To A Captious Critic
Dear critic, who my lightness so deplores,
Would I might study to be prince of bores,
Right wisely would I rule that dull estate--
But, sir, I may not, till you abdicate.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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I would never abdicate, nor would I expect any other governor to abdicate, the responsibility to protect the people of my state.
quote by Joe Manchin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The King Of Bores
Abundant bores afflict this world, and some
Are bores of magnitude that-come and-no,
They're always coming, but they never go
Like funeral pageants, as they drone and hum
Their lurid nonsense like a muffled drum,
Or bagpipe's dread unnecessary flow.
But one superb tormentor I can show
Prince Fiddlefaddle, Duc de Feefawfum.
He the johndonkey is who, when I pen
Amorous verses in an idle mood
To nobody, or of her, reads them through
And, smirking, says he knows the lady; then
Calls me sly dog. I wish he understood
This tender sonnet's application too.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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An Earnest Prayer to God
God, rule my tongue, my works, my thought;
God, rule my mind, body, and heart;
God, rule all gifts from You I got;
God, rule my will, forget-me-not.
God, rule all things, my every part;
God, rule my actions from the start;
God, rule my soul, guide it with art;
God, rule my life till I depart!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-15-2006
poem by John Celes
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A prince should therefore have no other aim or thought, nor take up any other thing for his study but war and it organization and discipline, for that is the only art that is necessary to one who commands.
Niccolo Machiavelli in The Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are the stars
Oh, my dear morning star,
you came so unexpected;
Oh, my dear evening star,
you left me on this path misdirected;
Oh, my dear blazing star,
you filled my eyes with your lightness;
Oh, my dear falling star,
you disappeared with your brightness;
Oh, my dear guiding star,
you became my inspiration;
Oh, my dear polar star,
you still shine with your sensation.
poem by Eternal Dreamer
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XXXV: Rules part 2
What’s the rule, when money could buy
What’s the rule, when power is absolute
What’s the rule, when feeling involved
What’s the rule, when pride is important
What’s the rule, when look affects
What’s the rule, when victory is a must
What’s the rule, when worlds are vain
What’s the rule, people don’t change
What’s the rule, when good is not always right
What’s the rule, freedom is misunderstood
What’s the rule, anger conquers
What’s the rule, past neglected
What’s the rule, crime that committed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Gilhooley's Estate
Oh, Mr Gilhooley he turned up his toes,
As most of you know, soon or late;
And Jones was a lawyer, as everyone knows,
So they took him to Gilhooley's Estate.
Gilhooley in life had been living so free
'Twas thought his possessions were great,
So Jones, with a smile, says, "There's many a fee
For me in Gilhooley's Estate."
They made out a list of his property fine,
It totalled a thousand-and-eight;
But the debts were nine hundred and ninety-nine --
The debts of Gilhooley's Estate.
So Mrs Gilhooley says, "Jones, my dear man,
My childer have little to ait:
Just keep my expinses as low as you can
Against poor Gilhooley's Estate."
Bur Jones says, "The will isn't clear in its terms,
I fear it will need some debate,
And the law won't alow me (attorneys are worms)
To appear in Gilhooley's Estate."
So a barrister-man, with a wig on his head
And a brief in his hand, quite elate,
Went up to the Court where they bury the dead,
Just to move in Gilhooley's Estate."
But his Honour the Judge said, "I think that the joint
Legatees must be called to probate --
Ex parte Pokehorney is clear on the point --
The point of Gilhooley's Estate."
"I order a suit to be brought just to try
If this is correct that I state --
A nice friendly suit -- and the costs by and by,
Must be borne by Gilhooley's Estate."
So Mrs Gilhooley says, "Jones, you'll appear!
Thim barristers' fees is too great;
The suit is but friendly," "Attorneys, my dear,
Can't be heard in Gilhooley's Estate."
From the barristers' quarter a mighty hurrah
Arises both early and late:
It's only the whoop of the Junior Bar
Dividing Gilhooley's Estate.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Born To Rule
Lay down your arms this night
Surrender to the power
Embracing your metal heart
On your final walk through the snow
A hammer made of steel
From the river of blood
With magic, forged in flames
Delusions, a curse of the damned
What do you see?
Imaginary visions or reality
When you're free
Then you'll see that you are bound to rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
The revolution forced us all to heed the final call
And if tomorrow never comes
Then we will strike the hammer down
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
Forever, forever Rule!
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Letter For My Son To One Of His School--Fellows, Son To Henry Rose, Esq;
Dear Rose, as I lately was writing some Verse,
Which I next Day intended in School to rehearse,
My Mother came in, and I thought she'd run wild:
``This Mr. Macmullen has ruin'd my Child:
``He uses me ill, and the World shall know it;
``I sent you to Latin, he makes you a Poet:
``A fine Way of training a Shop keeper's Son!
