I bended unto me a Bough
I bended unto me a bough of May,
That I might see and smell:
It bore it in a sort of way,
It bore it very well.
But, when I let it backward sway,
Then it were hard to tell
With what a toss, with what a swing,
The dainty thing
Resumed its proper level,
And sent me to the devil.
I know it did--you doubt it?
I turned, and saw them whispering about it.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
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Devil's Swing
Over the rushing river
Where shaggy fir-trees stand,
The devil himself is pushing
My swing with furry hand.
Pushing, he laughs away,
And up I go,
And down I go,
The seat creaks ominously,
The rope begins to fray,
Rubbing against a bough.
Prolonged the seat-board's creaking,
As up and down it glides.
With wheezy laughter shaking,
The devil holds his sides.
l hang on, swinging, gliding,
As up I go,
And down I go,
Slithering, slipping, sliding,
My dizzy gaze avoiding
The devil down below.
Above the shady fir-tree,
A voice laughs from the blue:
"You've landed on the swing, see! -
Swing, and to hell with you!"
And in the shaggy fir-tree,
A raucous hullabaloo:
"You've landed on the swing, see! -
Swing, and to hell with you!"
The devil will not leave it,
The swing will fly apace
Till with a violent buffet
I'm swept clean off my place,
Until the last few strands
Of hemp snap finally,
Until my native land
Comes flying up at me.
I'll soar above that fir-tree
And bang earth with my head.
So swing the swing on, devil,
Higher, higher... Aah!
poem by Fyodor Sologub
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The First Extra
A Waltz Song.
O sway, and swing, and sway,
And swing, and sway, and swing!
Ah me, what bliss like unto this,
Can days and daylight bring?
A rose beneath your feet
Has fallen from my head;
Its odour rises sweet,
All crushed it lies, and dead.
O Love is like a rose,
Fair-hued, of fragrant breath;
A tender flow'r that lives an hour,
And is most sweet in death.
O swing, and sway, and swing,
And rise, and sink, and fall!
There is no bliss like unto this,
This is the best of all.
Everyone is a bore to someone. That is unimportant. The thing to avoid is being a bore to oneself.
quote by Gerald Brenan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Know the audience
The elaboration will bore the intellectuals.
The technical will bore the common folks.
The romance will bore the kids
Deliveries of speech must suit the recipients
02.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Billy Khaki
Marching somewhat out of order
when the band is cock-a-hoop,
There's a lilting kind of magic in the swagger
of the troop,
Swinging all aboard the steamer with her
nose toward the sea.
What is calling, Billy Khaki, that you're foot-
ing it so free?
Though his lines are none too level,
And he lacks a bit of style.
And he's swanking like the devil
Where the women wave and smile,
He will answer with a rifle
Trim and true from stock to bore,
Where the comrades crouch and stifle
In the reeking pit of war.
What is calling, Billy Khaki? There is
thunder down the sky,
And the merry magpie bugle splits the morn-
ing with its cry,
While your feet are beating rhythms up the
dusty hills and down,
And the drums are all a-talking in the hollow
of the town.
Billy Khaki, is't the splendor of the song the
kiddies sing,
Or the whipping of the flags aloft that sets
your heart a-swing?
Is't the cheering like a paean of the toss-
ing, teeming crowds,
Or the boom of distant cannon flatly bumping
on the clouds ?
What's calling, calling, Billy? 'Tis the rattle
far away
Of the cavalry at gallop and artillery in play;
'Tis the great gun's fierce concussion, and the
smell of seven hells
When the long ranks go to pieces in the
sneezing of the shells.
But your eyes are laughing, Billy, and a
ribald song you sing,
While the old men sit and tell us war it is a
ghastly thing,
When the swift machines are busy and the
grim, squat fortress nocks
At your bolts as vain as eggs of gulls that spatter on the rocks.
When the horses sweep upon you to complete
a sudden rout,
Or in fire and smoke and fury some brave
regiment goes out,
War is cruel, Bill, and ugly. But full well
you know the rest,
Yet your heart is for the battle, and your face
is to the west.
For if war is beastly, Billy, you can picture
something worse—
There's the wrecking of an empire, and its
broken people's curse;
There are nations reft of freedom, and of hope
and kindly mirth,
And the shadow of an evil black upon the
bitter earth.
So we know what's calling, Billy. 'Tis the
spirit of our race,
And its stir is in your pulses, and its light is
on your face
As you march with clipping boot-heels
through the piping, howling town
To uphold the land we live in, and to pull a
tyrant down.
