Thoughts For The Mill
We're deluding
ourselves
with thoughts
of something else
when all we are
are grist for the mill.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Perfectly Still
(scott johnson, bill leen)
Its our call
It sways, it stalls
I need a little extra time alone
Well maybe take the long way home
Just enough to get it wrong
Nothing like a bad decision
Says who you are
Fools rush in
For the grist in my
For the grist in my mill
Cant you see
When youre perfectly
When youre perfectly still
One big rout
Were all sold out
If nothings off limits, well pay
Price tags on every other day
Were bankrupt here for now
But they cant take my anger
It cant be touched
Fools rush in
For the grist in my
For the grist in my mill
Cant you see
When youre perfectly
When youre perfectly still...
Outdated maps
Missed pull-out ramps
I wont contribute to our own demise
Pass up the consolation prize
It starts from here from now
Nothing like a bad decision
Says who you are
Fools rush in...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All these stories are grist to the mill of the government because they build up a very useful war psychosis.
quote by Helen Suzman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Theologians have a great problem because they're seeking to speak about God. Since God is the ground of everything that is, there's a sense in which every human inquiry is grist to the theological mill. Obviously, no theologian can know everything.
quote by John Polkinghorne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Cauld is the e’enin blast,
O’ Boreas o’er the pool,
An’ dawin’ it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.
Cauld blaws the e’enin blast,
When bitter bites the frost,
And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost:
Ne’er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o’er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Return To Sender
Well I want to return to my sender
Well I want to return
There is so much that I cant remember
But theres so much to choose
We are laying the tracks for the company
Across all space and all time
Any insinkerator will remind you
What can happen to you
Theres a billboard as high as a mountain
Neon lights up the hill
Cast no shadow and leave no traces
We are grist for the mill
Hold me control me into the arms we fall
Sugar the future sale of the century
Trying to turn the world around
Trying to turn the world around
Ive come to turn your world around.
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twa Sisters O' Binnorie
There were twa sisters sat in a bow'r;
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
A knight cam' there, a noble wooer,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And sair envìed her sister fair,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Upon a morning fair and clear,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie !)
She cried upon her sister dear,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
`O sister, sister, tak' my hand,'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
`And let's go down to the river-strand,'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
She's ta'en her by the lily hand,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And down they went to the river-strand
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The youngest stood upon a stane,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
The eldest cam' and pushed her in,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O sister, sister, reach your hand!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'And ye sall be heir o' half my land'--
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O sister, reach me but your glove!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'And sweet William sall be your love'--
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
Till she cam' to the mouth o' yon mill-dam,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie
Out then cam' the miller's son
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And saw the fair maid swimmin' in,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O father, father, draw your dam!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'There's either a mermaid or a swan,'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The miller quickly drew the dam,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And there he found a drown'd womàn,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Round about her middle sma'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
There went a gouden girdle bra'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
All amang her yellow hair
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
A string o' pearls was twisted rare,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
On her fingers lily-white,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
The jewel-rings were shining bright,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And by there cam' a harper fine,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
Harpèd to nobles when they dine,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And when he looked that lady on,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He's ta'en three locks o' her yellow hair,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And wi' them strung his harp sae rare,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He went into her father's hall,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And played his harp before them all,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And sune the harp sang loud and clear,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
`Fareweel, my father and mither dear!'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And neist when the harp began to sing,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'Twas 'Fareweel, sweetheart!' said the string,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And then as plain as plain could be,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'There sits my sister wha drownèd me!
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have been taking my daily walk round the island, and visited the sugar mill and the threshing mill again.
quote by Fanny Kemble
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Mr. Murray (Strahan, Tonson Lintot Of The Times)
Strahan, Tonson Lintot of the times,
Patron and publisher of rhymes,
For thee the bard up Pindus climbs,
My Murray.
To thee, with hope and terror dumb,
The unedged MS. authors come;
Thou printest all - and sellest some--
My Murray.
Upon thy table's baize so green
The last new Quarterly is seen,--
But where is thy new Magazine,
My Murray?
Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine
The works thou deemest most divine-
The 'Art of Cookery,' and mine,
My Murray.
Tours, Travels, Essays, too, I wist,
And Sermons, to thy mill bring grist;
And then thou hast the 'Navy List,'
My Murray.
And Heaven forbid I should conclude
Without 'the Board of Longitude,'
Although this narrow paper would,
My Murray.
Venice, March 25, 1818.
Just as radical heirs apparent are said to lay aside all inconvenient revolutionary opinions when they come to the throne, it was believed that Mr. Mill in Parliament would be an entirely different person from Mr. Mill in his study.
quote by Millicent Fawcett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Letters
I was thinking of letters,
We all have a lot in our life
A few good - a few sad
But mostly run of the mill-
I suppose that's my fault
For writing to run of the mill people.
