The Woodsmen Of San Juan
Until sunset!
From the dawn!
See the woodsmen of San Juan,
They want bread before it’s gone!
Those from Roque,
Feeling rocky,
Those from Rique,
Feeling tricky,
Those from Trique,
Sawing on!
Straddling his grandmother’s firm knees,
Jogging rhythmically, the boy rides horsey
Till both tremble, filled with exaltation;
The granny smiles with motherly affection,
But then a premonition flashes through
Her mind: fear for the grief and anguish
The coming days hold for her grandson.
See the woodsmen of San Juan,
They want bread before it’s gone.
Sss-sss-sawing,
Sawing on!
Those deep furrows tell the story
Of long suffering and unvoiced sorrows,
On her head time has left its snow,
On her brow, pain few have known;
Her eyes, clouded by the years,
Are turbid mirrors that oft retain
Images from lives forever gone.
Those from Roque, feeling rocky,
Sss-sss-sawing, sawing on!
Tomorrow, when the beloved grandmother
Sleeps deep beneath the earth, where others,
Too, dwell in the dark shadows
Of memory, sweetly will come,
Across eternity, in somber cadences,
Sad poems of childhood remembrances:
Her voice singing the old song!
Those from Rique, feeling tricky,
Sss-sss-sawing, sawing on!
Then, astride his grandmother’s weary knees,
Jogging rhythmically, the boy rides horsey
Till both tremble, filled with exaltation;
The granny smiles with motherly affection,
But then a premonition flashes through
Her mind: fear of the grief and anguish
The coming days hold for her grandson.
Until sunset!
From the dawn!
See the woodsmen of San Juan,
They want bread before it’s gone,
Those from Roque,
Feeling rocky,
Those from Rique,
Feeling tricky.
Sss-sss-sawing, sawing on!
Sss-sss-sawing, sawing on!
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Inner Peace And The Sound Of The Electric Saw
from where i am seated
beyond the fence of this old ground
they that do not mind the murder of peace
keeps on sawing what wood is left for the hands of this world to feel.
the roots cannot grow by themselves
when all the leaves fall when all the branches are cut
this greed for furniture this amassing of rails and stairs and door jams.
i am seated on a piece of ground without grass.
this is what is left of me in the middle of my quest for peace amidst this chaos.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Many people think that conservation is just about saving fluffy animals – what they don’t realise is that we’re trying to prevent the human race from committing suicide … We have declared war on the biological world, the world that supports us … At the moment the human race is in the position of a man sawing off the tree branch he is sitting on.
quote by Gerald Durrell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Home 3
Often I had gone this way before
But now it seemed I never could be
And never had been anywhere else;
'Twas home; one nationality
We had, I and the birds that sang,
One memory.
They welcomed me. I had come back
That eve somehow from somewhere far:
The April mist, the chill, the calm,
Meant the same thing familiar
And pleasant to us, and strange too,
Yet with no bar.
The thrush on the oaktop in the lane
Sang his last song, or last but one;
And as he ended, on the elm
Another had but just begun
His last; they knew no more than I
The day was done.
Then past his dark white cottage front
A labourer went along, his tread
Slow, half with weariness, half with ease;
And, through the silence, from his shed
The sound of sawing rounded all
That silence said.
poem by Edward Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Minnesoter
Yeah, I could rock her
Like a doctor
If I found a way to get her off first
I could own her, the crazy loner,
If I found my way to minnesoter.
In a slumber, Im sawing lumber
I saw my baby dance a latin
Number with her shirt off
Man her skins soft
But in a mood shed rather
If I jerked off.
If I found my way to minnesoter
Minesoter, oh yeah.
Repeat 1st verse.
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dandy Warhols
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tis so appalling—it exhilarates
281
'Tis so appalling—it exhilarates—
So over Horror, it half Captivates—
The Soul stares after it, secure—
A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more—
To scan a Ghost, is faint—
But grappling, conquers it—
How easy, Torment, now—
Suspense kept sawing so—
The Truth, is Bald, and Cold—
But that will hold—
If any are not sure—
We show them—prayer—
But we, who know,
Stop hoping, now—
Looking at Death, is Dying—
Just let go the Breath—
And not the pillow at your Cheek
So Slumbereth—
Others, Can wrestle—
Yours, is done—
And so of Woe, bleak dreaded—come,
It sets the Fright at liberty—
And Terror's free—
Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sheoaks That Sigh When The Wind Is Still
Why are the sheoaks forever sighing?
(Sheoaks that sigh when the wind is still)—
Why are the dead hopes forever dying?
(Dead hopes that died and are with us still.)
As you make it and what you will.
Why are the ridges forever waiting?
Ridges that waited ere one man came,
Still by the towns with their life vibrating
Lonely ridges that wait the same.
Ridges and gullies without a name.
Why is the strong heart forever peering
Into the future that speaks no ill?
