Miracle Of This Moment
Enjoying the global world through the Internet
sharing the breathless delight that produced a
halo round Simon Cowell's head & made Piers
Morgan beam like a light -when eighty-year old
grandmother Janey Cutler from Glasgow got up
and made the audience clap -for her courage to
walk on stage and sing "No Regrets" in a voice
as strong and amazing as her resilient spirit
All started to cheer inflating with pride at sharing
life with her representing us - feisty & charming
as we all wish to be at her age, and in my usual
obsessive way I replay the video over and over
heart swelling until I am no longer tethered to
this office but fly in the sky wishing to imprint
my soul with the miracle of this moment in
order to carry the memory forever
Janey Cutler - Britain's Got Talent - Glasgow
Eighty Years Old 2010
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Janey, Dont You Lose Heart
You got your book baby with all your fears
Let me honey and Ill catch your tears
Ill take your sorrow if you want me to
Come tomorrow
Thats what Ill do
Listen to me
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Well you say you got no new dreams to touch
You feel like a stranger babe who knows too much
You come home late and get undressed
You lie in bed and feel this emptiness
Well listen to me
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Till every river it runs dry
Until the suns torn from the sky
Till every feel youve felt burst free
Gone tumblin down into the sea
Listen to me
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
Janey dont you lose heart
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Janey Needs A Shooter
Well janey's got a doctor who tears apart her insides.
He investigates her and silently bates her every little sigh.
Oh, he probes with his fingers but he knows her heart only through a stethescope.
Oh, his hands are so old and his instruments so cold
Janey turns him down like dope.
And janey's got a proctor. from his marble pulpit he smiles.
He provides consolation and an open invitation to confession at any time.
Between the pages of his bible he holds from what janey he hides.
With her doors open wide she begs "come inside."
He's too long been content to mess around with the handles on the outside.
And janey needs a shooter
A shooter like this boy on her side
Janey needs a shooter
Someone who knows her style
And i know her style
Well janey loved a mechanic who owned a gas station down on route 9.
Well she took him to bed and i beat my head on *his gas tanks and bled all over his tires.
And then he smashed my car with big tow bar. i got out and asked him why.
He said, "'cuz with her it's either you or me, and it's gonna be me."
And i watched janey silently stand by.
Then she flopped with a cop who lived 'round the block.
He'd come peak in my window every night.
Janey's skin would turn pale as the siren he'd wail outside my house all night long when he knew she was inside.
She said his big gun was fun but janey's small, and sometimes he scared her.
So i held her real close. she was more a saint than a ghost.
And told her i so long had been prepared for her.
And janey needs a shooter
A shooter just like me on her side
Janey needs a shooter
Somebody who won't let her slide
And i can't let her slide
Woah, stay in here tonight, baby, and i won't let you slide.
I'm stayin' here tonight, woah, janey, and i won't let you slide.
I'm stayin' here tonight. baby i'm a-can'(t) let you slide.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Alcázar
The General now lives in town;
He's eighty odd, they say;
You'll see him strolling up and down
The Prada any day.
He goes to every football game,
The bull-ring knows his voice,
And when the people cheer his name
Moscardo must rejoice.
Yet does he, in the gaiety
Of opera and ball,
A dingy little cellar see,
A picture on a wall?
A portrait of a laughing boy
Of sixteen singing years . . .
Oh does his heart dilate with joy,
Or dim his eyes with tears?
And can he hear a wistful lad
Speak on the telephone?
"Hello! How is it with you, Dad?
That's right - I'm all alone.
They say they'll shoot me at the dawn
If you do not give in . . .
But never mind, Dad - carry on:
You know we've got to win."
And so they shot him at the dawn.
No bandage irked his eyes,
A lonely lad, so wistful wan,
He made his sacrifice.
he saw above the Citadel
His flag of glory fly,
And crying: "long live Spain!" he fell
And died as heroes die.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Port Isaac's Fishermen's Friends
Ten Cornishmen, of a mature age
Stand together, taking centre stage.
Singing together, in close harmony,
They sing out shanties of the sea.
Their voices are lifted loud in song;
They sing out proud; they sing out strong.
