Sonnet To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
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Related quotes
To John Hamilton Reynolds
O that a week could be an age, and we
Felt parting and warm meeting every week,
Then one poor year a thousand years would be,
The flush of welcome ever on the cheek:
So could we live long life in little space,
So time itself would be annihilate,
So a day's journey in oblivious haze
To serve ourjoys would lengthen and dilate.
O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind!
To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant!
In little time a host of joys to bind,
And keep our souls in one eternal pant!
This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught
Me how to harbour such a happy thought.
poem by John Keats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monday Then Sunday
It’s Monday, then Sunday in front of my eyes.
It seems like the calendar’s telling me lies.
Before I can live Tuesday, the weekend is here
With another Monday drawing ever so near.
Soon it’s Wednesday, then Friday. Another week’s gone.
Then a month falls in battle as time surges on.
This is a war that I know I can’t win,
So I’ll just pause and not fight this moment I’m in.
I’ll make the most of this day through happiness or sorrow,
Since the next day … one day … I won’t have a tomorrow.
No matter Sunday, Monday or what day of the week,
A loving, full fun day is all that I seek.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Monday Monday
Monday, Monday
So good to me.
Monday, Monday
It was all I hoped it would be.
Oh Monday morning
Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening
You would still be here with me.
Monday, Monday
Can't trust that day.
Monday, Monday
Sometimes it just turns out that way.
On Monday morning
You gave me no warning
Of what was to be.
On Monday, Monday
How could you leave
And not take me?
Every other day
Every other day
Every other day
Of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying
All of the time.
Monday, Monday
So good to me.
Monday, Monday
It was all I hoped it would be.
Oh Monday morning,
Monday morning couldn't guarantee
That Monday evening
You would still be here with me.
Every other day
Every other day
Every other day
Of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying
All of the time.
Monday, Monday,
Can't trust that day.
Monday, Monday,
Just turns out that way.
Oh, Monday, Monday,
Don't go away.
Oh, Monday, Monday
It's here to stay
Monday, Monday
Oh, don't go away
song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tuesday
Tuesday I'd say could be quite nice
If it weren't in the grip of Monday's paper vice.
You'd think that with all the computers around,
That paperwork would seldom, if ever, be found.
Though things now-a-days are even sloppier
Thanks to that invention, the high speed copier.
Unfortunately, Tuesday appears to be a bad news day.
It's just too close to muddled Monday for a better way.
If it could only be a little bit later on in the week,
That would be closer to the ideal advantage I seek.
But as long as poor Tuesday appears so very early,
I know there's something good I can find in it surely.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Week In Week Out
IIs there something more?
Surely there must be
You can't lose everything
So you're quite happy
To live with nothing more
Than a life-long shopping list
You tick off on credit
Well you'll pay for it
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Where are you going to turn?
When all ambition fails?
Why try any more
If human nature's stale?
Invite the hand of God
To touch the lucky few
There's no such thing as God
Nor easy money too?
Week in and week out
These lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
Week in and week out
Your lucky charms will always let you down
Maybe next week, we'll see
Maybe
You stand in life completely still
Feel really truly unfulfilled
Week in week out
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas Carol
Welcome, sweet Christmas, blest be the morn
That Christ our Saviour was born!
Earth's Redeemer, to save us from all danger,
And, as the Holy Record tells, born in a manger.
Chorus --
Then ring, ring, Christmas bells,
Till your sweet music o'er the kingdom swells,
To warn the people to respect the morn
That Christ their Saviour was born.
The snow was on the ground when Christ was born,
And the Virgin Mary His mother felt very forlorn
As she lay in a horse's stall at a roadside inn,
Till Christ our Saviour was born to free us from sin.
Oh! think of the Virgin Mary as she lay
In a lowly stable on a bed of hay,
And angels watching O'er her till Christ was born,
Therefore all the people should respect Christmas morn.
The way to respect Christmas time
Is not by drinking whisky or wine,
But to sing praises to God on Christmas morn,
The time that Jesus Christ His Son was born;
Whom He sent into the world to save sinners from hell
And by believing in Him in heaven we'll dwell;
Then blest be the morn that Christ was born,
Who can save us from hell, death, and scorn.
Then he warned, and respect the Saviour dear,
And treat with less respect the New Year,
And respect always the blessed morn
That Christ our Saviour was born.
For each new morn to the Christian is dear,
As well as the morn of the New Year,
And he thanks God for the light of each new morn.
Especially the morn that Christ was born.
Therefore, good people, be warned in time,
And on Christmas morn don't get drunk with wine
But praise God above on Christmas morn,
Who sent His Son to save us from hell and scorn.
