Gratification
We occasionally get a few gleams of encouragement while struggling through the trials
of life.A number of years ago a person employed by the Dominion Government to give
sketches of the various towns in Canada, and especially to describe the power of the
various streams and the number of streams in each town or neighborhood ; he came to us,
as we had written rhymes on the rivers and creeks. Years afterwards we were informed by
persons who came from Britain, as the book was to encourage emigration,that my name was
the only one they had ever heard of in Ingersoll until they came here.The celebrated
Spaulding, manufacturer and inventor of prepared glue, was in town a few days ago. He
expressed to a gentleman in town that he was gratified with a conversation he had with
me on poetic themes. As there is no natural affinity or adhesion binding glue to poetry,
we might say we discovered that the inventor possessed a refined and cultivated mind
and a fund of American humor.An old lady expressed herself very warmly after reading my
Canadian romance, that it was a true history of herself and husband ; that 35 years ago
they were not worth a dollar,and now they had 500 acres paid for of good land. The
reason why we alluded to this is:-Some have no faith that there is anything worthy of
commemorating in their own country, but consider worthy themes for either song or story
are three thousand miles across the Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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Related quotes
Prologue
My friends, we sing Canadian themes,
For in them we proudly glory;
Her lakes, her rivers and her streams,
Worthy of renown in story.
And in these leaves we hope is strewn
Some wheat among the chaff
And maple boughs, by rude axe hewn
Where one may find a rustic staff
To help him o'er the rugged lines.
Some see no beauties near to home,
But do admire the distant far -
They always love abroad to roam,
View glory in but far off star;
But, let it never be forgot
That distant hills, when closer seen,
Are after all a barren spot -
Not like your own hills, clad in green.
You'll find they are but idle dreams,
To search for happiness afar:
At home there's lovely lakes and streams,
Remain content now where you are.
At us we hope you will not rage
Because we sing of local charms
In each varied town and village,
As well as round our rural farms.
But our address it must be brief,
So we bid you now all adieu;
But, of our book, pray read each leaf,
Until the whole you have gone through;
Each one doth know it is not wise,
Though our song may not be vocal,
Chants of our home for to despise,
But prize them 'cause they are local.
poem by James McIntyre
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Ghost Town
This town is becoming like a ghost town;
Many of our local shops are closing down.
Once upon a time, this town was really hopping,
But now people go elsewhere for their shopping.
The life from our town has been sucked out,
And nowadays there is hardly anyone about.
Local people go to other towns and cities:
That it has ended up this way, is a real pity.
The town's population is rapidly growing,
But trade in our shops is rapidly slowing.
Many units stand empty for years and years:
Owners found the rents were just way too dear.
We need some life breathed back into town;
We need to turn this situation back around.
Of help for new businesses, we need much more,
So that our town can be the place it was before.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Sown Home Town
The world outside don't like us much,
'Cos they ain't got our classy touch,
But they ain't good enough to breathe,
This towns good air we make 'em leave
CHORUS
But it's no, no, no,
you really can't do that,
No, no, no,
down home town
No monkey business in this town,
Well who do you think you're pushing 'round,
This towns respectable and clean,
Just look around you'll see what I mean
CHORUS Repeat
Down home town
Down home town
Down home town
Down home town
Down home town
Down home town
CHORUS Repeat
We got the best town band around,
Just listen to their crazy sound
When they get hot they gonna blow,
You see them running every show
(I wish I was in the land of Dixie
Look Away...)
Down home town,
Gotta get down
Down home town
Gotta get down
Down home town
Down home town
Down home town
CHORUS
(I wish I was in the land of Dixie
Look Away...)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Ballarat Where History Don't Fade
In Ballarat where history don't fade
They still honour the Eureka Stockade,
The miners who fought some of them even died
For their rights to them that for years they had been denied
The Town of Ballarat known far and wide
And the people there in their history take pride
Their ancestors fought against their oppressors laws
And even took up arms for their worthy cause.
The name of Peter Lalor they revere
He led the miners fight and conquered fear
But for his fame a huge price he did pay
He lost an arm on that historic day.
