Epitaph
As a boy, reserved and naughty;
As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty;
As a man, for action inclined;
As a greybeard, fickle in mind.--
Upon thy grave will people read:
This was a very man, indeed!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Naughty Girl
Can't remember just how it happened
The way you caught my eye
Ooh my body started to tremble
Going crazy when you walked by
I know what you're all about
I know 'cause the word is out, you're such a
Chorus:
Naughty, naughty girl
Who everybody talks about
Such a naughty, naughty girl
The one I couldn't live without, ooh no
All the naughty things that you're doin'
And all the things you've done before
Takes my mind off what I'm doing
And keeps me running back for more
I know what's going on
I know when you turn it on you're such a
(Chorus)
(Solo)
(Chorus)
song performed by by Valentine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Madness
I've never had much cause for worry
And i've not got a lot to say
You'll never find me in a hurry
Because i live my life day by day
People say that i'm crazy
But i'm not that way inclined
I know what i know and i'll happily show
That madness is all in the mind
Twenty-four hours is all that i care for
I believe that's the only way
Twenty-four hours is all that is needed
Because i live my life day by day
People say that i'm crazy
But i'm not that way inclined
I know what i know and i'll happily show
That madness is all in the mind
I'm happy the way that i do things
Continually feeling okay
I've no worries on what tomorrow brings
Because i live my life day by day
People say that i'm crazy
But i'm not that way inclined
I know what i know and i'll happily show
That madness is all in the mind
Well some men seek answers in bottles
And others in degenerate ways
But i don't care much for the question
Madness is all in the mind
Madness is all in the mind
Madness is all in the mind
Madness is all in the mind
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Memory 69,699 - Again!
The wind skirts
the lake
fingering the hem
of your skirt
before lifting it to
take a peak
underneath.
Wot a cheek!
Wot a cheek!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
...naughty!
But I don't mind!
Press rewind!
Memory 69,699
- again!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sing haughty Yacht-y Yea
bayboats purse seine whey
journey yearlong gay
laddy inured dryup
haughty yachty yea
mildred mayhem dewlap
naughty jaunty jay
car sons caught in capers
haughty yachty yea
vicar baking in butterfat
orphan boy screwed in larder
bluejay frollic jane
and a haughty yachty yea
bombs in bay bombard
dickson singsick cockpit
french chicks s'envoyent en l'air
oh a haughty yachty yea
idols jailed in temples
choked in garlandy incense
priestly eyedance pose
yes a haughty yachty yea
masons' mildewy masters
with compass stone and pilasters
plan solomon's might on earth
yea sing haughty yachty yea
royal houses love in stables
lords and ladies love in regalia
loving ones love in limbo
cry haughty yachty yea
dote on damsels in december
hey yachty haughty yea
make them deliver in september
ho yickety yackety yea eh
[©T.Wignesan - Paris, May 4,1997 - from the collection: longhand notes: a binding of poems. Paris: 1999]
poem by T. Wignesan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Most people of action are inclined to fatalism and most of thought believe in providence.
quote by David Viscott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Riding Round the Lines
Dust and smoke against the sunrise out where grim disaster lurks
And a broken sky-line looming like unfinished railway works,
And a trot, trot, trot and canter down inside the belt of mines:
It is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is riding round his lines.
And the scarecrows from the trenches, haggard eyes and hollow cheeks,
War-stained uniforms and ragged that have not been off for weeks;
They salute him and they cheer him and they watch his face for signs;
Ah! they try to read old Greybeard while he’s riding round the lines.
There’s a crack, crack, crack and rattle; there’s a thud and there’s a crash;
In the battery over yonder there is something gone to smash,
Then a hush and sudden movement, and its meaning he divines,
And he patches up a blunder while he’s riding round his lines.
Pushing this position forward, bringing that position back,
While his officers, with orders, ride like hell down hell’s own track;
Making hay—and to what purpose?—while his sun of winter shines,
But his work is just beginning when he’s ridden round his lines.
There are fifty thousand rifles and a hundred batteries
All a-playing battle music, with his fingers on the keys,
And if for an hour, exhausted, on his camp bed he reclines,
In his mind he still is riding—he is riding round his lines.
He’s the brains of fifty thousand, blundering at their country’s call;
He’s the one hope of his nation, and the loneliest man of all;
He is flesh and blood and human, though he never shews the signs:
He is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is fixing up his lines.
It is thankless work and weary, and, for all his neighbour knows,
He may sometimes feel as if he doesn’t half care how it goes;
But for all that can be gathered from his eyes of steely blue
He might be a great contractor who has some big job to do.
There’s the son who died in action—it may be a week ago;
There’s the wife and other troubles that most men have got to know—
(And we’ll say the grey-haired mother underneath the porch of vines):
Does he ever think of these things while he’s riding round his lines?