Why is the kind heart forever cheering,
Even at times when the fears are still?
As you make it, and what you will.
Why is the distance forever drawing?
(The wide horizon is round us still!)
Why is resentment forever gnawing
Against a world that may mean no ill?
Why are so many forever sawing
On strings that rasp and can never thrill—Soothe or thrill?
As you make it, and what you will.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Los maderos de San Juan
¡Aserrín!
¡Aserrán
Los maderos de San Juan,
Piden queso, piden pan,
Los de Roque
Alfandoque,
Los de Rique
Alfeñique
¡Los de triqui, triqui, tran!
Y en las rodillas duras y firmes de la Abuela,
Con movimiento rítmico se balancea el niño
Y ambos agitados y trémulos están,
La abuela se sonríe con maternal cariño
Mas cruza por su espíritu como un temor extraño
Por lo que en lo futuro, de angustia y desengaño
Los días ignorados del nieto guardarán.
Los maderos de San Juan
Piden queso, piden pan.
¡Triqui, triqui,
triqui, tran!
Esas arrugas hondas recuerdan una historia
De sufrimientos largos y silenciosa angustia
Y sus cabellos, blancos, como la nieve, están.
De un gran dolor el sello marcó la frente mustia
Y son sus ojos turbios espejos que empañaron
Los años, y que, ha tiempos, las formas reflejaron
De cosas y de seres que nunca volverán.
Los de Roque, alfandoque
¡Triqui, triqui, triqui, tran!
Mañana cuando duerma la Anciana, yerta y muda,
Lejos del mundo vivo, bajo la oscura sierra,
Donde otros, en la sombra, desde hace tiempo están
Del nieto a la memoria, con grave son que encierra
Todo el poema triste de la remota infancia
Cruzando por las sombras del tiempo y la distancia
De aquella voz querida las notas vibrarán!
Los de Rique, alfeñique
¡Triqui, triqui, triqui, tran!
Y en tanto en las rodillas cansadas de la Abuela
Con movimiento rítmico se balancea el niño
Y ambos conmovidos y trémulos están,
La Abuela se sonríe con maternal cariño
Mas cruza por su espíritu como un temor extraño
Por lo que en lo futuro, de angustia y desengaño
Los días ignorados del nieto guardarán.
¡Aserrín!
¡Aserrán!
L os maderos de San Juan
Piden queso, piden pan,
Los de Roque
Alfandoque
Los de Rique
Alfeñique
¡Triqui, triqui, triqui, tran!
¡Triqui, triqui, triqui, tran!
poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Devil Went Down To Georgia
***************************************
Primus - The Devil Went Down To Georgia
***************************************
The devil went down to Georgia
He was lookin' for a soul to steal
He was in a bind 'cause he was way behind
And he was willing to make a deal
When he came across this young man
Sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot
And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump
And said, "Boy let me tell you what
"I guess you didn't know it
But I'm a fiddle player too
And if you'd care to take a dare
I'll make a bet with you"
"Now you play pretty good fiddle, son
But give the devil his due
I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul
'Cause I think I'm better than you"
The boy said "My name's Johnny
And it might be a sin
But I'll take your bet and you're gonna regret
'Cause I'm the best that's ever been"
Johhny you resin up your bow
And play your fiddle hard
'Cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia
And the devil deals the cards
And if you win
You get this shiny fiddle made of gold
But if you lose
The devil gets your soul
The devil openned up his case
And he said "I'll start this show"
And fire flew from his fingertips
As he resined up his bow
And he pulled the bow across the strings
And it made an evil hiss
Then a band of demons joined in
And it sounded something like this
When the devil finished Johnny said
"Well you're pretty good, old son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how its done"
{Refrain}
Fire on the mountain, run boys run
The devil's in the house of the rising sun
Chicken in the bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny does your dog bite, no child no
The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he'd been beat
And he laid that golden fiddle
On the ground at Johnny's feet
Johnny said "Devil, just come on back
If you ever want to try again
But I told you once, you son of a bitch
I'm the best that's ever been"
He played
Fire on the mountain, run boys run
The devil's in the house of the rising sun
Chicken in the bread pan pickin' out dough
Granny does your dog bite, no child no
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Duck
I
That was a great night we spied upon
See-sawing home,
Singing a hot sweet song to the super-stars
Shuffling off behind the smoke-haze…
Fog-horns sentimentalizing on the river…
Lights dwindling to shining slits
In the wet asphalt…
Purring lights… red and green and golden-whiskered…
Digging daintily pointed claws in the soft mud…
… But you did not know…
As the trains made golden augers
Boring in the darkness…
How my heart kept racing out along the rails,
As a spider runs along a thread
And hauls him in again
To some drawing point…
You did not know
How wild ducks' wings
Itch at dawn…
How at dawn the necks of wild ducks
Arch to the sun
And new-mown air
Trickles sweet in their gullets.
