Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can fight Monsanto’s sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you’re the early bird with worms in range.
If you stay steady when winds may be blowing
subarctic currents shiveringly strange,
if you can soar above false walls while knowing
true sharing's bliss which cheaps deep love's exchange.
If you can fly your kite despite snow falling
avoiding kites' and kittyhawks' harsh call,
if you won't compromise with inner calling,
nor flash your feathers - pride before the fall.
If you can weather frost or luck appalling,
tail waggle far from gaggling geese, nor stall
friends' search for perch beyond the masses mawling,
refusing vested interests' greedy gall.
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
If you can thrive when most lives' reputation
is knocked for skittles, stumped by snails and slugs,
If you can sow, show though you stay surrounded
by failing harvests sere upon the stem,
where hopes unfounded, speculations grounded,
face farmers who through jealousy condemn.
If greenhouse gases can't delay your planting,
with fallow Brussels' edicts all ignored,
If CO² you compensate by chanting
an incantation to the heavens poured.
If snail trails slip upon your sensor networks,
if nano tech protects fields' fullest yield
which on the Futures markets harvests net perks
which from the tax collector are concealed.
If you resist the urge to emigration,
and stand your ground around world vision wide,
if neither outside show nor occupation
contradict the worth that's found inside,
if neither dissipation, narrow nation,
priorities are held, if you abide
in peace with self, nor fear self-revelation,
your's is free flight, by day and night hopes ride.
If day by day you grow more give than taker,
remembering each offspring's offsprings, kind,
if all return to nest at rest, God's acre
in harmony despite the daily grind.
If you farm through the seasons, thanking maker
from man's pollution, safe solution find,
yours is the race, you, ace, may need pacemaker
for luck can turn, earn bridges burned behind.
(c) Jonathan Robin 23 November 2007 revised and expanded 2 February 2009
Parody Rudyard Kipling - IF
for previous version see below
Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
If you can thrive when most lives' reputation
is knocked for skittles, stumped by snails and slugs,
If you can sow, show though you stay surrounded
by failing harvests sere upon the stem,
where hopes unfounded, speculations grounded,
face farmers who through jealousy condemn.
If greenhouse gases can't delay your planting,
with fallow Brussels' edicts all ignored,
If CO² you compensate by chanting
an incantation to the heavens poured.
If snail trails slip upon your sensor networks,
if nano tech protects your fields providing yield
which on the Futures markets harvests net perks
which from the tax collector are concealed.
If you can fight Monsanto’s sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you’re the early bird with worms in range,
If you free farm through seasons, thank your maker
from man's pollution, safe solution find,
yours is the race, you, ace, may need pacemaker
for luck can turn, earn bridges burned behind.
23 November 2007
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If You can Keep your Cheese - after Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your cheese while few about you
are holding onto theirs', all envy ease.
If none can get your goat nor cow could doubt you
your scent which, heaven sent, can tell true bries
from gorgonzola, parmesan without you
planning for house mouse contingencies,
or short supply where larder rats may scout to
grind, compromise the tasty rind most please.
If by a whisker cheshire follows trout to
provide fit end for sweet delicacies,
or cheddar meat meal follows leaves no gout to
blur enjoyment, taste buds' harmonies.
If desert heat no threat presents, no pout too
in winter's cold where lizard's blood would freeze,
If neither flood nor drought can mar, throughout you
may triumph over blue mould colonies.
If all kowtow, if none would ever flout you
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...
if hole in one you score in club you clout to
take golden trophy - competition flees.
If all above's accomplished taste devout, true,
while others fail to prove their expertise,
your's is the world, which elsewhere's up the spout, few
can make their time your rhyme's real_I_tease!
IF - A Writers' Guild Gild Guile Guide
If you can form and not make norms your master,
conformity, performance formal, flame.
If you inform, share, [fl]airing, flow far faster,
yet let not copyright bind tight to shame.
If you treat critic's inconstructive blaster
with humour, beat him at his game's lame claim,
take not to hea[r]t his tumour, bandage, plaster
half-heartedly, pretend [s]he never came.
