It Is Late, But It Is Not Always Too Late To Play
it is late
but it is never
always
late to still play
our games
it is dark
and they already left for their homes.
the rest are quitting
mothers are waiting
and fathers are silent as always
square jawed.
can we still play? yes just the two of us now
under the moon
beneath the trees
our feet soft on the thick grasses
you keep your mouth shut.
you pick up the ball and you throw it to me.
i am now holding it.
but i will not be keeping it for long
i have no use of it now.
i will throw it away.
can we just laugh and be children again?
let us have a new beginning.
that is my only point.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Sex Games
I know you're lying all alone
Waiting for my call
To tell me that your body's craving me
Well the phone's not enough tonight
Let's make this reality
[1] - We can do the things that you don't get to do
Cause you lay all alone
Just let me sit here and watch you strip
For me cause I know I get you off
[2] - Is it too late to come on over?
And play sex games
Is it too late to slide on over?
And play sex games
Sex games
song performed by by Case from Open Letter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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393
Do not be surprised now in these dark times
I have no fears
Nothing is late for you to play with me
In this dark room
Or outside where there is no moon
Where the only presence we know
Are our words without our bodies
Our sounds of endearment
There are no eyes not even the nose
Sometimes the hands
When occasionally
You learn to touch me
When mothers celebrate life
Or fathers take pride in their posterity
The names of their children and grandchildren
Their grand place in this world
We cannot take part
We cannot even watch
We turn into moles
They belong to the center stage of life
And the sun shines on all of them
Except us
Did we choose this place
Where the trees do not have fruits
Where the shrubs do not have flowers
Where the root crops do not have any flesh?
Where the vines do not have the perfect tendrils?
We did not
We wanted to live just like them
Or anybody else
We have asked the questions
They do not have the answers
I see your face blankly staring at the window
On this dark night
I pity you
I have the answers but I will not tell you
It is getting late and we need
The sound sleep we too deserve
We have more nice places inside our dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Today's Little Leaguers, and there are millions of them each year, pick up how to hit and throw and field just by watching games on TV. By the time they're out of high school, the good ones are almost ready to play professional ball.
quote by Mickey Mantle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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for Lina S.
SO my dear where have you been?
you don't remember the ripple of the river
it does not remember any
you or me, we are even on this matter
so you are searching for the games that children play
while their fathers are fighting the war
while their mothers wait for the bad news
there are so many
but i will not tell you their names for now
in fact i think you all know these
but you just don't want to remember
i can remember
but let me tell you about those games later
meanwhile let me write
about those who are dead and those who play dead
those who are through and those who are just beginning
it does not matter
there is nothing to be serious about
let all these go
like what i once told you
like the ripples of the river
scarlet from the top and deep red at the bottom
you know the smell
now you must remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Catfish
(bob dylan, jacques levy)
Lazy stadium night,
Catfish on the mound.
strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man would not pay.
So he packed his glove and took his arm
And one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Way up where the yankees are
Smoke a custom made cigar.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seeing nothing but the curve.
Swing too early or too late,
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passionate Journey
flowers along the way
we pick like children at play
i pick the pebbles too
and count from one to two
and two-some we throw
beside the pond to see
how splashing splashes
amidst the stillness of the night
on this passionate journey
the moon sees us
and the stars too
and oh, without the sorrow!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Catfish
Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
Strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man wouldnt pay
So he packed his glove and took his arm
An one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Come up where the yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Carolina born and bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin dogs for sale.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seein nothin but the curve,
Swing too early or too late
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Even billy martin grins
When the fish is in the game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the hall of fame.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bedtime Story
The moon lies on the river
like a drop of oil.
The children come to the banks to be healed
of their wounds and bruises.
The fathers who gave them their wounds and bruises
come to be healed of their rage.
The mothers grow lovely; their faces soften,
the birds in their throats awake.
They all stand hand in hand
and the trees around them,
forever on the verge
of becoming one of them,
stop shuddering and speak their first word.
But that is not the beginning.
It is the end of the story,
and before we come to the end,
the mothers and fathers and children
must find their way to the river,
separately, with no one to guide them.
