From an Upper Verandah
What happier haunt could the gods allot
For loftiest musing to sage or bard?—
Yet I would that this upper verandah did not
Look down on my beautiful Neighbour's Back-yard!
I stir the afflatus: Descend, O ye Nine!
Let the crystalline gates of the soul be unbarred!
No. My thoughts will keep running in one fixed line—
The clothes-line that hangs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Let me gaze on the hills; let me think of the sea;
Of the dawn rosy-fingered—the night silver-starred:—
(What dear little feet must the owner's be
Of those stockings that hang in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Let me tune my soul to a measure devout:—
Ah, the musical mood is all jangled and jarred,
While things with borders, and things without,
Keep flutt'ring down there in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Are the True and the Good and the Beautiful dead,
That I win not one gleam of Pierian regard?
(Does she suffer, I wonder, from cold in the head?—
Such a lot of mouchoirs in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Comes the fit. While it sways me, high themes would I sing!
Prometheus! Achilles! Have at you! En grade!
Alexander the Great—(oh that I were a string
On that apron hung out in my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
I will shut my eyes fast—I have hit it at last,
Now my purest Ideals flit by me unmarred;
And odours of memory rise from the past,
(And an odour of suds from my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Ah, yes! when the eyelids together are prest,
Every vestige of earth we throw off and discard.
(These are flannels, I think. Is she weak in the chest?—
There! I'm looking again at my Neighbour's Back-yard!)
Since the Muses back out, let Philosophy in:
Let me ponder its problems cold and hard.
Ah! Philosophy dies in a celibate grin
At that bolster-case down in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
Oh shame on my rapidly silvering hairs!
Oh shame on this veteran battered and scarred!
I to be witched with these frilled—affairs!
Confound my neighbour! Confound her Back-yard!
Why seek for the blossoms of Auld Lang Syne,
When the boughs where they budded are blasted and charred?—
Faugh! the whole concern's too alkaline—
It's washing day in my Neighbour's Back-yard!
poem by James Brunton Stephens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Neighbour
Neighbour
is good
Friend...
Neighbour is
good relation...
Neighbour is
Your brother...
Neighbour is
Your sister...
Neighbour is
Your mother...
Neighbour is
father and gran father...
All are thear...
Neighbour is
Not neighbour...also
your family...
Love it...
Help it...
Enjoy it...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Devils Been Busy
While youre strolling down the fairway
Showing no remorse
Glowing from the poisons
Theyve sprayed on your golf course
While youre busy sinking birdies
And keeping your scorecard
The devils been busy in your back yard
Steaming down the highway
With your trucks of toxic waste
Where you gonna hide it
In the outer space?
You dont know what youre doing
Or what you have to guard
The devils been busy in your back yard
Sometimes you think youre crazy
But you know youre only mad
Sometimes youre better off not knowing
How much youve been had
You see your second cousin
Wasted in a fight
You say he had it coming
You couldnt do it right
Youre in a western movie, playing the part
The devils been busy in your back yard
Sometimes they say youre wicked
But you know that cant be bad
Sometimes youre better off not knowing
Itll only make you sad
Theyre coming down picadilly
Dripping at the dash
Wasting sticky willy
Covering him with their cash
They just might not have noticed, theyve been beating him so hard
And the devils been busy in your back yard
Devils been busy in your back yard
Devils been busy in your back yard
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter (parody)
(with apologies to fanie olivier)
Already early in May you can feel the wind gallop,
it is already cutting icily from twelve o’clock
and blows sand
leaves and old plastic bags sky-high.
Across the street the neighbour’s drain is overflowing
and sewerage flows along at the end of the yard,
while the other neighbour’s wife forwardly winks at me
and she’s a flamboyant girl,
her husband is well built and somewhat angry
and she has got a teenage daughter, who draws attention like her mother,
dressing at times somewhat nakedly,
while the neighbour comforts himself with bottles of brandy,
sometimes wanting to know about his wife’s wiles from me,
when I see pain and grief eating at him.
[Reference: “winter” by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buried Between two Trees
Back home again
in the yard
I used to play in
So many memories here
of days long ago
for memories, I hold dear
Saw the grave of old shep
the dog I loved so
in this yard, he followed me every step
He's buried between two trees you see
buried him in my brand new quilt
and my mother was really mad at me
In this yard, I would bathe him
many years before
his old eyes grew dim
His bed layed by the cellar door
with tall trees, all around him
oh memories, of the dog I adored
Memories of the time
that the meter man came
he hit old shep, that wasn't very kind
This old yard, was all shep had
he guarded it with his life
when he died, I was very sad
This old yard, now has in it,
a lot of beautiful flowers, all round
between two trees, he wouldn't mind a bit.
