Love Of Jerusalem
There is a street where they sell only red meat
And there is a street where they sell only clothes and perfumes. And there
is a day when I see only cripples and the blind
And those covered with leprosy, and spastics and those with twisted lips.
Here they build a house and there they destroy
Here they dig into the earth
And there they dig into the sky,
Here they sit and there they walk
Here they hate and there they love.
But he who loves Jerusalem
By the tourist book or the prayer book
is like one who loves a women
By a manual of sex positions.
Translated by Benjamin and Barbara Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life.
quote by Christopher Morley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A human loves
Dog
Loves dogs...
Cat
Loves cats...
Donkey
Loves donkeys...
Monkey
Loves monkeys...
Rat
Love rats...
Loves all are
At same...
Men and women loves
Did not this way...
Love the sex...
Sex the loves...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loves On The Line
Tell me baby
Have we lost everything that we had before
What do you do in the day
When I walk out the door
I can see you made up your mind
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
With each passing day
I gotta watch more and more what I say to you
I can feel your eyes looking through me
As I sit at the table at dinnertime
I can feel our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
I watch our kids
Growin up, going to school
Is there anything else for us now
Are we both just fools
Wasting our precious time
At night we lay in bed
But its like youre not even there
Theres something real bad
Going wrong somewhere
Last night I heard you cry
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't write for an audience, I don't think whether my book will sell, I don't sell it before I finish writing it.
quote by Ann Patchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He loves me, He loves me not
He loves me,
he loves me not
Like a fairy tale
a flower pedal
represents love,
but of course
He loves me,
he loves me not
There is no
I'm not sure's
or I like you, but's
just seven little words
He loves me,
He loves me not
There are no other girls
no jelousy or pain
no arguments, no humiliation
it all falls into
He loves me,
He loves me not
But what if...
it doesn't exist
if love is truly such a fairy tale
then explain this:
He loves me,
He loves me not
He loves me,
He loves me not
He loves me,
He loves me not
poem by Bailey Logan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Boom, My Bust
So the he said
'Tell me capitalist
what is profit? '
He said
profit is what I earn
when I sell something for more than it is worth,
it is a reward for my effort.'
Ah, I said, if everyone did that
then the price of an object would
keep going up forever
since each person in the chain
would want their profft
and finally, the price would be so high
nobody could afford to buy
what the capitalist had to sell
and then we would all be in poverty
the last capitalist
would be the only one left with money
enough to buy up our properties
since the price would have dropped
because nobody could afford to pay
and in the end
the richest capitalist
would be the only one standing
and would own everything
while everyone else would have to sell everything to him
because all of the rest of us would be too poor
to pay the high prices its costs to live.
Sell something for more than it is really worth
on the grounds that a profit must be made
leads to disasters, and boom and bust.
Hello Wall Street.
And by the way
if everyone loses everything
who had the money to buy
it all up?
Hello Wall Street.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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My Child Wafts Peace
My child wafts peace.
When I lean over him,
It is not just the smell of soap.
All the people were children wafting peace.
(And in the whole land, not even one
Millstone remained that still turned).
Oh, the land torn like clothes
That can't be mended.
Hard, lonely fathers even in the cave of the Makhpela*
Childless silence.
My child wafts peace.
His mother's womb promised him
What God cannot
Promise us.
* The traditional burial place in Hebron of Abraham
and the other Patriarchs and Matriarchs of Israel.
Translated by Benjamin and Barbara Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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This Is Me:
One says I have the heart an angel,
One says I have the heart of the devil,
Well,
I'm neither an angel, nor the devil,
I'm me.
A women,
A women who will believe in anyone who can believe in themselves,
Even believe in those who don't believe in themselves,
A women who loves all things,
Weather dark of light,
For as I know the world cannot cooperate without the other,
I hate the things that make me mad,
Like racism, bullying, age discrimination, being a women and not have full rights to everything, and watching people suffer and go throw hell right in front of my eyes,
A women who is strong as steel,
But has compassion and is full of love,
One who likes to get her way, but can allow others for there's, too,
This is me.
A women,
A women who loves pissing people off,
But a women who wants to comfort the sad,
A women who loves to give her heart out,
To where it on her sleeve so people can see,
But don't when they take advantage,
A women who likes to cuss like a sailor,
Yet who loves to sweet words,
This is the women I am,
This is me,
And how I am...
poem by Sherry Painter
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And We Shall Not Get Excited
And we shall not get excited. Because a translator
May not get excited. Calmly, we shall pass on
Words from man to son, from one tongue
To others' lips, un-
Knowingly, like a father who passes on
The features of his dead father's face
To his son, and he himself is like neither of them. Merely a mediator.
We shall remember the things we held in our hands
That slipped out.
What I have in my possesion and what I do not have in my possession.
We must not get excited.
Calls and their callers drowned. Or, my beloved
Gave me a few words before she left,
To bring up for her.