There the heavenly babe He lay
In a stall among a lot of hay,
While the Angel Host by Bethlehem
Sang a beautiful and heavenly anthem.
Christmas time ought to be held most dear,
Much more so than the New Year,
Because that's the time that Christ was born,
Therefore respect Christmas morn.
And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Daily Couplets - 0466 - not after Mark Twain Those Annual Bills
Monday Morning, full of dread, we pray
the postman no new bills will bring our way.
Tuesday brings no more, and still we wait
while writing verses making light of weight.
Wednesday wears on, wilts, no more to bloom,
while wor[l]ds spin out till they themselves entomb.
Thursday's thunder mocks the toiling throng,
its joys as passing as its hours are long.
Friday freedom offers those who, tired,
for weekends long when, working week expired,
they taste on Saturday the just reward
of toil and trouble, free from all discord.
Sunday is a pillow-time between
the week to come and that which has just been.
(26 October 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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7 Days
VERSE 1:
I'm in love with my man but it seems like everyone always asks me
How is it that we can work out
We got the type of ghetto love
We fuss and fight then we make up
I guess that's what it's all about
CUz time and time I tried to leave but
For him I get weak, I just can't let him go
And even though he gets to me
Seven days a week
We just can't get enough
And that's why
CHORUS:
On Monday we'll be breaking up
On Tuesday we'll be making up
Wednesday we'll be making love
On Thursday it just sleep all day
On Friday I give you room to play
Saturday, Sunday I just can't stay away
VERSE 2:
I just can't spend a day without him, sometimes my girls trip about it
But I don't care what they have to say
See, he don't have to buy me roses
He loves me and knows how to show it
He turns me on in every way
Day by day it seems to be that for him I get weak
I just can't let him go
And it's not that hard to see that
Seven days a week
We just can't get enough
And that's why
(CHORUS)
It's so hard for everyone to see I love him and he loves me
Seven days a week
I'm so down for him and
He's so down for me and
That's how we're gonna be
(On Sunday - Monday - Tuesday - Wednesday - Thurdsay - Friday - Saturday)
It's gonna be; yeah
(REPEAT CHORUS 3x)
song performed by by Christina Milian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I went out there for a thousand a week, and I worked Monday, and I got fired Wednesday. The guy that hired me was out of town Tuesday.
quote by Nelson Algren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monday Monday
Bah da bah da da da
Bah da bah da da da
Bah da bah da da da
Monday Monday so good to me
Monday mornin' it was all I hoped it would be
Oh Monday mornin' Monday mornin' couldn't guarantee
That Monday evenin' you would still be here with me
Monday Monday can't trust that day
Monday Monday sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday mornin' you gave me no warnin' of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday how could you leave and not take me
Every other day every other day
Every other day of the week is fine yeah
But whenever Monday comes but whenever Monday comes
A you can find me cryin' all of the time
Monday Monday so good to me
Monday mornin' it was all I hoped it would be
But Monday mornin' Monday mornin' couldn't guarantee
That Monday evenin' you would still be here with me
Every other day every other day
Every other day of the week is fine yeah
But whenever Monday comes but whenever Monday comes
A you can find me cryin' all of the time
Monday Monday can't trust that day
Monday Monday it just turns out that way
Oh Monday Monday won't go away
Monday Monday it's here to stay
Oh Monday Monday
Oh Monday Monday
song performed by by Hear'Say from Popstars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Welcome To The Working Week
Now that your pictures in the paper being rhythmically admired
And you can have anyone that you have ever desired,
All you gotta tell me now is why, why, why, why.
Welcome to the workin week.
Oh I know it dont thrill you, I hope it dont kill you.
Welcome to the workin week.
You gotta do it till youre through it so you better get to it.
All of your family had to kill to survive,
And theyre still waitin for their big day to arrive.
But if they knew how I felt theyd bury me alive.
Welcome to the workin week.
Oh I know it dont thrill you, I hope it dont kill you.
Welcome to the workin week.
You gotta do it till youre through it so you better get to it.
I hear you sayin, hey, the citys alright,
When you only read about it in books.
Spend all your money gettin so convinced
That you never even bother to look.
Sometimes I wonder if were livin in the same land,
Why dyou wanna be my friend when I feel like a juggler
Running out of hands?
