The Plaque
They gave him a plaque
to hang on his wall
and not one person had come to call.
He had worked at his desk
8 hours a day.
He'd worked with diligence
and earned his pay.
He never took sick time
or called in late.
He punched the clock
and pulled his weight.
He looked at the plaque
that held his name
and all that he had done
was within that frame.
Outside the frame
was the shell of a man
who'd missed out on life
since his job began.
No pleasure, no fun,
No friends had he made.
He sat and stared at the plaque
and prayed,
'Please God send me a friend.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
45 Causes Of Alzheimer's
Cause of Alzheimer's
or Disease of Oldtimers:
Amyloid plaque blocks the veins
which feed the brain
**************************
4 of the molecules which can build up in the brain:
a. amyloid plaque: a byproduct of animal protein metabolism
b. cholesterol in the cerebral arteries
c. calcium plaque in the blood vessels
d. trioxypurine or uric acid, the pre urine of animal
muscle cells which remains in animal flesh and crystallizes
around the joints and in the arteries
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Imagination's Field
Within its bounds, naked canvas stretched.
Before the display, the lad stood.
Adorning the wall, ornate frame hangs.
In concentration, young man observes the void.
Forced by curiosity's command.
for the source of his deliberation.
I searched sans satisfaction,
In despair, I queried the youth.
“Sir, within empty frame you survey,
what do you perceive? ”
Without addressing me, responded.
“I see tall mountains, endless restless seas.”
“I see naught, for this frame's canvas is empty.
How might you see these sights? ”
He turned, facing me and remarked.
“Sir, within the frame, a great deal I see”
Sans the luxury of explanation, pointed at the title plate.
Upon small brass plaque,
beneath the frame, inscribed.
“Imagination’s Field”
29Oct10
poem by Kurt Hearth
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The arrow's green and I turn left.
The arrow's green and I turn left.
Straight, there's a strip mall,
A dealership, a gas station,
Then the road climbs a hill.
My way looks much the same.
It's the end of the day,
My way leads to you and home.
It occurs to me of a sudden
I don't know where I'd be
If I went straight at that intersection.
10 years and I've always turned,
Never seen nor wondered
What lies on up that road,
Beyond that hill.
10 years:
A clock, an extra week of vacation,
A mention at the company meeting,
A plaque whose veneer started peeling
Soon as I got to the car,
So my face, kind of amused,
Shone reflected in its shiny backing.
It's been a good job, I've worked hard,
And the pay's been quite OK.
At home the 10 years will earn me a 'Hey'
And a laugh about the wordless plaque
That as a mirror might be almost useful,
Then the talk will get back
To who said what to whom at school,
To what happened at soccer that afternoon,
To what your mother said on the phone.
After dinner I'll loaf and watch the game.
10 years it's taken me to notice
I never saw a choice.
poem by William L Roberts
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Soldier's Tree
They call this tree the Soldier's Tree
It honours one whose life blood was shed
A victim of the First World War
'Lest we forget our soldier dead'.
I read the plaque nailed to the tree
It stated his date of birth and name
A tree to honour his bravery
But to dead soldier what use fame? .
I see he was just seventeen
So young so very young to die
Those who sent him to fight in war
Must share blame for death of the boy.
Fighting more than half a World away
And at the end what was his gain?
Gunned down by one he'd never known
Hope death was quick without much pain.
How can one that you've never known
Ever become your enemy?
Those who send men to die in wars
Of guilt must not be made feel free.
I read the plaque on Soldier's Tree
On war memorial avenue
A lad who died at seventeen
Gunned down by one he never knew.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Little Paul
Halloween Costume party at Famous Daves,
everyone in costume gets up on the stage.
That’s where I did meet Little Paul,
he is the smallest of them all.
He is wearing a bat outfit with wings,
he is cute and stands next to me.
Paul and me become the best of friends for awhile,
he went back to Iowa to be with his child.
But during that brief time we were friends,
we did some interesting things.
Paul became a character in my book,
he was Razel’s bat, he had the look.
I filmed him in the tall trees,
He had an evil smile with bright white teeth.
But really Paul was really sweet,
He would always have something for me to eat.
See he was a chef at a restaurant,
He worked all hours, he worked a lot,
so he would have a drink - like a shot.
He would get so toasted, and fall about his place,
I was worried for him, I didn’t want him to hit his face.
Then I told him to take a break one day,
He would rest at my apartment where he would stay.
I would stay at his apartment in Minneapolis city,
While Paul made my apartment look so pretty.
He rearranged my watercolors paintings of Melodie,
gave each one a description that was very funny.
One night he gave me some Indian artwork,
it was from the alley where he did lurk.
I use the frame of painting now for my 3 x 5,
I look at this painting, and know the frame is inside.
Little Paul gave me his grandmother’s precious lamp,
I make sure it’s safe, I can’t give it back.