Each of the men knows his part,
And sings it out from his heart.
These men, who appear very down to earth,
Sing about Cornwall: the place of their birth.
They are hoping to keep the old songs alive;
Hoping that, forever, the old songs survive.
Amongst the group, there is much respect;
A real sense of camaraderie, you can detect.
Each man appears casual and very laid back,
But, of enthusiasm, there certainly is no lack.
They perform a long line of catchy songs:
The audience all clap and they sing along.
Everybody smiles and taps their feet:
They tap their toes to the steady beat.
These worthy winners in the world of Folk,
All enjoy a cool pint and sharing a joke.
Whether it's sunshine or whether it's rain,
This band of men will still entertain.
They do not put on any airs and graces:
These talented Cornishmen with wizened faces.
Some men sing high, while others sing low;
Between them, they cook up a brilliant show.
They sing great songs for over an hour:
They sing with spirit; they sing with power.
To many people, they have brought cheer,
And will continue to do so for many a year.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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At Lulworth Cove a Century Back
Had I but lived a hundred years ago
I might have gone, as I have gone this year,
By Warmwell Cross on to a Cove I know,
And Time have placed his finger on me there:
"You see that man?" -- I might have looked, and said,
"O yes: I see him. One that boat has brought
Which dropped down Channel round Saint Alban's Head.
So commonplace a youth calls not my thought."
"You see that man?" -- "Why yes; I told you; yes:
Of an idling town-sort; thin; hair brown in hue;
And as the evening light scants less and less
He looks up at a star, as many do."
"You see that man?" -- "Nay, leave me!" then I plead,
"I have fifteen miles to vamp across the lea,
And it grows dark, and I am weary-kneed:
I have said the third time; yes, that man I see!"
"Good. That man goes to Rome -- to death, despair;
And no one notes him now but you and I:
A hundred years, and the world will follow him there,
And bend with reverence where his ashes lie."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Merry Bloomin' Christmas! ! ! ! !
Now, I know that there's a recession
And the message is all 'doom and gloom',
But I really don't need to remind you
That it'll be Christmas soon!
So I don't want to hear "Bah! Humbug! "
Or "Christmas is cancelled this year! "
Let everything be tinsel and holly,
Sleigh bells and words of good cheer!
Yes, we've had to pull in our belts
(The bills still have to be paid)
But dig out last years decorations
And give cards that you've lovingly made.
No need for extravagant spending:
One good gift per head will suffice.
And I'm sure that, wrapped up in brown paper,
Your parcels will look just as nice.
And as for Christmas dinner -
Chicken nuggets will do for the meat!
After all, when the booze hits their systems
Your guests will be too drunk to eat!
In fact, if you take some sound advice
You'll be tanked up right through till next year.
I, in turn, plan to drink myself senseless -
Now, that's my idea of "good cheer"!
So, here's to you and yours, my friend!
Let all your burdens be light.
May your Christmas spirit be 40% proof
And your days be more merry than bright! ! !
poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Haloes angels without wings
as man transform in its unique formation, the soul illuminate
his spirit creating a halo of sanctity of wings in his humanoid
form
our navel, made us to believe that man, is created out of nothing
but, a breath that ends and begins our life to see and witness, the
living God
thus making, every human being different from other, forms of
living organism, in this changing world, a purpose that ends, to
a simple dust of where it started
in every action of touch we made, gives us the credits of thanking
the source of who's the giver of everything, the sole and the
heart that exist, before the concept of existence comes to being
let not your heart and eyes see, the halo of sacredness engulf your
self, be a philanthropist of heart and soul to our brethren, for the
wings of sanctity molded you towards life everlasting
in every season of your heart, giving and sharing is the paramount
of an endless eruption of denuding yourself for the kingdom of
God is at hand
every moment is a moment of passion to live, in the heart of every
man, regardless of creed and race, it is a faith that satisfy not
only your soul, but to the whole universe
it is now the right time to hold on, and to fly on the wings of eternity,
the wings that you have made is the wings that leads you to the way
to reach your destination
let our heart, sober your achievement, let our wisdom surf with you
in your journey, for everything you do, lifted us to see, the haloes in
our hearts
'we too, are human, a great chance to be an angel without wings '
poem by Antonio Liao
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For Britain Only
We blasted Glasgow
Invaded France
Assaulted Sweden
Took down our pants
And lovely England
My little kitten
Deliriously
Black widow Bitten
For Britain only
Only for Britain, yeah
For Britain only
Only for Britain
Jumped on the concord
Ain't much for sittin'
I told my boys, now
No public spiting
No bar room fighting
No bad head splitting
Behave yourself 'cause we're, we're back in Britain
For Britain only
Only for Britain
Cost six years of time and space
It took so long to change his face
To redesign his streamline face
Now strong and sleek but still no taste
Guilty
I'm guilty
Won't go to Hungary
Iran is out
Welcome to Moscow, huh
I have my doubts
Can't get near Libya
That boy's insane
Let's head for London
Where we can scream again
For Britain only
Only for Britain, yeah
For Britain only
Only for Britain
For Britain only
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Portent
Courage mes gars:
La guerre est proche.
