The game
Game show
On computer
Car rase
Child drive the car...
Very fast...
Very fast...
But..
Dash on tree...
Dash on road...
Dash on Car...
Injury free
Car was win
The rase...
How...!
It is game...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Related quotes
Simply Sexy
bus...
heavy rush...
going road....
boy dash
the girl...
girl dash
the boy...
simpy sexy...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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An Easy Pace
I am a man who does not like rushing;
I like to take life at an easy pace.
Friends joke about it
saying a snail just overtook you.
I take no notice and just laugh it off.
If the world wants to go at a faster pace
that is all right with me.
I’ll just take my time
and always get there in the end.
I always think that if you rush about
you miss out on so much.
You see drivers on the motorway
racing along doing a ton
and I often wonder
are they out to commit suicide.
I just drive along at sixty
and that is comfortable for me.
The only thing I seem to be quick at
is when it comes to writing poetry.
With them, I dash them off
at an incredible rate.
Where most will write one a day
I can dash sometimes up to ten.
I have even been known
to do more than that occasionally,
but everything else in life
I take at an easy pace.
12 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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A Dash
We measure our lives
by the things we do,
the right and the wrong
roads we travel down.
The highs and the lows
we all at times endure,
our achievements
and our failures.
Each life experiences these
all spread out in a lifetime.
All the fame we gather
or the infamy we shed,
but when we die
our gravestone reads
our name, born - died.
Only a dash expresses our life,
there are no words
to express who we were
or to show how we lived our lives.
Only a dash to say we existed
between two points of time.
14 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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Ode to Josiah (Living in a Car)
He ran
Fast as anyone can
Away from home
He chose to roam
Didn’t get along
But he took his song
He ran far
Now living in a car
Not much company
Such an epiphany
Freedom rang
Every time he sang
Sleeping in his car
His pillow his guitar
Song his creation
The road his destination
Dreams he has many
Doubts, no room for any
His heart so large
His soul in charge
Living in a car
Guided by a star
As if blind
He left so much behind
Stubbornly he wanted more
Wind beneath his wings to soar
Fast foods, fast times
Hard hills, hard climbs
Living in a car
Healing of a scar
Like a baby bird has flown
Alone into a zone unknown
Why he made a dash
Was he headed for a crash?
He made a hard choice
Hoping for one to hear his voice
Can this boy sing?
To him it’s everything
And it will do him good
He’s going to Hollywood
poem by Alfred Ramos
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Monkey struggle
Skinny legged monkey
Jumps from tree to tree
Giggling loud at spree
To be at last free
Incapable to comprehend
In his peanut sized brain
There was nothing he could gain
As he didn’t drive the train
He kept jumping from tree to tree
Train kept moving with full speed
Enhancing the unjustifiable greed
Ignoring the red signals, refusing to heed
The jugglers laughed and laughed
Leting loose the rope
When spectators clinged to hope
Trusting the monkey will finally cope
Poor little monkey did whatever he could
To avoid the inevitable crash
With high jumps and dash
By making everything a mash
By jumping from tree to tree
The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 194
I don’t understand why all the fuss
I didn’t actually hit that bus
I think you just worry too much
When you hear me ride the clutch
It may seem fast from your seat
But in my car my powers complete
My style of driving please don’t question
I think red lights are just a suggestion
When playing chicken I never lose
I know the driving dont’s and do’s
Talk on the phone you’ll end up dead
So as I drive I text instead
I weave through traffic as I dash
Speed limits are for people who crash
They don’t apply to someone like me
Who controls their car perfectly
I’ve never had an accident on the roads
Though it is true I have seen loads
poem by Flying Lemming
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Good times, bad times & my cactus Christmas tree
My first Christmas tree, thirty years ago
Upon my arrival in Las Vegas
Shall always be remembered so,
As one of my greatest
My pickup truck was my home
My refuge and my castle
I was totally, absolutely alone…
But… it wasn’t such a hassle
I drove into the desert one day
To see what I could see
And lo and behold beside the road
Found my perfect Christmas tree
It was a three inch tall cactus
All attitude, prickly and brash
And I proudly installed it
Upon my ol’ trucks dash
I used cigarette cellophane
As tinsel you see
Stuck tight to the spines
Of my lil’ Christmas tree
Many times it fell off
My prickly lil’ friend
When I would start off too fast
Or career round a bend
Though small, and deceptive
It was easy to find you see
Usually stuck quite painfully
Upon my bony right knee
It was all I had that christmas
And I was lonely you see
Just me and my ol’ pickup truck
And my cactus Christmas tree
Childhood memories are nice…
But the one I’ll most remember will be
The one in which, all there was in my world
Was just me…my ol’ pickup
And my cactus Christmas tree
poem by David Whalen
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I appreciate the sentiment that I am a popular woman in computer gaming circles; but I prefer being thought of as a computer game designer rather than a woman computer game designer. I don't put myself into gender mode when designing a game.
quote by Roberta Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Game Show
Cuttin pictures from a magazine
... paper smile but not from you to me
Another statue in a ?
