Stone wood and deadbody
Stone wood and dead body
I myself misfit
And became dirty.
My pious thinking
Make me perfect
And with repeated practice
I am able to touch truth
And I can look bright
On rising new sun.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Little Miss Fit
Theres a good theres a bad
Some are gay, some are sad
Theres a right, theres a wrong
Those who fit dont belong
Well Im the bad
And Ive got to admit
That Im sad
Im a little misfit
Im in the wrong
And thats the truth of it
I dont belong
Im a little misfit
Theres the sun theres the rain
Those in love those in pain
Some succeed while others fail
Some will ease someone tells
Well Im in the rain
And Ive got to admit
That I gonna pay
Im a little misfit
Though Ive failed
Thats the truth of it
See me tell
Im a little misfit
Lifes so hard when youre far from everything
Lifes so cold when you know you have no friends
Well Ive lost
And Ive got to admit
That Ive paid the cost
Im a little misfit
I still grow
And thats the truth of it
Ill always fall
Im a little misfit
Well Im bad
And Ive got to admit
That Im sad
Im a little misfit
Well Im bad
And thats the truth of it
That makes me sad
Im a little misfit
Well Im lost
And Ive got to admit
That Ive paid the cost
Im a little misfit
Im so poor
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice Maker Perfect
D. roberts / e. gold
If practice makes perfect
Lets try that old embrace
In some romantic place
Where we can take out time
If practice makes perfect
Just close you eyes again
Well try those sights again
And make them more sublime
Were in loves kindergarden
Learning from a to z
And if its fun just starting
Think what its going to be
If practice makes perfect
Lets have that kiss again
We mustn miss again
Were not doing bad right now
Were not doing bad
Lets practice some more
Were not doing bad right now
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.
quote by Vince Lombardi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice does not make perfect. Only perfect practice makes perfect.
quote by Vince Lombardi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice does not make perfect but a perfect practice makes perfect.
Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Practice makes
Practice makes a man perfect and I
Engaged myself in repeated practices.
I am doing everything for your sake
Even renunciate everything that are with me.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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School is practice for future life, practice makes perfect and nobodys perfect, so why practice?
quote by Billie Joe Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God is not
God is not only
a piece of stone
or a piece of wood.
God is everything
And He is everywhere.
Each and everybody
is temle where
God reside.
It is through body only
one can see touch
and get God.
Without a body
where is He
Tell me not.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Building My Body
I'm building my body
I'm happy when I'm building my body
I'm tired of fighting, let's make friends
I'm tired of burning both ends
That's why I'm building my body
It hurts me but I'm building my body
And I know what the pain is worth
I know I feel the pain of birth
I'm pushin' up
And gettin' down with my body
There's no-one else around with my body
One look says I'm a stone disgrace
Don't kick no sand in my face
Because I'm building my body strong
I'm watching what I eat
And I'm sorting out right from wrong
Hey, not a lot of meat
And I know that it won't be long
Before I gotta quit smoking
Because I'm building my body
I'm peaceful when I'm building my body
I'm sweating out mistakes I've made
I'm getting back the dues I've paid
I'm doing more
And getting sore with my body
But I'm gaining a rapport with my body
And this seems like the perfect time
They say I'm in my prime
That's why I'm building my body strong
I'm thinking at the table
And I'm sorting out right from wrong
I'm reading every label
And I know that it won't be long
Before I gotta quit smoking
'Cause I'm building my body
There's someone else inside of my body
He's waiting to be born again
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misfits (HEATHER**town of misfits?)
old saint nick saved all the misfit toys
and gave them to all the girls and boys.
he knew that each one could never be
a misfit for you or me.
now all those toys had their spirits broken
for they could not see
the beauty that was in their hearts
was meant to be.
a word, a touch, of old saint nick
healed their hearts very quick.
now that their spirits were revived
the tears rolled from their eyes.
they had learned on this day
that a pure heart would forever stay.
so if you think that you're a misfit child
sit and think for awhile.
of all the others who are worse than you
and don't know where to turn to.
you have loved ones to guide you
and show they care
although at times they may not be there.
look into the LORDS heart and you will see
'a misfit child, you could never be'
for my love is within thee.
poem by Louis Rams
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Sestina - Cycling
November bomb-fires refuse to take light
Like sultry splutters of a lazy passion.
And drowsy hedgehogs under dead, damp wood
Dream snail’s trail filaments of kiss and touch.
Autumnal sodden leaves, leave underfoot,
A worn, discarded carpet once so lush.
Cold winter heart of mornings, sunlight lush,
Spangle frosts on bare branches and delight
In shining grass blades crunching underfoot.
Invade my sleepy heart, excite my passion.
I yearn for kisses, search for trembling touch.
Tentatively snap dead-wood’s bitter wood.
Rising greenly, sap springs through new wood,
Feeding fresh leaf, nourishing bud till lush
Summer arrives. Await the radiant touch!
Anticipate! The sun’s young rays spread light,
Tempting seeds of lust to swell in passion,
Crushing memories which echo underfoot.
