Shirley
Your orange, green and black tape-measure
(In inches, of course)
Curls comfortably, as it always has,
On the table beside you;
And your needles click happily,
Lovingly working the wool together,
Knowing the human warmth they share
And create for another's body and being;
You are your knitting,
With your caring and love,
And your orange, green and black tape-measure
(In inches, of course)
poem by Roger Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
To look across at Moira gives me pleasure
To look across at Moira gives me pleasure.
She has a red tape measure.
Her dress is black and all the workroom's dreary,
And I am weary.
But that's like blood—like a thin blood stream trickling
Like a fire quickening.
It's Revolution. Ohé, I take pleasure
In Moira's red tape measure.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Choose Your Color
I will paint the walls blue
Blue is calm, blue is power
Blue is the color of tranquility
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the ceiling green
Green is healthy, green is peace
Green makes time move faster
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the floor red
Red is fire, red is danger
Red is the symbol of passion
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the sky purple
Purple is sad, purple is gloomy
Purple is the color of romance
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the tree black
Black is fear, black is death
Black is the symbol of grief
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the street yellow
Yellow is happy, yellow is fresh
Yellow is the color of sunshine
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the fence orange
orange is wisdom, orange is wealth
Orange is the color of success
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint everything white
White is good, white is pure
White is the color of faith
Have you seen my colors yet?
(August 16th,2006)
poem by Christopher G. Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A tribute to the BBC 'Young Musician of 2008
This is what love
sounds like. This
is how you know
the heart is only ever one.
This boy, he’s twelve years old,
he’s standing on the platform
in the huge hall. He’s simply
waiting to play himself to you.
The trombone is now a few inches
shorter than he is. When he started,
it was bigger than he was.
He begins to play, Can this sweetness
have come from this contraption?
If Pythagoras was lecturing tonight
on music, measure, the harmony of spheres,
he’d have brought his tape measure
in case we needed proof.
If giraffes could sing,
they would sing to this trombone,
knowing themselves beautiful like it,
knowing that they both know
where music comes from.
How far it goes.
The sound says,
purity sounds like this. Listen.
The sound says,
did you know that innocence
can contain the whole of wisdom?
Listen.
The sound says,
did you know that experience
can know itself in music?
Listen.
The sound says,
I am music. This
Is what music is. I am
all music in this moment.
If tears were joys, they
would sound like this.
If joys were tears, they
would both sound like this.
The sound says,
I was made for this.
Listen.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Orange And Green Will Carry The Day
Ireland! rejoice, and England! deplore
Faction and feud are passing away.
'Twas a low voice, but 'tis a loud roar,
'Orange and Green will carry the day.'
Orange! Orange!
Green and Orange!
Pitted together in many a fray
Lions in fight!
And linked in their might,
Orange and Green will carry the day.
Orange! Orange!
Green and Orange!
Wave them together o'er mountain and bay.
Orange and Green!
Our King and our Queen!
'Orange and Green will carry the day!'
Rusty the swords our fathers unsheathed
William and James are turned to clay
Long did we till the wrath they bequeathed,
Red was the crop, and bitter the pay!
Freedom fled us!
Knaves misled us!
Under the feet of the foemen we lay
Riches and strength
We'll win them at length,
For Orange and Green will carry the day!
Landlords fooled us;
England ruled us,
Hounding our passions to make us their prey;
But, in their spite,
The Irish UNITE,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
Fruitful our soil where honest men starve;
Empty the mart, and shipless the bay;
Out of our want the Oligarchs carve;
Foreigners fatten on our decay!
Disunited,
Therefore blighted,
Ruined and rent by the Englishman's sway;
Party and creed
For once have agreed
Orange and Green will carry the day!
Boyne's old water,
Red with slaughter!
Now is as pure as an infant at play;
So, in our souls,
Its history rolls,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
English deceit can rule us no more;
Bigots and knaves are scattered like spray
Deep was the oath the Orangeman swore,
'Orange and Green must carry the day!'
Orange! Orange!
Bless the Orange!
Tories and Whigs grew pale with dismay,
When from the North
Burst the cry forth,
'Orange and Green will carry the day!'
No surrender!
No Pretender!
Never to falter and never betray
With an Amen,
We swear it again,
ORANGE AND GREEN SHALL CARRY THE DAY.
poem by Thomas Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Orange And Green Will Carry The Day
AIR--_The Protestant Boys._
I.
