En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Thoughts About The Person From Porlock

Coleridge received the Person from Porlock
And ever after called him a curse,
Then why did he hurry to let him in?
He could have hid in the house.

It was not right of Coleridge in fact it was wrong
(But often we all do wrong)
As the truth is I think he was already stuck
With Kubla Khan.

He was weeping and wailing: I am finished, finished,
I shall never write another word of it,
When along comes the Person from Porlock
And takes the blame for it.

It was not right, it was wrong,
But often we all do wrong.

*

May we inquire the name of the Person from Porlock?
Why, Porson, didn’t you know?
He lived at the bottom of Porlock Hill
So had a long way to go,

He wasn’t much in the social sense
Though his grandmother was a Warlock,
One of the Rutlandshire ones I fancy
And nothing to do with Porlock,

And he lived at the bottom of the hill as I said
And had a cat named Flo,
And had a cat named Flo.

I long for the Person from Porlock
To bring my thoughts to an end,
I am becoming impatient to see him
I think of him as a friend,

Often I look out of the window
Often I run to the gate
I think, He will come this evening,
I think it is rather late.

I am hungry to be interrupted
For ever and ever amen
O Person from Porlock come quickly
And bring my thoughts to an end.

*

I felicitate the people who have a Person from Porlock
To break up everything and throw it away
Because then there will be nothing to keep them
And they need not stay.

*

Why do they grumble so much?
He comes like a benison
They should be glad he has not forgotten them
They might have had to go on.

*

These thoughts are depressing I know. They are depressing,
I wish I was more cheerful, it is more pleasant,
Also it is a duty, we should smile as well as submitting
To the purpose of One Above who is experimenting
With various mixtures of human character which goes best,
All is interesting for him it is exciting, but not for us.
There I go again. Smile, smile, and get some work to do
Then you will be practically unconscious without positively having to go.

poem by Stevie Smith
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A Song Of Exmoor

The Forest above and the Combe below,
On a bright September morn!
He's the soul of a clod who thanks not God
That ever his body was born!
So hurry along, the stag's afoot,
The Master's up and away!
Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

So hurry along, the stag's afoot,
The Master's up and away!
Halloo! Halloo! we'll follow it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

Hark to the tufters' challenge true,
'Tis a note that the red-deer knows!
His courage awakes, his covert he breaks,
And up for the moor he goes!
He's all his rights and seven on top,
His eye's the eye of a king,
And he'll beggar the pride of some that ride
Before he leaves the ling!

Here comes Antony bringing the pack,
Steady! he's laying them on!
By the sound of their chime you may tell that it's time
To harden your heart and be gone.
Nightacott, Narracott, Hunnacott's passed,
Right for the North they race:
He's leading them straight for Blackmoor Gate,
And he's setting a pounding pace!

We're running him now on a breast-high scent,
But he leaves us standing still;
When we swing round by Westland Pound
He's far up Challacombe Hill.
The pack are a string of struggling ants,
The quarry's a dancing midge,
They're trying their reins on the edge of the Chains
While he's on Cheriton Ridge.

He's gone by Kittuck and Lucott Moor,
He's gone by Woodcock's Ley;
By the little white town he's turned him down,
And he's soiling in open sea.
So hurry along, we'll both be in,
The crowd are a parish away!
We're a field of two, and we've followed it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

So hurry along, we'll both be in,
The crowd are a parish away!
We're a field of two, and we've followed it through
From Bratton to Porlock Bay!

poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Porlock

Porlock! thy verdant vale so fair to sight,
Thy lofty hills which fern and furze imbrown,
The waters that roll musically down
Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight
Recalls to memory, and the channel grey
Circling its surges in thy level bay.
Porlock! I shall forget thee not,
Here by the unwelcome summer rain confined;
But often shall hereafter call to mind
How here, a patient prisoner, 'twas my lot
To wear the lonely, lingering close of day,
Making my sonnet by the alehouse fire,
Whilst Idleness and Solitude inspire
Dull rhymes to pass the duller hours away.

poem by Robert Southey
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You Hate the Telephone

You hate the telephone
but will not see me
face to face
so I am left
beseeching you
long-distance,
trying to thread our love
along the telephone poles
of Vermont,
trying to tunnel it
under the Atlantic
as if it were
a rare fossil
I'd unearthed,
or an offshore pipe
bearing precious oil.