The miners were defeated in the bloody fight
They succumbed to the Government forces greater might
But they won their rights for which they went to war
And the story of their bravery travelled far.
In Ballarat where history was made
They still revere the men of the stockade
Who fought against the forces of the crown
Long years ago in their historic town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No Dreams
What would we do if we had no dreams?
No themes, no streams, no things to play
With; Darkness all and all around.
No colourful thoughts, no shining streams,
No happy hours, those bright and gay;
No listening to the cheerful sound.
Of flowers showing their natural themes,
Of water falling in to stay;
Towards nothingness, we are bound.
To lose these lively things; it seems
Is the thing to do in this young day;
In filth of veracity, we are drowned.
What would we do if we had no dreams?
No themes, no streams, no things to play
With; Darkness all and all around.
poem by Osama Waqar
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Ell Briddley
Ell Briddley she knows of the hard side of life
For many years she has been a battered wife
Her late husband Jake often bashed her and their only child Joe
He succumbed to cancer some five years ago.
Her twenty years of marriage one might say tough
And of marriage she feels she's had more than enough
The reason is not hard to understand why
That she will not give marriage another try.
At her husband's passing she did not shed tears
She feels her life with him were sad wasted years
Her son Joe is married in a distant town with a one year old son
And she feels quite proud of how well he has done.
Ell Briddley she is fifty seven years old
And for her years she is attractive to behold
To a few proposals of marriage she has said no
She is one who will not give marriage another go.
Ell Briddley is a happy woman today
And the single life seems to suit her okay
For falling for Jake she paid the bitter price
And now she will remain as single by choice.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The government's objective, broadly expressed, is that all persons, whatever their level of ability, whether they live in town or country, have a right as citizens to a free education of the kind for which they are best fitted and to the fullest extent of their powers.
quote by Peter Fraser
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first poem I ever wrote, about loss, when I was 5 years old, expressed the themes of everything I would ever write.
quote by Marguerite Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Author's Early Life
I will write a sketch of my early life,
It will be of childhood day,
And all who chance to read it,
No criticism, pray.
My childhood days were happy,
And it fills my heart with woe,
To muse o'er the days that have passed by
And the scenes of long ago.
In the days of my early childhood,
Kent county was quite wild,
Especially the towns I lived in
When I was a little child.
I will not speak of my birthplace,
For if you will only look
O'er the little poem, My Childhood Days,
That is in this little book.
I am not ashamed of my birthright,
Though it was of poor estate,
Many a poor person in our land
Has risen to be great.
My parents were poor, I know, kind friends,
But that is no disgrace;
They were honorable and respected
Throughout my native place.
My mother was an invalid,
And was for many a year,
And I being the eldest daughter
Her life I had to cheer.
I had two little sisters,
And a brother which made three,
And dear mother being sickly,
Their care it fell on me.
My parents moved to Algoma
Near twenty-three years ago,
And bought one hundred acres of land,
That's a good sized farm you know.
It was then a wilderness,
With tall forest trees abound,
And it was four miles from a village,
Or any other town.
And it was two miles from a schoolhouse,
That's the distance I had to go,
And how many times I traveled
Through summer suns and winter snow.
How well do I remember
Going to school many a morn,
Both in summer and in winter,
Through many a heavy storm.
My heart was gay and happy,
This was ever in my mind,
There is better times a coming,
And I hope some day to find
Myself capable of composing.
It was by heart's delight,
To compose on a sentimental subject
If it came in my mind just right.
If I went to school half the time,
It was all that I could do;
It seems very strange to me sometimes,
And it may seem strange to you.
It was natural for me to compose,
And put words into rhyme,
And the success of my first work
Is this little song book of mine.
My childhood days have passed and gone,
And it fills my heart with pain
To think that youth will nevermore
Return to me again.
And now kind friends, what I have wrote,
I hope you will pass o'er,
And not criticise as some have done,
Hitherto herebefore.
poem by Julia A Moore
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For number of years
As I have known you for number of years
Any bad news are refused to be heard by ears
You occupy most of my time in prayers
Yet I fear you are totally unaware
You may have some inkling
As to what can be reason for liking?