Thou his lines are none too level,
And he's not a whale for style,
And he's swanking like the devil
When the women wave and smile
He will answer with a rifle,
Trim and true from stuck to bore,
When the comrades sit and stifle
In the smoking pit of war.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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But m like this since yesterday
I dn know i have some sort of feeling different
M not bore
M not sad
M not so happy
M not excited about anything
Not even in love
But m like this since yesterday
I came 2 know abt something
I became very sad
And then I felt happy for him
I dn know i have some sort of feeling different
My friend told me he is in love
He is just my frnd
But then after that I dont know i have some sort of feeling different
M not bore
M not sad
M not so happy
M not excited about anything
Not even in love
But m like this since yesterday
poem by shilpa Poetess
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Thank For Nothing
I'll never take part in the grown population
Or waste my time with further education (hooha!)
To get what we know, is just a big show
Where they want to control
So chained and frustrated
It's all so complicated
Fashion, no passion surrounds me
All I know is I've heard this all before
Reality's a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Can't bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change
I can't take part in the business revolution
Or take my chance in the real world confusion
Don't blame us, who do we trust when they're so dis-a-honest
No patience, this nation's obsessed with exploitation
Lying, denying surrounds me
All I know is I've heard this all before
Reality's a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Can't bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
Nothing's gonna change
(what!) Don't think you can ignore us (ignore us)
Don't tell me your word is right (word is right)
Don't pick a future for us (for us)
We lack 'cause we're involved!!
All I know is I've heard this all before
Reality's a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Can't bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
Nothing's gonna change
Thanks for nothing (I've heard this all before),
Thanks for nothing (reality's a bore),
Thanks for nothing (it'll never be the same),
Thanks for nothing (and nothing's gonna change)
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Villanelle
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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I'm Bored
I'm bored
I'm the chairman of the bored,
I'm a lengthy monologue
I'm livin' like a dog
I'm bored
I bore myself to sleep at night
I bore myself in broad daylight coz
I'm bored
Just another slimey bore
I'm free to bore my well-bought friends
And spend my cash until the end coz
I'm bored
I'm bored
I'm the chairman of the board
I'm sick
I'm sick of all my kicks
I'm sick of all the stiffs
I'm sick of all the dips
I'm bored
I bore myself to sleep at night
I bore myself in broad daylight coz
I'm bored
I'm bored
Just another dirty bore
All right doll-face
Come on and bore me
I'm sick
I'm sick of all my kicks
I'm sick of all the stiffs
I'm sick of all the dips
I'm sick
I'm sick when I go to sleep at night
I'm still sick in the broad daylight coz
I'm bored
I'm bored
I'm the chairman of the. . .
BORED
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swing
(nick feldman)
Baby ben really likes to swing
Baby ben really feels like a king
As the wail of the horns make his body sway
Peggy sue likes to rock and roll
Peggy sue gonna lose control
As electric guitars play all her fears away
Chorus:
You gotta swing down tonight
Swing it real tight
Swing with your baby tonight
You gotta swing down tonight
Its gotta feel right
Swing with your baby tonight
Swing tight with your baby tonight
Swing down, swing down tonight, swing!
Baby ben knows just where its at
Baby ben wears a pork pie hat
Feeling so cool, he draws his baby in
Peggy sue dont care for no rules
coz peggy sue is his queen of cool
Locked in the groove they surrender to the swing
Repeat chorus
Swing, swing, swing, swing
Whether its rock or its swing
The groove is the thing
Gather the night around you
coz the world belongs to you
Swing with your baby tonight - swing tight
With your baby tonight
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Birds' Lullaby
I
Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
With shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
So echo the anthems we warbled to you;
While we swing, swing,
And your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
II
Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
While we swing, swing,
And your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
III
Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
And we swing, swing,
While your branches sing,
And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Christmas Celebration
Christmas celebration
All around the nation
Won't you stay with me tonight
Cos I'm running out of fight
And the pagentry is such a bore
Carolers are singing
Registers ka-chinging
And the presents are in place
But I'd rather eat some mace
Cos that egg nog always makes me sick
You know how the story goes
You've seen it all before
That man is so obese
That he can't get out the door
Christmas to perfection
I'm begging for some action
And the ringing in my ears
Is the sound of christmas cheer
Cos they knocked me screaming overboard
You know how the story goes
You've seen it all before
That man is so obese
That he can't get out the door
You know how the story goes
You've seen it all before
That man is so obese
That he can't get out the door
Christmas celebration
All around the nation
Won't you stay with me tonight
Cos I'm running out of fight
And the pagentry is such a bore
The pagentry is such a bore
The pagentry is such a bore
The pagentry is such a bore, yeah
The pagentry is such a bore, yeah
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thanks For Nothing
Ill never take part in the grown population
Or waste my time with further education (hooha!)