If you can couple energy creative
well in advance of others in your field,
without confusing nominative, dative,
rei[g]n arguments through cogency revealed
in context, in a manner innovative,
code palimpsests from all but s[t]age concealed,
If trust in self is never compensative
reaction used when you refused to yield.
If you can link great ends with small beginnings,
and yet not brag, nor tag each copy sold,
If dialogue's more vital than piled winnings,
to trim the quill where will won't be short-sold,
If, ignorance ignored, your story's spinnings
creates a pot no Potter has outsold,
yet you can fi[e]nd the flaw, to fresh beginnings
return to steer towards horizons bold.
If you can write without cash motivation,
self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
create consensus round an innovation
embraced by all without appearing vague,
If you can span from logic to emotion
set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
while conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If you can set the good within you flowing
without the itch to pitch beyond kitsch brink,
If you can give the nod and wink while knowing
that mental states aren't always in the pink,
If you use inner kinks to keep on growing
without denying others' right to think,
If you continue for tomorrow sowing
refusing using methods now that stink.
If you can lead lead soldiers Caxton crafted
without kowtow before cold compromise,
If neither editor nor public shafted
the output that your inner soul supplies,
If you can improvise, provide redrafted
communication keyed to catalyze,
you'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
alone on conscious stream your just dream buys.
Writers' Real Mirror Reflection Reel
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside,
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
Your's is the world and everything that's in it.
If you can write without cash motivation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
Create consensus round an innovation
Embraced by all without appearing vague.
If you can scan, span logic to emotion
Set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If rhymes may improvise, spurn prose redrafted,
Communication key to catalyze,
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries.
On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
Communication key to catalyze.
If rhyme may improvise, spurn prose redrafted
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
Set constant course from vested interests clear.
If you can scan span logic to emotion
Embraced by all without appearing vague,
Create consensus round an innovation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
If you can write without cash motivation,
Your's is the world and everything that's in it
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside!
Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
If you can thrive when most lives' reputation
is knocked for skittles, stumped by snails and slugs,
If you can sow, show though you stay surrounded
by failing harvests sere upon the stem,
where hopes unfounded, speculations grounded,
face farmers who through jealousy condemn.
If greenhouse gases can't delay your planting,
with fallow Brussels' edicts all ignored,
If CO² you compensate by chanting
an incantation to the heavens poured.
If snail trails slip upon your sensor networks,
if nano tech protects your fields' high yield
which on the Futures markets harvests net perks
that from the tax collector stay concealed.
If you can fight Monsanto's sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you're the early bird with worms in range,
If you free farm through seasons, thank your maker
from man's pollution, safe solution find,
yours is the race, you, ace, may need pacemaker
for luck can turn, earn bridges burned behind.
Advice to an Applicant
If you can back your boss and keep on smiling,
while toning down his brash absurdities,
if, having watched the man manhandle filing,
you rearrange the folders pretty please,
if coy and charming, beautiful, beguiling,
anticipating all contingencies,
you manage new accounts, contacts redialling,
correct crass spelling, cover vagaries...
If you can keep your head while he's resiling,
evolve successful counter-strategies,
if ‘mum's the word', discrete, ignoring tyling,
from busy-bodies safe when he agrees.
If you can spend your time in reconciling
his intellectual inanities,
never upset his fragile ego, heiling
whene'er he feels the need, or profits sneeze...
If Windows easy comes, while modem dialing
to DSL migration's not a tease,
if firewall free from viruses hostiling
you clean can keep, recalling password keys,
if the above you show him recompiling
the data lost when he lacks expertise, -
yet know your place as cypher, never riling,
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...
If you can stand him publicly reviling
your good ideas, then claim them his with ease,
can watch while rival's ruin he's compiling
so coldly that a lizard's blood would freeze.
If when betrayed by his ambitious wiling
you triumph through innate abilities,
ignoring basic scheming, baser guiling,
you seize the precious point he never sees! ...
If you won't blush when, rash, he'll rush, exiling
your intuitions as freak fantasies,
but confidently while free-time he's whiling,
circumvent his incapacities.
Surpassing him in brains, tact, versatiling,
you never strive to swap your salaries,
but both feet on the ground, still patient, smiling,
can counteract his incoherencies...