I plant my little plot of beans,
I sit beneath my cyprus tree;
I do not know what trouble means,
I cultivate tranquillity . . .
But as to-day my walk I made
In all serenity and cheer,
I saw cut in an agave blade:
"Courage, my comrades, war is near!"
Seward I went, my feet were slow,
Awhile I dowsed upon the shore;
And then I roused with fear for lo!
I saw six grisly ships of war.
A grim, grey line of might and dread
Against the skyline looming sheer:
With horror to myself I said:
"Courage, my comrades, war is near!"
I saw my cottage on the hill
With rambling roses round the door;
It was so peaceful and so still
I sighed . . . and then it was no more.
A flash of flame, a rubble heap;
I cried aloud with woe and fear . . .
And wok myself from troubled sleep -
My home was safe, war was not near.
Oh, I am old, my step is frail,
My carcase bears a score of scars,
And as I climbed my homeward trail
Sadly I thought of other wars.
And when that agave leaf I saw
With vicious knife I made a blear
Of words clean-cut into the raw:
"Courage, my comrades, war is near!"
Who put hem there I do not know -
One of these rabid reds, no doubt;
But I for freedom struck my blow,
With bitter blade I scraped them out.
There now, said I, I will forget,
And smoke my pipe and drink my beer -
Yet in my mind these words were set:
"Courage, my comrades, war is near!"
"Courage, my comrades, war is near!"
I hear afar its hateful drums;
Its horrid din assails my ear:
I hope I die before it comes. . . .
Yet as into the town I go,
And listen to the rabble cheer,
I think with heart of weary woe:
War is not coming - WAR IS HERE.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child's Nightmare
Through long nursery nights he stood
By my bed unwearying,
Loomed gigantic, formless, queer,
Purring in my haunted ear
That same hideous nightmare thing,
Talking, as he lapped my blood,
In a voice cruel and flat,
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
That one word was all he said,
That one word through all my sleep,
In monotonous mock despair.
Nonsense may be light as air,
But there's Nonsense that can keep
Horror bristling round the head,
When a voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
He had faded, he was gone
Years ago with Nursery Land,
When he leapt on me again
From the clank of a night train,
Overpowered me foot and head,
Lapped my blood, while on and on
The old voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
Morphia drowsed, again I lay
In a crater by High Wood:
He was there with straddling legs,
Staring eyes as big as eggs,
Purring as he lapped my blood,
His black bulk darkening the day,
With a voice cruel and flat,
"Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..." he said, "Cat! ... Cat!..."
When I'm shot through heart and head,
And there's no choice but to die,
The last word I'll hear, no doubt,
Won't be "Charge!" or "Bomb them out!"
Nor the stretcher-bearer's cry,
"Let that body be, he's dead!"
But a voice cruel and flat
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!"
poem by Robert Graves
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Goodbye Mine M.j.
A "Stranger in Moscow" told me that you've gone!
But is it true that you've gone my M.J.?
And with tears in my eyes I say goodbye my M.J.
You who feeds the eyes and the ears
And has graced our African soil
But why did you have to go, you "Smooth criminal"
When you know "They don't care about us"
Tell me, who will "Heal the world"?