To get what we know, is just a big show
Where they want to control
So chained and frustrated
Its all so complicated
Fashion, no passion surrounds me
All I know is Ive heard this all before
Realitys a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Cant bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
Nothings gonna change, nothings gonna change
I cant take part in the business revolution
Or take my chance in the real world confusion
Dont blame us, who do we trust when theyre so dis-a-honest
No patience, this nations obsessed with exploitation
Lying, denying surrounds me
All I know is Ive heard this all before
Realitys a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Cant bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
Nothings gonna change
(what!) dont think you can ignore us (ignore us)
Dont tell me your word is right (word is right)
Dont pick a future for us (for us)
We lack cause were involved!!
All I know is Ive heard this all before
Realitys a bore (is a bore)
You ask me to believe it (never believe)
Something they provide
Cant bring myself to, to what
You want me to (want me to)
This is who we are and (who we are)
Nothings gonna change
Thanks for nothing (Ive heard this all before),
Thanks for nothing (realitys a bore),
Thanks for nothing (itll never be the same),
Thanks for nothing (and nothings gonna change)
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blessed Mary, Ever Virgin, Mother of Jesus Christ
She bore a baby boy named Immanuel,
While just a virgin, as told by Gabriel;
Her heart was filled by fear when came angel,
But love for God and obedience, real!
She bore the Son of God for sake of world,
And sacrificed Him for sinners, on Cross!
His passion, suffering turned her heart so cold;
The handmaiden of Lord, yet, bore the loss!
The virgin young surrendered to God’s plan!
Her decision was own, out of free will;
Through her, the Word of God became a man!
Among women, blessed, her name stands still!
Oh, what a way so great to serve the Lord!
Her love of God was more than for the world!
The grace of God preserved her soul some way;
Immaculate and virgin ev’r, she stays!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-11-2011
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everyone is a bore to someone. That is unimportant. The things to avoid is being a bore to oneself.
quote by Kitty O'Neill Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mrs Snorer
Mrs Snorer
Went to School
Fell asleep in the classroom
Her teacher woke her up with a
Broom, broom, broom
As she snored, snored, snored
Mrs Snorer
snores like a
Horse, horse, horse
She took a ride on the
Bus, bus, bus
and missed the last stop
As she snored, snored, snored
Mrs Snorer
Went to bed
Lay down her big head
Turned her body round
And shook the whole house
Down, down, down
As she snored, snored, snored
Mr Snorer
Snored at home
With each snore
They had to shut
All the windows and the doors
As she snored, snored, snored
Mrs Snorer was a
Bore, bore, bore
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Days
I haven't eaten in two days.
Maybe I'll go for four.
I don't see the point of trying life it's such a bore.
All the love has turned to hate.
In both directions great.
I'm in a massive backward fall.
No longer dealing well at all.
How can you expect me to go on living.
When all I do is keep on hurting.
Pain is all around me, and deep inside my soul.
Where once my heart was there's only coldness now.
An empty space,
forever open with nothing placed.
It's been two days since I've last eaten.
Maybe I'll try for four.
poem by Michael McParland
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When You Bore Of The Dishin' That You're Gettin
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
Come to me.
Oh,
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
Come to me.
And I'll be there to rescue each and all your needs.
I don't bother teasing when I aim to please.
You'll see...
Whenever you come to me.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
Come to me.
Oh,
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin',
Just come to me.
Come to me.
And I'll be there to rescue each and all your needs.
I don't bother teasing when I aim to please.
You'll see...
Whenever you come to me.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin'.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin'.
When you bore of the dishin' that you're gettin'.
Just come to me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forgive Me For....... Ever Being Born
Oh I'm sorry
yes I'm sorry
that you gave the world me
that you even bore me
an ugly face that would break all glass simultaneously
even the ugliest of beast hides
and the fiercest beast cringe
'what an ugly soul' they say
I'm sorry
yes I'm sorry
that you ever bore me
its okay
you can hit me
mark me
you cant make my soul any uglier then it already is
yes I'm sorry
that you ever bore me
saw my horrendous face and soul
yes I'm sorry,
I am so sorry
forgive me for ever being born mother and father
poem by Alizia Sampson
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