Immaculate Mary
She reigns above the grimy thoroughfare
where Gun Hill Meets Jerome.
A school house made of yellow brick
serves as her earthly home
It was built by Italian immigrants
with plaster Brick and stone.
It comforted the Irish Micks
when they felt all alone.
A sculptor found the beauty
contained in a block of stone
and carved an inspiration
for her people far from home.
The faces at her table change
They hail from different climes
The words and accents differ
in the liturgy of time.
Our lady stands as guardian
where the human meets Divine
Her school, a testament to faith,
in difficult turbulent times
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House
(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.
poem by David A. Webb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And There is... a Brick
And there is a brick
A wall that not speak
Silent and still
and doesn't have any will
That is a brick
Some may pray, some may weep
Some kick the brick
That is a brick
Shield not to hurt
Human that lock their minds
But let the brick
takes the wind of change
without regretting
what both sides couldn't send
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brick House 2003 (feat. Lionel Richie & Trina)
Chorus:
She's a brick----house
Mighty might just lettin' it all hang out
She's a brick----house
The lady's stacked and that's a fact,
ain't holding nothing back.
She's a brick----house
She's the one, the only one,
who's built like a amazon [pronounced am-a-ka-zawn]
We're together everybody knows,
and here's how the story goes.
She knows she got everything
a woman needs to get a man, yeah.
How can she lose with what she use
36-24-36, what a winning hand!
Chorus
The clothes she wears, the sexy ways,
make an old man wish for younger days
She knows she's built and knows how to please
Sure enough to knock a man to his knees
Chorus
Bridge
Shake it down, shake it down now (repeat)
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Go to School
I can’t go to school because I am sick
If I walk out my house I’ll get hit by a brick
I can’t go to school because I’m afraid
On my way there I might get run over by a huge parade
I can’t go to school because I have a funereal to attend
School uniforms just aren’t the new trend
I can’t go to school because I woke up late
I broke my thumb while learning how to skate
I can’t go to school because I feel a little blue
My brother stuck my hands together with supper glue
I can’t go to school because school is boring
I wonder what excuses I’ll have tomorrow morning
poem by Jasmine Shipp
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tower That Ate People
There's a bump in the basement
There's a knocking on the wall
In the pumping of the pistons
I swear I heard you call
There's a bump in the basement
There's a hole in the floor
There's a guard in the garden
Locking up the door
There's a rumble in the floorboards
No shutting out the sound
And the workers down below me
Digging underground
Feel the building all around me
Like a wrap of armoured skin
But the more we are protected
The more we're trapped within
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
When you strip it right back
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
You make up what you like
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
?
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stone by Stone
I built this wall around my heart
and stone by stone it falls apart
I built this wall to keep you out
the pain, the loss, and all the doubt
I built this wall around my heart
and stone by stone it falls apart
brick by brick it is destroyed
tear by tear i realize
but, I built this wall to keep you out
and stone by stone it fell apart
all the pain, the loss, the doubt
goodbye to that wall around my heart
for stone by stone it fell apart.
poem by Kenzie Lynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Had To Skip School
I had to skip school because I got sick
If I walk out the house I'll get hit by a brick
I had to skip school because I'm afraid
That on my way I'll get run over by a big parade
I had to skip school i had a funelreal to attend
I had to find school uniform that was the new trend
I had to skip school because I wokeup late
I broke my thumb learning how to skate
I had to skip school because I felt blue
My brother stuck my hands with supper glue
I had to skip scool because scool is boring
I wonder what excuses I'll have tomorrow morning
poem by Abegale Costilla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Of Love
This is no
Yellow brick road
We've been travelin' on
A river of tears
Washed us here
We're right where we belong
We rode it out
No we didn't drown
And look at what we've found
[Chorus:]
Every street we take
Is paved with truth
If a mountain's in our way
That's a mountain we move
Baby there ain't nothin' we can't do
Since me and you
Built a city of love
Through shiftin' sands
With our own hands
We dug to solid ground
Where we found out
What love's about
Yeah there's no stoppin' us now
Yeah on our own stone by stone
We built a fortress strong where
[Chorus]
[Chorus]
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our House With The Rotary Phone
I sit in a room that no longer exists
On a chair long since splintered and gone
While I pick at a meal I once would devour
in our house with the rotary phone.
I sit in the room that doesn’t exist
Enjoying my choice of ice creams
Recalling the window in Tiffany glass
Forgive an old man his daydreams
A simple “A” frame with three beds and a bath,
obsolete, yes, but our home.
It stood with its’ sisters on Queens borough Hill,
where the L.I.E. jams are well known.
I had known for some time that her best days were gone
A plywood fence circled our home
Title had passed to a contractor’s hands
Neglected, our house looked forlorn
My past like a picture ripped from its frame
They left not a stone on a stone
Not even the numbers on wood painted green
of our house with the rotary phone.
Our house and its twin have been wrecked and removed
And replaced with a modern brick “home”
So pardon my tear as I stand at the bier
Of our house with the rotary phone
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's More To Me Than Meets The Eye
There's more to me than meets the eye
Look closely, I too also cry
There's more to me than meets the eye
I swear to God and that's no lie
There's more to me than meets the eye
Get a chance to know me then decide
There's more to me than meets the eye
What the eyes percieves isn't always right
There's more to me than meets the eye
I'll be that guy on whom you can always rely
There's more to me than meets the eye
I still believe in love, happiness and rainbows in the sky
There's more to me than meets the eye
Behind all this, I'm a shy guy
There's more to me than meets the eye
Give me a chance to be a part of your life
There's more to me than meets the eye
I'll give you my heart, in which you'll reside
There's more to me than meets the eye
I look into yours and feel alive
There's more to me than meets the eye
Reminicing on the first time we met, and those cheesy lines. To my face it brings a smile.
