The Yukoner
He burned a hole in frozen muck,
He pierced the icy mould,
And there in six-foot dirt he struck
A sack or so of gold.
He burned holes in the Decalogue,
And then it cam about,
For Fortune's just a lousy rogue,
His "pocket" petered out.
And lo! 'twas but a year all told,
When there in a shadow grim,
In six feet deep of icy mould
They burned a hole for him.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
The foot and mouth crisis 2001
A clue: "Memitim" 2 down,5 across, DEATH...
Another farmer holds his "breath"
His crossword puzzle now solved,
As he sits by the open fire resolved.
Firebrats shimmer like melting
Sparks through grates, between falling,
Slivering, among, the black slates.
Like silver ashen; phosphates!
Covering that hearths entirety,
They too show there's no need for "piety"
As the future ghosts of the living; burn.
His world is an up-turned urn.
Listing he hears the cries of the last dying ewe.
Whilst angels of death beyond; "view"
Descend across each patchwork acre…
He himself too! screams at his maker.
Prier on prier, prayer on prayer!
Foot and mouth each neighboring "acre"
Burned black in the gasoline air…
Each man alone dies by his plowshare.
As more firebrats, recurred…
Another flock: another herd
Burned; like unguided lost souls
Stacked kindling in piled coals.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Dream
I dreamed that I ws dead and crossed the heavens,--
Heavens after heavens with burning feet and swift,--
And cried: "O God, where art Thou?" I left one
On earth, whose burden I would pray Thee lift."
I was so dead I wondered at no thing,--
Not even that the angels slowly turned
Their faces, speechless, as I hurried by
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned);
Nor, at the first, that I could not find God,
Because the heavens stretched endlessly like space.
At last a terror siezed my very soul;
I seemed alone in all the crowded place.
Then, sudden, one compassionate cried out,
Though like the rest his face from me he turned,
As I were one no angel might regard
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned):
"No moew in heaven than earth will he find God
Who does not know his loving mercy swift
But waits the moment consummate and ripe,
Each burden, from each human soul to lift."
Though I was dead, I died again for shame;
Lonely, to flee from heaven again I turned;
The ranks of angels looked away from me
(Beneath my feet the golden pavements burned).
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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I have lived with Shades
I
I have lived with Shades so long,
So long have talked to them,
I sped to street and throng,
That sometimes they
In their dim style
Will pause awhile
To hear my say;
II
And take me by the hand,
And lead me through their rooms
In the To-Be, where Dooms
Half-wove and shapeless stand:
And show from there
The dwindled dust
And rot and rust
Of things that were.
III
"Now turn," they said to me
One day: "Look whence we came,
And signify his name
Who gazes thence at thee" --
-- "Nor name nor race
Know I, or can,"
I said, "Of man
So commonplace."
IV
"He moves me not at all:
I note no ray or jot
Of rareness in his lot,
Or star exceptional.
Into the dim
Dead throngs around
He'll sink, nor sound
Be left of him."
V
"Yet," said they, "his frail speech,
Hath accents pitched like thine --
Thy mould and his define
A likeness each to each --
But go! Deep pain
Alas, would be
His name to thee,
And told in vain!"
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Say It Ain't So Joe
(Head)
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
They told us that our hero has played his trump card
He doesn't know how to go on
We're clinging to his charm and determined smile
The good old days have gone
The image and the empire may be falling apart
The money has gotten scarce
One man's word held the country together
But the truth is getting fierce
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
We pinned our hopes on you Jo
And they're ruining our show
Ooh baby don't you think
We're gonna get burned
Ooh baby don't you think
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
Yes we're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get turned
Yes, we're gonna get burned
We're gonna get burned
We're gonna get burned
Yes we're gonna get turned
We're gonna get burned
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
That's not what I wanna hear Jo
And I got a right to know
Say it ain't so Jo, please, say it ain't so
I'm sure they're telling us lies Jo
Please tell us it ain't so
Say it ain't so
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sorceress!
