Erico
Oh darling Eric, why did you
For my fond affection sue,
And then with surgeons artful aid
Transform yourself into a maid?
So now in petticoats you go
And people call you Erico.
Sometimes I wonder if they can
Change me in turn into a man;
Then after all we might get wed
And frolic on a feather bed:
Although I do not see how we
Could ever have a family.
Oh dear! Oh dear! It's so complex.
Why must they meddle with our sex.
My Eric was a handsome 'he,'
But now he--oh excuse me--she
Informs me that I must forget
I was his blond Elizabet.
Alas! These scientists of Sweden
I curse, who've robbed me of my Eden;
Who with their weird hormones inhuman
Can make a man into a woman.
Alas, poor Eric! . . . Erico
I wish you were in Jerico.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Alas my Rose
Alas my rose
Stole my youth years
I love the hands were
Happened to me does not smell roses
Alas Alas rose my rose
I do not know my carpet what happens when
I've been nomadic cranes
I had ants on the road
I remember one dear
Alas Alas rose rose
Did not hurt me cruel...
Weird strange world
I got called in Konya
Shabby wrote my tag
Oh, my dear rose rose
Was not keep my hands, slice..
İnce waist, did not hold
friend not formed into the hands of
I do not get Muradiye
Rose Alas, alas rose
My arm was broken wings..
sabit ince Kayseri 05/10/2012
poem by Sabit Ince
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A Friend's Song for Simoisius
The breath of dew, and twilight's grace,
Be on the lonely battle-place;
And to so young, so kind a face,
The long, protecting grasses cling!
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
In rocky hollows cool and deep,
The bees our boyhood hunted sleep;
The early moon from Ida's steep
Comes to the empty wrestling-ring.
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
Upon the widowed wind recede
No echoes of the shepherd's reed,
And children without laughter lead
The war-horse to the watering.
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
Thou stranger Ajax Telamon!
What to the loveliest hast thou done,
That ne'er with him a maid may run
Across the marigolds in spring?
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
With footstep separate and slow
The father and the mother go,
Not now upon an urn they know
To mingle tears for comforting.
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
The world to me has nothing dear
Beyond the namesake river here:
O Simois is wild and clear!
And to his brink my heart I bring;
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
My heart no more, if that might be
Would stay his waters from the sea,
To cover Troy, to cover me,
To save us from the perishing.
(Alas, alas,
The one inexorable thing!)
poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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Change! Change! Change!
change! change! change!
everybody talkin' about change.
change your look,
change your luck,
change your politics,
change your religion...
change the country,
change the world....
change the day!
change your underwear!
loose change, pocket change,
winds of change, march for change....
but all real change begins within...
let's work on that,
and then everything else
will change in turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Alas, So Long!
AH! dear one, we were young so long,
It seemed that youth would never go,
For skies and trees were ever in song
And water in singing flow
In the days we never again shall know.
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, I've been old so long,
It seems that age is loth to part,
Though days and years have never a song,
And oh! have they still the art
That warmed the pulses of heart to heart?
Alas, so long!
Ah! then was it all Spring weather?
Nay, but we were young and together.
Ah! dear one, you've been dead so long,—
How long until we meet again,
Where hours may never lose their song
Nor flowers forget the rain
In glad noonlight that never shall wane?
Alas, so long!
Ah! shall it be then Spring weather,
And ah! shall we be young together?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To the Memory of
I once could hope—alas! no more
Her bright wings wave for me;
The sunlit hours of life are o'er,
I weep, dear love, for thee!
And in those tears—and in that sigh
Will fond remembrance dwell;
'Tis all remains when dear ones lie
Within death's darksome cell.
So young! so pure!—alas! that thou
In marble tomb should sleep!
And leave the weary heart and brow
Thy vigils lone to keep.
And yet 'tis better thus than feel
The crushed heart's mad despair;
Alas! no balm those woes may heal
Love—death—have planted there.
Farewell! farewell! my buried love,
No pangs may wring thy heart;
Enough for me to gaze above,
To meet where none may part!
poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth
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The Saddest Fate
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever mute
The dear old tunes to sing--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all.