``'Twould better become him to teach you to dun:
``Let him teach both his Wit, and his Rhyming, to Rose;
``And give you some Lessons, to help to sell Cloaths:
``He'll have an Estate, and 'twill do very well,
``That he, like his Father, in Arts should excel;
``But for you, if your Father will take my Advice,
``He'll send you no more, till he lowers his Price:
``A Guinea a Quarter! 'tis monstrously dear!--
``You might learn to dance for four Guineas a Year:
``Then, Sir, 'tell your Master, That these are hard Times;
``And Paper's too dear to be wasted in Rhymes:
``I'll teach you a Way of employing it better;
``As, July the fifteenth, Lord Levington Debtor:
``You may rhyme till you're blind, what arises from thence?
``But Debtor and Creditor brings in the Pence:
``Those beggarly Muses but come for a Curse;
``But give me the Wit, that puts Gold in the Purse.''
From what she then told me, I plainly discern,
What different Lessons we Scholars must learn.
You're happy, dear Rose; for, as far as I find,
You've nothing to do, but embellish your Mind.
What different Tasks are assign'd us by Fate!
'Tis yours to become, mine to get an Estate.
Then, Rose, mind your Learning, whatever you do;
For I have the easier Task of the two.
poem by Mary Barber
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The Wicket Cricket Critic
If the cricket critics' nagging
Merits stern official gagging
Which I doubt
How would critical ascetics,
With their prosy homiletics,
Shut it out?
And the question then arises:
If more cricketing surprises,
Such as bodyline, begin to threaten cricket,
And another stunt, when sprung,
Call for clicking of the tongue,
Should a cricket critic critically click it?
When the barrackers grow lyric
In a manner most satiric
And profane,
How, one ventures still to wonder,
May the clamor be kept under?
How restrain?
For one barbaric larrik-
In can do a lot of barrack-
In', and cause a lot of worry at the wicket.
But would sportsmen be abusing
Cricket canons in refusing
To supply that cricket critic with a ticket?
As a critic analytic
Of the cricket critics' critic
I would say,
When we criticise their cricket,
Then the players have to stick it,
Come what may.
No specific soporific
May be used; for it is diffic-
Ult to strike a critic partly paralytic.
So there's nothing gained in seeking,
As I know; and I am speaking
As a critic of the cricket critic's critic.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Gates of Riches
Open the gates of riches
To the beloved prince of kindness,
Who waited for ever with abacuses
And counted the coins with adeptness.
I am the king whose prince was bold,
And I coveted his prize, the very same as gold;
He owns everything now, the whole land of royalty,
He owns all the plants and animals - absurdity!
I am a king who needs a queen to rule all,
And the man my prince is owning the kingdom therewithal.
His thief is me and my wife, the queen of great health,
The prince is executed and I am left with the commonwealth.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Surfers Rule
Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
Its plastered on the walls all around the school now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Becoming just as common as a golden rule now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take it or leave it but you better believe it
Surfers rule
They burnt it in the grass on the football field now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Just try to make them cool it and theyll never yield now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take what youve heard now and go pass the word now
Surfers rule
Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
A woody full of surfers pullin long side a wagon
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
The hodaddies sittin while the surfers are draggin
The surfers are winnin and they say as theyre grinnin
Surfers rule
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Till Death—is narrow Loving
907
Till Death—is narrow Loving—
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of Finiteness—be spent—
But He whose loss procures you
Such Destitution that
Your Life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate—
Until—Resemblance perfect—
Yourself, for His pursuit
Delight of Nature—abdicate—
Exhibit Love—somewhat—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Untitled 3
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover, my mother told me as a boy
'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.'
I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Sandro bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dream Song 14
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
poem by John Berryman from The Dream Songs (1969)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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You live in the present and you eliminate things that don't matter. You don't carry the burden of the past. I'm not impressed by the past very much. The past bores me, to tell you the truth; it really bores me. I don't remember many movies and certainly not my own.
quote by Paulette Goddard
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Christmas Carol
I.
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II.
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III.
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV.
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
V.
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI.
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father's tears his child!
VII.
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII.
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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When a man bores a woman, she complains. When a woman bores a man, he ignores her.
quote by Mason Cooley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Love Rule
Love is gentle as a rose
And love can conquer any war
It's time to take a stand
Brothers and sisters join hands
We got to let love rule
Let love rule
We got to let love rule
Let love rule
Love transcends all space and time
And love can make a little child smile
Oh can't you see
This won't go wrong
But we got to be strong
We can't do it alone
We got to let love rule
Let love rule
We got to let love rule
Let love rule
Let love rule
You got to got to got to
Let love rule
You got to got to got to
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bells For John Whiteside's Daughter
There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all
Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond
The lazy geese, like a snow cloud
Dripping their snow on the green grass,
Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud,
Who cried in goose, Alas,
For the tireless heart within the little
Lady with rod that made them rise
From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle
Goose-fashion under the skies!
But now go the bells, and we are ready,
In one house we are sternly stopped
To say we are vexed at her brown study,
Lying so primly propped.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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