Old People
under mango tree
old people
sit prolonging
at the same time
tell a story the past
what is always repeated
in back part its tongue
is young originally hear it
thereafter
bored
then go
to its own world
history is true always
recuring.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Related quotes
Repeated
HISTORY IS ALWAYS REPEATED AND SOMEONE IS ALWAYS CHEATED THE CAT DIED OF COURIOSITY WHY NOT ME THEY SAY THE MOSS ON A TREE CAN SEE HISTORY IS A STORY OF THE PAST A STORY THAT IS REPEATED YEAR AFTER YEAR DAY AFTER DAY
HISTORY IS HIS STORY AND HER STORY ALWAYS REOEATED ALWAYS THE SAME
poem by Kairy sauerwein
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Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
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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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Bored
Hear me spit on you, wither i
Remold into gold and bury I from - sun
Reborn left to sigh, recure maybe ill
Be born and simplify - the way I lie - before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored Im bored
Repent by you and trust to figure out
I burn that gift to you - doll and let it shine before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored, I wish for a real one
Fit and confide, before me or i
I will come clean, it gets worse - its more
Get bored, I get bored, I get bored, a wish for a real one
Get bored, get bored, get bored, I wish for a real one
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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When a girl is bored
When a girl is bored no voice is beautiful to her ears
When a girl is bored there is nothing to attract her eyes
When a girl is bored day is night and night is night
When a girl is bored dream and wish is really out of mind
When a girl is bored a star in the sky doesn’t glow
When a girl is bored the city is quiet more than ever
When a girl is bored shadows are searching for light
When a girl is bored the colors are meaningless to her heart
When a girl is bored she cries but expects no tears
When a girl is bored she doesn’t want to hear a word
When a girl is bored the sky isn’t blue anymore
When a girl is bored the world is small for her steps
When a girl is bored no one understands what is in her heart
When a girl is bored though everywhere is dark she never loses her hope
poem by Reihaneh Jalalian
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Boasting About Trees
There you stood among other trees
In a garden of legendary emeralds
Your luxuriant leaves waving to the heavens
You arresting branches kissing the sky
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My enraptured eyes are still swimming in bliss
From the first time they saw you
Untouched, unspoiled and unsurpassed
Flora of such sublime character
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
My heart swims in the deluge of desire
Sweet songs of attraction, passion and fire
It is you that awakens my appetite
My dulcet cynosure
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
Others may boast of oranges and apples
Grapes and pears and pomegranates too
I will be silent until I talk of you
And from my lips will dropp the words
Honey cannot be compared to thee
You are my mango tree
poem by Howard Simon
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Mustard field
One day while walking in a mustard field,
I found a swing hanging on a mango tree,
mustard flowers were swirling with breeze,
birds were singing on tree,
there I found a swing on mango tree,
its ropes were long and thick,
I rode on it,
it moved up in the air like a bird,
and return back to move up there,
I saw a well from up there,
and bird nest on tree on back in the air,
the swing was moving here and there,
it was not aware of who I am,
just it was giving me feeling divine,
without any question or discrimination,
I found joy to fill my heart and I lived that moment like a bird!
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Jilted Tongue
Growing up in this time,
So many things rushing around us,
We see things one should never see,
We hear what one should never hear.
And still when we know it is wrong,
We speak with a jilted tongue.
As we grow old we see again,
The truth of the wicked that has polluted our minds,
And we sink into a shadow hiding from it all,
And we try to clear our mind of hate and of wrong,
But still the past is there,
Still we remember a time we spoke with a jilted tongue.
Remember who you are as you see what is all around you,
Believe in what you are and what you can be by following what's true,
Never look at things you see that no one should see,
Never listen to the things you hear that no one should hear,
Know that it is wrong,
And do not speak with jilted tongue.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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My Past
I can never let go of my past because my past has marked me
Every time I look down
Every time I look over
There is my past
The notches
The bold the non-mistakable scars
…the scars
My past
Each and every one has a story
Each and every one has a memory
Each and every one has brought tears to my eyes
For no story nor memory are of happiness, triumph, or glory
No, they are of fear, anxiety, self-hatred, paranoia, and loneliness
I can never let go of my past because my past will always be part of me
poem by Scarlet Mo Chroi
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Tomorrow People
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Today you say you deyah
Tomorrow you say you're gone
But you're gone so long
If there is no love in your heart - so sorry
Then there is no hope for you - true, true
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
So you're in the air
But you still don't have a thing to spare
You're flying high
While we're on the low o-o-oh
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Tell me now
Tomorrow people, where is your past? No where
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Ten years!
