True Diffidence
My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man's saddled
And hampered and addled,
A diffident nature's the worst.
Though clever as clever can be -
A Crichton of early romance -
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.
Now take, for example, MY case:
I've a bright intellectual brain -
In all London city
There's no one so witty -
I've thought so again and again.
I've a highly intelligent face -
My features cannot be denied -
But, whatever I try, sir,
I fail in - and why, sir?
I'm modesty personified!
As a poet, I'm tender and quaint -
I've passion and fervour and grace -
From Ovid and Horace
To Swinburne and Morris,
They all of them take a back place.
Then I sing and I play and I paint;
Though none are accomplished as I,
To say so were treason:
You ask me the reason?
I'm diffident, modest, and shy!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Related quotes
If you wish in this world to advance your merits you're bound to enhance; You must stir it and stump it, and blow your own trumpet, Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.
quote by William Gilbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you wish in this world to advance Your merits you're bound to enhance You must stir it and stump it, And blow your own trumpet, Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.
quote by William S. Gilbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Discombobulated
Mostly her brain is addled,
not always but often perplexed
which leads me to think it's no wonder,
she ends up a mighty bit vexed.
It isn't as if she's not clever,
not brainy, not bright or not smart
but as soon she gets it together
the light bulb inside it goes phut!
She's often a little bit rattled
and awfully, always perturbed
whenever she's stressed or gets anxious
She screws up, it's just so absurd!
poem by Ruth Walters
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We are denied the warm moments to exchange kisses
Our lifestyle is this vast
love denying jail
If you don't come to me
I will not come to you
Pride is the arbitrary
arbiter of our love
You don't write to me
Technology has saddled me
With the iron grip of
The loss of memory
I have forgotten how to
write the moving love letter
of innocent old style romance
Because of some obscure reason
of life we are denied the warm
Moments to exchange kisses
And time is the match commissioner
who wants to know the results
Of whether our rematch is ill
fated for relegation and doom
We rarely meet on the home front
And when we meet on the phone
The conversation flies off into
The jabbering accusations and counter
Accusations that end with the staccato
of the bitter disputes and insulting
acrimonious recriminations
In your headquarters of the lion's lair
You hide to growl at me
Whatever happened to the brilliance of
Your clever word play that kept
The fires of love burning bright
in our hearts that flowed with love?
Where lies the corpse of my witticisms that
pay the price for this wretched romance?
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Clever father, clever daughter; clever mother, clever son.
Pol Pot - he rounded up anybody he thought was intellectual and had them executed. And how he told someone was intellectual or not was whether they wore glasses. If they're that clever, take them off when they see him coming!
quote by Ricky Gervais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0135An informal note to God
In case you were on holiday, this nice sunny weather,
(and may I say, what a great idea the Sun is?)
I thought I'd dropp you a line to say, in case you missed it
that our great President, the Bush
who burns with virtue like an oil well yields,
approves that 'Intelligent Design' should be made
along with the Theory of Evolution
a cornerstone of the education of our great nation.
So just in case you felt a little reduced in function
and come back from holiday to
'Oh, were you away? We hadn't missed you...'
and your new official status, that you were simply around
(around? hmmm) to 'flick the switch'
while two something-or-others got together
to evolve a Creation with its quaint old ideas, like love,
(and by the way, your bright idea
of one, two and three, etc., was cute, too...)
I'd just like to take this opportunity to say
that in your modest role of
Intelligent Design
you certainly flicked the switch on
a pretty spectacular show - including those laws
which, understood by some quite impressive intelligences,
enabled the rather smaller, but impressive
'intelligent design' of the space-shuttle
to.. er.. 'evolve'.. and
to fly a fraction, Icarus-like,
nearer the sun...yep, some show...
So 'intelligent design' would be, like,
from those two proto-thingies that happened to
to meet across a room crowded with...emptiness? or everything? -
to whatever intelligent design might be needed
from Now, and every new 'invention' in the world
until...well... Then...
That seems something even better than Evolution
and a bit similar to Providence and
well, sort of.. eternal...? And universal too...
So if You are still enjoying your seventh day of rest
this pleasant sunny weather (somewhere
ecologically balanced, like the seaside, may I hope?) ,
thanks.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Cute Without The E (Live ThisIsNotEmo.com)
your lipstick, his collar.. dont bother angel
i know exactly what goes on
when everything you'll get is
everything that you've wanted, princess
(well which would you prefer?)
my finger on the trigger, or..