But it is your face
I love,
your funny grin
that now seems
cruel around the edges.
You do not wish to be
cruel-you,
the kindest person in the world,
but driven to curious
rages
when you feel
pressured, frustrated,
saddled with
an albatross of love
like an ancient
mariner
who tells his same sad story
to the wedding guests.

The telephone will not
suffice.
Coleridge would have
loathed it,
& so would his
mariner.
It is our modern
Person from Porlock,
interrupting poems,
interrupting loves
& forever
keeping us at arm's length.

I would look you in the eye
again, saying yes, yes, yes-
we have said no enough,
for the rest
of many lifetimes.

poem by Erica Jong
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Rare Thoughts that Never Go away

Has anyone out there reading this
Ever thought about that one person that is always in your thoughts and they never go away?
Well many of us out there are too scared of what or whom we miss
And then there are some of us that can't stop thinking of them throughout the day
Well I am this kind of person that just met a person not long ago
And I am here to say that my thoughts are of this person that I really admire
There are so many people that say how you can feel that way about someone who you barely know
I simply tell them that I trust in the Lord's every desire
Even though finding that one kind of person in everyone's life is rare
Who is always willing to listen and be gentle and kind
I hope that everyone can find this type of person that seems to always be there
Because I want her to know this is why she is always on my mind
And this is why these thoughts never go away
Because of the friendship that has come from the Heaven Above
This is why I am glad, for these thoughts are here to stay
And hopefully those thoughts and feelings will turn from friendship to passionate love

By Frank Pulver

poem by Frank Pulver
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Wrong Person

Once you have come to that wrong person
And have not tell him what you want,
In your heart the light you have turned on
Have not enlightened the heart of that wrong person.
Is that the reason that you have gone
Very far away without saying any word of forlorn?
But why he makes mistakes, why he fails,
You have never understood him, you have never known.
That person loves a wrong woman
And does not turn from her though he gets pain.
Is the pain you have gotten for loving him the reason
That in the feeling of pique you have left him alone?

From the heart of that person
He also loved you once in any unknown reason;
Suddenly a mistake drove him to a storm
And took him away very far from (you) .

Now that person burns in regret,
What his fault is that you have left (him) .
You are not with him now a days,
There is no solace to forget pains.
He knows that he has done wrong in everything,
May be death will be the pay for his wrongdoing.

poem by Riffat Samad
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Human Beings

Uncle Dan said
'now listen
There's right and there's wrong
and there two kinds of people:

those that can't be trusted to be right
and those that cannot be trusted with being wrong.

Take out the microscope and lets' see
what that person does when they
have you in the wrong.

If they treat you like you ain't' human
anymore
then that is the face of evil.

I worry more about those who
think they's absolutely right tho
than those that know's they's wrong.

Find out who is convinced they's
absolutely right about anything
and run the other way
that is a dangerous woman,
or man.

Now if you find a person who
sees that you is wrong and
don't judge.
That is a human being.
that includes you judging others
too.
Avoid people trying to prove
they is right
sure sign that they is wrong.
Avoid the person constantly
talking about how they have
been wronged
just means they are waiting their
change to get even on somebody
anybody
anybody close will do.

Talk to people who say
I may be right or I may be wrong
but proving right or wrong is not important
only how you treat people and yourself
inside
is important.
Leave the rest.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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What Can One Person Do

(n. rodgers/g. smith)
What can one person do
More than a little bit
More than a little bit
Can I fight the battle
All by myself
Can I make a miracle happen
As long as I can think
And got my health
Ill never stop
Im too strong for that
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Everyones gotta move
What they can move
The faithful can sometimes move mountains
When your faith is right
You will never lose your heart, your hope
Or your good friends
Dont be overcome by frustrations
Live up to your highest expectations
Im tellin you just for your information
Just for, just for your information
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Looked into my soul and suspected
That Im gonna take, gonna take on the unexpected
Walked into the fire unprotected
Walk into the fire
What can one person do
What can one person be
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me

song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Reflection

At one time I was blind
Blinded by the person in the mirror
The person in the mirror
Was someone I didn't like
A person that was full of anger
Anger which know one could stop
A person who was dishonest
A person who lied to themselves
A person who lied, cheated and stole
This person scared me
Yet the reflection I seen
Was me
How could this be me?
I didn't like this person I was looking at
That person couldn't of been me
Yet it was time to face the facts
This was me
This is who I'am
Now I know I had to change
If I didn't like this person
Then who would like this person?