A breakfast alone
Another compromising ?
Another game show
The game show
The game show
I pass the time away before I sleep
I have your picture sitting next to me
I taped your picture in a book
Dont bother reading I just take a look
Dont have to turn the page before I know
So full of answers I dont need to know
I like to take control
I like the game show
The game show
The game show
Dont have to turn the page before I know
You ask me questions I already know
The time has finally come to let it go
I like to take control
I like the game show
The game show
The game show
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angels, in the early morning
94
Angels, in the early morning
May be seen the Dews among,
Stooping—plucking—smiling&m dash;flying—
Do the Buds to them belong?
Angels, when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping—plucking—sighing&m dash;flying—
Parched the flowers they bear along.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Circumstantial Evidence
She does not mind a good cigar
(The kind, that is, I smoke);
She thinks all men quite stupid are,
(But laughs whene’er I joke).
She says she does not care for verse
(But praises all I write);
She says that punning is a curse,
(But then mine are so bright!)
She does not like a big moustache
(You see that mine is small);
She hates a man with too much 'dash,'
(I scarcely dash at all!)
She simply dotes on hazel eyes
(And mine, you note, are that);
She likes a man of portly size;
(Gad! I am getting fat!)
She says champagne is made to drink;
(In this we quite agree!)
And all these symptoms make me think
Sweet Kate’s in love with me.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Shadow
The shadow followed me up the road,
laughed at me, teased me, sneaked up on me.
It looked far slimmer than me,
more agile, more spritely.........
and as I turned my head it tricked me,
ducked and dived behind a tree,
making a dash to catch up
the moment my back was turned.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Game Of Fame
'GOLF-THE GAME OF FAME'
I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow
I had been waiting here to see
Who shall the winner ultimately be?
My two sons were participating, and were outside
There were competing against each other, side by side
First session ended, and the players are now in the second half
I was watching them through the window, including the club staff
Everyone was trying their very best and hard
Well it's not an easy game, just like playing cards
I saw some players taking a short nap
This was some relief time for them and for I, after a gap
The third session of the game goes worst
Till the end of the game, we didn't knows who will be first
The game has begun to ooze
I was still watching them through the window, "Who is go'na loose? "
My two sons were slowly picking on the game
My thoughts were, "Who will earn the coveted fame? "
Opponent players were also moving off at last
I saw my younger one ‘playing pretty fast'
My elder one was rushing down the lane
Why his game slowing down the lane
The competition has become intense and difficult to bear
So, the victory time is getting close and near
Now the game has become fast enough
Oh! My younger son has now found a fluff
Players have now quickened and have hurried by
They seem to be working fast, as if to fly
At last, someone has to be won
Nobody else, it's my younger son
I was watching this golf tournament through the visitor's window
The opening pairs were standing under a big tree's shadow
BY SAMRA HAQ
Marathon
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Its not how fast you can go
The force goes into the flow
If you pick up the beat
You can forget about the heat
More than just survival
More than just a flash
More than just a dotted line
More than just a dash
Its a test of ultimate will
The heartbreak climb uphill
Got to pick up the pace
If you want to stay in the race
More than just blind ambition
More than just simple greed
More than just a finish line
Must feed this burning need --
In the long run...
From first to last
The peak is never passed
Something always fires the light
That gets in your eyes
One moments high
And glory rolls on by
Like a streak of lightning
That flashes and fades
In the summer sky
Your meters may overload
You can rest at the side of the road
You can miss a stride
But nobody gets a free ride
More than high performance
More than just a spark
More than just the bottom line
Or a lucky shot in the dark --
In the long run...
You can do a lot in a lifetime
If you dont burn out too fast
You can make the most of the distance
First you need endurance --
First youve got to last...
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness (Glück)
If luck you chase, you have not grown
enough for happiness to stay,
not even if you get your way.
If, what you lost, you still bemoan,
and grasp at tasks, and dash and dart,
you have not known true peace of heart.