You may know the reason behind
I shall make no efforts to find
I have not put a word to him
I think chances are very thin]
I have special attachment and leaning
I want there to be good beginning
It is not bad to have feeling
But how to make it known that I am willing?
I shall leave it to him for best reasons
As he is nice and very good person
I know for sure that unknown love may mushroom
It may find favor with enough of space and room
If I have faith in destiny and almighty
It may become possibility and reality
I can take chance in life at least once
Even though there is little time for romance
I believe in real bonding of two different persons
There may be arrival of spring even in odd season
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Few Ole Country Boys
Not too many years ago
When dreams were coming true
I'd reach for inspiration
Sometimes it would be you
I'd hear you on the radio
I sure did like your sound
Say it's good to know there's still
A few ol' country boys around
From the smoke it's hard to tell
What's coming down the line
We heard you were a fast train
Coming out of Caroline
We wondered what you were haulin'
When you rolled into to town
Say it's good to know there's still
A few ol' country boys around
You must have felt that same old feeling
More than once or twice
Guitars pressed against our hearts
Under the neon lights
I've got to say that feeling is the best that I have found
Lord it's good to know there's still
A few ol' country boys around
There's a lot of truth you know
In our kind of songs
About the life you're living
And how love's done you wrong
As long as there's a jukebox
And a honky tonk in town
It's good to know there's still
A few ol' country boys around
It's good to know there's still
A few ol' country boys around
song performed by by Randy Travis, translated by George Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Town & Country
Written by dewey bunnell and gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Touched by a butterfly on my way home
Flying who knows where
Walking down that dusty road
Without a care
The sun was shining up in the country
And bells were ringing downtown
Clouds were moving slow and lazy
While I was kicking around
And feeling out the town and the country
Feeling out the town and the country
Up on the hill I got a better look
I watched the river run brown (watched the river run brown)
And then I heard those songbirds singing
The country sound
When I got home I sat in my kitchen
And turned the television on (turned the tv on)
The news wasnt good so I didnt listen
I started clicking around
Thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country
Thinking of the town and the country
In the morning everything will be the same
Open up your world (watch the children play)
In the sun or rain
Thinking of the town and the country
A thinking of the town and the country
I was thinking of the town and the country (fade)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Town
This town is coming like a ghost town
All the clubs have been closed down
This place is coming like a ghost town
Bands wont play no more
Too much fighting on the dance floor
Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?
We danced and sang as the music played in any boomtown
This town is coming like a ghost town
Why must the youth fight against themselves?
Government leaving the youth on the shelf
This place is coming like a ghost town
No job to be found in this country
Cant go on no more
The people getting angry
song performed by by Prodigy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hiroshima and Nagasaki Remembered
66 years ago the atomic bomb blasted
below the heads of those in these towns.
How many hundreds, yes, how many thousands
were left to die, consumed by man-made fire?
66 years ago, the incredible showed its face
that death by hundreds or by thousands
be decreed by man, that the green land
and waters should stand barren and poisoned.
Never again should another atomic bomb
be blasted on another town or towns!
Never again should another Nagasaki
and Hiroshima be doomed to atomic curse!
But let their story be told to generations
Let the ashes of the dead float in the seas
and rivers, an eternal reminder of human fault.
Let this story be remembered and retold.
______________
August 9,2011
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Malaysiana - Rejang River
POETRY IN PROGRESS
I never knew you are a giant
until i went around the country
i saw the Klang and Gombak rivers
in Kuala Lumpur and and were surprised
to learn that they even called them rivers
arent them really just little rivers or streams?
the ones we put pavements over at the old market in Sibu
malaysians should see the Sarawak and Rejang Rivers
to know what Sarawakians mean by rivers
that would be a real integration of
geographical standads and how we see things
when after a rain and the sun begins to set,
a walk at the Rejang Esplanade does feel like
on a beach, the water lapping and splashing
the cool and fresh air revitalising the lungs and body
at sweet and pulpy pineapple town Sarikei
and sugary green orange town Bintangor
and at Kerto where vases and colourful pottery
are moulded out of the Rejang quality clay
Poetry in progress
(to be continued)
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Our Town Ghost
Five of us were playing cards
while outside someone was banging
as if, they were constructing something.
