En.Citatepedia^®.ro

There was an odd fellow named Fred
Who dreamt he had died and was dead;
And as strange as it seems
He was killed in his dreams
By his father, who'd 'gone on ahead'.

quote by by John Carter Brown
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Lucky santa! ! (A funny story)

Santa goes into his son`s room to wish him goodnight. His son is having a nightmare - Santa wakes him and asks his son if he is OK? The son replies he is scared because he dreamt that his aunt had died. Santa assures the son that Auntie is fine and sends him to bed.
The next day, Auntie dies. One week later, Santa again goes into his son`s room to wish him goodnight. His son is having another nightmare - Santa again wakes his son. The son this time says that he had dreamt that his grandmother had died. The father assures the son that she is fine and sends him to bed.
The next day, grandmother dies. One week later, Santa again goes into his son`s room to wish him goodnight. His son is having another nightmare, he again wakes his son. The son this time says that he had dreamt that his daddy had died. The father assures the son that he is OK and sends the boy to bed.
Santa goes to bed but cannot sleep because he is so terrified. The next day, Santa is scared for his life- he is sure is going to die. After dressing he drives very cautiously to work fearful of a collision. He doesn`t eat lunch because he is scared of food poisoning. He avoids everyone for he is sure he will somehow be killed. He jumps at every noise, starts at every movement and hides under his desk.
After days work, upon walking in his front door, he finds his wife, Jeeto, 'Good God, Dear, ' he proclaims, 'I`ve just had the worst day of my entire life! '
Jeeto responds, 'You think your day was bad, this morning my ex-boyfriend dropped dead on the front steps! '

poem by Edwin Drood
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A Girl Named Fred

Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.

poem by David Harris
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The Man Died

The man died and died and died
And finally the man died!
People killed the man severally
Before the man finally died
The mans family labelled
The man dead.
The community labelled
The man dead
.
And above all the man saw in Himself a living ghost
And had since decayed and rotted inside
That not even the warmt
Of a living blood
Could've been enough
To bring the man back
To life again.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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The Poet Laurie Ate

Laurie was my dog
And he loved to bite
He wasn't very clever
And not at all bright.
He didn't like my friend
A mad poet called Fred
One day Laurie bit him
On the back of his head.
Fred wasn't at all pleased
And bit my dog back
So Laurie retaliated
And went on the attack.
They wrestled on the floor
And Fred got bit a lot
So to get my dog off him
I hit the mutt with a flowerpot.
But Laurie was very tough
And the pot bounced off his head
Then poor old Fred stopped moving
In fact he was now Dead.
I didn't know what to do
The poet didn't deserve to die
Looking down at Laurie
I asked this crazy dog Why?
But he just didn't care
And kept chewing at Fred
This loony dog was eating him
The he swallowed dead Fred's head.
Poor Fred was now all gone
But this must have been his fate
To lose his life to a psycho dog
The poet Laurie ate.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Last Night I Dreamt Your Perfume

Last night I dreamt your perfume
While I held you in my hand
Last night I dreamt your perfume
You will never understand
The way you make me feel
The promise that you give
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Lost in those dreams I live

Last night I dreamt your perfume
Arched fingers cupped your breast
Last night I dreamt your perfume
Felt your warm breath brush my chest
With gel coat slide I gripped you
Sensation through my veins
Last night I dreamt your perfume
She who bears no name

Last night I dreamt your perfume
Your body meshed with mine
Last night I dreamt your perfume
A guilty pleasure, sweet, sublime
Quiet by my pillow
Your touch I never feel
Last night I dreamt your perfume
This morning, wished you real

poem by Bill Smith
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Dream I Killed God

Dream I killed God and woke up
Dream I killed God and woke up
Hes begging please, please, please.
No, dont....
Dream I killed God and woke up
Time dries, time dries my mind
Oh, Ill survive, no one can save us
Talk to myself, talk to my soul
I want you to follow
Yes, follow...
Its only...its only a dream, only
Dream I killed God and woke up
He was lying, bleeding and wishing
Its passing
Its passing
Dream I killed god
Dream I killed god
Is he dead?
And then I dreamt of him

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temptation

Yesternight I dreamt some false
Of you holding me
Preventing me from the fall
And I dreamt not just the lust
But the worry in your eyes
For me that you had
That you were unable to hide.

