Licence porter
Santosh licence porter
make people happy
wth his song and sairy sally.
Santosh licence porter
as great as Oobbamaa
by his stature
so far as service to
humanity concerned.
Santosh licence porter
is always at the station.
To visit again and again
he called me often.
Santosh licence porter
everybodys friend
everybodys son
As if in the station
he is the moon
he is the sun.
Come to the station
to meet Santosh
how Santosh is there
to enable passenger
to reach their destination.
Santosh is
Santosh and you find
in your village also
if you like to hear song
if you like to make friend
with monk.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Related quotes
Moving Stones
Smiling faces, hearts are numb
kindness in words as parrots are trained
Love is exhibited , mind is reasoning for gain
Sympathy in demand, goals are well defined
Designed wisest of creation, to beautify the land
All are racing, purpose unknown
The day is not far of, You may wonder
where is my created men
One day will see, only stones and
stones are moving around
poem by Santosh Sharma
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Everybody dream I dream too..
Everybody dream
Children dream
Adult dream
I dream too0
I dream about d frnds with whom i grown up,
I dreamabout to always be young,
Everybody dream
I dream too,
I dream of d plac ewhich i have seen 1 day
I dream of houseat d peak of d rocks, .
Everybody dream
I dream too
I dream about d person whom I admirethe most.
I dream about the place where I grown up.
I dream of being 'Happy Always'
as m always
I dream to fly high in thesky,
I dream to achieve all the success
I know that evrybodys dream not be fullfilled always
but Kw dat I'll fullfillmy all dreams
cuz DREAMS are the key of success
letfullfill all our dreamsss
Come let kw U'r self
poem by Varsha Santosh Vyas
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Autumn Days of Nightingale
Autumn Days of Nightingale
Active and swift,
Lovable and romantic
Was the nightingale
Flown to the gardens
Wandered in the bye lanes
Bruised the feathers
Injured the wings
Neither could find green leaf
Nor couldn’t sense a flower
Disgusted and disappointed
Sitting on the dry bush
Oh nightingale,
This is the way life is
Happiness and sorrows
Pain and pleasure
Are parts of the same coin
Neither to grieve,
Nor to dismay
Patience for few days
Again the spring will spurt
With it’s beauty and rhyme
Today craving for one flower
Tomorrow you will have flowers and flowers
All around.
poem by Santosh Sharma
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White and Black
Paper white
Money black
Day night
We back
And we slack.
White paper
Black money
We can't
change any.
Paper can be white
Money can not be black
Worry not, Santosh
Worry about yourself.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Love And Success
The holy man said, "If it is for love, then you will succeed,
But love knows no success
And success might forget love
Nevertheless, if it is for love you will succeed'.
Then love spoke to success, "You have many forms,
Some succeed when they climb the mountains
Some others when they surf the unknown tides,
For some it is winning over their thoughts
And for some others, it is winning over others'.
And success replied,
'It is in my indefiniteness, the mystery lies,
They define me and my course
Some are happy with me,
And few others are happy in their search'.
Love spoke again, "have you seen the face
Of the soul that chose to love,
For the success of the other
Happy as always
For they never lose their smile'.
Success replied, "I serve them,
And even happiness serves them
it is my pleasure to know you through them
and few know, I will do anything for you.
poem by Rema Santosh
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I want the BBC to be a mass market public service broadcaster still funded by the licence fee... and the licence fee is more durable than many people in the commercial sector believe.
quote by Gavyn Davies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love, Be a Spiritual, Living Revelation
Earth hath no remorse for its own terror,
likened upon for the human drilling of its
death laden black sap, making fools of their
feeble science, having done no more than
the atom denting of its crust...
Be they must, war, likened the lunacy of
moon to play with ocean tide, lands belching
of indigestion, puked upon all existing,
showing no bias or prejudice from within its
unpredictable wake...
When will we not see so blindly that all
terror be myopically ill, contaminating
without self immunity, less we deal
empathetically with our ignorance and
hypocritical solutions for peace...
With Love immortal, help enlighten a
darkened awakening, invalidating prophesying
fools, and predictions of Armageddon....