I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
Hidden anywhere?"
"Look into your heart," she said,
"Aladdin's lamp is there."
She took my heart with glowing hands.
It burned to dust and air
And smoke and rolling thistledown
Blowing everywhere.
"Follow the thistledown," she said,
"Till doomsday, if you dare,
Over the hills and far away.
Aladdin's lamp is there."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Blood Road
The Old Year groaned as he trudged away,
His guilty shadow black on the snow,
And the heart of the glad New Year turned grey
At the road Time bade him go.
"O Gaffer Time, is it blood-road still?
Is the noontide dark as the stormy morn?
Is man's will yet as a wild beast's will?
When shall the Christ be born?"
He laughed as he answered, grim Gaffer Time,
Whose laugh is sadder than all men's moan.
"That name rides high on our wrath and crime,
For the Light in darkness shone.
"And thou, fair youngling, wilt mend the tale?"
The New Year stared on the misty word,
Where at foot of a cross all lustrous pale
Men raged for their gods of gold.
"Come back, Old Year, with thy burden bent.
Come back and settle thine own dark debt."
"Nay, let me haste where the years repent,
For I've seen what I would forget."
"And I, the first of a stately train,
The tramp of a century heard behind,
Must I be fouled with thy murder-stain?
Is there no pure path to find?"
The Old Year sneered as he limped away
To the place of his penance dim and far.
The New Year stood in the gates of day,
Crowned with the morning star.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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The Cow-Juice Cure
The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June,
When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's saloon.
The frost was on the fodder an' the wind was growin' keen,
When Billy got to seein' snakes in Sullivan's shebeen.
Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup:
"Oh Billy, for the love of Mike, why don't ye sober up?
I've got the gorgus recipay, 'tis smooth an' slick as silk --
Jest quit yer strangle-holt on hooch, an' irrigate with milk.
Lackteeal flooid is the lubrication you require;
Yer nervus frame-up's like a bunch of snarled piano wire.
You want to get it coated up with addypose tishoo,
So's it will work elastic-like, an' milk's the dope for you."
Well, Billy was complyable, an' in a month it's strange,
That cow-juice seemed to oppyrate a most amazin' change.
"Call up the water-wagon, Dan, an' book my seat," sez he.
"'Tis mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "'twas just the same with
me."
They shanghaied little Tim O'Shane, they cached him safe away,
An' though he objurgated some, they "cured" him night an' day;
An' pretty soon there came the change amazin' to explain:
"I'll never take another drink," sez Timothy O'Shane.
They tried it out on Spike Muldoon, that toper of renown;
They put it over Grouch McGraw, the terror of the town.
They roped in "tanks" from far and near, an' every test was sure,
An' like a flame there ran the fame of Deep-hole's Cow-juice Cure.
"It's mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "I'm puzzled through and through;
It's only milk from Riley's ranch, no other milk will do."
An' it jest happened on that night with no predictive plan,
He left some milk from Riley's ranch a-settin' in a pan;
An' picture his amazement when he poured that milk next day --
There in the bottom of the pan a dozen "colours" lay.
"Well, what d'ye know 'bout that," sez Dan; "Gosh ding my dasted eyes,
We've been an' had the Gold Cure, Bill, an' none of us was wise.
The milk's free-millin' that's a cinch; there's colours everywhere.
Now, let us figger this thing out -- how does the dust git there?
`Gold from the grass-roots down', they say -- why, Bill! we've got it cold --
Them cows what nibbles up the grass, jest nibbles up the gold.
We're blasted, bloomin' millionaires; dissemble an' lie low:
We'll follow them gold-bearin' cows, an' prospect where they go."
An' so it came to pass, fer weeks them miners might be found
A-sneakin' round on Riley's ranch, an' snipin' at the ground;
Till even Riley stops an' stares, an' presently allows:
"Them boys appear to take a mighty interest in cows."