Eternities Yard
Into eternities yard, some wont go
in my path, all will tread
fear not today,
I'm always at a beckons call,
fear not tomorrow,
i will be waiting,
fear not yesterday,
i never look back,
fear not the end,
i am the end,
fear not the beginning,
i may not let it pass
into my yard, all will go
bordered by tears, a river of blood flows,
in my path they are no cries,
in my yard,
no angel lies
poem by Tinashe Severa
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A Song In The Front Yard
I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life.
I want a peek at the back
Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows.
A girl gets sick of a rose.
I want to go in the back yard now
And maybe down the alley,
To where the charity children play.
I want a good time today.
They do some wonderful things.
They have some wonderful fun.
My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine
How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine.
My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae
Will grow up to be a bad woman.
That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late
(On account of last winter he sold our back gate).
But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do.
And I’d like to be a bad woman, too,
And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace
And strut down the streets with paint on my face.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That past is still within our living memory, a time when neighbour helped neighbour, sharing what little they had out of necessity, as well as decency.
quote by Mary McAleese
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was an autumn day
It was an autumn day
And it was cold.
The autumn in the yard.
The thunderstorm was arguing with rain.
The leaves were falling down to the ground.
Someone's soul sat quietly under the bench.
It shivered with cold and it was wet.
The words of its owner it remembered
It could not do anything but regret.
'My soul, you prevent me from living,
You can't stand any deceiving,
You pain so hard, you better stay here in the yard
As I can't stand those pains any more.What for?
I can't live anymore like this,
I think without you I can exist.
My eyes are tired to cry,
May be it's better for you to live in the sky?
Please, leave me alone!
I want to live on my own.'
And the soul went away in a hard rainy day.
It rambled about the wet yard
Without finding any regard
Looking at windows and eyes
But nobody heard its cries.
The autumn in the yard.
The thunderstorm was arguing with rain.
The leaves were falling down to the ground
And rustled under someones feet.
The soul had no one to meet.
No one heard when it cried,
So, it has slowly died.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weah
Deep empathy!
Weah is my neighbour with words;
But, i have to visit 'Manhyia Palace' to meet the elders.
Everywhere is beautiful and everyone is beautiful as well,
Everywhere is needed and everyone is needed as well,
Because, everywhere on this earth is overseas! !
Oh yes, over the seas to meet you with my words.
Deep empathy!
Come and let me take you to my neighbour;
For, it is time for you to know Weah my neighbour.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Flesh For A Fantasy
There's a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? Oh yeah.
Hangin' out for a body shop at night
Ain't it strange what we do to feel alright? Oh yeah.
So when will you call?
I'm experienced Oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
It's after midnight
Are you feelin' alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Don't ask questions, there's time for it all Oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
It's an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flesh For Fantasy
Theres a change in pace
Of fantasy and taste
Do you like good music?
Do you like to dance? oh yeah.
Hangin out for a body shop at night
Aint it strange what we do to feel alright? oh yeah.
So when will you call?
Im experienced oh yeah
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
Its after midnight
Are you feelin alright oh yeah
Turn on the light, babe
Are you someone else tonight?
Neighbour to neighbour, door to door
Dont ask questions, theres time for it all oh yeah.
Face to face
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
I sing for culture...
Father loves his son,
Mothers, daughters, too.
Its an old old story,
Cries the new world too.
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
You cry
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back There In Old Duhallow The Frosty Fields Are Gray
Back there in old Duhallow the frosty fields are gray
And the wildborn birds are silent at the dawning of the day
And the chilly winds of January sough in the naked trees
And ice is on the dark pond from the hard overnight freeze
In January in Duhallow the hedgerows looking bare
And in the rushy field by the river the shy and elusive hare
In the greyness of his surroundings quite visible in his coat of brown
For to warm the coldness in his bones through the rushes racing up and down
From the fields of old Duhallow the Spring seems far away
And the cattle in the farm-yard shed are bellowing for hay
And hungry birds by the back door squabble over crusts of bread
And before the warmth of Spring weeks of cold weather ahead
And the chirping house sparrows in the back-yard the only birds one does hear
Back there in old Duhallow tis a cold time of the year.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Noise
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
A swimmer without a life-jacket!
But, i will live to lead you on peacefully;
However, this noise around you is like a hammer hitting the head of the nail.
The noise that disturbs your neighbour is like,
Creating the silent war within your neighbourhood!
And like the heart of a summer around many others;
For, i know when it matters most.
Try to learn and try to live with one another,
Try to do your best without disturbing your neighbour!
For, this noise will surely not bring you peace among them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Day Of Sunshine
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.
'Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?' -said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,-I fled with my song.
'In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,'-said mother,
as she pulled off her stockings.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I loosened a boat, on my back I lay,
While blithely the current bowled me;
But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose;
Enough was enough, and to land I chose.
'Now these are just the days to make hay in,'- said mother,
as she stuck the rake in it.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play,
As cooling the breeze consoled me;
But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance,
And jumping, I cried: ''T is the Devil's own dance!'
'Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they'll
never be so,'-said mother, gazing up the hillside.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I dashed to the waterfall's endless play,
There only could peace enfold me.