Wise warnings thud above whilst underfoot
The thundering tramplings of the wild, wild wood
Call out. “Unleash your thwarted passion.
Drink in the nectar of life’s root, the lush
Intoxicating spirit that sets light
Your body with the need for urgent touch.
Laden boughs bend overhead to touch
A verdant rug of green laid underfoot.
Sky brightness winks and blinks. The broken light
Peeps through. Charcoal dark, my cleft heart of wood
Remnant of fire, lies guarded in the lush
Cutting blades of grass that hide my passion.
Leaves scuttle, dry husks rush round with passion
Press-ganged by the wind. Gems dyed by the touch
Of death in glowing hues. Fruit full and lush
With wasps, reaping juice fallen underfoot.
For good, my soul is yearly marked like wood
Rings revealing all, sealed away from light.
Envoi
Can passion trampled underfoot spring up
Again? Can touch revive the flame in wood
Snuffed by lush, lush rain? Can kisses make light?
poem by Janet Budd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unconsciously
one night
beside me
my friend
you touch
my body
with your
fingers
you kiss
my lips
with your
warm lips
i let you
unleash
feelings
perhaps
long buried
like an
ancestor
the morning
after i ask
you why
and you say
you were
unconscious
you ask to
be forgiven
saying sorry
so sorry &
that the same
may not be
repeated
i touch
your mouth
with my
hand &
tell you
you have
nothing to
be afraid
of nothing
to be sorry
about
i perfectfly
understand
how is it
to be
unrequited
this body
is yours
this body
is meant to
be shared
by another
who loves
to touch
who loves
to kiss
who loves
to be in love
who loves
to be a part
of the flesh
who loves
to be just
the man that
you are
consciously
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Will Wait
There was a time
When all I thought that I wanted
Was someone to touch me
Like I thought everyone was touched
What did I know, what was I thinking
What did I know, what was I thinking
I remember
There was someone that I wanted
Now shes a face at the reunion of 66
What did she know, what was she thinking
And did she know that I convinced myself
I couldnt survive
Sometimes you have to wait
Youre pushing but that stone wont move
And you hesitate to give yourself away
There was a time
When all I thought that I needed
Was someone to tell me
I was making the perfect move
What did I know, what was I thinking
What did I know, what was I thinking
All I wanted was a holy exemption
I had a license to tell everyone
Where its at
What did they know, what were they thinking
And did they know that I would only hear
The things I desired
So I would wait
Im pushing but that stone wont move
And I hesitate to give myself away
And there was a time
When all I thought that I wanted
Was to live in a world
Where everyone knew what love is for
What do I know, what am I thinking
Nobody knows that the hour is getting late
So I will wait for it forever
I will wait for it
Though I know the hour is getting late
I will wait for it forever
I will wait for it
Though I know the hour is getting late
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Practice Every Step
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no sleeping for someone who has a place to go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Focus on that goal,
And tighten on your hold,
And...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Every journey taken,
Must be thought of as a race...
And,
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no other way to straighten out a crooked road,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
No matter what you're told,
There will be some doubts and woes...
But you,
Practice every step.
Yes you,
Practice every step.
Woes you hold will eventually go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Place In The Dirt
We are damned and we are dead
all god's children to be sent
to our perfect place in the sun
and in the dirt
There's a windshield in my heart
we are bugs so smeared and scarred
and could you stop the meat from thinking
before I swallow all of it
song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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School is practice for the future, and practice makes perfect and nobody's perfect so why bother.
Dirty Water
Baby-every time you think- you're thinking
dirty and low down, baby if you don't pull yourself
out of that-dirty water, then you're gonna drown.
Baby you're in that dirty water
and you're sinking, baby its all because of
your dirty thinking-
Baby its easy- to go crazy-when you lose
your mind, baby just-
get out of that- dirty water
and leave all that dirt behind-
poem by Dorsey Baker
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The true and best way of learning any Art, is not to see a great many Examples done by another Person, but to possess ones seIf first of the Principles of it, and then to make them familiar, by exercising ones self in the Practice. For it is Practice alone, that makes a Man perfect in any thing.
quote by Brook Taylor
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Touch Too Much
It was one of those nights
When you turned out the lights
And everything comes into view
She was taking her time
I was losing my mind
There was nothing that she wouldnt do
It wasnt the first
It wasnt the last
She knew we was making love
I was so satisfied
Deep down inside
Like a hand in a velvet glove
Chorus:
Seems like a touch, a touch too much
Seems like a touch, a touch too much
Too much for my body, too much for my brain
This kind of womans gonna drive me insane
Shes got a touch, a touch too much
She had the face of an angel
Smiling with sin
A body of venus with arms
Dealing with danger
Stroking my skin
Let the thunder and lightening start
It wasnt the first
It wasnt the last
It wasnt that she didnt care
She wanted it hard
And wanted it fast
She liked it done medium rare
Chorus
Seems like a touch, touch too much
You know its much too much, much too much
I really want to feel your touch too much
Girl you know youre getting me much too much
Seems like a touch
Just a dirty little touch
I really need your touch
Cause youre much too much too much
Chorus
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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