On Uninspiring Labor
Another morning of meandering
Through emptiness and the nothing forces
Which magnetize my nonsense panderings
And magnify my lack of resources:
My mental nourishment, my life-stream's flow
That, right now, is in drought, thus preventing
My fertile thought harvests the will to grow.
For what reason hinders my inventing
Further irrigation of the parched land,
Thirsty for the tapping of the well-spring?
What repels the iron-rich soil in hand
From being ripe for future prospering?
I dig and toil at the dirt with no spade,
My hands buried in the hole I have made.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Related quotes
Honest Questions
Can you see
Honest questions in my heart this hour
opening like a flower
To the rain?
And do you know the silent sorrows
of a never ending journey
through the pain?
Do you see a brighter day for me?
Another day?
A day?
Do you wonder what's in store for me?
The cure for me?
The way?
Oh look down 'n see the tears I've cried
The lives I've lived
The deaths I've died
But you've died them too
And all for me
and you say (faded)
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow"
Do you know
The story from the start?
and do you know me
like you've always told me?
Do you see
the whispers in my heart against your kindness
my eternal blindness
Do you see?
Do you see a brighter day for me?
Another day?
A day?
Do you wonder what's in store for me?
The cure for me?
The way?
Oh look down see the tears I've cried
The lives I've lived
The deaths I've died
But you've died them too
And all for me
and you say (faded)
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow"
"I will pour my water down
upon a thirsty barren land
and streams will flow from the dust of
your bruised and broken soul
You will grow like the grass
upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
of living water,
You will grow, Oh, You will grow
song performed by by Daniel Bedingfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smoke opens the Clouds
please lend me your eyes; the day comes in dark clouds
and loud cries heard near in the valley of children,
wept in dismay, full of swollen fingers with hands
asking to let them flee in a place once they call and live
as home
wake up less forgotten darling, for the land of a
thousand years toil by loved great fathers had laid its
sweat of brow to make it flow with milk and honey
and not even, the harsh of plague of death can’t stop
the fertile soil to grow, nay the vast land may waste and
blown out to dirt into the brother hands, a promise
where the strength of force lives hatred born not to be
slave
blissfulness devastated not the sweet honey taste of
belief, only the wisdom of the fool conquer what the
Lord have wishfully given; the flesh that ask more than
what the heart desire, the lips that forget to whisper the
truth of life and the power to subside anger because of
Love
listen dear brother, the world is your to own, yet the
giver of life want you to give of what you have in the
garden of Eden received; always live in the presence for
the future thirst a little droplets of moist in your heart
of nothing to ask
learn to die and raise ahead my beloved soul ……
poem by Antonio Liao
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In the Shadow
In the shadow
I live in the shadow
the shadow of the mountain
Vesuvius.
the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
rich.
Long ago the mountain rumbled
spewing lava, pumice stone
Pliny told us of the horror
Pompeians dying in their homes.
the days are warm
The soil is fertile
I grow olives and I grow
old..
Life in good in greater Naples
We live in an expensive home
every now and then a rumble
vulcan working at his forge
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Hole
A friend of mine bought himself a shovel
Said im gonna tunnel me a mine
He set out to be a rich man
Happiness is what he thought hed fine
Got in to deep to see the diamond
Down to dark to see the gold
Now he wont let go of the shovel
And he cant dig out of the hole
Deeper and deeper hes going down
Driving his future right into the ground
He thinks hes closer the further he goes
But hes still on the bottom
And he cant dig out of the hole
I tried to throw the man a life line
I tried to send him down a rope
I dont think he hears me calling
But everyday I pray and hope
Somehow he finally gets the message
Every spade of dirt he throws
Only gets him closer to the devil
And he cant dig out of the hole
Repeat chorus:
Maybe we could learn a little lesson
Maybe thisll shine a little light
Cause theirs no healthy way to mess with
The line between wrong and right
Use the one chance youve been given
Cause once your in the ground and cold
Its too late to start livin?
You see you cant dig out of the hole
Repeat chorus:
Its hell on the bottom
And you cant dig out of the hole
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dairy Ode
Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.
The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.
Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.
Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.
Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.
Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.
And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.
Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.
Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How to utilize it in the dairy.
The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.
All dairymen their highest aims
Should be to make the vale of Thames,
Where milk doth so abundant flow,
Dairyland of Ontario.
poem by James McIntyre
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Fresh Harvests
Neuroleptic liquids
Are dripping from the pipes,
Watering veg'tables
‘Til they're healthy and ripe.
The tranquilizing streams
Rushing in on the crops
Irrigate ceaselessly—
Flowing, never to stop.
All of the fresh harvests
Are kept under control.
Nature has been harnessed—
It's kept under control.
The land is fertilized
With processed compost soil.
The disinfected dirt
Should prevent any spoils.
Sublimated climates—
The seasons are sedate—
Make for better growing
While the plants procreate.
All of the fresh harvests
Are kept under control.
Nature has been harnessed—
It's kept under control.
Stabilize conditions
By commanding the air.