05.13.2005
*Dedicated to;
Dr Santosh Kumar, Editor
Cyberwit.net India
for his wise, literary teachings
of Love, and Peace on Earth
poem by Louie Levy
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Licence Number
Licence number 13101961,
Test the nuclear sub ablaze!
Licence number 13101961,
Of the points of life to ponder about;
It is a wonder with,
Sincere manners to appreciate;
Life is all about numbers.
Changing times,
Changing ages,
A remarkable thing to think about;
In this changing times,
I would like to be your friend.
Licence number 13101961,
Test the nuclear sub ablaze!
And make each pound go further;
Of the changing of time,
Of the changing of ages,
Like nothing casual to wedge the storm off;
If the suntans could kill you then,
What about the nuclear bombs? !
Licence number 13101961,
Who can beat death after nuclear effect?
Laughter is the best medicine but,
With the nuclear weapons at hand who laughs?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hey Porter
(johnny cash)
(c) - (g) - (f)
(c) hey, porter, hey porter! would you tell me the (f) time?
(c) how much longer will it be til we cross that (g) mason dixon line? (c)
At daylight would you tell the engineer to slow it (f) down;
Or better still, just stop the train cause I (g) wanna look a (c) round.
Hey, porter! hey porter! what time did you say ?
How much longer will it be till I can see the light of day ?
When we hit dixie would ya tell the engineer to ring his bell;
And tell everybody that aint asleep to stand right up and yell.
Hey, porter! hey, porter! please, go on and get my bags for me,
I dont need nobody to tell me now that Im in tennessee.
Were not so far from home, you know, and its a-getting light outside
This old train is a-puffin smoke and I have to strain in my eyes
Hey porter! hey porter! please open up the door.
When they stop this train Im gonna get off first cause I cant wait no more.
Tell the engineer I say, thanks a lot. and I didnt mind the fare.
Im gonna set my feet on southern soil, Im gonna breathe the southern air.
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proof Of Divine Obedience
True seeker of universal wisdom
read divine word for coded meaning
all human history rendered melted
down into one distinct residue
all ages governments societies laws
technologies knowledge distilled
secret text now clear to read
those who obey God
those who obey Satan.
All history decoded
is proof of divine obedience
or Satanic discourse.
'Oh, Creator and Director of this drama
Change... Script and role of your puppets
Before... drama could take a tragic course.'
Worthy prayer but where
is surge prayer prayed
for world peace global?
Script has a mighty purpose
but puppets
must dance on choice string
humanity was given
free choice
greed is but one
demon seed power ring.
Only when key
commandments
are obeyed
do civilizations
freedom sing.
Quotation from ‘Prayers To Thou Might’ by Santosh Sharma.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Maria Elena
(Bobby Ray Appleberry, William Cuomo)
Johnny Porter was the oldest in his family
And I remember he was almost twenty one
Y'know I can't quite explain the situation
But he broke into his father's truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny it's too bad, oh it's too and it's bad
And it's too bad
Well, his father wonders where he got the money
And he wonders if he got it right or wrong
Then Johnny killed a man in Pensacola, Florida
And he caught a freight train and and took off on the run
Well, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Hum, Johnny Porter
Johnny Porter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, it's a shame the way you make your mother worry
And it's hurts inside to sit and watch her cry
And it will be a long time before she knows the answer
But it won't be long before she will see ya die
Well, I was standing in my front door early this morning
So sad, when I heard my name was said
Johnny Porter was no good than anybody
But I hate to see him throw his life away
Now, run, Johnny, run
They're rolling right behind you
Run, Johnny, run
You know they're gonna find you
You come out late at night, 'cause you're running for your life
Well, Johnny Porter, Johnny Porter
Found him holed up in some dark and dirty building
Heard his mother begging,
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Striking
It was a railway passenger,
And he lept out jauntilie.
'Now up and bear, thou stout porter,
My two chattels to me.
'Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red,
And portmanteau so brown:
(They lie in the van, for a trusty man
He labelled them London town
'And fetch me eke a cabman bold,
That I may be his fare, his fare;
And he shall have a good shilling,
If by two of the clock he do me bring
To the Terminus, Euston Square.'