Welcome to the workin week, oh, welcome to the working week.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Monday
Come monday
By: jimmy buffett
1974
Headin' up to san francisco
For the labor day week-end show
I've got my hush-puppies on
I guess i never was meant for glitter rock and roll
And honey i didn't know
That i'd be missin' you so
Chorus:
Come monday, it'll be all right
Come monday, i'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown l. a. haze
And i just want you back by my side
Yes, it's been quite a summer
Rent-a-cars and west-bound trains
And now you're off on vacation
Somethin' you tried to explain
And darlin', since i love you so
That's the reason i just let you go
Chorus:
Come monday, it'll be all right
Come monday, i'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown l. a. haze
And i just want you back by my side
I can't help it honey
You're that much a part of me now
Remember that night in montana
When we said there'd be no room for doubt
I hope you're enjoyin' the scen'ry
I know that it's pretty up there
We can go hikin' on tuesday
With you i'd walk anywhere
California has worn me quite thin
I just can't wait to see you again
Chorus:
Come monday, it'll be all right
Come monday, i'll be holdin' you tight
I spent four lonely days in a brown l. a. haze
And i just want you back by my side
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time
Time
~
A week, a month and a day
time passes inconsistent
and still remains unchanging
just the reflection it leaves
divides thought and opinion
it waits for no man
nor like the tide can be tamed
time is fleeting yet lasting
the eternal contradiction
of philosophy and faith
time is age and youth
life and death irrespective
it passes only as we see it
a week, a month and a day
time continues onwards
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I hadn't worked for a year when I had my Prison Break audition and it was the easiest audition I've ever had. I got the script on Friday, went to the audition on Monday and got the part on Tuesday. I was shooting the pilot a week later. I didn't have time to be nervous - it happened so quickly.
quote by Wentworth Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Realm
Life is but a dropp in the sea, in the eyes of God of Eternity,
A tiny mist that is here today, and by the wind, blown away,
A day is like a thousand years, a span one life never nears,
A thousand years, but a day, for the God of an eternal way.
He measures not by our time, but, in units of eternal design,
His measure that has no end, and no beginning either friend.
God places upon me and you, God’s eternal cost and value,
And the cost for all human life, is redeemed by Jesus Christ.
We are precious in God’s sight, all of His Saints in the Light,
Precious at our last breath, in His sight, Saints at their death,
As He planned for Saints of God, more than this earthly sod,
Eternally, a Heavenly destination, amid His Plan of Salvation.
Then we shall have an eternity, to be all we were meant to be,
As we serve our Eternal Lord, in places no one has explored,
With eternal ways in store, when time as we know is no more,
As all the years we had on earth, will seem of very little worth.
Mortals clothed in immortality, with Glorified Bodies eternally,
To live not like we did before, but sinless to live forevermore,
Entering a sphere so sublime, not hindered by night and time,
With light far as all can see, moving into the realm of Eternity.
(Copyright ©06/2009)
Money
When I had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and seen
How poor men’s hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees
About their work from morn till night.
So, when I hear these poor ones laugh,
And see the rich ones coldly frown—
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down.
When I had money, money, O!
My many friends proved all untrue;
But now I have no money, O!
My friends are real, though very few.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Baby's Age
She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
A week of hyacinths, we say,
And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;
And then because two wishes met
Upon the rose and violet --
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun --
The violet and the rose count one.
A week the apple marked with white;
A week the lily scored in light;
Red poppies closed May's happy moon,
And tulips this blue week in June.
Here end as yet the flowery links;
To-day begins the week of pinks;
But soon -- so grave, and deep, and wise
The meaning grows in Baby's eyes,
So VERY deep for Baby's age --
We think to date a week with sage!
poem by Henry Timrod
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Love and Parting
Your wedding dress is not ready yet,
A choir does not sing in our honor,
But time is hurrying us not to forget
The horses that ask for honeymooners.
If only the troika would not lose its way
And the bells would never stop ringing.
Parting is a high price for the love to pay,
Two friends for eternal love are singing.
We've opened the love gate ourselves,
We've harnessed the happiest troika,
And here is something looming tells:
Love and parting are always an alliance.
The holy science -to hear each other
Through years, through times and life
Two friends are eternal - love and parting
They pass through our hearts with a strife.
The longer our life is- the years are shorter,
The sweeter the voice of our friends,
Each meeting becomes much warmer,
Love and then parting our life demands.
The bank, then the river, the sun, then the storm,
The twittering swallows, then cawing of crows,
Love and parting - they two eternal roads form,
Love and parting- this duet always together goes.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A week, a month, a year
How long is this waiting?
A week, a month, a year
I can’t count the days anymore
How long is this yearning?
A week, a month, a year
I barely feel the difference
How long is this goodbye?
A week, a month, a year
Is the end is forever?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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