Life from In Quest to Inquest
Arrival alive 'in quest' strive
to drive over rival hive to inquest rive
(13 November 2011)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Blance, where were you...?
Blance, where were you when I was still alive?
come just to think of it, life was a game;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Black vanishing plummet, Oettinger strive
race on marginal speed is not to blame
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Wolf-colder bite November frost to skive;
Vain was this agon for, distance to tame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Breathless our life was at twenty-five,
live dangerous, on road, afore to aim,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Selected Nymph, one promise to derive;
She was a softer misty form, my dame;
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
Apotheotic nacreous form, swan dive;
November of anamnesis, became,
Blance where were you when I was still alive?
Recall we were racing on Storrow Drive.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old School Management 0123
Director D. described his drive
as 'urge to acquisition',
and so did nothing but contrive
to prop up his position:
his happiness would still derive
deferring all decision.
To drone as master of the hive
implies some sense of mission,
and so he primed his poisoned chive
with silent, spot precision,
colleagues who tried to look alive
were stifled by suspicion.
To toil four hours, sometimes five,
was felt an impositon,
for lunch, however, he'd arrive
poor corporate politician.
In order corpulence to shrive,
the firm paid his physician.
In idleness most do connive
lest one gain recognition,
invention rive, repress, don't strive,
in supine supposition
that someday something may arrive
to save them, superstition!
Without incentive we deprive
ourselvees of hope, of vision.
Enthusiasm some would stive,
there's no sin like commission!
Where dreams of grandeur we'd revive,
we'll overcome derision.
Tomorrow should stop Sterling's dive
as we shrug off submission
for no Industry can thrive
on inner dereliction,
with impulse, stong will to survive,
we'll break out date tradition!
(23 October 1976)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love, the quest; marriage, the conquest; divorce, the inquest.
quote by Helen Rowland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A la Madeleine 0551 - Decrypted Poems
Delved underneath the church, a simple crypt
Exists which fosters deep poetic drive,
Carved like a tunnel, length, a putter's drive.
Rebounding echoes mirror manuscript
Years, tears, dissolving, melt Time's mask tight-lipped,
Portraying Janus. Words flow from the hive
Transmuting dusty thoughts to honey, strive
Eagerly to seed emotions. Clipped,
Decrypted links, thrice sifted, surface. Whipped
Pegasus is stubborn, cannot thrive,
Only through empathy may leap alive,
Energies unbridled, harness slipped.
Magic music, timeless melody,
Sends messages to set the spirit free.
(24 August 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down Lo Ho (Interlude)
Featuring The Refugee All Stars
I wanna dedicate this song,
gone til november,
to all you ladies out there,
crying all alone in your room,
and all you fellas,
goin down south, and not making it back,
may the lord bless your soul.
Every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl i cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
and give a kiss to my mother,
girl I gotta leave please dont cry,
when I come back you know the limits the sky,
ill take you out to dinner to your favorite spot,
fejuion and fateesion just to get you high,
drive by movies by the cemetary,
if my corps could talk then i'd tell him I was sorry,
life stories of the rich and famous,
some guy with the name some guy name less,
every time I make a run,
girl you turn around and cry,
I ask myself why oh why,
see you must understand,
I cant work a 9 to 5,
so ill be gone til november,
said ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
you tell my girl ill be gone til november,
janurary, feburary, march, april, may,
I see you crying but girl I cant stay,
ill be gone til november,
ill be gone til november,
yo give a kiss to my mother,
we are none had to do some,
so im knocking on h
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Survival
Ill survive you, I will survive you
Well, its too late, I know, to change the way we go
From this day on I want to stay on
Now that Ive started learning
And the tides started turning
Well, its here I want to stay
Ill let the moon announce my arrival
To every eye that cares to see
Just working on the art of survival
Where do we go from here, where do we go from here
Im alive here, I can survive dear
Though the weather might change
From the wind to the rain
Well, my heart remains the same
Ill let the moon announce my arrival
To every eye that cares to see
