lot of things
You need a busload of faith to get by, woh
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
You cant depend on no miracle
You cant depend on the air
You cant depend on a wise man
You cant find em because theyre not there
You can depend on cruelty
Crudity of thought and sound
You can depend on the worst always happening
You need a busload of faith to get by, ha
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before Spring

FARE you well, who love the highways,
Love the cities, tall and bright,
For the forest ways are my ways,
And the birds' songs my delight,
And the stars in river byways
Are my only lamps by night.

I shall see the Spring awaking
While you think it winter still,
Watch the brittle ice forsaking
Edge of marsh and pool and rill,
And the little willows making
Yellow mists against the hill.

Go you to the things you care for,
Violins with trembling string,
Jewels that men do and dare for,
Every lovely, man-wrought thing;
They have caught your spirit, therefore
You have left me ere the Spring.

poem by Alice Duer Miller
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song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Longford Dawns

Of course not all the watchers of the dawn
See Severn mists like forced-march mists withdraw
London has darkness changing into light
With just one quarter hour of any weight.

Casual and common is the wonder grown, -
Time's duty to lift lights curtain up and down.
But here Time is caught up clear in Eternity
And draws as breathless life as you or me.

poem by Ivor Gurney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Can you Remember?

Related quotes

How To Tell The Story Of The Cloud

This Is All About Us, Our Beings Lost, Dissipated

The Changes

Mild the mist upon the hill

What A Beautiful Sound

This Daddy Thing

Young, Dumb & Ugly

Young, Dumb and Beautiful

Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)

Young, Dumb Ugly

Keep This In Your Mind And Soul All The Time

The Mists Of The Mountain

Get Up Away From That Thing

Government Can't Solve

Am I Still Me?

Queensday in May

Busload Of Faith

Before Spring

Video Killed The Radio Star

Longford Dawns

En.Citatepedia®.ro

Can you Remember?

Related quotes

How To Tell The Story Of The Cloud

This Is All About Us, Our Beings Lost, Dissipated

The Changes

Mild the mist upon the hill

What A Beautiful Sound

This Daddy Thing

Young, Dumb & Ugly

Young, Dumb and Beautiful

Hills of Mahabaleshwar (Pune-Mumbai-India)

Young, Dumb Ugly

Keep This In Your Mind And Soul All The Time

The Mists Of The Mountain

Get Up Away From That Thing

Government Can't Solve

Am I Still Me?

Queensday in May

Busload Of Faith

Before Spring

Video Killed The Radio Star

Longford Dawns

En.Citatepedia^®.ro