The Only Monk Keyed
The monk...
He has the key!
Does that make him,
The only monk keyed who sees?
Inspired by:
Mr. Duncan Wyllie
'Hi Duncan,
Thought I would have some fun with your poem,
'He Sees'.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Not One to Produce Something Because of Its Ease
I perceive writing as a craft.
I approach it that way.
I am not 'all knowing'...
But I do desire to be the best at what I do.
If what I share doesn't mean anything to me...
Why would I go through the trouble of composing it to share?
I am in a relationship.
And I want it to be a successful one.
It takes work.
And I am not one to produce something because of its ease.
Everything I do has meaning and purpose.
There is something about taking one's life seriously,
That ultimately makes the difference.
I would think.
Inspired By:
Mr. Duncan Wyllie
United Kingdom
'Duncan, you are 'something else'. I'm glad we are friends.
You are brilliant. One of the greats! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Duncan Gray
1 Duncan Gray came here to woo,
2 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
3 On blythe Yule night when we were fou,
4 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
5 Maggie coost her head fu high,
6 Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
7 Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
8 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
9 Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd,
10 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
11 Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,
12 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
13 Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
14 Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
15 Spak o' lowpin owre a linn;
16 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
17 Time and chance are but a tide,
18 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
19 Slighted love is sair to bide,
20 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
21 'Shall I, like a fool,' quoth he,
22 'For a haughty hizzie die?
23 She may gae to--France for me!'--
24 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
25 How it comes let doctors tell,
26 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
27 Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
28 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
29 Something in her bosom wrings,
30 For relief a sigh she brings;
31 And O! her een, they spak sic things
32 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
33 Duncan was a lad o' grace,
34 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
35 Maggie's was a piteous case,
36 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
37 Duncan could na be her death,
38 Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
39 Now they're crouse and cantie baith;
40 Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The first jazz pianist I heard was Thelonious Monk. My father was listening to an album of his called 'Monk's Dream' almost every day from the time I was born.
quote by Benny Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Spank It
1-hey sped!
2-hey what?
1- what you wanna do?
2- I wanna spank!
1-spank what?
2- spank my little monk!!
1-to the left
2- to the right!
1&2- spank it up and down all night!
1- spank the monk!
2- spank, spank the monk!
1- spank the monk!
1&2- spank spank, the monk!
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Perfume Factory
The poor sooty chimney cleaner who shouts from a top;
' Oh! These trampled flowers cry irksomely
But the inhuman machines never stop the rotation
And crush the soft petals vigorously.
My vigilance is in vain as I am totally helpless
And the proprietor is useless.'
To my poet friend Duncan.Wyllie
* [ Where it goes the human fragrance? ]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Great Gambler
The Gambler stopped a monk
dwelling on spiritual plane,
And exclaimed, "Oh! monk
we both are exactly same
So I think we both of us
deserve equal name and fame.
Monk replied, "Gambler! I put
self not a pelf at stake,
And drink bitter poison
for God's sake
Only fool would say our
lives are same
For you a game is life
for me a life is game.''
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
27/12/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Husband's hurdle
His wife complained to one of his friends.
'Please advise him as he is not strong like young days.
very feeble, doctor said that he is having hyperglycaemia,
hypertension, hyperventilation and et cetera.
fortunately he doesn't catch aids,
but still I have doubts of his negligence and neighbourliness.
I am scared of the 'hydrogen bomb'
who lives in a proximate house
one day there will be an explosion?
to my poet friend Duncan.Wyllie
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The artist should not only paint what he sees before him, but also what he sees in himself. If, however, he sees nothing within him, then he should also refrain from painting what he sees before him. Otherwise his pictures will be like those folding screens behind which one expects to find only the sick or the dead.
quote by Caspar David Friedrich
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
An old Talisman
This is an ancestral object from my great grandfathers and it goes as inheritance.
They wore for a better fortune but they all lost their wars and the horses died in vain.
These crucial wars never stopped.
Very seldom I used to wear this and hide in the turtleneck.
Yes, a harmless war and I stick to myself.
But it's very hard to control.
Mind looks like a sticking plaster.
This talisman won't reacts for my stillborn yearning
And the both I buried in the isolated garden of old love.
To my poet friend Duncan.Wyllie
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Gal
This gal shall do what she's always done,
listen to the rain and wait for the sun.
This gal is inspired by what she sees.
She's also inspired by the birds and bees.
This gal is happy she's a woman in love.
She knows what she feels that takes her above
this world that is always in chaos and turmoil.
Sometimes what she sees makes her blood boil.
This gal is sad at the end of the day
if love and laughter has not come her way.
She's a creature of joy and incredible delight.
This gal's in love with morning and night.
And who in the world can this gal be?
Why! haven't you guessed? This gal is me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No More 'Scha-nookie Dookie' Made
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
All I get to hear is junk.