Just working on the art of survival
Where do we go from here, where do we go from here
Looked out on a sea of trouble
And I tried to stall for awhile
Its so hard to answer every question
And its hard to protect your heart anymore
Ill let the moon announce my arrival (I am alive)
To every eye that cares to see
Just working on the art of survival (but I wonder)
Where do we go from here
Ill let the moon announce my arrival (I am alive)
To every eye that cares to see
Just working on the art of survival (but I wonder)
Where do we go from here
Ill let the moon announce my arrival (I am alive)
To every eye that cares to see
Just working on the art of survival (but I wonder)
Where do we go from here ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Drive
I know it's late now I know I
Ought to go
Ride in your car now
But please don't drop me home
My head's so heavy
Could
This be all a dream
Promise me
Maybes and say things
You don't mean
Rain fall from concrete colored skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
Drive
Drive
Take me through make me feel alive
Alive
When I ride with you
Keep my heart turning on
Axles around you
Keep our love burning just
Like it used to do
Now just for us
They could
Play our favourite tune
Let's not discuss
All these
Things we can't undo
Let rain fall from concrete coloured skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
Drive
Drive
Speed me through
Make me feel alive
Alive
When I ride with you
Rain fall from concrete coloured skies
No boy don't speak now
You just drive
song performed by by Bic Runga from Drive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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John Day: XIII
DAY was a full-blown flower in heaven, alive
With murmuring joy of bees and birds aswarm,
When in the skies of song yet flushed and warm
With music where all passion seems to strive
For utterance, all things bright and fierce to drive
Struggling along the splendour of the storm,
Day for an hour put off his fiery form,
And golden murmurs from a golden hive
Across the strong bright summer wind were heard,
And laughter soft as smiles from girls at play
And loud from lips of boys brow-bound with May.
Our mightiest age let fall its gentlest word,
When Song, in semblance of a sweet small bird,
Lit fluttering on the light swift hand of Day.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conquest Of The Planet Of The Apes
Conquest, it's a type of quest
They called it a conquest of the planet of the apes
Conquest, they played it at request
It was another type of quest
For the planet of the apes
Conquest!
Request!
We're gonna have an inquest
But this is a type of quest
For the planet of the apes
Yeah!
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their hive [Stupul lor]
Their small hive, on glen below,
Is defended all around
By three poplars full of snow,
Rising from the snowy ground.
The beekeeper left them there
And the winter covered all –
Bringing sadness and despair –
With a nice embroidered shawl.
Yet, inside the cozy hive
All the bees, without delay,
As a single body strive
And work hard, day after day.
For they never toil alone
But together, all the time,
Buzzing on a lively tone
They make honey sweet, sublime.
poem by Tudor Arghezi, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Smokin' The Hive (feat. Clint Eastwood)
I was ten years old on my grandpa's farm when it happened
After all these years i can still hear grandpa laughin'
As he applied that barnyard remedy
He passed his wisdom down to me
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
I remember my first crush was on the preacher's daughter
We were smoochin' on the front porch swing that night when he caught her
We weren't expectin' him home until quarter past ten
When the good Lord taught me that lesson again
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
You don't point your pistol before you check each chamber
And you don't drink no you don't drink when you drive
It's just ordinary common sense to avoid that danger
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
She rolled into town with rodeo,she was a beauty
And that cowboy saw you wink at her,she was a cutie
The sound of jinglin' spurs caught me dead on a run
He was fit to be tied and you were under the gun
You don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
Chorus.
No,you don't reach for the honey without smokin' the hive
You're gonna get stung boy
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Après la Fête
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllll
APRES LA FETE
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to the ground rules lain.
Although some for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Bee, moth, attracted to wick’d flame,
no curtain call will long retain, -
another worker ticked from hive
which still remains no less alive...