poem by Ashley Olson
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The Same As I

i get so tired
of writing poems
about suffering....

but everywhere i look,
all around me,
people are hurting....

and try as i might,
i cant close my eyes,
cant shut my ears up

to the sounds of need and want.
and i cannot be silent
as long as there's one person

who is not free,
one person whose rights
have been violated....

one person who is hungry,
one person who is homeless,
one person sick who cannot

get medical care....
one person abused, enslaved,
or treated like property...

i cannot, and i will not stop,
for they are the same
as i... i see their faces

every time i look in the mirror!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Anger.... what does it mean to me?

Anger isn't just a feeling, an emotion to detain. Anger is an action that desires the true intentions to burst forth from their towers and let be to roam about for it's own destiny. An action so precise that it with holds the power of concept of it's own imagination to soar. An action so horrid that an army has to refrian it's actions to stop before and 'accident' must occur. But is it an accident? If you purposely try to harm the uninnocent, and morely to the innocent, is it still just an accident? There are two sides to this question..................

Yes, because anger can build up for almost an entire life but one day it will break free and sometimes at the wrong person atthe wrong time in front of the wrong people. These accidents can come out completely wrong and then you are left ashamed and wit-minded. Whomever pushes the buttoms of a very ppeaceful person is only asking for trouble so therefore, no one expects any one to sit in a corner and take all of the stress with out acting out. It is just unsafe and unhealthy to the person itself!

And no it is not an accident because most people can control their temper, it just depends on te person and the moment it takes place in and the amount of anger excluded. The human temper is short, but once you go that short distance, you can sometimes hold out for awile longer. And once you notice that your temper level is getting too high, you tend to act on it by doing something regretful towards either the person causing the anger or the wrong person in general.

So anger is just more than that of an emothion, it is a feeling and an action. It only goes soul deep.......

poem by Erin Grantham
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My Grandmother Used to Say

My grandmother used to say
you can't threaten
a poor man with poverty
a loveless soul with loneliness
a hard heart with pitilessness
because all these
lacks
are never noticed by those
already far gone.

You don't bring coals to Newcastle
bride an honest man
teach character-
that is something which must be lived-
Never try she would say
to be young past your age
kiss evil on the mouth
break the golden rule

Never kick a person when they are down
take victory laps
brag over small successes
Never tell your truth and ignore
the truth of others
think that you are the smartest person in the room
at all times;

My grandmother used to say.

Understand
she would say
that when you die
your only chance to live forever
is to spend you life
loving others.
My Grandmother used to say.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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What I Appreciate

I appreciate
A person who acknowledge
His or her mistakes
I appreciate a person
Who apologizes
And doesn't hesitate
I appreciate
A person who makes
You believe
What they say because
They mean it truly
I appreciate
A person who keeps their word
After all it's what I deserve
I appreciate
A person who's apology
I can accept
Because it will be sincere
And I can forgive and forget it
I appreciate
Having someone I admire
It is my desire
I appreciate a person
Like this I would
Be truly flattered
For it's important
And to me it matters
So I know you are wondering
Can I do the same thing.....
Absolutely

poem by Tameeka Smith
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A Piece of Sky

No one can own a color; no one can own a cloud.
No one on Earth could ever, I'm glad it's not allowed!
No person owns a person, though some may think they do.
No person owns the ocean; I know this to be true!
I cannot own a sparrow, I cannot own a tree.
Even in my own backyard they don't belong to me!
No one can own the starlight; no one can own the sun.
No person owns a river, it simply can't be done!
No one can own a desert, the planets or their moons.
We’re all just One Race: Human, same words with many tunes!
No one may claim ownership to TEAR or SMILE or SIGH!
Or take away your DREAMS so...

poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Am I not a person?

Am I not a person?


It would appear.
That im not a person.
Not quite human.
More like a zombie so to say.

Am I not a person?
That is the question.
Im not a person.
Not quite human.

An emotionless wrekage.
Within the walls of brakeage.
Am I not quite a person?

Im not quite humane.
Not quite the person.
I once used to be.