Yesternight I dreamt some strange
Of you clutching me tight
So desperate to be close
More desperate to escape that while
And I dreamt not just the touches
But the sensations it sent down my spine
Your each move on my skin
That my words can never define.

Yesternight I dreamt you
In an irresistable unusualness
That I always want you to be in
But too tough to explain
And I dreamt not just your hardness
But the softness in your breadth
The warmth it contained
Though chilling me in each sense.

Yesternight I dreamt our togetherness
Of that’s so unreal
Still feels too tempting to be true
Until I feel you everywhere
And I know I’m dreaming no more
I feel myself craving for you
To bless my needs with exact boons
I can’t wait for it to come soon……

poem by Jaya Mishra
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The fellow that can only see a week ahead is always the popular fellow, for he is looking with the crowd. But the one that can see years ahead, he has a telescope but he can't make anybody believe that he has it.

quote by Will Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor, darling fellow - he died of food. He was killed by the dinner table.

quote by Diana Vreeland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losses

It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes-- and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,
And the rates rose, all because of us.
We died on the wrong page of the almanac,
Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;
Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,
We blazed up on the lines we never saw.
We died like aunts or pets or foreigners.
(When we left high school nothing else had died
For us to figure we had died like.)

In our new planes, with our new crews, we bombed
The ranges by the desert or the shore,
Fired at towed targets, waited for our scores--
And turned into replacements and woke up
One morning, over England, operational.

It wasn't different: but if we died
It was not an accident but a mistake
(But an easy one for anyone to make.)
We read our mail and counted up our missions--
In bombers named for girls, we burned
The cities we had learned about in school--
Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among
The people we had killed and never seen.
When we lasted long enough they gave us medals;
When we died they said, 'Our casualties were low.'

They said, 'Here are the maps'; we burned the cities.

It was not dying --no, not ever dying;
But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead,
And the cities said to me: 'Why are you dying?
We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?'

poem by Randall Jarrell
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Father(less) Day

Father(less) Day
by Alex Lewis

Today is Father's Day-
So joyous and so gay!
Unless you're me,
Very sadly.
For me, it's Father(less) Day.
He died three nights ago, I say.
Don't pity me, give me none!
If it were up to me, his death would not be done.
If you commit suicide, there's a lonely funeral.
No one will pity you for wearing red before the bull.
He killed himself; I don't notice he's alive.
Such selfishness and stupidity would get none to revive.

So, today
I will say
It's Father(less) Day
For me and for me (alone) .
Do not cry! Do not groan!
This day is today (whatever may be(!))
It's Father(less) Day (for me) .

poem by Alex Lewis
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Jack's Confession Sonnet

Jack O'reilly:

Father I think you can guess why I left
I was only fifteen years old that time
nobody knew me, it wasn't for theft
I had to leave Manchester, for my crime
was exactly what you are thinking now
it was no coincidence, Lucas died
and it is clear to me your thinking how
Lucas had to go, all true to us tried
but nobody knew me I was a boy
my father never wanted me to fight
I took his gun and used it like a toy
I killed Lucas and I did what was right
because he killed my dad, I moved away
four years ago, I confess death that day.

poem by Daniel McCann
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This Time of Year a Twelvemonth Past

This time of year a twelvemonth past,
When Fred and I would meet,
We needs must jangle, till at last
We fought and I was beat.

So then the summer fields about,
Till rainy days began,
Rose Harland on her Sundays out
Walked with the better man.

The better man she walks with still,
Though now 'tis not with Fred:
A lad that lives and has his will
Is worth a dozen dead.

