Longer Thoughts
got long thoughts recently like long bamboo poles
with oil around its body
can't climb further
feeling the falling of
helpless ideas
the man sitting over there
says
idealism is lost and we are
hopeless
on the first day of November
above those fluffy skies
near Sulu sea
i sing a song about breaking
days, digging hearts from shallow graves
somehow i think sorrow must have
split ends
cut them and have them
their short hair
some bangs like cute kids
in Sunday church
i think I'll go out, and have a short run
sweat out and be mad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Show Tune II
That's the long and short of it
now you know
how I've been waiting all these years
where I'm coming from
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
just how hot hot jazz was
how it turned about, my bookcase
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you know
that my arrest record's
not my best record
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
how the Past's like a love
you can neither leave nor live
that's the long and short of it
That's the long and short of it
now you know
it was no gun in my pocket
it was a rocket
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
and you're wond'ring dear
how I kept so pure
hull, it was easy
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
so bounce your head
into bed
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
read the blues
in these tattoos
make a song of it
that's the short and long of it.
How I wish
there was a bridge-
then I could burn it;
or the train
of a refrain
then I could board it
but there isn't
no there isn't, so...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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0016 Amphibrach
A tinker, a tailor, a soldier, a sailor...
‘A one and a two and a three and a four, guys…’
The amphibrach sings one of poetry’s basics;
a metrical foot – though a difficult one; it
is named from the Greek, meaning short at
both ends – that is, short, long, short, short, long short;
a poet can use it like this for a few lines, or longer;
however, it always seems trying to be something
else – like, some poor donkey who’s lame in one hind-leg;
it’s happier changing to dactyl or ana-
pest – see what I mean, now?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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September Song
When I was a young man courting the girls
I played me the waiting game
If a maid refused me with a tossing curls, oh,
I let the old earth, take a couple of whirls
While I plied her with tears in prays of pearls
And as time came around she came my way
As time came around she came
For its a long, long while, from May to December
And the days grow short, when you reach September
And I have the lost my tears, and the walking in the little rain
Hey honey, I haven't gotta time for gaining Waiting Game
And the days turn to crawl(?grow old?) as they grow few
September, November
And these few colden(?golden?) days I'd like to spend 'em with you
These golden days, I'd like to spend 'em with you
And the days dwindle down to a precious few
September, November
And I'm not quite a quip for the waiting game
I have a little money, and I have a little pain
And these few golden days, as the days grow so few
These golden days, I'd like to spend 'em with you
These precious golden days, I'd like to spend 'em with you
September song, September song
September song, September song
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Summer Nights Are Short
The summer nights are short
Where northern days are long:
For hours and hours lark after lark
Trills out his song.
The summer days are short
Where southern nights are long:
Yet short the night when nightingales
Trill out their song.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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To Cut A Long Story Short
Soldier is turning
See him through white light
Running from strangers
See you in the valley
War upon war
Heat upon heat
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
Sitting on a park bench
Years away from fighting
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
Standing in the dark
Oh I was waiting for man to come
I am beautiful and clean
And so very very young
To be standing in the street
To be taken by someone
Questions questions
Give me no answers
Thats all they ever give me
Questions questions
Oh look at the strange boy
He finds it hard existing
To cut a long story short
I lost my mind
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's Too Short To Love This Fast
You say hello, I say goodbye
You go your way and I go mine
There's not much time for you and I these days
We work too hard, we're gone too much
And we're too tired to even touch
So just how long can we go on this way
Oh, life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
We can't keep up this pace we're on right now
We burn the candle at both ends
The circle turns, we start again
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
Let's take some time, let's get away
Let's pack our bags and leave today
Girl, anyplace would be okay right now
Just leave your pager here at home
And I won't carry my cell phone
We need to find some time alone somehow
Yeah, life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
We can't keep up this pace we're on right now
We burn the candle at both ends
The circle turns, we start again
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
--- Instrumental ---
We're spinnin' our wheels
Forgetting how love feels
Let's slow down before it's too late
'Cause life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
Love this fast
Life's too short...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Love (My First Poem) (Two Versions)
Below, you will see two versions of my very first poem.
Its important to understand that the first version of the poem
is exactly as I wrote it at 6: 15 to 6: 30 PM on November 2nd
1970. I made no changes to it. It is also important to know
that this was, in fact, my first ever attempt to write a poem
of any kind whatsoever. The second version is modified from
the first because I wanted to demonstrate how a few simple
word changes can convert a rather average poem of some
quality into a poem of great quality and structure.