An' night an' day they shadowed each auriferous bovine,
An' panned the grass-roots on their trail, yet nivver gold they seen.
An' all that season, secret-like, they worked an' nothin' found;
An' there was colours in the milk, but none was in the ground.
An' mighty desperate was they, an' down upon their luck,
When sudden, inspirationlike, the source of it they struck.
An' where d'ye think they traced it to? it grieves my heart to tell --
In the black sand at the bottom of that wicked milkman's well.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Night The Carousel Burnt Down
Werent you there when the carousel burned down
The fire and confusion, the smoke and the sound
I swear you were there when the carousel burned down
We were all around
The rings charred and tarnished all over the ground
And the heads hung down
And we all left town the next day
The children all cried when the carousel burned down
The old ladies sighed and the carousel burned down
The rest of us lied as the carousel burned down
And the flames did fly
The pipes steamed and shrieked out a blazing goodbye
As the boiler died
And they melted down the midway
And we all left town the next day
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy and Sorrow chapter VIII
Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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The Stalling of Q.H.F.
Horace: Epode 14
"Mollis inertia cur tantam diffuderit imis"
Maecenas, you fret me, you worry me
Demanding I turn out a rhyme;
Insisting on reasons, you hurry me;
You want my Iambics on time.
You say my ambition's diminishing;
You ask why my poem's not done.
The god it is keeps me from finishing
The stuff I've begun.
Be not so persistent, so clamorous.
Anacreon burned with a flame
Candescently, crescently amorous.
You rascal, you're doing the same!
Was no fairer the flame that burned Ilium.
Cheer up, you're a fortunate scamp,
. . . Consider avuncular William
And Phryne, the vamp.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Hard Lesson To Learn
I drifted into the notion
That you were looking for me
I told myself that devotion
Would flow from your heart to me
When I looked into your eyes
Still no reflection did I see
Of love light glowing within there
That I hoped there would be
And its a hard lesson to learn my friend
A hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
times you gonna get burned
I took a chance on emotion
Washing my heart out to see
A single wave on the ocean
You feel so distant from me
And theres a shadow dark upon your smile
A sadness living in your eyes
Storm clouds rolling in an outofdaught
Guess I been living alive
And its a hard lesson to learn my friend
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
And its a hard lesson to learn my friends
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
I drifted into the notion
That you were looking for me
I told myself that devotion
Would flow from your heart to me
But when I looked into your beautiful eyes
Still no reflection did I see
Of love light glowing within there
That I kind o hoped there would be
And its a hard lesson to learn my friends
Hard lesson to learn
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
Yeah, yeah,yeah
Yeah, yeah oh
Sometimes you gonna get what you want
Sometimes you gonna get burned
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baron Samedi
Ill show you man who walk on fire
And dont get burned
Dont get burned, dont get burned
He dont get burned
Ill show you man who tread on glass
And he dont get cut
Dont get cut, dont get cut
He dont get cut
You can take a knife and slit his throat
And he wont drop dead
Wont drop dead, wont drop dead
He wont drop dead
Been a ju-ju boy for a thousand years
And he aint cut yet
Aint cut yet, aint cut yet
He aint cut yet
Hold 'em
Youve got to crease 'em and fold 'em
Youve got to shape 'em and mould 'em
Take a piece of their soul man
Well he can take a little moonlight
Suck the poison from a snakebite
Movin round about midnight
Hes got the power of life
See the sacrifice of the virgin women
See the deadly snake and the headless chicken
Take a sip from dripping red
Make it with the living dead
Take you up when you feeling down
When youre sick he will come around
Takes his cures from out the ground
Hes the one who can hypnotize
And youll never believe your eyes
He can cause the dead to rise
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marit's Song
"Dance!" called the fiddle,
Its strings loudly giggled,
The bailiff's man wriggled
Ahead for a spree.
"Hold!" shouted Ola
And tripped him to tumbling,
The bailiff's man humbling,
To maidens' great glee.
