Rules of the Road
Ahead of me a hill to pass and the road is slippery & full of bends.
I am a driver not a jockey and this my old crock but not a Stallion.
Oh! I have passed my history teacher who was standing at the bus stop
Since a long time and not aware of the General Bus strike.
I am sorry my brakes are not so good
And the road is slippery, ahead of me a hill to pass.
All of a sudden I saw a racing car has overtaken me
And the history teacher in the car.
I am very happy that she got a ride at last
And would be home earlier than me.
* It was written in the History of the bygone roads, but the modernized peculiar World, on their highways we are just puppets?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Driving My Roads
I pull the truck out
and head for the open road-
our relationship
splattered all along the highway;
our history written on the highway signs;
The Good:
Curves Ahead
Soft Shoulder
Yield
Slippery when wet
The Bad:
Under Construction
Fines Double
Do Not Cross the Double Yellow
Uneven Highway
Stop
Icy Road
Slippery When Wet
Caution
Divorce
Everywhere memories
our Road Kill.
But I can see the mountains
from here.
I can see forever from here,
there is no destination
outside my windshield.
I can drive forever-
my radio my counselor
music my conductor
my friends live in the CB
I can drive forever
I can drive forever
away
far far away
from here.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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My History Teacher
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I sewed my heart up one little stich at a time
One shotty job done, it is true, but I
couldn't do it by myself, you coulda done the rest
But you went and ripped it right outta my chest
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
I wasn't even finished
I needed more thread
I got distracted by the
'Good' ideas you put in my head
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You remind me of my delicate past
You remind me I'm good for nothing
You tell me that you love me[lies]
And remind me I wont be anything
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
You make me remeber what I've done
Because you make me remember I have no friends
You make me remeber It's all my fault
For making my happiness end
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
My ice cold blood
[you're not a warm-blooded creature]
Your ice cold stare
Is my HISTORY TEACHER
poem by Gabriella Franco
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History Lessons
Notoriously, history books are warm
and bland.
This one is smaller, neatly compacting
years into large print pages.
Somehow, the near coverless book
reappeared from the long, dim
Nun's library, dug up, specifically for
a reprisal of the 1918 Influenza Revisited.
It was a custom to pass out last editions.
A clear out of the aging history Teacher's
Library section.
An acknowledgement of the past
pressed onto a pupil for a masked honor.
Smells of old lockers, chesty
coughs, and fatigue. So many class
smiles and collective ease.
The book holds the marks of many
boys' notes, hen-pecked bits of scratch paper.
History written within history.
poem by Mary Anderson
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Rochester Cathedral 2005
Pass by this ancient door and pause
Look upon it very history etched in stone
Wonder at its age and all who stood,
As you are standing now, looking.
The good and great of history
Have passed its portals just like you
Kings and Queens of every age
Have worshiped here, the Christ King.
Sit, be still, as voices young and old
Raise in perfect sound, the alleluia’s
To echo round the vaulted heights.
Kneel and pray as others have
So many times before through history
Evidence of the living God worshiped still.
Here Justus placed his knee in prayer
When all was daub and wattle
The imprint of history remains however
A time line of experience, and calling.
Today its mission written large in stone
To worship the alpha and omega
We see its beginnings, its end?
Is always in the future, waiting.
poem by James Tipp
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Dont Stop For No-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat 3 times)
One day my father said to me
its time for you to leave,
But dont wait for me, its pre-destiny
Dont wait around for someone to believe in
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Just like moses waiting on the mountain
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont hang around in the babylonian gardens
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) tourist attraction
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat)
Sometimes I told I must confess
To a life of tenderness
But I just repeat what he said to me:
dont close your eyes because seeing is believing
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) child, fighting for a meaning
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont dream too long, its time to awake now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Like sleeping lucy waiting for a kiss now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
I think you know the way its gonna go now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
From aztech kings to new york queens
And then it goes on
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love: The History (Radha-35)
The history will not speak of you
No one was aware of it
Though
I had known
The history today,
so embarrassed and unprepared
had not been able to cuddle you
In its lap
Who will it answer?
And you refused to be a goddess
You were well aware
That
It was not useful for you
To be a goddess
After waiting for someone
For unlimited ages
You still aspire to
Continue waiting
Still frozen as an unknown monument
Half destroyed
Just because
You can remember me in your mind
You chose to remain human.
Had the history knew
History after history would come up after
And would be accountable
To the successor.