Who will make it a better place for us?
Who will give to the poor once and again to their necessity?
Who will be there for them in their anguish and pain?
O', know you not that admired you are of those that hate you most
And did you have to go; or where you too lonely?
But you said "We're the world" that "You are not alone"
Then why did you have to go? And did you leave another "Thriller"
If no, then why choose to be "The man in the mirror"
Thus dirge and elegy now met in my heart. Why?
"Do you remember the time" we first met in my dream
And "The way you make me feel" with your "Childhood"?
Oh king of pop, my M.J., "I want you back"
And you "Got to be there" for me on my birthday
To sing me your song, "Don't stop till you get enough"
While "Rockin Robin and Ben" "Off the wall" till they "Scream"
For your love is magical because you're angelica
You are so wonderful because you're beautiful
You are indispensable because you're irreplaceable
And now I see the "Liberian girl" cry because you're "Speechless"
And upon our bodies the nighted color of mourning you. Why?
Alas death! Why taketh him away when all that look on him yet not satisfied?
O', let not the world lose another "Michael Jackson".
Michael I love you "Yesterday, today and forever."
May the spirit light your way
Through the land of the shadow
To the halls of eternal peace. Amen.
In the cabinet of my imagination, in the treasury of my reason, in the registry of my conscience, and in the council chamber of my thought, there shall you live forever.
I LOVE YOU MINE M.J.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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The Ballad of the Thoughtless Waiter
I saw him lying cold and dead
Who yesterday was whole.
"Why," I inquired, "hath he expired?
And why hath fled his soul?
"but yesterday," his comrade said,
"All health was his, and strength;
And this is why he came to die--
If I may speak at length.
"But yesternight at dinnertime
At a not unknown café,
He had a frugal meal as you
Might purchase any day.
"The check for his so simple fare
Was only eighty cents,
And a dollar bill with a right good will
Came from his opulence.
"The waiter brought him twenty cents.
'Twas only yesternight
That he softly said who now is dead
'Oh, keep it. 'Ats a' right.'
"And the waiter plainly uttered 'Thanks,'
With no hint of scorn or pride;
And my comrade's heart gave a sudden start
And my comrade up and died."
Now waiters overthwart this land,
In tearooms and in dives,
Mute be your lips whatever the tips,
And save your customers' lives.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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The New Knighthood
Who gives him the Bath?
"I," said the wet,
Rank-Jungle-sweat,
"I'll give him the Bath!"
Who'll sing the psalms?
"We," said the Palms.
"Ere the hot wind becalms,
"We'll sing the psalms."
Who lays on the sword ?
"I," said the Sun,
Before he has done,
"I'll lay on the sword."
"Who fastens his belt?
"I," said Short-Rations,
" I know all the fashions
"Of tightening a belt!"
Who gives him his spur?
"I," said his Chief,
Exacting and brief,
"I'll give him the spur."
Who'll shake his hand?
"I," said the Fever,
"And I'm no deceiver,
"I'll shake his hand."
Who brings him the wine?
"I," said Quinine,
"It's a habit of mine.
"I'11 come with his wine."
Who'll put him to proof?
"I," said All Earth.
"Whatever he's worth,
"I'll put to the proof."
Who'll choose him for Knight?
"I," said his Mother,
"Before any other,
"My very own Knight."
And after this fashion, adventure to seek,
Sir Galahad was made--as it might be last week!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hill, The
Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill,
Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
You said, "Through glory and ecstasy we pass;
Wind, sun, and earth remain, the birds sing still,
When we are old, are old. . . ." "And when we die
All's over that is ours; and life burns on
Through other lovers, other lips," said I,
-- "Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!"
"We are Earth's best, that learnt her lesson here.
Life is our cry. We have kept the faith!" we said;
"We shall go down with unreluctant tread
Rose-crowned into the darkness!" . . . Proud we were,
And laughed, that had such brave true things to say.