With lots of lumps on me you dump.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
No more quick done rabbit humps.
With less hops from a bed that jumped.
I hear our neighbors say,
How I treat you nasty everyday.
That's your way of mutilation.
I hear our neighbors say,
What I do and how I spend my pay.
You've been putting our business in their way.
And you will pay for that one day.
Your humiliation has decayed.
And your wicked stubbornness is sick.
No matter who you get to defend your...
Schanookie dookie that you make.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
All I get to hear is junk.
With lots of lumps on me you dump.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
No more quick done rabbit humps.
With less hops from a bed that jumped.
And no more 'scha-nookie dookie' made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Hair
i let the years pass on my busy days
this and that
those and there and here
contemplation is a monk and he has not come
my door is open
and the crowd came in. Leaves of years keep
falling like it is caused by the cyclone
of my moving forward onward
this and that and those and there and everywhere
until one moment when the last white hair fell
and then i shudder
to all these and that and those and there and here
and nowhere
and nothing, until the monk in saffron cloth came
asking me
if i am finally going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Goodbye Mr. Ed
The ghost of manhattoes
Shrieking as they fall
From at&t
Someone sees it all
Goodbye mr. ed
Andys skull enshrined
In a shopping mall near queens
Someone sees it all
Icarus takes his pratfall
Bruegel on his head
Goodbye mr. ed
Four and twenty black kids
Some of them are blind
Someone sees it all
Tolerance of violence
By the fellows with no heads
Goodbye mr. ed
Some things are so big
They make no sense
Histories so small
People are so dense
Someone sees it al
Goodbye mr. ed
Some things are so big
They make no sense
Histories so small
People are so dense
Someone sees it al
Goodbye mr. ed
Never mind the pistols
They laid the golem eggs
Others came to hatch them
Outside the pale
Someone sees it all
Goodbye mr. ed
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Jacksons, Monk And Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Jacksons, Monk & Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Not Fitting In Despite All Those Years
sometimes you envy
the monk in maroon peacefully
crossing the street
somewhere in Ho Chi Minh
or even an earthen bowl half-filled with water
with a jasmine flower floating
upon a very still world
you like to take the brush and some water colors
to paint all these
but it is a little crowded world you have there
there is simply no time for wasting
it's a fast paced lifestyle
the lifelessness of the to and fro
the unstoppable flow
trying to accomplish almost everything
without meaning.
somewhere in a dream
you wish you were the monk
or even
the jasmine
and then you hit your chest with your fist
convincing yourself that at a certain hour
you can be so foolish
still not fitting in despite all those years
'how can you be a beautiful jasmine in a concrete wall?
how can you be the monk in maroon in a public market full of
swindlers and screaming spice vendors? '
amidst the mess, in the middle of the crowd
how can you be a dream?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
So that ends my first experience of matrimony, which I always thought a highly over-rated performance.
quote by Isadora Duncan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I make the kind of music I like.
quote by Duncan Sheik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I think in a way I was probably completely naive about what it takes to make something become a hit.
quote by Duncan Sheik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
They also loved
‘We only love if we have first been loved.’
Aye, there’s the rub.
The teenager, her room walled round
with rock and pop stars who, it seems,
all smile their open, deep-eyed smiles
just for her… twists, red-eyed, on the bed,
hammers the pillow with clenched fists…
the boy she loved has dumped her;
she gave him all her love, and now
he’s taken it, so she’s got no love left,
not now, not forever, in her life..
Here in the tidy convent, where
everything seems polished, even the faces,
the nun kneels. Her veil hides her face; is she young or old?
She is very still. We may not know her thoughts.
Not far away, the monk is praying too; kneeling,
he’s restive; from time to time, raises his head,
looks to the crucifix. We may not know his thoughts.
Here’s Saint Augustine. When he was young
he was the member of a gang; did all the things
that young men spur each other on to do;
knew hot lust and passion to surge up, and fade;
then took a longtime mistress; loved her, and desired.
So when he says, we only love
if we have first been loved,
his words sound many things to us:
he’s tearaway, lover, man, and monk,
teacher, perhaps; and saint.
Here in a cell in Patmos, is Saint John:
sees all things as clearly as the Grecian landscape,
the sea, the sky, blue; the tiny boats down there,
white sails matching white summer clouds:
takes his pen, writes daringly: ‘God is Love’… the heavens
do not fall in upon him; only cicadas and wild herbs
sing in the silence: he sees Creation in its perfect order,
Man made by God, and in His image; so, adds,
with the certainty of which the stars and sun are made,
‘ We love Him, because He first loved us.’
The teenager, given time, will dry her tears;
time brings tears, and time wipes them away;
given time, she’ll give her love again.
What love is, is for each to say.
‘We only love, if we have first been loved.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!