In early November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
But rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
For it's not true love that blooms in spring
Nor is it of love that birds do sing.
Rather of that love soon gone
And never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake,
But very few ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November true love dwells.
In November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
Rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
It's not true love that blooms in spring.
Nor is it love, that birds will sing.
But rather of that love soon gone
Which never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake
And very few will ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November, true love dwells.
I have removed the voting option on this poem
and placed it in my Hall Of Fame, due to its
history described above and its usefulness as
an example to the readers.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
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Sunday-Sweet-Sunday
Bucholic 'tis this season...
Down the lane the church bells ring-
Springs in the air-and salvation 'tis everywhere...
As a choir of sweet song birds sing;
Pastoral influence dominates me now...
Ever aware in my believing mind...
I hold church twenty-four-seven-
Celebrating with my Savior most kind;
For He has given us so very much...
Why just look at the green tree and baby wren...
Move your eyes over to the babbling brook...
And smell the fragrant blooms in the glen;
He has given us so much to believe in...
Even in a world oft' painted in sorrow and pain...
He gives us blue skies when over-run by grey ones...
And sunshine following a tempest of rain;
For He is a most loving power...
So willing to love and forgive-
I will celebrate-Sunday-Sweet-Sunday-
For as long as upon this earth i live;
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Daddy Long-Legs and the Fly
Once Mr Daddy Long-Legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a summer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledore.
Said Mr Daddy Long-legs
To Mr Floppy Fly,
'Why do you never come to court?
I wish you'd tell me why.
All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
You'd quite delight the court.
Why do you never go at all?
I really think you ought!
And if you went, you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! and jugs! and candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!'
'O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'It's true I never go to court,
And I will tell you why.
If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But Oh! I can't, because my legs
Are so extremely short.
And I'm afraid the King and Queen
(One in red and one in green)
Would say aloud, 'You are not fit,
You Fly, to come to court a bit.'
O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
In former days gone by,
But now you never sing at all;
I wish you'd tell me why:
For if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the crabs would gladly come
To hear you sing, 'Ah, Hum di Hum!''
Said Mr Daddy Long-Legs,
'I can never sing again!
And if you wish, I'll tell you why,
Although it gives me pain.
For years I could not hum a bit,
Or sing the smallest song;
And this the dreadful reason is,
My legs are grown too long!
My six long legs, all here and there,
Oppress my bosom with despair;
And if I stand, or lie, or sit,
I cannot sing one single bit!'
So Mr Daddy Long-Legs
And Mr Floppy Fly
Sat down in silence by the sea,
And gazed upon the sky.
They said, 'This is a dreadful thing!
The world has all gone wrong,
Since one has legs too short by half,
The other much too long!
One never more can go to court,
Because his legs have grown too short;
The other cannot sing a song,
Because his legs have grown too long!'
Then Mr Daddy Long-Legs
And Mr Floppy Fly
Rushed downward to the foaming sea
With one sponge-taneous cry;
And there they found a little boat
Whose sails were pink and gray;
And off they sailed among the waves
Far, and far away.
They sailed across the silent main
And reached the great Gromboolian plain;
And there they play for evermore
At battlecock and shuttledore.
poem by Edward Lear
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Who said what ask me not
Who said what ask me not
Come and sing time is short.
In the light of truth and in the
dark of false we both hurt.
Love and love and hate me not
Come and sing time is short.
We both are hot come and come
Day and night dream and dream
Who said what ask me not
Come and sing time is short.
What is success and what is failure
We know not come and come
Come and sing life's song.
Sun and moon all are with us
Come and see come and come
Life is short life is short.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Short Shrift
‘I’ve failed! ’ How many times have sons
And fathers’ fathers echoed me?
‘I’ve failed! My life was spent in dreams, ’
We said, ‘in shallow misery.
In dreams and steel and soot and grime,
In screams, and what would seem some crime
Of trying to live beyond our need...
Our lives were spent in some black creed! ’
‘Too short, too short, the days we spent
In trying to right the days before,
Too long, too long, the years we struggled
Knowing not what struggled for.
What goal, what aim, what discontent,
What loves we lost, what life we spent
In wondering what such life could be?