Ireland! rejoice, and England! deplore--
Faction and feud are passing away.
'Twas a low voice, but 'tis a loud roar,
'Orange and Green will carry the day.'
Orange! Orange!
Green and Orange!
Pitted together in many a fray--
Lions in fight!
And linked in their might,
Orange and Green will carry the day.
Orange! Orange!
Green and Orange!
Wave them together o'er mountain and bay.
Orange and Green!
Our King and our Queen!
'Orange and Green will carry the day!'
II.
Rusty the swords our fathers unsheathed--
William and James are turned to clay--
Long did we till the wrath they bequeathed,
Red was the crop, and bitter the pay!
Freedom fled us!
Knaves misled us!
Under the feet of the foemen we lay--
Riches and strength
We'll win them at length,
For Orange and Green will carry the day!
Landlords fooled us;
England ruled us,
Hounding our passions to make us their prey;
But, in their spite,
The Irish UNITE,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
III.
Fruitful our soil where honest men starve;
Empty the mart, and shipless the bay;
Out of our want the Oligarchs carve;
Foreigners fatten on our decay!
Disunited,
Therefore blighted,
Ruined and rent by the Englishman's sway;
Party and creed
For once have agreed--
Orange and Green will carry the day!
Boyne's old water,
Red with slaughter!
Now is as pure as an infant at play;
So, in our souls,
Its history rolls,
And Orange and Green will carry the day!
IV.
English deceit can rule us no more;
Bigots and knaves are scattered like spray--
Deep was the oath the Orangeman swore,
'Orange and Green must carry the day!'
Orange! Orange!
Bless the Orange!
Tories and Whigs grew pale with dismay,
When from the North
Burst the cry forth,
'Orange and Green will carry the day!'
No surrender!
No Pretender!
Never to falter and never betray--
With an Amen,
We swear it again,
ORANGE AND GREEN SHALL CARRY THE DAY.
poem by Thomas Osborne Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paint
Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent
Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret
Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen
Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light
Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'
Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style
Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.
Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If I Had a Paintbrush
If I had a paintbrush, I'd paint my world orange.
Orange for the Destruction and Purity of Fire;
For the Power of the Sun;
For the Patience and Innocence of a Child;
For the careful Balance between the Material and Spiritual;
For the Happiness and Goodness in the World;
For Light and the Truth.
Orange for Life.
And among all the millions of shades of orange,
I would paint a splash of light green.
Green for Hope.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fading Shades of Gray
An autumn leaf descends toward a fire—
Slowly, like a feather in the soft wind.
Dehydrated, its orange body is crisp
And brittle enough to crumble in hand.
In the past few weeks, the branches above
Have grown barren—so quickly they have thinned—
And the brisk air has become harsh and cold
As if to say nature's warmth must expire.
What was once green covers in the thick smoke
That pillows up from the crackling land.
The smolder of time takes each fading shade.
Orange becomes red and black edges expand
‘Til the veins flow gray. The leaf, ashen-skinned,
Becomes the dust of seasons to transpire.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prince Of Orange
Look at these hands
Spokes of the sun God delay you, spray you
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Brass robinettes
Trumpet and drums for the taking, baking
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
All the food he steals is all right
Far the tall and gentle poplar
Causing fanfare to those listening
Now
Drape round your head
Mischief and secrets in green kelt, all hell
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die.
Look at these lands (--- --- ---)
Youll get no books for your dinner
Sinner
Prince of orange, climb the ladder
Prince of orange will die
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Grandpa Orange Garden
From my grandpa Orange Garden
You can saw green orange leaf
all over the place
it fruits had started ripening
He frequently late going home
My grandma hit “Kentongan ”)
For going home soonly
But my grandpa workinghard
Forgotten to eat and drink, and going home
When he going home he saw the roof falling down
And black cloud seen in the sky
Quickly my grandfather took the ladder
Up to the roof and care the roof
For bettering their room
The rain fall from the sky
My grandpa walking down from teh roof
sleppy, and never wake up again
my grandma cried till morning
forgotten the orange fruit harvest
she embrace her husband slept strectched on the ground
in the meeting room
where children and grandchildren are gathering
to day you couldn’t seen the green leaf orange
the fresh orange leave the smeel in my reminiscences
the garden leave high and dry
no grandpa touch down at
the leafs through,
it stalks to let dryness
dryness and to wither
the dush fly everywhere
the house and garden is empty
only ghosts dwell in that house
I still remember
I fomerly run there
Among the orange stem trees
Under the orange leaf shady
His Only one message:
Don’t pick those oranges before ripe
Jakarta,6/29/2005
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Little Black Girl
The little black girl had no-one
That she could call her own,
While others wanted something done,
Searched for a foster home...