If you are sure his image needs restyling,
select the suits that suit down to the tees,
if you are ever ready camomiling,
or sprinkling sugar, creaming, coffee, teas,
if you can trick his wayward infantiling
and censure not his immaturities,
ignore his clumsy tries at fond defling,
yet fondled, tactful, rise from off his knees...
If you take three degrees while reconciling
your private life to further Ph.D.'s,
if you can children bear without work piling
and keep them free from trouble and disease,
if you can spring his quick promotion - vile thing -
and play the game of happy families...
Your's is the job, the rest's cosmetic styling,
Oh prized princess and pride of... secret'ries!
A l'assistante de l'Indirection
Si tu peux supporter de voir tes dossiers
démolis sans souffler mot et puis reclasser,
si tu sais appuyer partout ton PDG
sans sceptique rester quant à ses qualités...
Si tu souris, beauté, sans être emmerdante,
si vive mais jamais surprise, impatiente,
le soutenant quand des contresens fous l'enchantent,
ses lubies supporter sans paroles tranchantes...
Si tu sais sans délais t'adapter au progrès,
les autres anticiper, sans jamais hésiter,
bien le préparer avec de bons conseils,
des envieux protéger ton patron hébété...
Très expérimentée, mais sans prendre de l'age,
compréhensive aider avec ses rattrapages
sans pourtant mériter accéder aux voyages
‘d'études' et aux congrès, - ces minables volages!
Si tu sais lui montrer se servir du clavier,
aux réseaux si primés vite se connecter,
de l'Internet cliquer sur l'intranet branché,
son PC débugger sans jamais se broncher...
Si sa peur du souris, du clic-clic, du mulot
tu peux sans interdits dépasser au boulot,
à ses flagrants délits trouver tout ce qu'il faut,
si tu ses buts poursuis en soufflant le bon mot...
Si tu sais compenser l'orthographe qu'il perd,
scanner, penser, noter, téléphoner, tout faire,
son planning programmer, sans être trop mémère,
le soutenir, si gaie, quand son coeur désespère...
Si tu peux accoucher à l'heure du dîner,
tes enfants élever tous en bonne santé,
ton patron remplacer - ronronnant au soleil -
sans pour autant rêver qu'on t'accorde sa paye.
Si tu sors d'H.E.C. sans prétendre à la gloire,
Sciences Po, c'est fait, sans en faire une histoire,
ou Enarque tu es, faisant dans ton pouvoir
le tout pour manier les re(i) nes du Pouvoir.
Lors mieux qu'homme d'affaires, ou chef de cabinet
mieux que tous ces experts si souvent égarés,
tu seras à tout faire une bonne rêvée,
mieux que mère, sacrée ASSISTANTE tu es!
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on';
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Rudyard Kipling 1865_1936
Biff! The same father to the same son, now grown up.
If you can keep your job when all about you
Are losing theirs (by cutting down of screw) :
If you can keep yourself - for, make no doubt you
Won't get allowance, just for you to blue.
If you can make a heap by all your winnings
Risked on outsiders backed at Kempton Park,
Don't think that you will always get your innings
And kiss your boss's daughter in the dark.
If you should risk promotion, aught should tempt ye,
Eyeing the safe when all the staff have gone,
And, jemmying it open, find it empty,
And hear the watchman growl to you, ‘Hold on! '
If you should fill the unforgiving ‘minutes'
With names of all the people you have ‘done, '
Yours is the gaol, and everything that's in ti,
And, what is more, you'll get six months, my son.
Rachel Ferguson Nymphs and Satires 1932
A London Sparrow's IF
If you c'n keep alive when li'l bleeders
Come arter t' wi' catapults an' stones;
If you c'n grow up unpertickler feeders,
An' live on rugidge, crumbs, an' ‘addock bones;
If you c'n nest up in the bloomin' gutters,
An' dodge the blinkin' tabby on the tiles;
Nip under wheels an' never git the flutters,
Wear brahn an' no bright-coloured fevver-styles;
If you ain't blown b'nippers (Cor, I'd skin ‘me!) :
Stop y'r shells nah, warm-like, under me;
Yous is the eggs an' everyfink ‘at's in ‘em -
An' when they ‘atch, yor be cock-sparrers, see?