That is the long, pitiless part,
and it will scare you.
poem by Lisel Mueller
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Throwaway
Dry your eyes, say goodnight
I dont know if I can
Cut the ties, say goodbye
So I try and take it somewhere else
Pretending that were something else
Ive been trying to find my way to you
Through the anger and the sorrow
I just cant let you go
And throw it away, throw it away
And even when we dont know
Well find a way, well find our way
Anything to escape but were going nowhere
Late at night when you cry
Cuz were living like were someone else
And wishing we were somewhere else
Losing everything that I used to know
Disconnected and hollow
I just cant let you let go
And throw it away, throw it away
And even when you dont know
Well find a way, well find our way
Pulling me closer, drowning in you
Ill hit the bottom with you
But I cant let you go
And throw it away, throw it away
And even when we dont know
Well find a way, well find our way
I just cant let you let go
And throw it away, throw it away
And even when you dont know
Well find a way, well find our way
song performed by by Lit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.
You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Theatre Of The Absurd
(ian hunter)
My tea turned seven shades darker
As I sit n write these words
And londons gettin paler
In my theatre of the absurd.
You figured for an evening
And you made it all worthwile.
Its seldom people have a job
And even rarer that I smile.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
And if your songs be classics,
Throw them to the hurd.
Truth is where they came from
And not this theatre of the absurd.
Some say you wanted to play for me
But its only what youve heard
That made you want to capture me
In your theatre of the absurd.
It was not me, I said myself
And you must do so, too.
I hope you have the strength to stay
When Ill be watchin you.
So baby,
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
Oh when I got here back home tonight
Something within me stirred.
Oh it must have been a different kind of play
That touched my theatre of the absurd.
Now Ill be on my way alone
But an interesting thing occurred
See nobody ever shared too much
In my theatre of the absurd.
And there I was back in london,
Thought about history.
It was just like being in school again
But I felt something movin in me.
Hearin just a bit of the future,
Oh its comin and its still blurred
And thats the only thing worth living for
In my theatre of the absurd.
Come on,
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Teach your children to be them
And never ever ours.
Oh play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Someone took the park away
But they left a lonely flower.
(beautiful)
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
(john, come on)
Play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Oh, play me some, (come on, eric) play me some,
Play me brixton power.
Oh, play me some, play me some,
Play me brixton power.
...
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Play Children Play
I came home late one night,
In my door stood my daughter-in-law,
Park your car, I have something to tell you,
As I entered the door, she said, "Mother left today."
Play children play, your mother left today.
There is no where for a writer to start,
When his wife leaves and breaks her children's heart,
When she walked out, she never said good by,
No one has ever known why.
Play children play, today your Mother went away.
Many things we planned to do that day,
For no reason she just walked away,
Twenty years has past and gone,
Some how we took care of our home,
You children have married, but still alone.
Play children play, for the day your Mother went away.
poem by Kenneth McKinley Davis
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Afraid Its Too Late
She sits at the window
All dressed in white
Been a long time since shes cried
Tears called ....tumbling down
She remembers her childhood brown
Shes afraid its too late
She steps out on the porch
Takes a minute from her day
Just like when she was a child
To listen what the wind would say
She was carefree like the children are today
Say, ? ? loves you, wont you come out and play
Shes afraid its too late
When she was a child
She had crowns hiding gold
With such awe, each flower she did hold
And she...the grass beneath her feet
How she hated things that were already late
They took away her laughter
They took away her crown
They said hey girl, you gotta keep your feet on the ground
She said oh, but they are
They say well laughter wont pay your bills
A flower fell from her hand, falling still
They taught her to be respectable
Responsible somehow
They taught her to be in every....
She forgot how it felt to have leaves of grass beneath her feet
Now every thought screams to return to her childhood royalty
Shes afraid its too late
She takes one last moment
Before going inside
She takes a coat
To dry her eye
She ... and it all becomes clear
Its probably laughter that gets you what you need
....more than here
Shes afraid its too late
La la la la
La la da da laaah
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Single Father
I was a single father raising my child
It had been hard for quite a while.
Having my parents watch him during the day
And no other child with which to play.
I would walk in the door and he
would jump with joy, this was my little boy.
I would give him horsy back rides
And he would laugh until he cried.
We would play “ hide n seek”
And thru his fingers he would peek.
Then we’d run around playing tag
He’d laugh so hard that he would gag.
He had such a shrilling laugh
That the gasses I would pass.
Then he’d laugh even harder
This is my son, and I his father.
Now he is in school learning to read and write
And his grades are dynamite.
I come home from work and still
Make time to play.
And I thank GOD for him every day.
A father and son playing together
In this life what can be better?
It can be better when you have
a boy and girl to share your life.
The boy will go thru cuts and scrapes
And she will go thru satin and lace.
She will pick out her own dress to wear
And certain secrets with you she’ll share.
She will play with her dolls and toys
And capture the hearts of all the boys
She will become the soft side of you
For this is what little girls do.