'Now,--so to thee the saints alway,
Good gentleman, give luck, -
As never a cab may I find this day,
For the cabman wights have struck:
And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn,
Or else at the Dog and Duck,
Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin,
The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin
Right pleasantly they do suck.'
'Now rede me aright, thou stout porter,
What were it best that I should do:
For woe is me, an I reach not there
Or ever the clock strike two.'
'I have a son, a lytel son;
Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's:
Give him a shilling, and eke a brown,
And he shall carry thy chattels down,
To Euston, or half over London town,
On one of the station trucks.'
Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare,
The gent, and the son of the stout porter,
Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair,
Through all the mire and muck:
'A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray:
For by two of the clock must I needs away.'
'That may hardly be,' the clerk did say,
'For indeed--the clocks have struck.'
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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Meet Me At The Station
(brother williams memphis sanctified singers)
Well if I get to heaven before you do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, mother dear, for you
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Well if my eyes see the glory, before yours do
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, father, for you
I will meet you at the station whe your train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Father, when the train
Father, when the train comes along
I will meet you at the station when your train comes along
Now if my feet touch the homeline before yours do
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
Ill be watching and waiting, my brother, for you
I will meet you at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
When the train
When the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Now if you see gods country before I do
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
Will you be there watching, sister, for me
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
When my train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When my train
Sister, when my train comes along
Will you meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
When the train
Meet me at the station when my train comes along
When the train
Oh, when the train
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
Meet me at the station when the train comes along
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny Porter
(bobby ray appleberry/william cuomo)
Johnny porter was the oldest in his family
And I remember he was almost twenty one
Yknow I cant quite explain the situation
But he broke into his fathers truck and stole a gun
Mother running down the highway screaming
Johnny its too bad, oh its too and its bad
And its too bad
Well, his father wonders where he got the money
And he wonders if he got it right or wrong
Then johnny killed a man in pensacola, florida
And he caught a freight train and and took off on the run
Well, run, johnny, run
Theyre rolling right behind you
Run, johnny, run
You know theyre gonna find you
You come out late at night, cause youre running for your life
Hum, johnny porter
Johnny porter
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Well, its a shame the way you make your mother worry
And its hurts inside to sit and watch her cry
And it will be a long time before she knows the answer
But it wont be long before she will see ya die
Well, I was standing in my front door early this morning
So sad, when I heard my name was said
Johnny porter was no good than anybody
But I hate to see him throw his life away
Now, run, johnny, run
Theyre rolling right behind you
Run, johnny, run
You know theyre gonna find you
You come out late at night, cause youre running for your life
Well, johnny porter, johnny porter
Found him holed up in some dark and dirty building
Heard his mother begging, please, let johnny go!
Thats when john fired his pistol
As a warning and he said,
I was born to die by the gun
I was born to die by the gun
I was born to die by the gun
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Porter
I'd like to be a porter, and always on the run,
Calling out, 'Stand aside!' and asking leave of none.
Shoving trucks on people's toes, and having splendid fun,
Slamming all the carriage doors and locking every one
And, when they asked to be let in, I'd say, 'It can't be done.'
But I wouldn't be a porter if ...
The luggage weighed a ton.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Rossa Mela Della Sera
rosso il sole
una mela
E sbuccia laria della sera
Che sei sola come me
Lo so dagli occhi
Li porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Lamore che
Disfi e fai
Con le tue mani su di me
Quando vieni e quando vai
Lo so dagli occhi
Li porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Li porter con me sai
x farmi compagnia ye ye ye
Uh uh uh uh con me
Nel cuore e nellanima mia
Uh uh uh uh con me
Rossa mela della sera
Se fossi un lago dilagherei
E se potessi pioverei
Fino in fondo agli occhi tuoi
Come un cielo
Ti porter con me sai
Quando vado via
Ti porter con me sai
x farmi compagnia ye ye ye
Uh uh uh uh con me
Nel cuore e nellanima mia
Uh uh uh uh con me
Ovunque sei
Uh uh uh uh con me
Miele per lanima mia
Uh uh uh uh s con me
Rossa mela della sera
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Tu tu tu tu tu
Rossa mela della sera
song performed by by Zucchero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetness Of Sin
“We suddenly know what heaven we’re in”
is a line first conceived by Cole Porter;
it’s based on a line that he chose to down-water,
“We suddenly know the sweetness of sin.”