The shining sun saw me drown and die,-
If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I.
'Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will
be in,'-said mother, and went to make my bed.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back 2 Back
Two meerkats stared, one left, one right,
On guard, my friends, on guard!
With whiskers twitching, what a sight!
Eyes scanning yard by yard...
Thus back to back, coats intertwined,
Two heroes braved their foes
And while they posed there so inclined,
They knew they mustn't doze...
But it was warm and things were calm
And heads were heavy, too,
Yet they must stand and raise alarm
So nothing could get through...
But eyelids weren't as fast to raise
As at the start of day,
Then staring eyeballs start to glaze
And wobbly legs give way!
Two meerkats almost dozing till
One heard the other snore!
'That wasn't me! ' said he, quite still,
The other to implore!
The dozy meerkat stood up straight,
His weakness to discard!
They also serve who stand and wait!
On guard, my friends, on guard!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Do not quit! Hundreds of times I have watched people throw in the towel at the one-yard line while someone else comes along and makes a fortune by just going that extra yard.
quote by E. Joseph Cossman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass Is Greener
One thing that I have heard
As I have often been told
Was the grass is always greener
On the other side of the road,
And to the that one statement
I truly had no ideal,
Was it but a lie that I often heard
Or was that assumption for real.
So on top of my own roof
I went to, after my climb
To check another ones yard
Of course a yard, that wasn't mine.
And there is where I stood
As I surveyed across the road
To see if anyone's grass was greener
As I often had heard and also been told.
And there from where that I stood
And from what that I could see
Their grass was not any greener
Than my yard, that I do believe.
So I surveyed the yards of my neighbors
As up on my roof I stood as I thought
Maybe all yards are all different then
So I got off my roof, and I went for a walk.
I walked down the street
Then I walked up the next block
Seems as though the houses got bigger
Along with their possession's and their lots.
Their grass didn't seem any greener
Than mine or the other that I have seen
Though theirs yards were much larger
As though a good picture from everyone's dream.
So there I left, and I continued my walk
I then came across some railroad tracks
And there stood houses and from what I saw,
Their grass was as green, front yard and back.
Though their yards they wasn't as large
As the ones I have seen
And their houses weren't as large or as nice
But their yards, they were just as green.
So then I headed back unto my home
To reflect back on the things that I have seen,
And of the ideals people thought of and said
And what in their mind they really did mean.
So when I got back unto my home
I climbed again on top of my roof
So there I could reflect and think to myself
About my neighbors and me and to tell the truth.
Though the grass might be greener, I did say
On the other side of the road,
But this one thing I tell you my friend,
The grass, it still has to be mowed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Fame to Fowls
Mr Blenkinsop and I
Are much concerned to learn
That, somewhere in the further sky,
A frightful heat-belt lurks on high,
Where torrid ethers burn.
And I and Mr Blenkinsop
We take it rather hard,
Because all work will have to stop
Henceforth within the small work-shop
In Blenkinsop's back-yard.
For many years we labored there,
In Blenkinsop's back-yard.
And, in our town, plain folk would stare
And mutter: 'That's the learned pair
Who'll win the world's regard.'
We planned a gadget in that shop
To journey to the moon;
And deferential friends would stop
To speak to me and Blenkinsop
And ask of our balloon.
We'd built the thing of bits and scraps,
And loomed amongst our peers
As very scientific chaps;
Tho' privily we meant, perhaps,
To dodge the trip for years,
If not for e'er. But, while remained
The possibility,
Vast oodles of renown we gained,
And fulsome praise our townspeople rained
On Blenkinsop and me.
Alas for me and Blenkinsop!
Our name is mud in town;
For we have come an awful flop.
Gone is the kudos of our shop
And gone our vast renown.
Now I and Blenkinsop, my pard,
Walk 'mid derisive howls;
Although his lot is not so hard,
For in the Blenkinsop back-yard
Our ship now shields his fowls.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A cripple ant near a Mango tree
I have heard about the tasty fruit when it ripens
and the legend says lightning won't peep to your premises
if you grow a mango tree in your yard,
But I am very unhappy as I cannot climb on my neighbour's tree.
* I humbly dedicate this poem to the authoress of the novel 'The House on Mango street' written by Sandra.Cisneros.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Day Of Sunshine
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.
"Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?" --said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,--I fled with my song.
"In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,"--said mother,
as she pulled off her stockings.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I loosened a boat, on my back I lay,
While blithely the current bowled me;
But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose;
Enough was enough, and to land I chose.
"Now these are just the days to make hay in,"-- said mother,
as she stuck the rake in it.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play,
As cooling the breeze consoled me;
But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance,
And jumping, I cried: "'T is the Devil's own dance!"
"Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they'll
never be so,"--said mother, gazing up the hillside.
It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I dashed to the waterfall's endless play,
There only could peace enfold me.
The shining sun saw me drown and die,--
If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I.
"Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will
be in,"--said mother, and went to make my bed.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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