Stop tellin' me the same story
Today you say you deyah
Tomorrow you say you're gone and you're not coming back
If there is no love in your heart oh now
There will never be hope for you
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Ten years!
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, come on
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, come on
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, no soon come
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, soon come
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, today is here
If you don't know your past, you don't know your future
Everyone
Don't know your past, don't know your future everyman
Don't know your past, don't know your future, come on
Don't know your past, don't know your future
How many nations
How many people did that one catch
How many
song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Both Sides Of The Story
though we might hate to admit it, there are always two sides to every story...
Find yourself in the gutter in a lonely part of town
Where death waits in the darkness with a weapon to cut some stranger down
Sleeping with an empty bottle, hes a sad and an empty hearted man
All he needs is a job, and a little respect, so he can get out while he can
We always need to hear both sides of the story
A neighbourhood peace is shattered its the middle of the night
Young faces hide in the shadows, while they watch their mother and father fight
He says shes been unfaithful, she says her love for him has gone
And the brother shrugs to his sister and says looks like its just us from
Now on
We always need to hear both sides of the story
And the lights are all on, the world is watching now
People looking for truth, we must not fail them now
Be sure, before we close our eyes
Dont walk away from here
til you hear both sides
Here we are all gathered in what seems to be the centre of the storm
Neighbours once friendly now stand each side of the line that has been drawn
Theyve been fighting here for years, but now theres killing on the streets
While small coffins are lined up sadly, now united in defeat
We always need to hear both sides of the story
And the lights are all on, the world is watching now
People looking for truth, we must not fail them now
Be sure, before we close our eyes
Dont walk away from here
til you see both sides
White man turns the corner, finds himself within a different world
Ghetto kid grabs his shoulder, throws him up against the wall
He says would you respect me if I didnt have this gun
cos without it, I dont get it, and thats why I carry one
We always need to hear both sides of the story
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My eyes tell the storyBut m
The pain never goes away;
The wounds will never heal.
The evil that was done to me by you.
But my eyes they tell the story of hurt and pain.
The black will never turn to gray;
The blood will not congeal.
The violence is never through;
The past does not depart.
Time dosent heal the past.
Part sufferer, part comforter,
Part victim, part new song;
Becuase of you my eyes tell a nasty story.
A story with no glory.
I was and am the victim of you.
Your eyes were wild with rage.
My eyes told the tell of fear
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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On this silly hill
On this silly hill I remember the silly things
That we did
We were so young and we decided to pick
Some ripe mangoes on this silly
Isolated hill away from
Our teasing
Silly friends
And I really liked her a lot
My heart was trembling
Her heart too quivering
We felt we like each other
Feelings like hot chili
Heating our ears
We said we love each other
We promised to love each other
Till the end of days
And so I climbed the mango tree
And picked the most luscious
Delicious mangoes as may be gleaned
From their color and shape
Thinking all the best for her
That I could give
To her
I put all the mangoes in my shirt
And I was silly looking silly like a tray to her
And she picked them one by one
Near my chest lower to my tummy
Nearer to my bulge
I was breathless
As she took more
Ripe mangoes from me
Slowly
Gracefully
Peeling with her mouth and tongue
Licking the yellowish pulp
And she said the mangoes were all
So sweet smelling and delicious
Like me
She was craving
She was raving
I was simply receptive
Giving in
All
To what she wanted
She touched my heart and we were silly
On our teens we did
What married people did on this silly hill
Isolated from silly friends
We did something adventurous
We had something marvelous
We did all those silly things
Like wild horses
In nature’s ways
Galloping
Breath taking
The years passed and now I am reaching fifty
Looking back I remember the silly things that we
Young silly people on our early teens did on this silly hill
We went and parted and she married the right man for her
I too went my own separate direction, taking a wife on my own
Looking back,
I feel sad,
I feel happy
What we silly teeny people did which we think was silly
Was all done in the name of pure love so endless
We were all virgins in love & we all thought of nothing else
Love and love and love
The mango was a symbol also of love
The silly hill was the seat of love
The mango tree was a climb of love
The isolation was all in the name of love
The whole was but love’s marvel
Love’s adventure
Love and love and love was all that we had
All love and love
Pure love
Unmixed untainted unblemished unadulterated
And they think it was silly
And I once thought it was silly
On that silly hill remembering the silly things we did
The silly things we said and promised
We did not talk about money, politics and family strategy
We did not bother about inheritance, a family name, a community reputation
We were not told whom to marry and when and always why.