He is bossed by bitter boobies who can never understand;
He is hampered by the asses and the robbers of the land,
And I feel inclined to wonder what his own opinions are
Of the Government, the country, of the war and of the Czar.
He’s the same when he’s advancing, he’s the same in grim retreat;
For he wears one mask in triumph and the same mask in defeat;
Of the brave he is the bravest, he is strongest of the strong:
General Greybeard Shrapnel never shows that anything is wrong.
But we each and all are lonely, and we have our work to do;
We must fight for wife and children or our country and our screw
In the everlasting struggle to the end that fate destines;
In the war that men call living we are riding round our lines.
I ride round my last defences, where the bitter jibes are flung,
I am patching up the blunders that I made when I was young,
And I may be digging pitfalls and I may be laying mines;
For I sometimes feel like Shrapnel while I’m riding round my lines.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What's On My Mind
I can't have this conversation
Without lots of reservations on the line
If there's a way to slip around it
Then I'm bound to get around it one more time
Honey you are so persuasive
But it makes me more evasive when you pry
You can label me elusive
But the facts are inconclusive at this time
'Cause you can't handle what's on my mind
I've got roses growing over what you'd find
But keep on asking if you're inclined
'Cause you can't handle what's on my mind
I don't mean to drive you crazy
Comin' off all vague and hazy just because
I don't have an answer for you
I just wouldn't want to bore you if it does
'Cause you can't handle what's on my mind
I've got roses growing over what you'd find
But keep on asking if you're inclined
'Cause you can't handle what's on my mind
But keep on asking if you're inclined
'Cause you can't handle what's on my mind
Because you can't handle what's on my mind
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Crazy Jane And The Bishop
Bring me to the blasted oak
That I, midnight upon the stroke,
(All find safety in the tomb.)
May call down curses on his head
Because of my dear Jack that's dead.
Coxcomb was the least he said:
The solid man and the coxcomb.
Nor was he Bishop when his ban
Banished Jack the Journeyman,
(All find safety in the tomb.)
Nor so much as parish priest,
Yet he, an old book in his fist,
Cried that we lived like beast and beast:
The solid man and the coxcomb.
The Bishop has a skin, God knows,
Wrinkled like the foot of a goose,
(All find safety in the tomb.)
Nor can he hide in holy black
The heron's hunch upon his back,
But a birch-tree stood my Jack:
The solid man and the coxcomb.
Jack had my virginity,
And bids me to the oak, for he
(all find safety in the tomb.)
Wanders out into the night
And there is shelter under it,
But should that other come, I spit:
The solid man and the coxcomb.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ice Chest and Beef
Solitude comes on quickly
heart stops and breath is stolen
my spirit has vanished.
Past promises fade into distant echos
only to be relived in my awaken nightmares
long lost love left late
Fresh wounds scream the incredible
pain mixes with emptiness breeds anger
where is my right arm?
Sound is like liquid now
slow dull roars from the non-understanding
I've read this story before
but this ending is unfamiliar.
The simpler it is the more complex the question
should I hold you accountable for my heart
while you want no accountability for our love?
Youth is a fickle thing
the brain says you'll live forever
the body says it will take forever to die
while the soul weeps in solitude.
Age is a fickle thing
the brain says your time is short
the body says forever was forever ago
while the soul weeps in solitude.
I don't know where this is going
I don't know who I'll become
I'm walking alone to my grave site
I need to find my right arm.
poem by Todd Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer
Tune - "Go from my window, Love, do."
The sun he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retired to rest,
While here I sit, all sore beset,
With sorrow, grief, and woe:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
The prosperous man is asleep,
Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep;
But Misery and I must watch
The surly tempest blow:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
There lies the dear partner of my breast;
Her cares for a moment at rest:
Must I see thee, my youthful pride,
Thus brought so very low!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
There lie my sweet babies in her arms;
No anxious fear their little hearts alarms;
But for their sake my heart does ache,
With many a bitter throe:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
I once was by Fortune carest:
I once could relieve the distrest:
Now life's poor support, hardly earn'd
My fate will scarce bestow:
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
No comfort, no comfort I have!
How welcome to me were the grave!
But then my wife and children dear-
O, wither would they go!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
O whither, O whither shall I turn!
All friendless, forsaken, forlorn!
For, in this world, Rest or Peace
I never more shall know!
And it's O, fickle Fortune, O!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alas for Youth
Much have I labored, much read o'er
Of Arabic and Persian lore,
Collecting tales unknown and known;
Now two and sixty years are flown.