Fred keeps the house all kinds of weather,
And clay's the house he keeps;
When Rose and I walk out together
Stock-still lies Fred and sleeps.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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The Unabashed Bouquets

Upon the higher back of the albatross
It rains, it floods;
And if I am not beautiful by now,
I will be beautiful by then: I can see by the lights
That my father put in
As he whipped me, as I wrote the novels that no one
Reads,
I killed the dragon by which my friends were sewn
But never fed:
Beautiful irony of the butterfly crushed on the super
Fine roadway;
But I am no longer afraid: I still have my dreams,
By my scars,
By my liquor glass- I still have my friends,
Even if I should have died high up on the wild
Back of the buffalo,
Never read, by the red lips of wild flowers, the unabashed
Bouquets the dead Indians dead in the gutters
Of the old fashioned roadways: Again, I loved you,
Erin, but you are too busy serving the truancies of your
Highwaymen to understand my love,
Unabashed and unbred- Aren’t you, Erin;
Yet still my sweet love, my dead light bulb by which
I got to bed every night- Erin,
Amen.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Fred The Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Meyers
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Father Of Night

Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fred the Clown

Orange, blue, red, white and brown
The favorite colors of Fred the Clown
A happy and jolly clown he is
But some people he likes to tease

Everyone hates to be with Fred the Clown
But Fred never showed the people a frown
He never felt bad for what he did
The hatred inside the people had hid

The people thought of what to do with Fred the Clown
They decided to talk to the mayor of town
He laughed at what the people said
He laughed until his face gone red

The mayor didn't believe the people
For Fred the Clown gives him a tickle
They always saw the mayor smiled that way
Ever since Fred came each day

He already knew what Fred was doing
So he decided to call Fred for a meeting
The mayor told him what the people had said
And so left poor little Fred

The people decided to give Fred a chance
So Fred the Clown gave them a dance
The dance was so funny that they laughed all day
Fred the Clown will forever stay

poem by Geneen Alyssa Meyers
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Were did magic go! ? ! ? ! ? !

When I realized that magic had died, I begin to cry
The loss of imagination,
The loss of that witch we did not know,
Now science has lain you down,
Never to rise,
Except in the hearts of those who believe,
Those who don’t know,
To them you are reality,

Until the man in the lab coat proves you wrong,
The freedom that we felt is gone,
Our mortality has sunk in,
There is no way to see our dead ones,
The man in the lab coat killed our dreams,
Never to rise again,

As we grow, our children ask of magic,
We let them believe,
We let the hold on to their imagination,
Until the man in the lab coat comes,

He kills their dreams,
As he did to us,
We feel sorrow, detachment and longing
When we remember the day magic died to us
And then we sleep,
The one and only place magic is real!

copyrights 2008: Dustin J. Ross

poem by Dustin Ross
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There Was A Man

There was a man
My father said
Who walked on water
Saying he was the Son of God.

There was a man
My father said
Who taught of love and peace
Healed the sick and raised the dead.

There was a man
My father said
Who gave his life for us
And died nailed to a cross.

poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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Our Loss

God walks the Earth no more
And
We, are left alone.
To fight our battles
Climb our hills
To watch our personal dawns.
We feel no more
Our passions dead.
We have gone
Where only mortals tread.
We have no hearts
Our loves are lost
Our innocence
The greatest cost.
What remains
But, empty skeletons
Godless creatures, gutless men.
We have no hearts
Nothing beats in our chest.
Savages all, yet worse our cost
We've lost our dreams
And
Nothings left.
Barren lands
Brown bittered grass.
We've killed our gods.
We've killed ourselves.
What remains
But mortal shells.
The long night's here
It brings no stars
No hopes, No dreams
Just painful scars.
We've killed ourselves.
Innocence lost.
Dreams that once were
Have turned to dust.
All that's left
Has begun to rust.
We've stayed too long
And, killed too much.
Savages, with thirsts for blood.
We've killed ourselves
Our innocence lost.
Hope is gone

poem by Rabia Minhas
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