-- And then you suddenly cried, and turned away.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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Armand Barbes
Fire out of heaven, a flower of perfect fire,
That where the roots of life are had its root
And where the fruits of time are brought forth fruit;
A faith made flesh, a visible desire,
That heard the yet unbreathing years respire
And speech break forth of centuries that sit mute
Beyond all feebler footprint of pursuit;
That touched the highest of hope, and went up higher;
A heart love-wounded whereto love was law,
A soul reproachless without fear or flaw,
A shining spirit without shadow of shame,
A memory made of all men's love and awe;
Being disembodied, so thou be the same,
What need, O soul, to sign thee with thy name?
All woes of all men sat upon thy soul
And all their wrongs were heavy on thy head;
With all their wounds thy heart was pierced and bled,
And in thy spirit as in a mourning scroll
The world's huge sorrows were inscribed by roll,
All theirs on earth who serve and faint for bread,
All banished men's, all theirs in prison dead,
Thy love had heart and sword-hand for the whole.
"This was my day of glory," didst thou say,
When, by the scaffold thou hadst hope to climb
For thy faith's sake, they brought thee respite; "Nay,
I shall not die then, I have missed my day."
O hero, O our help, O head sublime,
Thy day shall be commensurate with time.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Two Schools
I put my heart to school
In the world, where men grow wise,
"Go out," I said, "and learn the rule;
Come back when you win a prize."
My heart came back again:
"Now where is the prize?" I cried. ----
"The rule was false, and the prize was pain,
And the teacher's name was Pride."
I put my heart to school
In the woods, where veeries sing,
And brooks run cool and clear;
In the fields, where wild flowers spring,
And the blue of heaven bends near.
"Go out," I said: "you are half a fool,
But perhaps they can teach you here."
"And why do you stay so long,
My heart, and where do you roam?"
The answer came with a laugh and a song, ---
"I find this school is home."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Mom
"Hello mom, " I said "It's me"
"California set me free"
She just laughed and said "I knew"
Said I was one of the few
Who could make it anywhere
Go through life without a care
Which I can I know for sure
For in my heart I am pure
We talked for a long, long while
Which is really not my style
Then just before our goodbyes
She started in with the lies
About how good life had been
How she gave up on the gin
Then I heard a word she slurred
That moment my world was blurred
Was I to ignore the call
Or stop her from her sure fall
It pains me every day
That I didn't even pray
For we never spoke again
That's the source of all my pain
poem by Paul H Nelson
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A hall of mirrors...
She said—she'd love me forever.
And that she always would.
That our two hearts—thoughts
"Could bond; the stars for good".
It wasn't harmony: From
The outset—that is true!
For her my sweetheart, I'
"Watch's as infants, do".
Out of the sash-window
Or that—skylight in the soul,
In reflections, light...
"Entwined—we're made whole".
Halves of the locket...
Combined, clasped.
Is what we now—became!
"In each other's grasp".
But soon these mirrors
Broke like shards of glass...
A hall of mirrors...?
"With no-truths—Alas"...
The lights ebbing darkness...
Shone on, all their paths.
But; know all hearts—break!
"Drown in hollow—baths".
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Red Pill
The "Blue pill" induces blissful sleep
Administered by hearts black as coal
The "Red pill" shall set you free;
From global elite who want your soul
"Inform yourself,
Free your mind"
ROTMS
View ROTMS writings, images and video below at;
rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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From Gods Heart
(3/5/12)
I was imprisoned in a world without love
No birds sang their love melodies
There was no regrets, no remorse
No religion too.
Until I found a spark and then found you.
You are the creator and there is no one greater
The spark then became a fire and consumed
Me body and soul, and once again made me whole.
I rejoiced and started to dance and sing
And saw the beauties in everything.
My heart so full and about to explode
Like a helium balloon I wanted to hold.
People looked at me in shock and disbelief
As my love began to creep
It crept into one heart and then another
As we started to call each other sister and brother.
Gods love spread so fast, and people found
Their hearts at last.
It became like a tsunami that covered the earth
And " love" then gave birth.
Stars shone brighter than ever before
And new life sprouted from the ground
All stayed in awe, and didn't make a sound.
People started finding the religion that they lost
And now felt total remorse.
Asking themselves: " how could we have let this happen"?
This is not our way- and with faith we don't play.
Now it's spreading from nation to nation
And from heart to heart, and all humanity
Wants a part.
poem by Louis Rams
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