Love can be developed and marriage can always be arranged
That to me are the silly things that we people do to ourselves.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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History Will Teach Us Nothing
If we seek solace in the prisons of the distant past
Security in human systems were told will always always last
Emotions are the sail and blind faith is the mast
Without a breath of real freedom were getting nowhere fast
If God is dead and an actor plays his part
His words of fear will find their way to a place in your heart
Without the voice of reason every faith is its own curse
Without freedom from the past things can only get worse
Sooner or later just like the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later just like the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
History will teach us nothing
History will teach us nothing
Our written history is a catalogue of crime
The sordid and the powerful, the architects of time
The mother of invention, the oppression of the mild
The constant fear of scarcity, aggression as its child
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
Convince an enemy, convince him that hes wrong
Is to win a bloodless battle where victory is long
A simple act of faith
In reason over might
To blow up his children will only prove him right
History will teach us nothing
Sooner or later the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later the world first day
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
Sooner or later we learn to throw the past away
History will teach us nothing
History will teach us nothing
Know you human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
Know your human rights
Be what you come here for
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Past, Present and Future
past, present and future
feelings churning
until the bottom of my heart
tore the walls of reason
banging his dream
into the present
and imagine the future
the fire of hell
young people
who choose the course
individually
was the coolness of the wind
the breezy
sometimes there
under the shade of the leaves
mango tree
in front of my house
poem by Prasetya Utama
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To Young To Die
Everybody
Don't want no war,
'Cos we're too young to die,
So many people,
All around the world,
Seen their brothers fry.
What's the motive?
In your madness.
You've made my people cry.
So politicians this time
Keep your distance.
'Cos we're too young to die.
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
What's the answer?
To our problems.
I think we've gone too high,
Little children,
Never said a word now,
But still they have to die.
It won't be long.
Dancing like we do now,
To put this sad world right.
So don't you worry,
Suffer no more,
'Cos we're too young to die.
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
You know we're too young to die,
All gone when they drop the bomb.
Can the politicians reassure?
'Cos here I am presuming that
Nobody wants a war
There's so many people praying
Just to find out if they're staying.
But lately stately governments
And disillusioned leaders,
So full of empty promises
But rarely do they feed us.
Put our backs against the wall,
Or don't we count at all?
Can you decide,
Are you mesmerised.
Do you know which side you're standing?
Cos when it falls gonna take us all.
Gotta know what we're demanding,
I never lie,
Can't your hear the cry,
Coming from on high,
WE'RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE
song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow The Format
make a big scene
make this glass house my coffin
you missed the big picture
well its the words that youre coughing out on your sleeve
so forge my sins here in song
well i'm telling you now what youve known all along
and its tired, so true, more subtle than you
theres a lull in the stereo
its calling for you (calling for you)
its calling for you
well i'm a slave to my vices (its true)
theyve all been renamed as a crutch
so drag my name and my face through the mud
flattery can flatter me (flattery can flatter me)
showing just how vicious you could be
do what you came here to do (do what you came here to do)
trigger finger gets you pointed in the right direction
my new found discretion
its not a lie if you believe it
its no mistake if its always repeated
its not a lie if you believe it
its no mistake if its always repeated
shall we call it quits or just wait? (its not a lie if you believe it)
even, even if my last name rhymes with your rescue of hear say
do not say you know (its no mistake if its repeated)
call me out
its not a lie (its such a lie)
but I dont need to hear it from you
so whats another word for (i dont need to hear it from you)
whats another word for (dont need to hear it from you)
whats another word for (i dont need to hear it from you)
whats another word for (dont need to hear it from you)
it gets easier with doses of time (easier with doses of time)
easier with doses of time (easier with doses of time)
easier with doses of time (easier with doses of time)
easier with doses of time (easier with doses of time)
Show us just how vicious you could be
song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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