Regret, and deeper woe of sin,
'Tis all that youth has ended in,
And I with mournful thoughts rehearse
Bu Táhir Khusrawáni's verse:
'I mind me of my youth and sigh,
Alas for youth, for youth gone by!'
poem by Hakim Abu'l-Qasim Ferdowsi Tusi Firdowsi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mozart was a punk, which people seem to forget. He was a naughty, naughty boy.
quote by Shirley Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Youth Dream Purchase Price Paid
youth dreams full of testosterone
impatience desires action completion
now now now youth is life trying
youth is working for other people
youth is working with other people
youth is learning about other people
in changing challenging life context
enjoy it or frustrated with it a lot
but at the same time youth screaming
to break out and be able to do own thing
the majority of the work force
probably feels this ghost echo
definitely crisis mix sometimes
few people get to do exactly
what they want to do
all or even most of the time
employment is necessity
unless rich financially
care free freedom independent
the less capital qualifications
the more compromise
due to lack of opportunities
working for others
is a good chance
to learn from their expertise
mistakes management
staff interaction
all necessary important
skills learn everything
you can while waiting
for your own dreams
an important
knowledge skills
career with many
interactive fields
of acquired knowledge
waits over horizons
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One of the wonderful things about this glorious holiday trip I'm on is that I'm in public with people. It hasn't been inclined... I don't know - something to do with the death of my wife. It's inclined to make me isolated.
quote by Jeremy Brett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
People Action
PEOPLE ACT CRAZY
BUT THE TRUE TELLS
IF
THEY
AREN'T AROUND
THEM EVERYDAY
BUT IF YOU
KNOW THAT
PERSON IS FAKE AND NOT SERIOUS
AND IF THEY THINK THAT PERSON IS ALWAYS
THATS DOESN'T MEAN THEY
ACTUALLY LIKE OR LOVE AND
THEY DON'T HAVE TO PUT UP
WITH THE FACT THE PEOPLE AREN'T HAPPY.
THESE ACTS ARE CALLED
PEOPLE ACTION
PEOPLE ACTION
OUR ACTION ARE WHAT HURT PEOPLE THAT WE LOVE AND CARE ABOUT. DON'T LET THE PEOPLE ACTION EFFECT WHAT YOU FEEL ABOUT PEOPLE YOU CARE, LOVE, AND LIKE HURT THEM AND YOU.
poem by Jordan Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flesh n Blood
Flesh n blood
A human fascination
Acquired the taste
Right on my face
Naughty
Lost in lust
A hopeless situation
Let the game begin
Im shirts youre skins
Naughty
These hunger pains
Growing inside me every day
I feel it in my veins
Burning inside me every day
Chorus:
I wanna eat your body
Eat your body
Naughty, naughty
Naughty
Talkin bout your body
Flesh, blood
I think Im in love
Naughty, naughty
Naughty
Eating up your body
Driving down
A sticky occupation
I need another shot
Of some food for thought
Naughty
These hunger pains
Growing inside me every day
I feel it in my veins
Burning inside me every day
Chorus
Everybodys got a need
Everybodys got to feed
On everybody elses body
Everybodys got a need
Everybodys got to feed
On everybody
Vegetarians eat your heart out
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Repentance And Reconciliation
JANE.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
'Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, 'I love my good Jane.'
I've been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
ROBERT.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother's hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
JANE.
But yet, brother Robert, 'twas not quite so bad
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then 'twas of her, her own self, I complained;
Since mamma does provide all I have.
MOTHER.
Your repentance, my children, I see is unfeigned,
You are now my good Robert, and now my good Jane;
And if you will never be naughty again,
Your fond mother will never look grave.
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Of human bondage
When my love and I mutually swear that we both are made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she is fickle; full of frauds and dry lies,
Making me wondering if she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the ways of the vast world's false cunning subtleties.
Thus lying to each other, I cannot tell if she thinks me young,
Although in her mind she knows my days are past their best,
Being an occasional adulterous myself, I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides hypocrisy thrives and thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore I can never say or guess when and if she is unjust?
Consuming fresh young flesh wherefore say not I that I am old?
The thrusting thought that love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I do bed her, and she does bed me,
And in our faults by lies and by false evasive excuses we flattered be.
Beware when being seduced by sweet fresh younger nymph's kind
Love becomes a monster that plays havoc with your mind
Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved
A Naughty Naughty Monkey...
Now little children listen to me
Here is a tale that I did just see,
A Naughty naughty monkey
Got hold of some glue,
An’ stuck an elephants foot
To the floor of the zoo,
The keeper flew into a
Terrible raging red rage,
An’ they had to lock him up
In his own little cage,
The elephant was really really strong
So he didn’t stay stuck for very long,
So remember when you do shout
You must keep calm,
So say the Lord’s Prayer and
Read the twenty third psalm.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!