The questions would only return
To the history itself
Striking back the infinity (emptiness)
The history stands with bowing head
In front of you
Not able to measure your emptiness.
How will it understand your waiting?
Before so many ages
And so many ages ahead
You keep searching to whom
round and round
With your unflickered eyes.
poem by Subrat Pradhan
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Teacher, Teacher
Just when I thought I finally learned my lesson well,
There was more to this than meets the eye.
And for all the things you taught me, only time will tell,
If I'll be able to survive. Oh yeah.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go? Oh no.
Am I ready for the real world, will I pass the test?
You know it's a jungle out there.
Ain't nothin' gonna stop me, I won't be second best,
But the joke's on those who believe the system's fair, oh yeah.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, Oh yeah.
So the years go on and on, but nothing's lost or won.
And what you learned is soon forgotten.
They take the best years of your life,
Try to tell you wrong from right,
But you walk away with nothing. Oh Oh.
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go?
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, Oh
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, Ooh yeah.
Teacher, teacher
Teacher, teacher
~Adams, Vallance
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know My History
Mmmmm, Yeah.
I was a freckle-faced kid with a buck tooth grin.
I was cuttin' her grass when she asked me in.
Learned everything that I needed to learn,
When I was sixteen, know what I mean.
Whoo, ooh, ooh, grew up fast.
Fin'lly found somethin' I was really good at.
When it comes to love,
I know what I'm talkin' about.
I know my history, but good lovin' gets me.
It ain't no mystery, just kiss me: kiss me, baby.
I never learned my lesson: I'm pretty good at guessin'.
I been down that road a time or two or three:
I know my history.
Come a little closer, let me show you what it's all about.
Oh, I know my history, baby.
You can second guess me all night long,
Make yourself believe that it's all wrong.
Sooner or later, girl,
You're gonna see you can trust me.
Once again there, whoo, ooh, ooh, step into school:
Let me show you a thing or two:
When it comes to love,
I know what I'm talkin' about.
I know my history, but good lovin' gets me.
It ain't no mystery, just kiss me: kiss me, baby.
I never learned my lesson: I'm pretty good at guessin'.
I been down that road a time or two or three:
I know my history.
Don't worry 'bout tomorrow, come along girl.
Got his own road on a right cool world.
Take my hand, it's just you an' me.
Tonight's the night we're makin' history.
Instrumental Break.
(A little, little history.)
(Whoo, ooh, ooh.)
I know my history, yeah, good lovin' gets me.
It ain't no mystery, just kiss me: (Kiss me.)
Come a little closer, let me show you what it's all about.
Let me show you, baby, what my love is really all about.
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For My History Teacher
I’m sitting in class,
My eyes about to close,
I hope teacher don’t see,
I hope she don’t see me.
Bored out of my mind,
Falling so behind,
Cannot concentrate,
I came to class too late.
Although I was on time,
My body was I mean,
My mind is still outside,
From class trying to hide.
What does all this mean?
I haven’t used it yet,
How can I retain it,
When already I forget?
And then she walks over,
That teacher of mine,
A smile in her eyes,
A gentle one at that,
She puts her hand on me,
And sets me kind of free.
Now here I am in class,
Learning about the past,
About history,
And what it did for me.
How we can learn,
From mistakes of old,
Of people so different,
Some so very bold.
Some stood against oppression,
Some stood against the wrong,
Some said it with dignity,
Some said it with a song.
I owe it to them,
And teacher here to hear,
What they did for us,
And no longer fear.
That knowledge is so dull,
No longer hurts my brain,
No longer hurts my skull,
It will surely keep me sane.
The past is the future,
Unless I stay awake,
So I can benefit,
There’s much more at stake.
Than I thought before,
Before I got to class,
Thank you History teacher,
For bringing to life the past.
I never got bored in History class, because I had a wonderful History Teacher. This is for her.
poem by Aisha Sherazi
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Teacher Says, Teacher Goes
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
what you have done,
was clearly a mistake,
maybe it is,
time for a break.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows,
that you have been naughty.
That you have been quite foughty.
That you are being rude,
don't call teacher a dude.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smilies,
teacher know,
that you were making faces,
behind teachers back,
that you were throwing spitballs,
at the teacher's pet.
Teacher says,
teacher goes,
teacher smiles,
teacher knows.
So enough is said,
so now you know,
that whatever you do.....