I got up to see who it was,
but there was no one there.
I scratched my head and returned
to the hand I was playing.
About a half an hour later,
we heard someone walking about.
With torch in hand, I went again to investigate.
Again, there was no one there.
I shone the torch up and down the street.
The footsteps had stopped by now.
We could only guess it was the ghost,
which roams around our little town.
It hurts no one and no one is afraid of it.
Some say it our old friend Jock.
Other say it is someone else.
Unless one of us sees it, we will never be sure.
Whoever it is we wish
they would show themselves occasionally,
so we would then know whom to say goodnight to.
5 February 2009
Authors Note:
I belong to a small Western re-enactment town called Deadwood.
The town is haunted by an arrangement of ghosts, none of them harmful. A number us have witnessed several unusual things. The poem recounts an incident, which happened one night a few years ago when five of us were playing card in the back of one the building at gone midnight.
poem by David Harris
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Of All Life's States Supreme
Each days spent's play in trances to teach all nightly dreams
no light know where fair glances are absent, rarest gleams
unite free-flights bright streams, reverse sad circumstances,
enchanting spell Life's schemes, link heart to heart. True chance is
response to Love's advances in harmony which beams
from twinned souls sparked advances from Earth to airy streams.
As strawberries and cream, Time's whipped, unzipped romance is
personnified dream themes luck plucks, unending dances.
Affection's fairest stance is love's joyous damascene,
sublime state which perchance is of all life's states supreme.
Eyes glued to bright eyes team here as happiness enhances
surprise cued through shared theme that distance, Time, surpasses.
Romance sheds frontiers, years, tears, hope scope finds
translates to seventh heaven's sublime signs.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Storyteller's Word
In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.
I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.
Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.
A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.
A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.
Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.
Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.
I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.
A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.
There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Zero Covers All
Lately I realize.
I am a numb number,
living through life.
First child.
Date of birth.
Sixth star of twenty-seven.
Scorpio numbers six of twelve.
Studied tenth class,
Then 5-year’s graduation,
Every class I had a scroll number.
Exams written on id number.
Studied law.
Head churning three years,
with numbered sections.
Penal code, constitution.
Clauses of law in numbered sects.
Registered in bar council.
Legal practice.
Case files are numbered.
Subsequently I got,
House number, door number.
Phone number.
Mobile number.
Account numbers.
Credit card number.
Pan card number,
Folio numbers,
Car number,
License number,
Policy number,
Health card number,
Election card number,
Passport number,
Ration card number,
Ultimately, when you put me in morgue,
allotted me a number.
Which, I do no know.
However, I know a number.
I am a big zero.
It covers all my life
Yes, we discovered zero.
What a relief?
Does it not cover all?
fulfill all values!
By the way your number please?
X number or N number?
Infinite numbers.
________________
poem by Satheesan Rangorath
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Hit Single
You might have seen me hangin around
I never miss one night I could be on the town
I used to be another one like you
Always running home to that special one or two
And when I think of all the years of finding out
What I already knew
Now I spead myself around
And you can have 3 minutes too
cause Im a hit single
Lookin out for number one
I got a line or two that never fail
And every time you look around Ill be there on your tail
Im nothing special but I dont give in
Before you know it Ill be there right underneath your skin
And if you think that being serious and smart
Gets you where you should be
You must be not only joking
But way too heavy for me
cause Im a hit single
Goin straight to number one
And when I die and go to pure pop heaven
The angels will gather around
And ask me for my whole life story
And ask for that fabulous sound
But I know theyre gonna stop me
As I start going through every line
And say please not the whole damn album
Nobody has that much time
Please . . .
Just the hit single
You gotta love that number one
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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