Am I a person?
Or just a big mess.
And a sorry excuse
For a person?

Im not quite a person.
This I do now no.
Im more like a zombie.

Am I not quite a person.
Nope Im not.

I just one sad sorry mess.
A zombie of my formerself.
Just a sad sorry mess.
And a pethetic excuse
For a life.

Amy Kerswell

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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My Cousin broke my heart

i thought i looked up 2 you
i thought i called you my cuz
that i'll never forget
how wrong was i
i thought you were great
i thought you were my older cuz
sumone and the only person
i could look up 2
then you go a pull ur shit
i cant get over how wrong i was
you not a person i can look up 2
cuz a person i could look up 2
would talk to me when i call
and no make up excuses 2 not talk 2 me
so all i have 2 say is
icant believe i ever looked up 2 you

poem by Heather Noble
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When A Person Does Not Know What To Do With Himself

WHEN A PERSON DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIMSELF

When a person does not know what to do with himself
When a person feels empty
When a person feels everything he had done and everything he can do do is meaningless
When a person is bored
When a person does not know what to do with himself
And wonders why he is on this earth
And how he will endure more of it
When a person does not know what to do with himself
He must do any little thing he can do
To get himself going-
He must wash the dishes or clean the house or take something to eat or take a small walk or read a page
Or do any one of a million or more other small things to get himself going
And once he is going he must somehow go on and on and from this to something else
So that at some point somewhere along the way somehow
He is doing something
Perhaps not that great
But doing something
And in doing something
Perhaps forgetting about himself
A bit
Perhaps.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Cure At Porlock

For whatever did it—the cider
at the Ship Inn, where the crowd
from the bar that night had overflowed
singing into Southey’s Corner, or

an early warning of appendicitis—
the remedy the chemist in the High Street
purveyed was still a dose of kaopectate
in morphine—the bane and the afflatus

of S.T.C. when Alph, the sacred river,
surfaced briefly in the unlikely
vicinity of Baker Farm, and as quickly
sank again, routed forever by the visitor

whose business, intent and disposition—
whether ill or well is just as immaterial—
long ago sunk Lethewards, a particle
of the unbottled ultimate solution.

I drank my dose, and after an afternoon
prostrate, between heaves, on the
coldly purgatorial tiles of the W.C.,
found it elysium simply to recline,

sipping flat ginger beer as though it were
honeydew, in that billowy bed,
under pink chenille, hearing you read
The Mystery of Edwin Drood! For whether

the opium was worth it for John Jasper,
from finding being with you, even sick
at Porlock, a rosily addictive picnic,
I left less likely ever to recover.

poem by Amy Clampitt
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Positive Thinker

Am I a good thinker?
Can I see what others don't?
Am I a daring person?
Can I do what others do not like to do?
Or others are afraid to do?

Am I a creative and imaginative person?
Can I see the invisible?
Can I feel the intangible?
Can I achieve the impossible?

Am I a contemplating person?
Am I a self-reflective person?
Am I a confidence person?
Am I a self-reliance person?

Can I be a perfect person?
Can I be a clever person?
Can I be a smart thinker person?

Above all,
I prefer to be
A simple person
With a positive attitude,
Not only accept positive things,
But willing to accept negative things.

poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The word mother

The word mother,
Has a secret power,
Whenever I'm in danger,
You'll be there.

The word that gives me power,
The word that protects me,
The word that accompanys me,
Is you, my mother.

The person that encourages me,
The person that gives me confidence,
The person that gives me motivation,
Is you again, my mother.

The person that gave birth to me,
The person that cares for me,
The person that feed me,
The person that teaches me,
It's you, my mother
Happy mothers day!

poem by Winter Galz
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A Wanted Person

You are a wanted person and,
You've stolen from many;
You are a wanted person and,
You thought you are rich from your theft.
The law is looking for you,
The people are tracking for you down,
But for how long will you hide from them?
A wanted person is what you are,
So try to sow a better seed than hate;
A wanted person is what you are,
So try to do the right thing than stealing;
One day the law will get to you.
You will be exposed one day,
You will be caught one day,
There and then you will know your mistakes;
A wanted person is what you are.
Like the nakedness of a chicken,
Likewise will your shame be;
You are a wanted person and,
The law is after you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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