Don’t know why Cole Porter decided to alter
a line antinomially apt in its neatness,
foreswearing all heaven for sin and its sweetness
as sure as my middle name warns you I’m Walter.
One more for the road, as once sang Johnnie Mercer,
is great, and you’ll find that the road is much shorter
to sin than to heaven, a meter maid’s quarter
provides enough time if you are not averse, sir.
Beginning beguines is the first step to take
for heaven on earth, not by pouring cold water
on sin as on lyrics was done by Cole Porter
while betting on heaven–a dreadful mistake.
5/9/06
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Researcher of poetry
‘Researcher of poetry’
To be or not to be that is the question
Am I a word junkie or a poetry equestrian?
Riding a rhyme changing the line
To make it look like it was mine
The good Lawrence Durrell was a wordy man
Little about poetry he did understand
Till a woman led him to the Promised Land
Now he’s one of the best in the land
Barrington had a duck-billed Platypus at trinity
With whom he shared a remarkable affinity
The Platypus made Barrington nervous
When he suggested they join the Diplomatic Service
John’s padre was an old sky pilot
Until they clipped his wings
He sits in his garden: writing poetry
Playing guitar, composing songs which he sings
Noel proved he was no coward
He proved he was the brave one
With mad dogs and Englishmen
He went out in the midday sun
Cole Porter said let’s do it let’s fall in love
I said Cole you have had to much porter
I really don’t fancy you, but, if you can wait
To get drunk: I might like a little porter
I did do some research to come up with this prose
I know you’re not happy, and what’s getting up your nose
I am not a researcher I will tell you for free
I may just be a thief of other people’s poetry
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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To Frinton-on-Sea by Train - The Annual Pilgrimage,1910
When in the large compartment,
Everyone was seated.
And all the luggage loaded,
The family group completed.
Excitement as the train now
Leaves the local station.
Everyone perceiving
A feeling of elation.
The Servants in the Third Class
All with faces radiant,
The train now fairly straining
Up it's first steep gradient.
Smoke rising from the engine,
Through the countryside it races,
Such a rattling and a clattering,
Rhythmic chugging as it paces.
Nurse is quietly rocking baby,
Mother dozing, Father reading.
Children gazing through the window,
Trees and streams seem to be speeding.
Realisation, train is stopping,
Doors are opening, whistles blare,
All alighting from the carriage,
Platforms busy. Great sea air!
Call the porter for the luggage,
What! No luggage, this can't be,
'Did you tip the porter Father? '
Mother calls out nervously.
Father fuming calls the Driver,
Calls ths Station Master too,
Sorry Sir, it's not our doing
We will send it on to you.
Father marching to the taxi,
Mother fretting following along,
Nurse with baby shrieking loudly
Children calling, 'What is wrong? '.
Father should have tipped the porter,
Much more than a farthing's worth,
So he didn't load the luggage,
In the 'First Class' luggage berth.
It arrived early next morning,
By the first train down the track,
So as to the moral of this story,
If you're too mean, watch out Jack!
© Ernestine Northover
This poem was written from a story handed down through the family, and the 'Father' was my husband's Great Grandfather, and it is absolutely true, he was a very mean man. A Farthing being the lowest coinage of that time. We have photos of them all sitting on the sand, in full dress with the ladies in huge feathered hats. A wonderful sight! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Poetic licence
Poetic licence
I use my poetic licence a lot
Its a vital piece of ID
Border control won't let me cross
They'd stop me being as free
Its dog eared now beyond repair
And if it falls to bits
I'll order me another
For all language's misfits
I use it so much when I jiggle my words
Ought to get it laminated
Cover my back when the words don't quite fit
In the stanza I've created
The poem police are out there you know
In search of a dodgy poet
Always carry it in your head
In case you have to show it!
If you are so daring
That you'd use a word like orange....
Some would get a nervous twitch
I get a nervous twinge!
A few words, they just cant be rhymed
No matter if you're smart
So write in prose
And prosper in this slightly different art.
poem by Stevie Taite
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