So to all the single fathers still out there
This is my poem with you I’ll share.
Not many fathers will accept responsibilities
But there are some out there like you and me.
poem by Louis Rams
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Late, Late, So Late
Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
No light had we: for that we do repent;
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
No light: so late! and dark and chill the night!
O, let us in, that we may find the light!
Too late, too late: ye cannot enter now.
Have we not heard the bridgegroom is so sweet?
O, let us in, tho' late, to kiss his feet!
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now."
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Croquet by Moonlight
On a moonlight evening, in the month of May,
A number of young people were playing at croquet,
They mingled together, the bashful with the gay,
And had a pleasant time and chat, while playing at croquet.
CHORUS:
This play they call croquet, croquet,
This play they call croquet,
It is amusement for the young,
This play they call croquet.
On that pleasant evening, the moon shone clear and bright,
And every heart among that crowd was filed with great delight.
It was a merry party, for lady Dell was there
Her merry laugh above the rest was heard by all, so fair.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
She was the belle that evening, admired by great and small,
And all the boys liked to play with the girl and blue ball.
She was a splendid player, so lively and so gay,
For she was skilled in playing that pleasant game croquet.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
Two young men among them, that loved this pretty Dell;
Although I write about them, their names I will not tell.
They were fine young fellows, so bashful, and yet so gay;
They tried to beat the girl that with the blue ball play.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
Ah! with those handsome fellows, Dell thought she'd have some fun,
"The one of you that'll catch me, may see me safely home."
The play began in earnest, between those fine young men,
To catch the girl with the blue ball, was impossible for them.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
She went around the play-ground, so full of life and gay,
She left them at the farther arch, so she beat them at croquet.
It was late that evening, and as I went away,
I know not how they came out, in that pleasant game, croquet.
CHORUS: This play, etc.
So croquet by moonlight is pleasant, as you see,
For business cares were laid aside, in that little company.
So playing at croquet, croquet, so playing at croquet,
It is amusement for the young folks, this play of croquet.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Overflowing
The glass you have in your hand
Overflowing juice
On the white mantel
You laugh at me
I am filled with envy
And then you notice
The mess
Of this overflowing madness
You want to make things
Clean again
You take the excess
And throw them away
You rub it with rags
The stains are there and
You regret
These matters of
What you do not need
I wait
And inside me I too laugh
You could have given things away
Throw them all
If you only ask me
That was what I did when I was young
And too hardheaded
I’ve known what overflowing madness is
Once, twice, thrice
Almost I was destroyed
And I did the throwing before it was dark
And it was not too late
And I had no regrets
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Shower Bathe
To the mothers of your mothers and,
To the fathers of your fathers;
For i am here like one of the children of your children,
So don't see my disability and run away! !
For i am the one for your true heart.
Come to me and marry me,
And come and help me find a way in life;
For this world is full of surprises.
Please do not dropp me like the toilet roll,
For i am deep rooted in your love!
And, don't throw me away like the water from the shower bathe.
This poem is to search and to watch your status,
For i prefer to sleep my mind on a clean subject;
And to wake up fresh once again,
For i was not the first to clean your past.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Its Not Too Late
Gently rolling father time
Is calling to him now,
And though he hears him
He looks out to sea.
Somewhere out there lie his dreams
A story with no ending
And till he finds his answers
He wont be going nowhere
For him, its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late
Quietly knocking on her door.
He patiently stands waiting,
And though she hears him
She sits steadfast in her chair.
Somewhere out there never seen
Her hopes and dreams lie waiting,
And till she finds an answer
She wont be going nowhere
For her, its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late
For everything we know thats certain
There is much we cannot see,
So we choose to close the curtain,
Never knowing what could have been
Its not too late, its not too late, never too late
Slowly rocking the babys bed
He strokes its head and whispers
And though it hears him,
It keeps smiling and kicks its feet
Somewhere out there is a life,
A lifetime made for living
So it holds on fast, it aint going nowhere
For some its not too late,
Its not too late
For some its never too late
For some its not too late
Its not too late
For some its never too late
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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PC Games
PC Games are children's favorite nowadays
Oh! those days have gone
When children used to play in the fields
They used to play football, cricket and hockey...
Now children are busy playing PC games
Various games like Farm Ville, City ville, Empire Earth, San Andreas, Age of Empires etc
Some of them are so addicted to it
They don't study
But others are exceptional
Playing those PC games are harmful for eyes, health etc
Those games are 3D and 2D...
PC games...
What about those old games?
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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