Short shrift for you - harsh words for me! ’
‘I’ve failed, my sons, I’ve failed you all
And so my failure tortures me,
As in that innocence divine
Your love loves all the failed in me.
If I could strip this flesh, or tear
These eyes that cried hot fire for you
To save you from the same despair
My father’s father brought me to...’
20 July 1976
poem by David Lewis Paget
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When I Will Sing My Own Song
A time may come when i'll sing my own song,
And that time is coming fast.
I'll sing my own song,
Perhaps a lyrical song coloured with joy,
And maybe a dirge bursting with sorrow
A time will come then i'll sing my own song,
A song in praise of fallen heroes,
A song in huge honour of hunger
A song for incessant insecurity,
A song of unemployment.
One thing i don't know
Is whether the church will sing to this song,
And dance to its tunes, or make it
A song for offering of offerings
I don't know whether to make it secular;
If it be ungodly, perhaps it may be a hit.
When i'll sing my own song
Children will hop over hills in awe;
Mothers will sing its tune mutely,
And fathers will remain unsure whether to join
Not long, i will sing a song.
I will sing to my own song,
Then the world know i desired peace,
And love, and accord.
Then the world will know
I'm tired of wanton carnages,
And famines that breed hunger,
And being quagmired by floods,
And being mixed in hysteria
Of dirty and ethnical politics!
When i'll sing my own song,
I know it'll be long overdue.
It may never be heard anywhere
It may remain deep rooted within my heart;
Or i may never have money
To pay for its acceptance by the people!
poem by Eric Lungai
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Hill top
On the hill top of camomile and dandelion flower colours.
I hear a song with rabbit hears, coming from a church near.
Adoring the grass, adorning the air,
Exploring the maze of spice edge.
Thirsted by the long walk over the hill top
I am drunk of dew on Sunday bloom.
I rest on shade of snake bunch shape,
and sunshine day.
Where the cloud accompanies the constant sing of bird.
And lady bird claiming on a greenish mould brick wall.
Dressed by nature of black spot, red body and white look.
Of Sparrow bath in the green grass, with toys of worms & muddle soap.
I m seat on the higher hill, watching, mouldy tree shape,
And kids from far house playing with their bucket and spade.
Digging the sun out, into the smile on their happy face.
While the mother watering the flowers of her youth love.
Happy day, peacefully made of fresh air, whispering.
On my body, cover in clay smell,
Like the sand in my hands from the soil, full of space,
Infinite moments
Concealing my sorrow.
poem by Luca Menin
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Short Supply
Where are
The sunny days
The blue skies
The flowers for the children
The colors for their eyes?
Dont you see
Dont you see
All these things now days
Come in short supply
Its time that we
Its time that we
Make a space in our hearts
And open our eyes
Where are
All the sandy beaches
Fishes in the sea
Birds to sing for daybreak?
Where are all the trees?
Dont you see
Dont you see
All these things now days
Come in short supply
Its time that we
Its time that we
Make a space in our hearts
And open our eyes
Where are all the grassy hilltops
Clean air to breathe
Pure water to drink of
Beautiful sights to see?
Dont you see
Dont you see
All these things now days
Come in short supply
Its time that we
Its time that we
Make a space in our hearts
And open our eyes
Or therell be no more you
Therell be no more me
Therell be no more children
All we know will cease to be
Dont you see
Dont you see
The things of this earth
Keep us alive
Its time that we
Its time that we
Make a space in our hearts
And open our eyes
Where are the sunny days?
Blue skies
The flowers for the children
All the colors for their eyes
All the sandy beaches
Fishes in the sea
All the birds to sing for daybreak
Where are
Where are
Where are all the trees?
Dont you see
All these things they come in short supply
Its time that we
Make a space inside our hearts
And open our eyes
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Rain
November rain washed away my guilt
November rain washed away my pain
November rain - so tired I felt
November rain was not just any rain
Long I longed with deep torment
For so long my body waited
November rain, , , , Oh, sweet friend
November rain- slowly I faded.
November rain- I cried within
Steady and slowly, it kept on pouring
November rain, watered my skin
And deep inside, I heard my roaring.