Thanks Paul for the great memories,
I hope you are doing great and are in peace.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 27,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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There's a plaque on our wall that says we've sold over 65 million albums, and I don't feel I've accomplished anything. I feel like I'm just getting started.
quote by Eddie Van Halen
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Empty Picture Frame
An empty picture frame sits upon my desk
Where once upon a time a picture in it did rest
But now the frame stands lifeless and bare
Now it reminds me of a love that once was there.
As in the past the picture brought me happiness and joy
Gave me the reason to live and to write my story
To glance upon and dream of when no one was near
To speak the words of love when them she couldn't hear.
But when she left me I threw her picture away
But I kept that frame to remind me of that day
In remembrance of what she did in and out of my sight
As she was my candle but she blew out that light
So that picture frame I keep it in my plain view
So every time I see it I know what to say and what to do
As once upon a time her picture was in the frame
But now picture is gone but the memories still remain.
poem by Randy McClave
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My mother used to tell me man gives the award, God gives the reward. I don't need another plaque.
quote by Denzel Washington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Prayed to God to Send Me A Friend
I prayed to God to send me a friend
Who had things in common with me
Someone who looks beyond here and now
Who lives life joyfully
I prayed to God to send me a friend
Because I was lonlely for someone who
Tries to walk in God's light, as is good and right
A friend who is honest and true
I prayed to God to send me a friend
Who nurtures me back in return
And talks of things that matters in life
Who's open to what life has to learn
I prayed to God to send me a friend
Who shows concern for me when I hurt
Someone who listens, when I have something to say
And who cares for me, even at my worst
I prayed to God to send me a friend
Who likes Irish music as I do
Someone who is proud of her culture and past
And enjoys a good verse or two
I prayed to God to send me a friend
And he listened to me too
My prayers have been answered, He sent me a friend
My good friend, he sent me........you.
poem by Kathleen West
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The Shorter Week
I worked for fifty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut down my working hours
And found, upon the whole,
The leisure time I had to spare
Good for my body's carking care,
And better for my soul.
I worked for forty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Release your bonds, you shackled slave!
Show all the world you're free!'
So I reduced my working hours
And found in leisured lull,
The more I sought to play, the more
Amusement had become a bore,
And life was rather dull.
I worked for twenty hours a week,
And someone said to me
'Awake, you mutt! Snap out of it,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut out my working hours
And found that joy had flit.
Upon black melancholia's brink,
I sometimes used to sit and think
And sometimes merely sit.
I worked for not one hour a week,
And someone said to me,
'You lazy coot! Arise and shine!
You call this being free?'
So I resolved I'd better far
Rejoin the toiling mob.
But when I rose and looked around,
To my intense digust I found
Someone had pinched my job.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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What did I do?
What did I do to get out of your life,
when I am in every frame of your life?
As a fetus, you kicked and turned,
I was there in that frame, carrying you.
As an infant you were fragile and helpless,
I remember I was there as well.
As an aimless toddler, before stumbling down,
the hands that carried you, were mine.
During all your school activities,
the beating heart that prayed for your success,
During minor and major exams and interviews,
the eyes that woke up before you,
Had I been there in those frame?
I was there in every frame of your life,
I will be there in every frame of my grandchildren,
If you both let.
Until then my child, explore the new things.
This poem is dedicated to the parents who miss their
children who have gone for further education, work
commitments and other reasons as well.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Leonardo
The one on portrait hanging on the wall
Perhaps the best that history can recall
He lived and worked five hundred years ago
And still the legend of Leonardo grow.
A Poet, a Scientist and an Engineer
An Inventor and an Artist without peer
From near poverty to fame at a time
When to be poor was looked on as a crime.
Leonardo the greatest son of Italy
Opened the gate to modern technology
No stranger to the book of history
In five hundred years no greater one than he.
Five centuries back he said that man would fly
And the legend live his fame will never die
His dusty portrait in old frame hang on wall
Perhaps the best that history can recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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61 Seconds
J. spinks
Without a word Id know what to say
If you stared at me my eyes would refuse to stray
61 seconds is all it takes
For the 9 to 5 man to be more than one minute late
Theres a clock on the wall
A mirror reflecting it all
Just an imageless photograph
To wake up not knowing where I am today
I dont drive the same car
I dont live the same way
(chorus)
61 seconds is all it takes
For the 9 to 5 man to be more than one minute late
Theres a clock on the wall
A mirror reflecting it all
Just an imageless photograph
Theres a space in a frame
Can you imagine a man with no name
I can, I can, I can
(chorus)
song performed by by Outfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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13 Years
Woke up sweating in the sun
Sprawled across my big brothers grave
Shaking and drunk with sleep
I crawled to my feet and walked up into the shade
Of a young elm tree that must have been planted since the last we came
Vicki, my mom, and me, cleaned the dirt
From the plaque that says his name
Walking to my girlfriends car
Came back down on me
Yeah, I guess I fell to my knees
To keep from falling face-first into the dream
The vision that had had me twisting out under the afternoon sky
I didnt know it then
But it was thirteen years to the day he died
He held his hand in me
Like brothers we walked
Through the colorless world of an alcohol dream
I talked for hours
Trying the break through the silence
That he held over me
Then he started away, turned his head
Keep it up so you can die like me
Ever since my brother odied
Ive drifted all over from town to town to town
Every place I go its always the same
I keep doing junk, I keep going down
My mama got religion and my sisters gave up
Man I just gave up too
I just died inside
Dont wanna die like george
Everybody says theres things to see
Everybodys pointing their fingers at me
I woke up driving
After another blackout from another bad drug
I cant shake this hell that I made for myself
For every other life I took
See my sisters son walk the line I walked
Hes only sixteen
If he dont learn from my mistakes
Hes gonna waste away
Hes gonna die like me
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is Payment Price This Poet Pays
My friend is a salary man luckily gainfully employed
five days a week for eight hours a day he earns his pay.