There's more to me than meets the eyes
Without you in my life I'd rather die
There's more to me than meets the eye
Now that I've told you, do you believe in us.
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That's my school
Up at my school
everyone is different
yet we are treated
like an equal
everyone is always smiling
or laughing so hard
they start to cry
that's my school
a lot of people
go through my school
home of the blue jays
to cool for school
standing tall upon the hill
behind all the trees
stands the blue jay's school
yup, that's my school
each person is unique
form the clothes
to the hair
to their personality
each person is free
to express themselves
and be who they want
that's my school
WHS blue jay pride
that's something
that can never be beat
and something that we can't hide
friends come and go
but one thing will live on
the pride we had for our team
just like my school did
no matter where I go
or how far I leave town
I'll always be proud to say
WHS in WashMo is my school.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Working Class
hard calloused old hands,
back bent with time and work.
feet beaten and worn,
old tired eyes that still twinkle.
i love the working class.
am more at home
with truckers, farmers,
and factory workers,
than politicians and priests.
the lives built brick by brick,
silent years of sacrifice.
hard lines of faith and worry,
and moments of gentle caring.
the hand extended,
the heart that's honest.
the love of passion,
and blowing off steam.
the cook pot, and the table,
set for whoever walks through the door.
neighbor standing behind neighbor,
the saturday night fire,
and the sunday prayer.
i love the working class...
the people that built your cities,
paved your roads,
that have grown your food,
and made your goods...
so what the hell are you doing to us?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homecoming
Grandfather built, with his own hands
The house we children called our home.
A fine expanse of stone and brick,
a castle that was ours alone.
That was before the threatening storm
turned us into refugees
The howling wind, the battering surge
Let loose the Ocean's enmity.
Of our fine home scant trace remains:
Some stone and the foundation walls
Keepsakes and memories long displayed
Sadly we have lost them all.
No loss of life, no death to weep
But still a sense of loss pervades.
The certainty of Youth is gone
And fallen trees can give no shade.
We'll build again with our own hands
The house our children will call home.
I think, perhaps, on higher ground,
Where Ocean waves do seldom roam
There we will make new memories
Those things we lost will matter not.
We have each other, that is enough.
We'll build our heaven on this spot.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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The Sound of Silence
I’m walking down the street
and I hear the sculptor in his house
working on his statue of Krishna
and the chisel rings out on the stone
like a bell that wants to tell you something:
the stone saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the chisel saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the sculptor saying, this is prayer;
Krishna saying, I shall enter this.
And I hear in the sound of the chisel on the stone,
as sure as I know my own name,
that the sculptor is listening to all this too.
The bell-like sound lingers in the air
as if the air would keep it for ever
as the air’s prayer. It’s music.
The clearer the sound
of his striking chisel on stone,
the deeper the silence
as if sound and silence between them
know a secret: that sounds like this
can do anything in the world;
even call Krishna with their music
to play at being stone for us.
The stone’s laughing also:
playing at being Krishna.
They’re both laughing.
The sculptor is smiling too.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Run Home, Run Home Butterfly
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
there’s rain and hail
and the wind blows wild;
what are you doing
flitting idly by?
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
duck for cover
excuse the expression;
hide under a tree
or go sleep under the leaves;
have you no sense
of impeding danger?
Oh run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
the wind blows hard
and you’re being blown around;
what happens if
a tiny hail stone
swings a hole in a wing
or worse -
oh fragile butterfly -
I don’t want to be here to see
a hail stone the size of a child’s fist
land smack on your gentle head
so run home
run home
you silly
playful butterfly;
run run run
fly fly fly
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Brick House
Chorus:
Shes a brick----house
Mighty might just lettin it all hang out
Shes a brick----house
The ladys stacked and thats a fact,
Aint holding nothing back.
Shes a brick----house
Shes the one, the only one,
Whos built like a amazon [pronounced am-a-ka-zawn]
Were together everybody knows,
And heres how the story goes.
1. she knows she got everything
A woman needs to get a man, yeah.
How can she lose with what she use
36-24-36, what a winning hand!
Chorus
2. the clothes she wears, the sexy ways,
Make an old man wish for younger days
She knows shes built and knows how to please
Sure enough to knock a man to his knees
Chorus
Bridge
Shake it down, shake it down now (repeat)
song performed by by Lionel Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Threshold Stone
WHEN I went to live in the little house,
That stands on the hilltop alone,
What touched me most of all
Was neither roof nor wall,
But the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
For when I entered that little house,
With its four rooms cool in the heat,
And its windows clean and bright,
There it lay, new-washed and white,
With its tale of the coming and the going of feet.
Then I lost count of time in that little house,
And the world and its things all about,
And I hearkened there, alone,
To the footfalls on that stone,
Of the young coming in and the old going out.
And the folk that had dwelt in that little house,
They were mute, spectre-mute, at my side —
The young man, strong and bold,
And the grey man, wise and old,
And the little, pinched woman and the new-made bride.
Oh, often in haste to that little house
Came love in the night-time alone,
And dallied there a while,
With a little, wistful smile,
And with feather-weight feet on the old threshold stone.
And men hurried home to that little house
When the round of the daytime was o'er
With its worry, heat and noise,
And kissed their girls and boys,
And the patient little mothers that waited at the door.
Though I dwell now no more in that little house
That stands on the hilltop alone,
Yet this I got from it —
This human story writ
On the smooth, worn face of its old threshold stone.
Though they take stone from stone in that little house,
Making litter of all it has been.
Yet they shall not destroy
All the grief, all the joy,
All the youth, all the love that its threshold has seen.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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