II
As water, cleared of the reflection of a bird
That has lately flown across it,
Yet trembles with the beating of its wings,
So my soul… emptied of the known you… utterly…
Is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song
You might have been….
'Twas a great night…
With never a waste look over a shoulder
Curved to the crook of the wind…
And a great word we threw
For memory to play knuckles with…
A word the waters of the world have washed,
Leaving it stark and without smell…
A world that rattles well in emptiness: Good-by.
poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feeling
Deep in my heart
I have this feeling...
Feeling to be good
Feeling to be kind
Feeling to be open
Noble, gentle, and humble...
Feeling to be helpful
Feeling to be truthful
Feeling to be respectful
Faithful, cheerful, and thoughtful...
Feeling to be friendly
Feeling to be sincere
Feeling to be polite
Considerate, obedient, and honest...
And a feeling to make
The world a happy nest.
Search your heart
And tap that feeling
The feeling of serenity
The feeling of tranquillity
The feeling of grace
The feeling of peace
The feeling of love
The feeling of life
The feeling that leads you
To the realm of light.
Nurture this feeling
Think and let it grow...
The feeling will rid
The world of its sorrow
And this feeling will bring
An all new tomorrow.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh So Ordinary
Oh so ordinary
is a hot summer night
when the whirl of a fan
is music in the dark
accompanying
croaking frogs
in the distance
oh so ordinary
is waking to a glowing
herald of break of day
and the frogs
now deep asleep
and quiet
oh so ordinary
an electric coffee pot
percolating
as a toilet is flushed
and a faucet lets go
cool morning water
oh so ordinary
a day goes by
in a rush
while someone
stacks oranges
and red apples
and peaches
and apricots
in perfect rows
oh so ordinary
that someone
pushes the wheelchairs
and lines them in
a large room
perfect rows
and there they sit
oh so ordinary
memories of
a seasick morning
on a day called D Day
and another of
a train station farewell
and that was that
he never returned
and another
of sawing two by fours
under a cloudless blue sky
in a backyard
of a tiny two bedroom house
in East L.A.
and another of
a wedding day in 1942
with just a week
before that train farewell
and I still feel the rice
a handful my brother threw
as if it were yesterday
and another of
peeling an orange
near a stream
in the mountains
in that beautiful place that
just right now
I don't seem
to recall
but I can still
taste
that orange.
poem by Bro. Bartleby
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What A Feeling
Nows the time when this will turn to fruit
All the poppies gonna push up through
And I can see the ground below
The places that I know, disappearing
And I can see the winter fade
I dont feel so afraid its clearing
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
Life is only half way in our hands
Years have passed while I was making plans
And I could never find the words
I always felt absurd, and always outside
But now I know I shouldnt care
Theres a song already there
Waiting inside
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
And I can feel the crock unwind
The parts of me I tied are running
And all the birds are in my head
The laughter that was dead is coming
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
Oh, what a feeling
The laughter that was dead is coming
Oh, what a feeling
The laughter that was dead is coming
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Searcy Foote
I wanted to go away to college
But rich Aunt Persis wouldn't help me.
So I made gardens and raked the lawns
And bought John Alden's books with my earnings
And toiled for the very means of life.
I wanted to marry Delia Prickett,
But how could I do it with what I earned?
And there was Aunt Persis more than seventy,
Who sat in a wheel-chair half alive,
With her throat so paralyzed, when she swallowed
The soup ran out of her mouth like a duck --
A gourmand yet, investing her income
In mortgages, fretting all the time
About her notes and rents and papers.
That day I was sawing wood for her,
And reading Proudhon in between.
I went in the house for a drink of water,
And there she sat asleep in her chair,
And Proudhon lying on the table,
And a bottle of chloroform on the book,
She used sometimes for an aching tooth!
I poured the chloroform on a handkerchief
And held it to her nose till she died. --
Oh Delia, Delia, you and Proudhon
Steadied my hand, and the coroner
Said she died of heart failure.
I married Delia and got the money --
A joke on you, Spoon River?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock & Roll Feeling
Written by james young, john curulewski
Lead vocals by james young
Well i've got this crazy feeling
It's a sickness in my soul
Well i can't play no 9 to 5 games
Hangin' loose is all i know
I get a buzz when i think about ya
Riding high's where i belong
Gonna get my things together
So if you want come on along
It's a good feeling
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling
It's a rock and roll feeling
Yeah yeah yeah
Well you know that i am coming
And i'm already on my way
So baby don't you worry 'bout tomorrow
You know it seems like a month away
Well we got here just this morning
And we're goin' at the light of dawn
Well we've only got a short time
So mama won't you keep things going strong
It's a good feeling
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling
It's a rock and roll feeling
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
[guitar solo]
It's a good feeling (good feeling)
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling (good feeling)
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling (good feeling)
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling (good feeling)
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling (it's a good good feeling)
It's a rock and roll feeling
It's a good feeling....