J A LINDON
If You can Keep Your Man
If You can Keep Your Man when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Avert a break-up when he starts to doubt you,
Without behaving like a tart or shrew;
If you can bake a cake or change a nappy,
Although you've got a good Redbrick degree,
And yet can say you're reasonably happy
When other graduate wives dropp in for tea;
If you can lose yourself in ‘To the Lighthouse',
Yet, changing books, seek first the Thriller shelf,
If you can laugh at Mrs. Mary Whitehouse,
But sometimes wince at Wednesday Plays yourself;
If you stand up for Women's Liberation,
Think sex equality long overdue,
Yet purr when men evince consideration
And in a bus or train stand up for you;
If you can be a protest march frequenter,
But sometimes think the marchers a bit queer,
Yet, spite of everything, stay left of centre,
Oh, well, who knows? You may be right, my dear.
Stanley Sharpless
If You Can Crush
If you can crush, when all your chums are cribbing,
The urge that beckons you to do the same;
Can keep your tongue from telling tales or fibbing,
And can, when others err, take all the blame.
If you can nurse a crush on dear Miss Withers,
Yet bully off with just one silent tear;
Be resolute when even Matron dithers,
And weld the House together with a cheer.
If you can foil the fiendish Russian spy-ring,
Who've ‘got a hold' upon the Head (the swine!)
And by example selfless and inspiring,
Can make those ghastly Juniors toe the line.
If you while staying virgo quite intacta,
Can scoff at those who label you a prude;
And, when you leave, can know you've never slacked or
(Except to Ma'moiselle) been flip or rude.
If you can scale such pinnacles of virtue
And earn your teachers' praises as ‘a brick',
The truth, dear girl, (I do so hate to hurt you) -
The simple truth, dear Daphne, is you're thick!
Martin Fagg
IF
If you can stand the Quest and all her antics
When all around you turn somersaults upon her deck;
And go aloft when no one has told you
And not fall down and break your blooming neck;
If you can work like Wild and also like Wuzzles
Spend a convivial night with some old bean,
And then come down and meet the Boss at breakfast
And never breathe a word of where you've been.
If you can fill the port and starboard bunkers
With fourteen tons of coal; and call it fun;
Yours is the ship and everything that's in it
And you're a marvel; not a man my son.
Ernest H Shackleton
(28 July 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boris The Spider
Look, hes crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now hes up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now hes dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe hes as scared as me
Wheres he gone now, I cant see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
There he is wrapped in a ball
Doesnt seem to move at all
Perhaps hes dead, Ill just make sure
Pick this book up off the floor
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Hes come to a sticky end
Dont think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl round
Hes embedded in the ground
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Farmers Complaint
The frosted fields are lying fallow.
The frozen ground will not allow
free passage to the farmers plough
Though things will change they always do
Then is the time he must review
the wisest course he can pursue.
He needs to plough then he must sow
the kind of crops he wants to grow
he can’t afford to be too slow.
When spring sunshine ignites the fuse.
A farmer has no time to lose.
Excuses are of little use.
Spring is the time of life’s rebirth.
He must prepare the fertile earth
and labour hard to prove his worth
.
The seasons cycle in their turn
as every farmer has to learn
If you don’t work you cannot earn.
A farmer only prospers when
he works harder than other men
or so they say time and again.
I do not know it may be true
That farmers have too much to do.
I don’t believe it though. Do you?
11-Jan-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Contrasts - 1512
Camouflage, contrasting colours merges,
avoiding garish splurges, here the urge is
survival of the fittest, leaving trace
on specimens most worthy future race.
But what of climate change, for then the scourge is
outside expected range, imprint diverges.
The moral seems that through life's petty pace
face up to challenge keeping touch with base.
(10 November 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The World Needs Peace, Not Through Wars!
What loss of lives and destruction!
Can lives all lost ever return?
How many more will have to die?
Can one man’s death bring back lives lost?
What pollution, a war can add!
Let Cats who declare wars on mice,
Take the blame and pay the price!