Plow the fields, sow the seeds,
Working so unaware
That calmer, compliant
Production will produce
Pesticide soaked plants
Washed in subtle abuse.
All of the fresh harvests
Are kept under control.
Nature has been harnessed—
It's kept under control.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Rise Up, Nigeria
Nigeria,
Giant of the blackworld
Created as a trigger
For the development of Africa.
On your skies
Are the brightness of the sun
And the illumination of the moon.
Within your belly flows the Niger.
Inside your womb criss-crosses Benue
All meandering to form a confluence
And proceeds to the Niger creeks
Excreting great alluvia
That makes our land fertile.
Nigeria,
Beautiful land of the savannah
A land adorns with evergreen forests
An earth crust emiting ceaseless wealth
A land that vomits immeasurable blackgold
Making nations to flow to you daily
For their survival
Nigeria, great nation!
Nigeria, good people!
Other nations romances you
They wish they are like you
They dream to have half of your resources
Natios hope to to have your resources
Rise up, great nation!
Stand up, good people!
African nations look towards you.
Blackworld beacons that you take the lead.
Do not allow these talennts to waste
Stamp out corruption in your midst.
Rise against violence.
Let schism be foreign.
Let's join hands together,
Let's take our place, again
Arise, Nigeria,
Arise, great people.
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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A Modern Day Miracle
Where could you find an example
of true faith in the twentieth century?
‘Faith Like Potatoes’ to plant
in El Nino, in drought, in dust
a never grown before potato crop?
Angus Buchan, a farmer, in Durban
South Africa declared before 35,000
“To hell with El Nino! We are going
to plant this year! And we are going
to plant potatoes.” Fool or Man of Faith?
The Wisdom Of The Modern World
Scientists warned farmers not to plant!
“Do not plant this season unless
you have irrigation.” Angus had none!
Planting planting potatoes in dust
would be a massive massive risk!
It would require a miracle!
Did Angus expect a miracle?
Or was he an experienced potato farmer?
Angus was a maize and cattle farmer!
He had never grown potatoes!
No farmer could grow potatoes in drought!
Not in drought without irrigation!
But all farmers and men of faith
know a crop, a harvest is grown,
from a seed, a seed of planted faith.
Angus prayed and prayed
during the planting and he knew;
in his heart that the Lord;
wanted him to plant potatoes.
Angus expected a modern day miracle from God!
God has complained men lack faith!
To dream their dreams large enough!
Angus planted potatoes in dust on his farm in drought!
Without irrigation without water on his farm in faith!
Angus hired two extra farms, planted potatoes in their dust!
If the potato crop failed, Angus would loose everything!
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not yet seen.” Hebrews 11: 1.
Potatoes grow under the ground
and are not seen until the harvest!
Angus planted in faith; reaped a miracle of faith!
“because the righteous one will live by reason of faith.” Galatians 3: 11.
“The condition for a miracle is difficulty,
however the condition for a great miracle
is not difficulty, but impossibility.” Angus Buchan
“Seek and you shall find knock
and the door shall be opened to you.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Interacting Awareness
Every so often
is felt inner desire
an urge
to migrate
to city centre
focus of interaction
to touch pulse
feel heartbeat
immerse in movement
before returning
to shadow life
in solitary suburb.
On the periphery
guarding the heartseed
of dissipated land.
Lost in economics.
Best fertile productive land
worth doubles more if
for housing quick profit sold.
Best agricultural land lost
rich crops lost for ever more.
Rich rich soil so rare so rare
is true wealth of nation
build houses on worthless land.
People eat blessing of God given land
feeding people is blessing of mighty God.
To lay waste in greed to God given land
is to invite blight famine of greedy hand.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Like Abel
Pace, lace, race, ace, face, dace, mace;
To be able like Abel in the land of your muse,
Bride, ride, pride, stride;
Buried alive in the land of war!
Flow, slow, blow;
Drowned in the red sea without hope,
Goal, foal, coal;
Don't let your past atrocities destroy your life,
Soil, foil, boil, coil, moil, toil;
And like the horse and its rider!
But you have no hope in the midst of the sea.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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His Red Dirt Life
So many red dirt roads he’s traveled
Along his long red dirt life
Children born and raised with
His charming red dirt wife
A home was built and furnished
Upon his red dirt land
He’s done the very best he could
Always taking a red dirt stand
Red dirt roads that lead up to
A bridge to the other side
He tries to go right with the flow
Along life’s red dirt ride
And during that ride it seems
There are some pot holes in the road
But he just keep pluggin’ along you see
Just carrying his red dirt load
The streams and valleys continue
Until the end of his red dirt time
And when the sun beats down on him
He loves to see that red dirt shine!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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A Blessed Land
A blessed land
Yields Abundance from its soil,
It mountains hand
Its people, Harvest for their toil.
A faithful womb
That births forth much Provision,
She's one from whom
We sow our bountiful nutrition.
Our blessed land
We pray God keep Her so!
And that we stand
United, together make Her grow.
God bless Her with Peace
His Truth upon Her, shine-
May the Grace that is His
Bless this lovely land of mine!