Teacher says,
Teacher goes,
Teacher smilies,
Teacher knows
poem by Jasmine Aira
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Ghost Rider
Pack up all those phantoms
shoulder that invisible laod
keep on riding north and west
haunting that wilderness raod
Like a ghost rider
carry all those phantoms
through bitter winds and stormy skies
from the desert to the mountain
from the lowest low to the highest high
Like a ghost rider
Keep on riding north and west
circle south and east
show me beauty, but there is no peace
for the ghost rider
shadows on the road behind
shadows on the road ahead
nothing can stop you now
there's a shadow on the road behind
there's a shadow on the road ahead
nothing can stop you now
sunrise in the mirror
lightens that invisable load
riding on that namless quest
haunting that wilderness road
like a ghost rider
just an escape artist
racing against the night
a wandering hermit
racing towards the light
for the whote sands
to the canyonlands
to the redwood stands
to the barren lands
sunrise on the road behind
sunset on the road ahead
there's nothing to stop you now
nothing can stop you now
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A bad or a good teacher
A bad teacher is negatively pessimistic
A good teacher is positively optimistic
A bad teacher swears all the time
A good teacher cares in their prime
A bad teacher passes on rude fear
A good teacher has on good ears
A bad teacher discourages
A good teacher encourages
A bad teacher despairs
A good teacher prepares
A bad teacher likes to bitch
A good teacher likes to teach
A bad teacher shouts every moment
A good teacher scouts for every talent
A bad teacher is up for crude devices
A good teacher is up for good advice
A bad teacher lets students fight on in the dark
A good teacher sets students on the right track
A bad teacher feeds on their looks
A good teachers reads many books
A bad teacher sings along with wrong faults
A good teacher brings along the right results
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Long Way Home
(Hey) I'm driving down a dusty road
(Hey)I've got nowhere to go
(Hey) No place that I can call my own
On and on this road is burning
(Break away) I'm leaving all this crap behind
(Break away) The past is gone the future's blind
(Break away) Don't care how long it takes this time
On and on I'll take the long way home
The long way home (Whoah!)
The long way home (Whoah!)
If it's for me it's on the way home
(Hey) Like fragments of a broken mind
(Hey) I splinter by my own design
(Hey) The search is not a waste of time
On and on this road keeps burning
(Break away) My hands are glued upon the wheel
(Break away) The road ahead is all I feel
(Break away) The only thing left that's real
On and on I'll take this long way home
The long way home (Whoah!)
The long way home (Whoah!)
I will go alone
I will go and find it on my own
What lays ahead you can not find for me
On and on I'll take the long way home
The long way home (Whoah!)
The long way home (Whoah!)
If it's for me it's on the way home (Whoah!)
The long way home (Whoah!)
I'll take the long way home (Whoah-Whoah-oh!)
I will go alone
I will go and find it on my own
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mock not the fallen, for slippery is the road ahead of you.
I think my parents were happy that I'd gone to university and gotten a degree in history so they thought, 'Well if acting doesn't work for him, he can always become a history teacher or something.' Fortunately, the acting worked out.
quote by Derek Jacobi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cannot Say Much Of Anything
I cannot say much of anything-
The weight is too heavy to lift-
The hill is too high to walk up-
Everything is more difficult now-
And I bring with it the grief
For so many no longer here.
Yet I am still here-
And will step by step go on
As best and as long as I can-
The road has been long-
It is still before me
Though it does not stretch out into the distance
As it once did-
I walk on slowly
And I look ahead
So as not to fall
But often in my thought
It is not the road ahead
But the one behind
I still walk on.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The History Of Tomorrow
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of light
By dumping us in the dark with pits everywhere
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of food
By asking us to chop several fire-woods to heat up a pot full of stones
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of job creation
By making us slaves on our own soil
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of education
By dumping us in dilapidated buildings without teachers
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of accountability
By looting our treasury and asking us for yet another term in office
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of safety
By leaving pot holes large enough to swallow countless accident victims on our roads
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our bows and arrows
Would secure our future
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless heroes
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless robbers
Robbers with fame
Robbers without shame
Robbers that we would roast with flame
© Adegbenro Adekunle Jacob
Tomorrow’s history is today. All world leaders must make real democracy work. They must be selfless. We must not wait until there is horror and terror before we learn. Nigerian leaders must shun CORRUPTION.
poem by Adegbenro Adekunle
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18
IT is election time
and the powers that be
paves the way to Tabon
gravel is hauled and poured
fitting the wider version of the road
everything is slippery during the rain
the farmer slides and his basket of fruits roll on the hill
after election time
the road shall be what it used to be
no one cares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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