War is a gambling game like dice;
War is a futile exercise.
One cannot fight wars with mere knives;
War is a waste of human lives;
Alas, will nations realize
That keeping peace is always wise?
Wars can begin without a cause;
The world can’t have a single boss!
One nation can’t stifle the rest,
Or try to be always the best.
The world body must give OK!
The world must say to wars, all ‘nay’;
For lasting peace, war isn’t the way!
The cost of wars, who will repay?
The world must find out other ways,
Avoiding wars in future days;
Each nation must unmask its face,
And set on peace, its gaze always!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-1-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Climate Change
'Tis said that Bangladesh and Holland will be covered by the sea
And that climate change and global warming will cause World-wide poverty
Yet the advice of climate experts we do never seem to heed
Our disrespect for Mother Nature to our own demise may lead
Millions due to rising of sea water levels of homelessness and poverty will know
Yet for Mother Nature who does feed us little respect we do show
The burning of fossil fuels and noxious gases we pay for in acid rain
And the warnings of the climate experts sad to say have been in vain
Millions of cars and factory chimneys pumping black smoke to the sky
And from long spells of warm weather water reservoirs near dry
Climate change is all around us and climate change it is for real
And if we do not show respect for Nature her wrath we are bound to feel
And Bangladesh and Holland will be covered by sea water within decades it is said
And millions will be homeless and millions will be dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love & Luck
By: jimmy buffett, j. beroard, j.c. naimro
1988
Better days are in the cards I feel
Feel it in the changin wind
I feel it when I glide
So talk to me Ill listen to your story
Ive been around enough to know
That theres more than meets the eye
Everybody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me, and Ill rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
In this mangled modern world
Youve got to try
Try a little love and luck
And youll get by
Mysteries dont ever try to solve them
Were just players in a game
And no ones keeping score
So have your fun
Go ahead and tell your story
Find yourself a lover
Who will glue you to the floor
Everybody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me, and Ill rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
In this mangled modern world
Weve got to try
Try a little love and luck
And youll get by
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Chorus:
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
In this mangled modern world
Youve got to try
Try a little love and luck
And youll get by
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
Kole sere, kole sere
With a little love and luck
You will get by
With a little love and luck
Well take the sky
Love and luck, oh yes
We will get by
Ha ha ha ha...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dane-Geld
A.D. 980-1016
It is always a temptation to an armed and agile nation
To call upon a neighbour and to say:--
"We invaded you last night--we are quite prepared to fight,
Unless you pay us cash to go away."
And that is called asking for Dane-geld,
And the people who ask it explain
That you've only to pay 'em the Dane-geld
And then you'll get rid of the Dane!
It is always a temptation for a reach and lazy nation,
To puff and look important and to say:--
"Though we know we should defeat you, we have not the
time to meet you.
We will therefore pay you cash to go away."
And that is called paying the Dane-geld;
But we've proved it again and again,
That if once you have paid him the Dane-geld
You never get rid of the Dane.
It is wrong to put temptation in the path of any nation,
For fear they should succumb and go astray;
So when you are requested to pay up or be molested,
You will find it better policy to say:--
"We never pay any-one Dane-geld,
No matter how trifling the cost;
For the end of that game is oppression and shame,
And the nation that plays it is lost!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slugs and Snails - Parody Robert Frost Fire and Ice
Some say our world will end with snails
some slug out blown.
With climate change, scarce dinner pails,
I'd back whales weighed upon time's scales.
Of human nature enough's known
by those who'd live to tell tales tall
to show that for destruction sown
slug outs withal
suffice - home-grown.
Two stanza word world ends at ease
in freezer stowed
both slugs and snails preserved - one sees
a micro-wave cold sale could tease
snails from their shells - Frost's poem showed
that none cold feet should entertain
when world on ice skates, atoms slowed:
Can slugs feel pain
for tea at minus forty three degrees?