"Hop!" said then Erik,
His foot struck the ceiling,
The beams rang their pealing,
The walls gave a shriek.
"Stop!" said now Elling,
And seizing him collared,
He held him and hollered:
"You still are too weak!"
"Hei!" said then Rasmus,
Fair Randi embracing:
"Be quick now in placing
The kiss that you know!"
"Nay!" answered Randi.
A slapping she gave him,
And from her she drave him:
"Here take what I owe!"
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Scots of the Riverina
The boy cleared out to the city from his home at harvest time --
They were Scots of the Riverina, and to run from home was a crime.
The old man burned his letters, the first and last he burned,
And he scratched his name from the Bible when the old wife's back was turned.
A year went past and another. There were calls from the firing-line;
They heard the boy had enlisted, but the old man made no sign.
His name must never be mentioned on the farm by Gundagai --
They were Scots of the Riverina with ever the kirk hard by.
The boy came home on his "final", and the township's bonfire burned.
His mother's arms were about him; but the old man's back was turned.
The daughters begged for pardon till the old man raised his hand --
A Scot of the Riverina who was hard to understand.
The boy was killed in Flanders, where the best and bravest die.
There were tears at the Grahame homestead and grief in Gundagai;
But the old man ploughed at daybreak and the old man ploughed till the mirk --
There were furrows of pain in the orchard while his housefolk went to the kirk.
The hurricane lamp in the rafters dimly and dimly burned;
And the old man died at the table when the old wife's back was turned.
Face down on his bare arms folded he sank with his wild grey hair
Outspread o'er the open Bible and a name re-written there.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Candle of Love
He was the fire...the fire to my burning candle
When I first recieved him he lit up my life
His flame burned vibrantly, it burned with care, and
it burned forever
Now that fire that once burned for me won't even
spark for me
Maybe its old, maybe I'm not lighting it right..or
maybe his flame is tired of my candle
poem by Octavia Tisdale
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Say It Aint So Jo
(head)
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Thats not what I wanna hear jo
And I got a right to know
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Im sure theyre telling us lies jo
Please tell us it aint so
They told us that our hero has played his trump card
He doesnt know how to go on
Were clinging to his charm and determined smile
The good old days have gone
The image and the empire may be falling apart
The money has gotten scarce
One mans word held the country together
But the truth is getting fierce
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
We pinned our hopes on you jo
And theyre ruining our show
Ooh baby dont you think
Were gonna get burned
Ooh baby dont you think
Were gonna get burned
Were gonna get turned
Were gonna get burned
Yes were gonna get turned
Were gonna get burned
Were gonna get turned
Yes, were gonna get burned
Were gonna get burned
Were gonna get burned
Yes were gonna get turned
Were gonna get burned
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Thats not what I wanna hear jo
And I got a right to know
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Im sure theyre telling us lies jo
Please tell us it aint so
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Thats not what I wanna hear jo
And I got a right to know
Say it aint so jo, please, say it aint so
Im sure theyre telling us lies jo
Please tell us it aint so
Say it aint so
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Night
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Y - hole- 9+2=11
Lucky at this hole.
Watchout - they steal holes.
WHO-WHO-WHO
Not them - them.
Flowing sands-sands-sands and man.
Catch infinite vibes - MAN.
HOLES-HOLES-HOLES
Gone hole insane, hole insane - PAINS.
Peephole, porthole, volcano hole.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
Sells nothing - makes money - SMART.
HOLES FOR SALE
LUCKY, , , bought a hole....SMART.
Donut holes-Bagel holes - *FOR SALE*.
Never thought about holes before.
LUCKY, , , at the, , , , ,11 hole.
LUCKY-LUCKY-LUCKY - 'knows'.
HOLES FOR SALE - {sale day}
SALE DAY - SALE DAY - SALE DAY
HOLES FOR SALE
2/27/2009 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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