And no more shall we tell what we were told
To other tellers. Silence as admission. We must not
Get excited.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out In The Street
Put on your best dress baby
And darlin, fix your hair up right
Cause theres a party, honey
Way down beneath the neon lights
All day youve been working that hard line
Now tonight youre gonna have a good time
I work five days a week girl
Loading crates down on the dock
I take my hard earned money
And meet my girl down on the block
And monday when the foreman calls time
Ive already got friday on my mind
When that whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street, girl
Well, I never feel alone
When Im out in the street, girl
In the crowd I feel at home
The black and whites they cruise by
And they watch us from the corner of their eye
But there aint no doubt girl, down here
We aint gonna take what theyre handing out
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
Baby, out in the street I dont feel sad or blue
Baby, out in the street Ill be waiting for you
When the whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
Pretty girls, theyre all passing by
When Im out in the street
From the corner, we give them the eye
Baby, out in the street I just feel all right
Meet me out in the street, little girl, tonight
Meet me out in the street
Meet me out in the street
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jack And Joe
Jack would not sell his dog not even for a billion he says my dog Joe is just not for sale
One cannot buy such things as trust and loyalty and in such tests my best mate never fail
A bone from the butcher and a can of dog food that seems to fulfil his needs every day
For his companionship and his undying devotion that does not seem such a big price to pay.
Joe is a black labrador cross border collie just a mongrel the less informed would say
He bought him off of the dog pound a few years back and just 100 dollars for him he did pay,
He was a playful seven months old puppy and very bright for a non pedigree
But labradors and border collies are smart canines as most who know about dogs would agree.
To Jack he is a devoted companion and where ever you will see him you'll see Joe
And Jack says his dog more trustworthy than any human and a better friend than him he'll never know,
His dog has shown him more love and affection than shown to him at anytime by his ex wife
And he will tell you the day he went to the dog pound was the luckiest ever day for him in life
When he drives down the street or to the town park Joe his black mate is always in the back
He would not even sell him for a billion Joe's the greatest mate I ever had says Jack
He loves his dog as much as he loves his children and the bond between them only seem to grow
And where ever you'll see one you'll see the other they are the best of mates old Jack and Joe.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sonnet: What A Human Being Loves?
Oh, how one loves being called by his name!
Oh, how one loves more being spoken to!
Oh, how one loves to take part in a game!
Oh, how one loves to show what he can do.
A human being loves to talk to next;
A human being loves to walk abreast;
A human being loves the opposite sex;
A loving touch from person kind, works best.
A human being loves to have a friend;
A human being loves to have siblings;
A human being hates to much depend;
A human being knows God ’midst earthlings.
God's Love made man, the best amongst creatures;
Man’s love is exemplary in features.
poem by John Celes
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He Loves You
His love will conquer anger
His love defies all words
He hears all the prayers that are spoken
And all the prayers unheard
His love is unconditional
He loves you when your wrong
He loves you when you disobey
His love for you is strong
He loves you when you stumble
He loves you when you fall
He loves us so much more than words
He really loves us all
He loves you when you call His name
He loves you when you cry
He loves you when your down and out
For us He sent his Son to die
He loves you when you're laughing
He loves you when you smile
He loves it when you praise His name
He loves you, you're his child
His love is never ending
Until the end of time
And once you just embrace His love
Your life will be just fine
For He's got the best intentions
Look at The Son of Man
Be honored through the joy & pain
You're a big part of His plan.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Letter To My Mother
Edwin McCain
Letter To My Mother
But theres a woman that we dont even know
She gave me life, then you gave me a home
I love you, Mama
But I want to tell her too
Is that her little boy still loves you
I close my eyes, does she look like me
Does she need my help, is she cold on the street
Am I forgotten like a bad childhood dream
A B-movie actor on the black and white screen
I love you, Mama
But I want to tell her too
Is that her little boy still loves you
Is that her little boy still loves you
Could I have seen her, Ill never know
Maybe shes always been there watching me grow
I wanted to tell her how grateful I am
For giving me life, Ive done the best that I can
I love you, Mama
But I want to tell her too
Is that her little boy still loves you
Her little boy still loves you
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Hate Poetry
i have read that somewhere,
if you hate poetry
you have to get
this book,
buy it, and
you will love
it.
sales talk.
if you really hate poetry,
why buy
a book of poetry?
you may dislike me
but poems
are nothing but
spits
of something
that you do not
want to stay
inside your throat
all i need
is a little relief
from this
urge to vomit
and here you
are
reading mine.
(i am
laughing)
so do you really hate
poetry?
k, buy that book
you will really
love it
(the book)
and hate the more
what you hated most.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Mission
I dont know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
Im about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And Im promising nothing
Im just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...i need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...Ive got something
Ive got someone
Ive got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Missions
I don't know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
I'm about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And I'm promising nothing
I'm just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...I need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...I've got something
I've got someone
I've got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I didn't write the book to sell the book, but to tell my experiences.
quote by Larry Hagman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What Kind Of A Person
"What kind of a person are you," I heard them say to me.
I'm a person with a complex plumbing of the soul,
Sophisticated instruments of feeling and a system
Of controlled memory at the end of the twentieth century,
But with an old body from ancient times
And with a God even older than my body.
I'm a person for the surface of the earth.
Low places, caves and wells
Frighten me. Mountain peaks
And tall buildings scare me.
I'm not like an inserted fork,
Not a cutting knife, not a stuck spoon.
I'm not flat and sly
Like a spatula creeping up from below.
At most I am a heavy and clumsy pestle
Mashing good and bad together
For a little taste
And a little fragrance.
Arrows do not direct me. I conduct
My business carefully and quietly
Like a long will that began to be written
The moment I was born.
s Now I stand at the side of the street
Weary, leaning on a parking meter.
I can stand here for nothing, free.
I'm not a car, I'm a person,
A man-god, a god-man
Whose days are numbered. Hallelujah.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Canvas
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.
Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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