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
(8 April 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Price For Our Greed
Human Beings have invented computers and walked on the moon
But the Planet we live on we are trying to ruin
The greed of our kind may well be our downfall
We are not as great or as clever as we think we are after all
The natural beauty around us is for us all to enjoy
Yet the Planet that feeds us we are trying to destroy
Due to our carbon emissions the Polar Ice Caps melting causing sea levels to rise
We who think we are clever are not very wise
'Tis mostly of the economic depression we read of and hear
And climate change is something we do not seem to fear
Due to pollution the climate is changing from north to southern shore
Yet the warnings of Nature we tend to ignore
Global warming giving rise to climate change and it seems sad to say
That the price for our greed may be huge for to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hymn For a Lasting Peace
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
Let nation not fight nation,
Let race not conquer race,
Let the strong not commit invasion,
Let all men share Earth's grace.
Ban aggression of any kind,
Ban all arms production,
Ban man's violence against mankind,
Ban all forms of destruction.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
To save the snow capped mountains,
To save the depths of the seas,
To save the springs and fountains,
To save the birds and the bees;
That farms and forests flourish,
That rivers and streams flow pure,
That fields give life and nourish,
That Earth's great seasons endure.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That man may walk upon Earth,
That he will find an open door,
That there be the rights of birth,
That man destroys not, be the law;
That each to his faith can hold,
That homes and gardens are safe,
That not a child dies in the cold,
That not a child is a hungry waif.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That Human Rights be for all men,
That every injustice should cease,
That Human Rights protects all men,
That all men can find perfect peace;
That there be but one brotherhood,
That the land, sea and sky be free,
That progress be for the common good,
That peace everlasting will be.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
poem by Pauline D'Roza
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Cynosure 1314 Initial Version
Soul's sensitivity alone cannot secure
the battle against fear where jealousy and greed
may daily undermine ambitions fine, immure
the soul behind walls high, to tie where freedom's need
is great, must greater grow, - our world has ills to cure.
Thus channelled energy is needed to ensure
a healthy harmony, space helping spirit feed
upon the way not waste through haste or immature
blind curiosity, potential strong indeed:
not eat itself, indwell, self sell - pride premature.
For premature expression harvests self-suppression,
egocentricity its only sinecure.
Here ends this sonnet's session on an upbeat to freshen
impressions and procure a smile as cynosure :)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Walls of Change
Walls of change..
Built from a broken foundation
A world divided.
To a United Nation.
We all embrace hatred.
It is love that we seek.
Eternal blindness.
From a soul that is weak.
Strengthen my spirit.
Help me fear no fear.
Walk with the Lord.
Self will disappear.
Build up others.
Strength you will find.
You’ll discover yourself.
When you leave you behind.
The meaning of life.
Our actions define.
We can either live for ourselves.
Or by God’s design.
One will bear fruit.
The other will grow weeds.
The harvests we grow.
From our planted seeds.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Love And Luck
Better days are in the cards I feel
I feel it in the changing winds
I feel it when I fly
So talk to me
Listen to this story
I've been around enough to know
That there's more than meets the eye
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
Mysteries
Don't ever try to change em'
We're just players in this game
And No ones keepin' score
So have your fun
Go aheadand tell your story
Find yourself a lover who will glue you to the floor
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
Kole sere
Kole sere
Kole sere
Kole sere
Everbody needs a little good luck charm
A little gris-gris keeps you safe from harm
Rub yours on me and I'll rub mine on you
Luckiest couple on the avenue
With a little love and luck you will get by
With a little love and luck we'll take the sky
In this megalo-moern world you've got to try
Try a little love and luck and you'll get by
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ubiquity - Sonnet
Tomorrow's world may integrate
not 'end-to-end' but 'all to all'.
Friend to friend links, too, may fall
a prey to ways precipitate
as change may well accelerate
future change as some install
sensor networks which could call
the shots for those whose slower gait
these challenges can't integrate,
who hesitate as freedom's fall
is arbitraged by over all
complacently accepting state
imposed 'top-down' by vested vision
relayed by web-log television.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Climate Change Converts
After eleven years as Prime Minister it does seem quite strange
That John Howard the ageing politician is talking of climate change
But this after all is an Election year
And of losing the top job is now his greatest fear.
For eleven years warnings of climate change he chose to ignore
But climate change has become an Election issue as never before
Howard the climate change convert on combating climate change now leads the way
On climate change he has become an instant expert and on it has much to say.