(me face down, down across your floor)
me face down, down across your floor
(me face down, down across your floor)
well just so long as this thing's loaded
and will you tell all your friends
you've got your gun to my head
this thought was only wishful thinkin,
this thought was only wishful thinkin
and will you tell all your friends
this thought was only wishful thinkin,
this thought was only wishful thinkin
let's go...
don't bother trying to explain angel
i know exactly what goes on when you're on and
how about i'm outside of your window
(how about i'm outside of your window)
watchin him keep the details covered
you're such a sucker
(you're such a sucker)
for a sweet talker, yeah
and will you tell all your friends
you've got your gun to my head
This thought was only wishful thinkin,
this thought was only wishful thinkin
(the only thing I regret is that I, I never let you hold me back)
and will you tell all your friends
you've got your gun to my head
this all was only wishful thinkin,
this all was only wishful thinkin
Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens
a thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins
i will never ask if you don't ever tell me
i know you well enough to know you'll never loved me
Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens
a thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins
i will never ask if you don't ever tell me
i know you well enough to know
song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vicar's Coming To Tea
Eh?
What's that you said?
Oh dearie me,
You told me the vicar's coming to tea.
What shall I wear, what shall we eat?
I'll have to go shopping down the village street.
What shall we say to him?
Think on it do!
He's more intellectual
Than me and than you.
Though wait just a moment,
I'm giving some thought
As to why we lament,
Just as if we know nought.
For we are all different.
Thank goodness for that!
Don't let's be diffident,
Or feel we are prats.
All humans have something
To offer you see.
The things we are good at
Will be different to he.
So I'm now looking forward
To taking his hat,
And sitting with vicar enjoying a chat.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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In isolation
You lose your friend with whom you are clever.
They may not be clever enough to match.
They'd be clever enough to deduct you.
You will then end up in isolation.
26.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Worst Poem Ever
Just some words that rhyme
What a waste of time
The writer has to be dense
Because this poem makes no sense
Want to hear the worst poem ever
It such junk well I never
Not very clever
This is the worst poem ever
I sure you could do better cause you are so clever
If you want me to write a poem my answer is NEVER
Cause this is the worst poem ever
Henry Brown 10 November 2010
poem by Henry Brown
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Haven't A Clue
I haven't a clue of what to do.
Even though I know it's true.
Anxiety fills my body through.
The thought of rejection makes me blue.
Although the thought of success pushes me to.
Should I take the chance to find romance?
Or should I just pull back from this uncertain dance?
I want it bad. I'm going mad.
If you reject me I'll feel sad.
I haven't a clue of where to go.
The coming of it seems so slow.
Massive impatience inside me grows.
Despair and hoplessness greatly flow.
If it's time how will I know?
I haven't a clue of what to say.
All the answers come in shades of gray.
I can't continue in this awful play.
It seems I'm bound to lose in every way.
I haven't a clue now what I'll do.
I guess I'll sit here like a fool.
Never moving for what's cool.
I haven't the balls to claim this jewel.
Where to go and what to do?
All I can say is I haven't a clue.
poem by Michael McParland
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* * *
Three hours of flight,
three thousand kilometers
and an immediate impulse keep us together
Different people, (diffident)
various nature
and only one feeling keep us together
poem by Roman Nikolaev
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The Wonders of the One Pound Note
Brothers!
You .... with but a sixpence in your pocket, and you with half a 'quid,' and
you with a solid bank balance, and sundry others;
Let not the cares of money e'er oppress you.
Today I would address you
Upon the wonders of the one pound note
And in the words that someone one day wrote
Across its face,
I trust my words will not be out of place.
Have you e'er given our pound note a glance -
When you have had a chance?
Artistic, ain't it?
I wonder what aesthete they got to paint it?
Doesn't its face attract you, and its smile
Lure you to love and fondle it a while -
The brief while that 'tis with you? Don't you feel
It has a certain - shall we say - appeal?
And, have you ever
Marvelled at all that intricate and clever -
That wonderful arrangement of the 'ones'
That pop up in tne most unexpected places?
There are so many there
That, just to count them, makes you feel almost a millionaire.
And have you ever noticed how its face is
Adorned with divers writings in quaint style?
Brothers; those writing often make me smile.
Is it indeed a sin to copy such?
It doesn't matter much.
But, as a writer, I'm interested in the subject, and up to the time those few
lines were indited
I've never heard that note was copyrighted.
But, still, why need we quarrel
About that matter? But what I have been trying to say all this time is that I
consider that the pound note, beloved though it be by all classes of the
community, is, in some senses, highly immoral
For why?
It tells a lie.
What does it say?
'I (the Commonwealth treasurer) promise to pay
'One pound in gold' -
(Oh brothers! How can such vain things be told?)
'Upon demand' (he prints DEMAND in 'caps.')
But will he pay? . . Perhaps!
Why, brothers? Why?
Go up and try,
Go up into the lordly treasuree
And ask to see
The Treasurer, and there and then unfold
The tale of your dire need for gold.
The man won't dare to look you in the face.