The days passed by, then weeks, months, years,
The waiting broke her heart...
Her precious eyes were full of tears,
Her soul was torn apart...
Red tape was all that red tape is,
It stopped God's will for her...
No-one to share a goodnight kiss,
No peace that could occur.
That special love that God decreed
Was waiting in the wings...
Yet for this new life to succeed,
It's time to change some things...
The little black girl walked alone,
No-one to hold her hand,
No-one to share the love that's known
By others in this land.
Unless things change, her loneliness
Remains her cross to bear...
Regardless of the happiness
Some sweet hearts yearn to share...
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2011.
We can hear the word of the Lord
on Revelation TV on Sky Digital
as well as the WATCH NOW link
on the revelationtv-dot-com website.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Green
How green is your valley
How lush is your path to your garden of love
Is it overshadowed by the cross of persecution
How green is your memory
Is it poverty and ruin choked with weeds of despair
Is it blossoms of peace and pleasures
Beyond which there is none to compare
How green is your table
Is it filled with delights of wicked consumption
Is it dangled on meat from the hook in your lair
From that insidious malicious sinister dare
Money
How green
How green
How green
How green is your tomorrow
How green is your eternity
How green
Or is it black and white
poem by Gary Revel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Colors
sky blue clouds
saffron flowers
green green grass
orange horizons
fading afternoon
black starless nights
pastel brown nipples
spreading legs
on white mattresses.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Can Not Tell This By My Appearance
'Are you mad? '
Of course!
'Good!
I was so afraid,
I'd be the only one.
Here.
Use this.'
What am I going to need the tape for?
'Your smile.
Smile...
Then tape it!
We will never escape...
If anyone should detect,
You are not happy...
And not going along with the BS.
You will be reported to the authorities.
Use the tape quickly.
There's not too much time,
To find others.
We must find them.
Then we must go underground...
To share our happiness and reality.'
Seriously...
I am quite mad.
Pissed to high heaven.
'That's fine.
You can not tell this by my appearance...
But I am outraged! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Color Of The Wind
The wind blows blue
when it misses you.
the wind blows red
when it knows your dead.
the wind blows green
when it it sees you being mean.
the wind blows white
when your about to take flight.
the wind blows black
whenever it knows your not coming back.
the wind blows pink
whenever your blood is ink.
the wind blows orange
whenever you cant rhyme with orange.
the wind blows yellow
whenever you cant be mellow.
if i am black
then why wont you ever come back?
if i am red
then shall i weep because your dead?
if i am blue
then should i miss you?
if i am green
then must you be very mean?
if i am yellow
then why wont you be mellow?
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What you need to do is get that tape measure out, and start measuring that gut. Then you start working out and you start eating properly till that gut gets down close to it was when you were in your 20's. Then you'll find out what your weight should be.
quote by Jack LaLanne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Don't pay any attention to what they write about you. Just measure it in inches.
quote by Andy Warhol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
All the dialogue on tape, and we'd play the tape in performance. Then I thought it'd be interesting if the actor's repeated what they heard on the tape, but at a slower speed, so we'd get a web of language.
quote by Richard Foreman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Red And Orange
Ther's a red house,
Inside there's an orange door.
Beside that there's a red carpet,
On top of an orange floor.
There's a red table,
Below an orange ceiling.
Upstairs there's a red bed,
Inside an orange room.
There's a couple of red people sleeping soundly,
Next door two orange ones too.
Outside there's a red truck,
No one knows what to do.
I don't see the proble,
Why don't you leave us all alone.
But now I see the red more clearly,
And I know what's done is done.
And I'll float away with the cloudy smoke,
Before the inevertable happens and I start to choke.
Good bye red house,
So long orange door.
I'm going for a long sleep noe,
Six feet under the floor.