'May the favor of the LORD rest upon us,
establish the work of our hands for us...
Psalm 90: 17
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A Better Way
There’s a better way of digging
Than that, Uncle said, taking the
Spade from your hands and showing
You with a craftsman’s touch how
It should be done. You watched in
Wonder how with ease and skill he’d
Made the trench begin to shape far
More quickly than your frail work
Produced. He handed you back the
Spade and you noticed the calluses
That years of using spades and other
Workman’s tools had made. He took
Hold of your hand and turned it over,
Gazed intently and smiled and shook
His head. Such lily-white hands were
Made for pen not spade or hoe or rake,
He said, finish what’s started, lad, then
Return to your studies and pen instead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Drought-ess
Lumpy frog on a dry grass watch
Red burning land of robin chest
Hoy- hot- hot water not.
Watertight bath, of Rain last.
Dry sky with shining moaning light of
Thirsty clouds on dehydrated walls.
Rose made of steel on melting iron tree.
From Drought-ess mind.
poem by Luca Menin
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To the hero of toil
Another days labour for the man at the front
another days work of sweat and of grunt
of straining of muscle of tendon and joint
no praise for the hero of toil
Head down and end up as he reshapes the earth
for the rich and the mighty he'll give all he's worth
with the spade and the hammer he was handed at birth
no praise for the hero of toil
In the darkest of climates he'll give it his last
he wont mumble or groan, he's just one of his class
with the spit on his hands he'll get on with the task
no praise for the hero of toil
Where would we be if it weren't for him
our lives would be dull and our futures be dim
yet he still carries on while the rich sip their gin
no praise for the hero of toil.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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My Backyard
He was digging deep into my back yard pages
using questions for a spade;
the over-turned soil started to pile high
deep dead flowers unearthed there
and who, and what phrases came from him in clumps
of queries
and gripped I was with how much
I can, could or should reveal.
'Was he your boyfriend.? How long were you two together? '
These kinds of soft queries come with hidden barbs and sharp edges
if the answers lead on to more spade queries and deeper digging into my
backyard history.
Each clunk! into that deep soil just might dig up memories long buried there with no time for censorship to dust off the dirt and clean them up and evaluate what he had found there.
I was not trying to hide but I was frozen by not being able to see in advance what lay there before I was presented with it and hesitant, had to instantly think about what to own and what to conceal.
How many backyard artifacts should each of us reveal to New Love who has no context to understand and thereby forces you to own or conceal.
I took each shovelful he presented me and simply smiled mysteriously saying 'Your questions bring up so many memories and I can't decide right now which to reveal and which to leave unsaid until I know how you deal with backyard memories; and that might take time, lots of time, for me to see, or guess why and what, you think this ecavation means.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Little House Made Out Of Logs
I was raised in a little house
Made out of logs
Had a dirt chimney
Made from moss
Cut out windows
No glass at all
Little house
Made out of logs
Never swept any floor
Made out of dirt
You don't see any more
Kerosene lamps
Water from the spring
Makes me thirsty again
Raised on potatoes and cornbread
Wood stove was all we had
Never thought much about the holidays
Just a season for another time and place
Can't forget how I was raised
Makes you learn to appreciate
I could do the same in time
Little log house
On my mind
poem by Monette Paul
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Come Away
(g.bowser/j.jupp)
Published by chappell & co., ltd. - capac
As I walk along the lonely streets
I cant talk to the people that I meet
I see them come, and I see them go
I see them smile, and say hello
Come with me and take my hand
Ooh, fly away to another land, oh yes we will
Come with me and take my hand
Well fly away to another land
Come over here little girl
And Ill show you another world
Where we can be free to do as we want
Live our lives as we please, and say what we like, oh
Come with me and take my hand, ooh
Well fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand, oh
And fly away to another land
Theres so many things that remain to be done
And no one has thought of a way to begin
So follow me into my life
Come with me and take my hand (and take...)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (ooh)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (take my hand)
Fly away to another land (oh yes we will)
Come with me and take my hand (and take my hand, take my hand)
Fly away to another land (yeah)
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Go Mental
Out of the hospital out against my will
Life is so beautiful Ive gone mental
Mental mental
Ive killed my family they thought I was an oddity
Life is so beautiful I am a vegetable
Mental mental
Ive gone mental Ive gone mental
Staring at my goldfish bowl popping phenobarbitol
Life is so beautiful Ive gone mental mental mental
Sitting on my window sill life is so beautiful
Ive become irrational Ive gone mental
Mental mental Ive gone mental
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Fades A Dream
WHY fades a dream?
An iridescent ray
Flecked in between the tryst
Of night and day.
Why fades a dream? —
Of consciousness the shade
Wrought out by lack of light and made
Upon life's stream.
Why fades a dream?
That thought may thrive,
So fades the fleshless dream;
Lest men should learn to trust
The things that seem.
So fades a dream,
That living thought may grow
And like a waxing star-beam glow
Upon life's stream —
So fades a dream.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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