I've never had a letter
I really wanted
It might come one day
But then, it will be just too late,
And that's when I don't want it.
poem by Spike Milligan
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Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Beauty Of A Summer's Day
The beauty of a Summer's day begins
Watching the bright, morning sun rise,
Dew upon the lawn and roses,
And the early flight of colorful butterflies.
The beauty of a Summer's day
Is an attractive and picturesque one,
A sky of a variable color of pale to light blue,
And sport and entertainment for everyone.
The beauty of a Summer's day
Is stetched with green foliage on the hill,
And colorful wildflowers bordering the roadway,
The water wheel turning at the grist mill.
The beauty of a Summer's day increases
Watching the rolling waves of the ocean,
Sea shells washing upon the sandy shore,
And gazing at the sea gulls gliding in slow motion.
The finality of a Summer's day
Is depicted with memorable scenes
Of picnicking, camping, swimming, and traveling,
Reserved for Summer enthusiasts for future dreams.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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The King's Daughter
WE WERE ten maidens in the green corn,
Small red leaves in the mill-water:
Fairer maidens never were born,
Apples of gold for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens by a well-head,
Small white birds in the mill-water:
Sweeter maidens never were wed,
Rings of red for the king’s daughter.
The first to spin, the second to sing,
Seeds of wheat in the mill-water;
The third may was a goodly thing,
White bread and brown for the king’s daughter.
The fourth to sew and the fifth to play,
Fair green weed in the mill-water;
The sixth may was a goodly may,
White wine and red for the king’s daughter.
The seventh to woo, the eighth to wed,
Fair thin reeds in the mill-water;
The ninth had gold work on her head,
Honey in the comb for the king’s daughter.
The ninth had gold work round her hair,
Fallen flowers in the mill-water;
The tenth may was goodly and fair,
Golden gloves for the king’s daughter.
We were ten maidens in a field green,
Fallen fruit in the mill-water;
Fairer maidens never have been,
Golden sleeves for the king’s daughter.
By there comes the king’s young son,
A little wind in the mill-water;
“Out of ten maidens ye’ll grant me one,”
A crown of red for the king’s daughter.
“Out of ten mays ye’ll give me the best,”
A little rain in the mill-water;
A bed of yellow straw for all the rest,
A bed of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en out the goodliest,
Rain that rains in the mill-water;
A comb of yellow shell for all the rest,
A comb of gold for the king’s daughter.
He’s made her bed to the goodliest,
Wind and hail in the mill-water;
A grass girdle for all the rest,
A girdle of arms for the king’s daughter.
He’s set his heart to the goodliest,
Snow that snows in the mill-water;
Nine little kisses for all the rest,
An hundredfold for the king’s daughter.
He’s ta’en his leave at the goodliest,
Broken boats in the mill-water;
Golden gifts for all the rest,
Sorrow of heart for the king’s daughter.
“Ye’ll make a grave for my fair body,”
Running rain in the mill-water;
“And ye’ll streek my brother at the side of me,”
The pains of hell for the king’s daughter.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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My Will
I've made my Will. I don't believe
In luxury and wealth;
And to those loving ones who grieve
My age and frailing health
I give the meed to soothe their ways
That they may happy be,
And pass serenely all their days
In snug security.
That duty done, I leave behind
The all I have to give
To crippled children and the blind
Who lamentably live;
Hoping my withered hand may freight
To happiness a few
Poor innocents whom cruel fate
Has cheated of their due.
A am no grey philanthropist,
Too humble is my lot
Yet how I'm glad to give the grist
My singing mill has brought.
For I have had such lyric days,
So rich, so full, so sweet,
That I with gratitude and praise
Would make my life complete.
I'VE MADE MY WILL: now near the end,
At peace with all mankind,
To children lame I would be friend,
And brother to the blind . . .
And if there be a God, I pray
He bless my last bequest,
And in His love and pity say:
"Good servant,--rest!"
poem by Robert William Service
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There were a lot of times I wondered if I was deluding myself. I had nothing else to fall back on, but I never enjoyed anything else.
quote by Edie Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do You Have Any Thoughts About Me?
Do you have any thoughts about me?
And I want to know if the thoughts that you have about me
Are any good?
Do you mind sharing the thoughts about me?
What are the thoughts about me like?
Are the thoughts about me semtimental?
Are the thoughts about me very romantic?
Are the thoughts about me full of love?
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Simile of the Cider Mill
We are like apples - Each rolls
Around taking its own course
But all eventually have the juice
Squeezed out - Some are thrown out
Before reaching the mill - those with worms
And rot make a bad taste - Some
With richness of soil minerals
Make a fine drink How do we grow? Do we ask
Why there is a mill
Or who is to take a drink?
poem by George Beecher
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Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, Think Happy Thoughts
I have to keep reminding myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.)
You wanted me to promise to never say it again
Those three words
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Which is laughably easy to do right now because
We are so far out of touch I couldn’t reach you if I tried
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
So I plod through grey days and inky dark nights
Heavy laden with regret
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Tomorrow I will remind myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
12-25-07
djlw
poem by Shannon Wright
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