Demand (as he invites you to), insist, reason, argue, shout, yell your demand
at him, and he'll probably have you kicked out of the place.
Now, brothers, is that fair?
I know there was a catch in there somewhere.
So next time that you Bills and Bens, and Hals and Toms amd Dicks and Timothys
and Thomases
Kid yourselves that you are well off, consider, it is not wealth, splosh,
spondulicks, brass, beans, dough that you possess; but merely a pocketful of
worthless promises.
The man won't recognise that note: he hates it;
Yet gaols the flatterer who imitates it.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Warlocks and Witches
The demons are up before dawn.
Exercising their right,
To throw havoc on your path.
They are up before you yawn...
To slip you a 'mickie' quick,
And be on their way!
They know you aren't prepared for them...
To be full of vigor, zest and vim.
If you were they wouldn't be hanging around.
Doing the very best they can to bring you down!
That's why you can't afford to slide...
Not with these clever asses trying to wring you dry!
And they'll soak up every bit of sentiment that you've got!
Playing on emotions they know you rather not!
And delay your every action to move ahead they will do!
By using family members and friends...
To get to play along too!
Oh,
They are clever!
Those lieing demon bitches!
And once you recognize them,
And see them for who they are!
You will want to catch them early...
Delighting,
In digging others' ditches!
But you must sacrifice and trust!
These warlocks and witches will be gone before dusk!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Doctor's Liking
I suppose the question he asked
Gave me a liking for him
As my doctoring resents anything
Like disease
And the falling into sin is itself
The clever disaster
That we imagine
Has arisen
Now.
I philosophically justify
The belief in my heart
And head.
The wishes describe a blessing
But he needs to heal
The wounds of his mind
And body.
Clever and intelligent
And old a regime
Of understanding
Best explains the future
And virtuosity
Of our system of thought.
Must we?
"Let the leg go! " he said.
I can not figure out
A solution to this problem.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Consultant
What is that?
That is what
Why's it rye?
That is why
How was Dow?
That was how
When was ten?
That was when
You'd do that?
No, you'd do that!
You'd clear that?
No, you'd clear that!
You are smart
Yes, I'm smart
You are clever
Yes, I'm clever
You know what?
What to know?
I know that
So you know?
Am I smart?
No, you're not
Am I clever?
No, not ever
If you're smart
You don't bark
If you're clever
you don't hire
(Jakarta,12th August 2009)
poem by Ahmad Arli Hikmawan
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Zig-Zag on a London Train
Shifted her
Glasses
To rest on her
Head
Closed her
Eyes
Tried to
Rest
But
In vain
On a slow
London train
The case
Is
Uneasy feelings
Uneasy posture
Uneasy place
The case
Of
A rainy
Afternoon
On a crowded
London train
Not possible to
Rest
She opened her
Book
Searched for page
Forty four
Where she stopped
Before
A
Romance
With a
Distant
Stranger
Would bring a
Smile
To her
Tired
Face
On a London Southbound
Train
poem by Najib Altawell
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Each attribute strikes a woman.
An actor by his romance, a model by his curve,
A sportsman by his frame, a wrestler by his muscles
Whips a woman’s passion.
An artist for his skill, an intellectual for his brain,
A sage for his piety, an executive for his cleanliness
Strikes a woman’s heart.
A rich for his lavishness, a clever for his maneuver,
A doormat for his servitude, a slave for adulation
Ripples a woman’s sense.
A Hitler of arrogance, a Ulysses of valour,
A Caesar of charisma, an Antony of glamour,
Humbles a woman’s ego.
Women flirt with them in person or in vision.
No exception, no exemption. Slip to err or err to slip.
Her mate can not be a match to her in all counts and hence.
12.02.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sing Me A Swing Song
Give me a song that's robust
Feeling the way I am
Any old band'll go bust
If it ain't got that jam
When a body needs a body
On the ballroom floor
Then a body asks a body
"What's a swing band for?"
Oh baby, I don't want you
To croon soft and mellow
Let me warn you in advance,
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Oh baby, I don't want
Any moon, bright and yellow
You can have your sweet romance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Mr. Trombone, play some corn
I ain't carin' what notes
Mr. Trumpet, grab a horn
Brother, give me hot notes
Oh baby, I don't want
Any tune, on a cello
Give the rhythm men a chance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
instrumental interlude
Let me warn you in advance,
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
You can have your sweet romance, just
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Mr. Trombone, play some corn
I ain't carin' what notes
Mr. Trumpet, grab a horn
Brother, give me hot notes
Oh baby, I don't want
Any tune, on a cello
Give the rhythm men a chance
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
Ol' Chick Webb is beatin' it out
Makes me feel like I want to shout
All the boys are ready to prance, so
Sing me a swing song and let me dance
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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