I also for decades worked my days for weekly monthly pay.
I studied hard put in extra time to fully earn my worker pay,
years sped by I worked and worked to earn hard earned pay,
now for a time a time and a half I do not work this way.
I write I write each day by day or through long night.
I work far harder than I did employed in salary fight.
I live on savings hard earned to earn a right to write.
I charge not chance reader read or read not just as you like.
I work I sacrifice to give gift of love as free as stars above.
I give in time in thought in words in wisdom I give in love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Book
Standing at the door, to your room, I lean against the frame,
I am frozen, I whisper your name.
The chair at the desk, where you always sat, to work
is in place, unmoved, in the dark.
I sigh, holding my breathe, I switch on the light
I say your name, adjust my eyes to the sight.
Everything is in its place, unmoved, just waiting
on your return, digital clock on desk blinking
in even rhythm, as time moves on,
unaware, uncaring that you are gone.
on the wall, family pictures of the past
moments in time, captured, held fast.
Afraid to break the silence, to enter the room, I wait
and for a moment I pretend you are just late,
that I will turn as I hear your footsteps on the stair
and see you standing, smiling, blue eyes full of care.
and then, that moment, that hope, has past
one heavy foot forward, I enter the room at last.
An inspiration, to me, to all of us, friends and family
you dealt with your illness, with strength and dignity,
I can still hear your laughter, your silly jokes,
remembering your love for books and gadgets.
reminiscing, I notice on your desk, a book
lying open, page marked, I move to have a look
As I read I start to smile, your last message,
the lyrics from Life of Brian, a circled passage
'Always look on the Bright side of Life'
for my children and my wife.
poem by Julie Duff
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On His Retirement
his face speaks of weariness
as he received his last plaque of appreciation
as i shake his hand
i sense resignation to life
when he takes his seat
he lifts his grandson
fair-skinned and smiling
the ultimate continuation
of his unfinished mission.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Brothers in a Garden
A hive of brothers pass the area with pride,
Their hoods are covering their heads alongside.
A friend became friends with these too many men,
A little man is not subduing them immediately again.
A hive of bees is warming the souls of this garden,
They bring a happy charge of electrical energy in their abdomen.
What is more than this? What is the fate of the garden?
The destinies are written on the plaque with abbreviation.
I inspect the images of this beloved lawn of light,
This lawn is a garden that is bright and right.
poem by Naveed Akram
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State Of Grace
(trey bruce, lisa drew)
Grace worked down at walmart
For thirteen years she punched that clock
Been two weeks without a day off
She never gave it too much thought
til one morning in the mirror
Two new lines opened her eyes
And suddenly it hit her
She still had the wings to fly
Attention late night shoppers
A two for one on broken chains
Chorus:
Thats the state of grace
Its the weak made strong
Its finding what youre missing
Was right there all along
Its an open road to a better place
Its a life worth living
In the state of grace
Grace cleaned out her bank account
Bought a beat up camper truck
Turned her pink slip into personnel
Then tore her time card up
As she drove away she wondered
What new york city would be like
And would the stars really keep you up
On a clear desert night
With a front seat full of road maps
To help her lose her way
Grace knew when she looked up
There wouldnt be a sky
If the dreams wed been given
Werent supposed to fly
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody Knows
I got your number right off the wall
Bristol 285 wont you give me a call
Well I was 15 thought I was hot
I didnt know if youd see me or not
And that night as we stepped out
We were hand in hand
But my friends all seemed to know you
I couldnt understand
That everybody knew, everybody knew, they knew your name
But nobody wants nobody wants to play your game
You seemed so shy so all alone-y
Without any hint of ever being phony
But then the little things that came to light
Like the strange hours you worked late at night
And as we laid in your bed that night
You made me feel like a king
Then as I looked into your eyes
I heard that telephone ring
And everybody knows, everybody knows, they know your name
But nobody wants, nobody wants, to play your game
Oh no, they dont want to know your game again
(instrumental)
And everybody knows, everybody knows, they know your name
Nobody wants, nobody wants, to play your game
And everybody knew, everybody knew, they knew your name
But nobody wants nobody wants to play your game
(instrumental to the end...)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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