But if no wishes are your own,
and you don't try to win the game,
and Lady Luck is just a name,
then tides of life won't reach your breast?
and all your strife
and all your soul will rest.
poem by Hermann Hesse, translated by Walter Aue
Submitted by anonym
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Kay Thompsons Jingle Bells
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh
On dasher, on dancer, on prancer, on vixen
On comet, on cupid, on donner, on blitzen
Put on your bells, your christmas bells
Come on, were going for a sleigh ride
Christmas time is here again
Come on, were going for a sleigh ride
To spread good cheer again
From the top of the chimney to the top of the wall
Dash away, dash away, dash away all
Old saint nicholas, he took a flight
The moon was shining bright
Bring out the bells
Ol saint nick was riding through the sky
You should have seen those reindeer fly
Bring out the bells, its a holiday season
Bring out the bells, its a happy time
Bring out the bells, weve got a good reason
To ring the bells and hear those pretty bells chime
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Life
upon a race
to win
one must dash his way
towards
the finishing line
it could be like life
when we want to win
we dash
to such speed that we
ignore the faces
of those
beside us
we imagine the cheers
and the awarding
ceremony
you know very well
life is never a race
and the finishing line
is kept concealed
there is no point dashing then
or ignoring those behind
or beside us
life is living life
moment by moment
glass per glass
chew carefully what our
forks carry inside our
mouths,
savor, don't rush,
intertwine, commune
on bare feet feel the
texture of the ground.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blood Suckers
Driving down the fast lane.
I hope one day I don't miss my turn.
To capture the moment.
To hold it in my hand.
Show you how it is so grand.
Setting the butterfly free.
It was the way it was meant to be.
Just look at those beautiful wings.
All the vivid colors.
We are holding so many back.
Slaves with the invisible whip smacking their backs.
Can you see the welts?
Can you the blood dripping yet?
It is being inflicted by you.
So tell me why is it you don't care?
A benefit to whom?
A dark cloud over all of us looms.
As lightning strikes and thunder makes a loud boom.
Tell me who it is gonna be? You?
Driving down the fast lane.
I hope one day I don't miss my turn.
To capture the moment.
To hold it in my hand.
Show you how it is so grand.
Driving down the fast lane.
I hope one day I don't miss my turn.
To capture the moment.
To hold it in my hand.
Show you how it is so grand.
Setting the butterfly free.
It was the way it was meant to be.
Just look at those beautiful wings.
All the vivid colors.
All the vivid colors.
Where do they go?
A distortion of human existence.
We are both ruthless and relentless.
But when the teeth become dull.
Why is it we continue to gnaw?
A leech that can't kick the habit.
Even when all the blood is already gone.
A dried up slug with just a dash of salt.
Does this mean your defeat?
To continue on would only be a blatant lie.
Yet you continue to try.
Trying to deny the very laws of nature.
A pedestal slowly crumbles and everyone will be crushed as you fall.
And it is not any of their faults.
Sacrificing the innocent for your absolute arrogance.
Destroying anyone who tries to stop you along the way.
A bonfire has already been made.
Is it in your or honor?
Or is it your grave?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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We Mean to Say
We mean to say, it never has been granted
That anyone but England could decide,
In the crease or at the wicket,
Just exactly what was cricket
And, of course, I mean to say, we have our pride.
The great old game was, as it were, invented
On the playing fields of Eton, and all that,
And to try to steal our thunder
When you think we've made a blunder
Why, dear old bean, that's talking thro' the hat!
We mean to say - the game originated
With us, back in the dear old top-hat days,
And the gentlemen who played it,
By their sterling methods, made it
A top-hole game for sportsmen - hence the phrase.
So, hang it all! If something 'isn't cricket'
It's our prerogative to say so, flat.
And it's cheek, you know, cool cheek,
When you dash in, so to speak,
And take the words out of our mouths like that.
We mean to say, there's quite a choice of phrases
That you might use, if you must make a fuss.
Curse away of you feel hot;
But it's simply bally rot
To apply our own pet shibboleth to us!
There's the code, you know - our code, we would remind you.
We made it for ourselves, and mean to stick it.
And to try to knock us flat
With a boomerang like that
By gad! It isn't done! It isn't cricket!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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All hopes against hope
All hopes dash against hopes
It is like tight walking on simple ropes
We may counter stiff resistance at high slope
Bonding may not be possible even if you elope
Power suddenly may fail and hopes may dash
Life too can end if you make driving rash
Business too may fail with crunch in cash
Credit may be lost even if you attempt fresh
With slow rising of Sun dark clouds may go
Money lenders may relent and make debt to forgo
All good sign and luck may be smiling again
Life should start fresh with little gain,
Nothing goes wrong with smooth sailing,
Sentence may not be severe even fail in bailing
Failure in vigilance may result in trailing,
Gain will be more with best opportunity availing,
Future may be disappointing and chances fade away
Life is live game and not as children play
Things may turn wrong even with trying of best efforts
Luck will not smile even when you have good rapports
Sun may go up with its destined time
Target we should set as our object prime
Luck may not favor but not let us down,
Plant will come up when seeds are sown
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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