November rain, it refused to quit
November rain kept on pouring
And alone outside, in the streets I wept-
dripping... dripping and falling.
poem by Amy Phillip
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Since The Last Goodbye
(chris rainbow - lead vocal)
The hours, the minutes seem to fly
And since the last goodbye
You and I came a long way
The nights, too short to fill with sleep
Or falling in too deep
Seem so far away now
Memories, all we share between us
Everything we were, all that we remain
But memories somehow came between us
Breaking up two minds that were one and the same
The years are moments passing by
No time to wonder why
You and I went the wrong way
The days too short to fill with dreams
Or question what it means
Are a part of me now
Remember all the leaves were falling
Walking hand in hand, standing in the rain
Remember distant voices calling
Whispers in the dark, I can hear them again
Since the last goodbye
Its all the wrong way round
Since the last goodbye
Its all the wrong way round
Memories, all we share between us
Everything we were, all that we remain
But memories somehow came between us
Breaking up two minds that were one and the same
Since the last goodbye
Its all the wrong way round
Since the last goodbye
Its all the wrong way round
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Song
Oh its a long long time from may to december
And the days grow short when you reach september
When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
And you aint got time for waiting game
When days dwindle down to a precious few
September november, and these few golden days Id share with you
Those golden days I share with you
When the days dwindle down to a precious few
September november, and all those golden days Id share with you
Those golden days Id share with you
Those golden days Id share with you
Those golden days Id share with you
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celebrate
[Wyclef]
Ladies and gentleman, the preacher's son
Patti LaBelle is in the building
[Wyclef]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days)
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
those days)
[Wyclef (Patti)]
I came in this game through the back door (get up)
I know LaBelle, we were so much more (get up)
We worked it, and earned it, God knows we deserved it (get up)
Keep on striving, I know you'll make it
[Wyclef (Patti)]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do (yeah, get up)
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days), get up
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
those days), get up
[Wyclef (Patti)]
I'm gon' box these niggaz
Take home on a number one belt (get up)
We gonna pop that thug, oh no, to celebrate the wealth (get up)
See, I'm a take that hay and turn it into loot
Cause who ever God blessed no man can test (get up)
Who ever God blessed, no man can test
What goes up must surely come down, yes
So watch who you hurt on your way up
Cause they'll be laughing at you on your way down
Tell the judge we don't want incarceration
Cause we came for the celebration, hey
So let the women and the children eat first
Cause it's been so long since a celebration, Cassidy
[Cassidy (Patti)]
This Cassidy, let's celebrate (oh)
I'm selling weed and got hella cake
And I still got the dog in my backyard
It's hamburgers, hot dogs in the back row (get up)
On the grill we cooking it all up
My mom got skills, she hooking it all up
Man, it feels like back in the days
When cats wasn't clapping to K's
And hood rats was acting they age (get up)
Clef and the rest of the game with me
And me and Miss LaBelle, we rep the same city (get up)
Philly, home of the blunts and the cheese steaks
And I cannot be stopped, like I need breaks (get up)
[Wyclef (Patti)]
Let's celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque how we used to do (yeah)
On the avenue, have a family reunion
Man, how I miss those days
When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won't you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days
[Patti (Wyclef)]
Dressing up for church on Easter Sunday (how I miss those days)
Doing the electric slide at every party (how I miss those days)
Oh, if only you knew, what I've been through (you would celebrate)
You would celebrate (everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days)
those days), get up
[Wyclef (Patti)]
(get up)
You would celebrate, everybody just celebrate, how I miss those days
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Metrical Feet
Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort
Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot!, yet ill able
Ever to come up with Dactyl's trisyllable.
Iambics march from short to long.
With a leap and a bound the swift Anapests throng.
One syllable long, with one short at each side,
Amphibrachys hastes with a stately stride --
First and last being long, middle short, Amphimacer
Strikes his thundering hoofs like a proud high-bred Racer.
If Derwent be innocent, steady, and wise,
And delight in the things of earth, water, and skies;
Tender warmth at his heart, with these meters to show it,
WIth sound sense in his brains, may make Derwent a poet --
May crown him with fame, and must win him the love
Of his father on earth and his father above.
My dear, dear child!
Could you stand upon Skiddaw, you would not from its whole ridge
See a man who so loves you as your fond S.T. Colerige.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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I was going to shave it. It went in two parts. I got a bob first but it kept falling all over my face. Then it was off, short. The main reason it was long was because my mother cut it short when I was little and I was trying to make up for that.
quote by Cathy Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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