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rock Roll Feeling
Written by james young, john curulewski
Lead vocals by james young
Well Ive got this crazy feeling
Its a sickness in my soul
Well I cant play no 9 to 5 games
Hangin loose is all I know
I get a buzz when I think about ya
Riding highs where I belong
Gonna get my things together
So if you want come on along
Its a good feeling
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling
Its a rock and roll feeling
Yeah yeah yeah
Well you know that I am coming
And Im already on my way
So baby dont you worry bout tomorrow
You know it seems like a month away
Well we got here just this morning
And were goin at the light of dawn
Well weve only got a short time
So mama wont you keep things going strong
Its a good feeling
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling
Its a rock and roll feeling
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
[guitar solo]
Its a good feeling (good feeling)
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling (good feeling)
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling (good feeling)
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling (good feeling)
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling (its a good good feeling)
Its a rock and roll feeling
Its a good feeling....
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ang Kalbo
Ang sabi mo noon, ako ang mahal mo
Kahit nandadalang na itong buhok ko
Nakakita ka lang ng mas pogi't guwapo
Ay lumimot ka na, iniwanan ako
Sawing kapalaran, hindi ko matanggap
Ako ay kumuha ng isang bulaklak
One by one ang petals ay aking pinitas
Kasabay ang tanong, 'Loves me she? , Loves me not? '
Petals ay naubos nang di ko nalaman
Kung ako o hindi ang tunay mong mahal
Sa pamimighati, ang napagbalingan
ko'y itong buhok kong lalong dumadalang
Isa-isa sila ay aking binunot
Yun pa rin ang tanong, 'Loves me she? , Loves me not? '
Saklap ay nadama sa panghuling buhok
Kasagutan pala'y. truly you love me not
Nakapanglalambot, anong saklap Diyos ko
Bakit ba nadamay pa itong buhok ko
Dahil sa pag-ibig, ako ay ganito
Wala na ngang buhok, panot na pa'y kalbo
poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Was A Rooster
There was a rooster in the neighbourhood
Gallant, bouffant, royal
White like peace, valorously crowned
Droned to a victorious red beak
Clucking with a battle of chicks
His puissant, repetitive alarm..not a nuissance
To me alone sweet consonance
Whilst every note of his phrase
In uniform rhythmicity out from his beak
Wide open through thousand microphones
I used to be the staunch spectator
Recalling my bygone music
I used to be the admirer
To his crowing in gentle, genuine stance
I used to be the best critic of his concert..
Day and morrow rose timelessly often
By his crowing to the sun's dismay
Yet to all my admiration
Adversely he strangled me one day
His unusual alarm like that of a chit
Syllables clearly 'amma, amma' to perception
In the darkness of a witchy night
Strangled me sharply, then sawing
Point by point my neck bone
That I became breathlessly silent..
From the next morrow
In search of him me in his netherland flock
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hate Is...
Hate is a feeling that boils with rage.
Hate is a feeling you lose with age.
Hate is a feeling that eats inside.
Hate is a feeling we all should hide.
Hate is the feeling we dont understand.
Hate is the feeling of losing our stand.
Hate is the feeling of a thing called fear.
Hate is the feeling that hurts in here.
Hate is a feeling that grows some more.
Hate is a feeling, what good is it for?
Hate is a feeling that you have too.
Hate is a feeling I have for you.
Hold On
By eric clapton and phil collins
Deep down in the dead of night I call out your name.
It seems now that nothing is right, theres nothing but pain.
If only Id told you I love you, now all I can do is...
Hold on, hold on to the feeling.
Youve got to hold on, hold on to the feeling.
I dont feel right on this sad night.
Lord, Ive got thistles growing in my pillow.
If you could believe in me, then I could be strong,
And then we could set our love free and right all these wrongs.
Youll know when I touch you how much you still mean to me, baby.
Chorus
Hold on, hold on.
Just give me one more chance.
Please give me one more chance.
Dont tell me our romance is through.
Chorus
Hold on, hold on to the feeling.
Hold on, hold on to the feeling.
Youve got to hold on, hold on to the feeling.
Hold on, hold on to the feeling.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Breathe of Fresh Air
I'm a deep thinker
And I'm just trying to live my life
Who am I?
The answer is, I'm not quite sure
I have that feeling
The feeling in your stomache
The feeling behind your ribs
That feeling that just can't let you be
The pain
Well can I even call it that
It's not quite pain
It's absence of pain
It's just the feeling
The feeling that's always present
I just want it to go away
Please just go away
I want to breathe freely
I want a breath of fresh air that isn't soiled
Soiled by the feeling
The feeling of pain
Or is it the absence of pain
poem by Aerin Andre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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