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead On Arrival
Dead on arrival
Well thats how they pronounced him
But Im out for survival
Im alive in this town
It took the vital injection
From that sweaty little girl child
She had the blood of conviction
Im alive and hurtin
And they said where did you go
And what did you do
Well whats gonna happen when he gets shot with love
Dead on arrival
They thought that nothing would save me
But I know what could break me
Dead on arrival
You were my death reflected
I love to tiptoe
That brought me into this town
I got a vital injection
And a gun at my head man
From a thrill hit redhead
That brought me into this town
Well where did you go
[+and] what did you do
Walked on out and he gets shot with love
With love, with love yeh
Yeh...
Dead on arrival
Well that aint a prediction
Fact of fiction
Im alive in your town
Dont try to shake me
Dont try to break me
I know what can save me
They take the blood in her town
And they said
Where did you go
And what did you do
Well, whats gonna happen when he gets shot with love
With love, with love
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rivals to all
Dear foe, I am your rival for your fall.
Dear peer, I am your rival to be tall.
Dear brother, I am your rival for parents’ care.
Dear father, I am your rival for my mother’s love.
Dear wife, I am your rival for our kids’ love.
Dear son, I am your rival for my wife’s love.
Each one has some antipathy for all
For sometime, for some moments, at least.
27.11.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Force
To have what you want
You have to fight with passion
Feel with great compassion
Fear has no way in
Once you became driven
Totally committed
Not stopping until you get it
You have to keep on pushin
You have to keep hope alive
The drive to strive
And you will thrive
Just keep you eyes on the prize
poem by Tameeka Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After the Carnival
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way
as senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over. May
to Winter bows, Spring shall not stay, -
the darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can long sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
n.b. wicket, wicked wick et (and in French)
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
what once was certain now seems vain.
Another worker leaves the hive,
which is, itself, no less alive.
13 October 1988
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ill Never Get Out Of This World Alive
Recorded by hank williams
Written by hank williams and fred rose
Capo: 1st fret key: f# play: f
Now youre [f] lookin at a man thats gettin kind-a mad
I had lots of luck but its all been bad
No [c7] matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world a-[f] live.
My fishin poles broke the creek is full of sand
My woman run away with another man
No matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world alive.
A [bb] distant uncle passed away [bb7] and [f] left me quite a batch [f7]
And [bb] I was living high until that fatal [bb7] day
A lawyer [c7] proved I wasnt born
I was only hatched.---[f]
Evrythings agin me and its got me down
If I jumped in the river I would probly drown
No matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world alive.
These shabby shoes Im wearin all the time
Are full of holes and nails
And brother if I stepped on a worn out dime
I bet a nickel I could tell you if it was heads or tails.
Im not gonna worry wrinkles in my brow
cause nothins ever gonna be alright nohow
No matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world alive.
(additional verses)
I could buy a sunday suit and it would leave me broke
If it had two pair of pants I would burn the coat
No matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world alive.
If it was rainin gold I wouldnt stand a chance
I wouldnt have a pocket in my patched up pants
No matter how I struggle and strive
Ill never get out of this world alive.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smokin The Hive
I was ten years old on my grandpas farm when it happened
After all these years I can still hear grandpa laughin
As he applied that barnyard remedy
He passed his wisdom down to me
You dont reach for the honey without smokin the hive
I remember my first crush was on the preachers daughter
We were smoochin on the front porch swing that night when he caught her
We werent expectin him home until quarter past ten
When the good lord taught me that lesson again
You dont reach for the honey without smokin the hive
You dont point your pistol before you check each chamber
And you dont drink no you dont drink when you drive
Its just ordinary common sense to avoid that danger
You dont reach for the honey without smokin the hive
She rolled into town with rodeo,she was a beauty
And that cowboy saw you wink at her,she was a cutie
The sound of jinglin spurs caught me dead on a run
He was fit to be tied and you were under the gun
You dont reach for the honey without smokin the hive
Chorus.
No,you dont reach for the honey without smokin the hive
Youre gonna get stung boy
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers Of A Rival
They whispered
the arrival
of hate's new rival
As pink dawn approached
night feared for
his very survival
poem by Saiom Shriver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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