To sigh for pleasures flown,
To weep for withered flowers,
To count the blessings we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have known them at all.
To dream of love and rest,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last--
What sadder fate could any heart befall?
Alas! dear child, ne'er to have loved at all.
To trust an unknown good,
To hope, but all in vain,
Over a far-off bliss to brood,
Only to find it pain--
What sadder fate could any soul befall?
Alas! dear child, never to hope at all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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0007 African Child
What's that dirty mark on the carpet in front of the TV, Mom?
That's just a shadow from tne screen, dear.
I feel sick, Mom, I must've eaten something nasty?
I expect it's that film, dear..shall we turn it off?
Is that a boy or girl baby crying, Mom?
Didn't notice dear, why, does it matter?
What's that group of men just off-screen, Dad?
They're just interested in the film.
Then why aren't they with the Moms, helping?
They may not be the fathers, dear.
(She's too young yet, to know about child-rape, honey,
though I guess we'll have to tell her sometime...)
Then where are their real Dads?
I expect they're dead, dear.
Dad you won't die will you, promise?
I hope not, darling, I'll try not to...
Why are they so hungry, Dad, when the TV can go there?
Their country's in a mess, dear.
But they always used to have enough to eat,
otherwise they wouldn't have dads and moms themselves?
It's a long and sad story, darling, I'm not sure
that I can explain it to you. I wish I knew the answer.
Will those flies on the babies' eyes come off the screen, come here?
No darling, it's Africa.
Don't they hurt? Why don't their Dads brush them off
instead of just standing there?
I expect they're used to them in Africa, dear..
shall we turn the TV off?
No I want to watch, I want to help them.
That's very good of you, darling, maybe
when you're grown up? It may be better then.
What will make it better, Dad?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Man To Man
bossman, bossman
crying in your gravy;
call me worthless, useless,
just dont call me lazy.
hard to keep your houses,
hard to keep your cars.
turn your head, lift up your nose,
so you cant see my scars.
count your money, count it well,
is my picture on each bill?
come on down to this poor man's town,
and i'll show you what's really real!
truth is, i'm fed up,
not going to take it any more!
i'm not your boy, not your trash,
not your excuse, not your whore.
i dont want your riches,
all the things you're clinging to.
just a little respect, some dignity.....
man to man, me and you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I do write about people who are complex and are striving with something and can't quite get past their own stuff, which would be a proxy for myself because that's what the deal is with me.
quote by Eric Bogosian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear motorist on the information superhighway. I'm sorry I do not have a car.
Looking for Eric
Steve Evets, Eric Cantona, Stephanie Bishop, Gerard Kearns, Stefan Gumbs
from Looking for Eric (2009)
Submitted by Maria
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Wish You Were Here
I sent you a postcard
Thought it would be funny
Would have sent a souvenir
But they took all my money
It's pretty warm down here but it ain't sunny
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I tried to call you
I tried to call you
Long distance operators that only stall you
Besides the damn rates are so high
They just appall you
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
It started out a nice vacation
Left the station right on time
Can't get a ticket to get me home, dear
They just don't have too many flights from twilight zone, dear
So don't forget to feed my cats
Spot and Jerome, dear
And I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
Seeing all the sights here
I'm getting lonely
I'd show you all the film I took if they would only
Let me go home
Dear, sincerely
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
I'm having a hell of a time, my dear
Wish you were here
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About Eric
There is a similarity about them.
Eric, and my father.
Quiet men, who went about their lives
doing well for others.
Gentle men, who didn't seek rewards,
the doing would suffice.
When I talk with Eric,
memories of my father come flooding back.
The timbre of his voice,
an occasional gesture,
the size and shape of him.
I look forward to those moments joyously,
sometimes sadly.
My father's passing?
An unfathomable void.
To Eric, I repeat the words I spoke
the night my father died.
'Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'
Eric Smith, friend and mentor, died on
January 4,2006 aged 92
poem by Jerry Hughes
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Fair Tax Plan
a fair tax plan:
(based on a family of four)
0 - 20,000 = 0 percent (poverty)
20,000 - 30,000 2.5%
30,000 - 40,000 5%
40,000 - 50,000 7.5%
50,000 up to - 10 %
250,000 up - 12.5%
take the load off of the poor,
and put it where it belongs!
no loopholes!
make adjustments for single payers,
and families of different sizes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Discrimination Is Wrong
whether it be
old and young
white and black
Asian and Hispanic
man and woman
or man and man
woman and woman
rich and poor
liberal and conservative
everyone has the right
to love and be loved
discrimination is wrong!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eden
Where is this place called Eden?
It is wherever you are.
It cannot be found without you.
Its place is way too far.
But when you are with me
I'm in Paradise.
The angels are singing our song dear
and everything's sweetness and spice.
We can find Eden together.
We can make it our own.
Eden is where you are dear.
This I have always known.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I was in the main draw from the start, my opening match was on Court One against Jan Eric Lundquist of Sweden who was about eight in the world at the time.
quote by John Newcombe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Birthday....
Dear Lord.... Good morning
Thanks for brightly December
Thanks for those smile
Thanks for nice neighborhood
Thanks for forgiveness
Thanks for a very special today
For a Birthday of my son's cousin
Dear Lord... Let The Holly Spirit
Bring our smile in our family
Let us have a a good respect for one to another
We can't be a hero without You, my dear Lord
Lord, let us put this heart on You
With share to others
With the unspoken of True Love
But with the act of love
Dear Lord.... You open our eyes
The winner of all battle are
People who can change lust in to true love
The winner of all games
are not the people who have a lot of money
But the winner are people who can always smile
when people insulted them
when people humiliated them
when people can give to others even though they are poor
Dear Lord.... I am honest to you
It's difficult to be a winner
But i try my best to love to people who hate and hurt me
I try to give without ask them to return
I pray for them Lord
So they have a pure heart to others too
Lord, i believe You will make us smile
I don't want to cry
I let go my sins
And i want to do it right
Only to make You happy
Lord... by saying these words
A peaceful feeling is really coming in to my heart
Keep my heart always clean from any sin
Amen..
Ode To Eric Clapton
Hear Eric Clapton's got the blues
did he pay his dues
have you heard the news
hear Eric Clapton's got the blues.
Nicknamed old slow hand in band
Eric is the master blues guitar hand
always with his back against the wall
yet Eric Clapton stands noble and tall.
Started out over thirty years ago
his guitar style developed blues flow
an second only too late Jimi Hendrix
Eric played with heavy cream mix.
Through the high times and the bad
sometimes feeling crazy and mad
battling wild destructive stardom scene
taking trips both right and wrong dream.
Road to excess leads to wisdom song
although the road is often long
I'm quoting Eric's favourite line
these words that spring to mine.
Having self confessed addictive personality
is Eric's dark blues self analysis key
but today Eric lets his guitar talk
all the way from London to New York.
Doing the prince charity time trust
each and every year is indeed a must
playing regularly London's Albert Hall
Eric stands tall and isn't about to fall.
Admired by every guitar slinger around
Eric's guitar creates the blues sound
with master blues ace calling card
Eric Clapton plays honest and hard.
And the blues is always played real
let's you have honest emotion to feel
singing about love affairs of the heart
blows all our false pretense apart.
Nineties Eric wears his blues mantle proud
playing his guitar notes inspired and loud
with both subtle and heavy born emotion
laying down blues flavour stylish devotion.
Yes Eric Clapton's got the blues
did you pay your dues
whose gonna break the news
yes Eric Clapton's got the blues.
poem by Wayne Falconer
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Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field;
Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield,
And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
Ay me, ay me, that life can not have lasting leave,
Nor gold take hold of everlasting joy:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that time hath talents to receive,
And yet no time can make a suer stay.
Ay me, ay me, that wit can not have wished choice,
Nor wish can win that will desires to see:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that mirth can promise no rejoice,
Nor study tell what afterward shall be.
Ay me, ay me, that no sure staff is given to age,
Nor age can give sure wit that youth will take:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that no counsel wise and sage
Will shun the show that all doth mar and make.
Ay me, ay me, come, Time, shear on and shake thy hay,
It is no boot to balk thy bitter blows:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, come, Time, take everything away,
For all is thine, be it good or bad, that grows.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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