His opponent for the top job Kevin Rudd is a climate change convert too
It is amazing what an Election can do
To the climate change realist voters they are trying to appeal
Of climate change suddenly they make a big deal.
The ideas of the climate change experts Howard and Rudd now embrace
As their moment of truth they are about to face
The climate realist voters they are trying to appease
But try as they will not everyone they will please.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Strength of a nation
Strength of a nation
~
The strength of a nation
Driven by honour and pride
Will stand as one to the fight
Against the needless hate
Those that seek to destroy
Through envy and fear
Of what the nation stands for
They will not kill the spirit
Only strengthen its resolve
A nation open to all beliefs
Teaches equality to all
And through its own faults
Will learn and grow stronger
The free shall stand as one
The strength of the nation
Seeing through the adversity
Does not yield nor quit
But stands defiant
We stand as one
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Discredited
Three million women without mates
In lonely homes on earth!
And Cupid sighs at heaven's gates,
Where many a spirit ego waits
Its call again to birth.
Three million women, meant to be
The mothers of the race!
But when war reaps on land and sea
Its harvests for Eternity,
Poor Hymen hides his face.
I think Earth has discredited
Itself in God's good sight:
He does not care to have souls bred,
Where peace, and love, and joy are fled,
Until we set things right.
He meant earth for a Garden Spot
Where spirits could return,
And build new heavens as they ought;
And now behold! what men have wrought
By deeds that blight and burn.
So, vain the waiting egos quest
For pathways back to birth:
And vain the longing and unrest
In many a cheated mother breast.
God does not like the earth!
It must be cleansed and purified
Of selfishness and strife,
Of grasping greed and lust and pride,
Before He lets His Angels guide
The egos back to life.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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No Vacation From The Blues
(Gary Rossington, Travis Tritt)
I took some time down by the ocean
Just to try and shake the notion
That my world could not continue without you
So I took a long vacation
Traveled all around the nation
Trying hard to rearrange my point of view
I went from Birmingham all the way to Boulder
And when I looked over my shoulder
All I could see was your sweet face shining though
And no matter how hard I try
To fight off the urge to cry
It seems there ain't no vacation from the blues
And I can run but I can't hide
From the pain I feel inside
And there's no one but myself left to accuse
So with all these bridges burned
There's no pages left to turn
And there ain't no vacation from the blues
Baby, don't misunderstand me
I'm not playing any games
I'm trying to find a rainbow
But I can't find it for the rain
So with all these bridges burned
There's no pages left to turn
And there ain't no vacation
Said there ain't no vacation
Said there ain't no vacation
From the blues
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Presidential Stand
the world economy has gotten out of hand
president OBAMA is the first to take a stand.
he told the republicans: i will do whatever
i have to do 'with or without you'.
we can not stand idlely by and see our nation die.
there will be controversy on what will
and what will not work. but if we do nothing
to help the economy.
'it will show we failed in our history'.
the president has problems galore
and different solutions he has in store.
he is doing what no president has done before.
by grabbing the bull by the reins
and riding it all the way.
will he fall or will he stay?
we must help him make the corral smaller
so that he does not fall to the ground.
then no solutions will be found.
our nation and all the world is watching him
and if we don't help, it's a crying sin.
what will it take for this nation to see
he's the first black president in our history.
it seems like he's fighting a losing battle
with very little support from his peers.
who are still living in fear.
the politicians think:
what if i help and it does'nt work?
i will be the political jerk. i will get so much slack
and there won't be any turning back.
but! if his plans do succeed, on his plans i can feed.
i can ride the waves to the top, and knowing that i will not flop.
the public always remembers the bad
and very rarely the good.
either way it will go into our history books.
of the stands that we took.
i would prefer to be remembered as the afterthought
briefly in their minds, rather than not at all.
because i did'nt have the gall
to stand up for something thats right
and help him to continue the fight.
so it is up to all of us, and 'in him we'll put our trust'.
no one person can do it all by themselves
and we know this very well.
for everything that he has fought
as politicians we should all give our support.
we must do whatever it takes
to help the country, before it's too late.
poem by Louis Rams
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