A royal Gorkha
Loyal death no pal recluse
White women laughing
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Royal Family
Royal parents,
Royal birth,
Royal relationship,
Royal love,
Royal wedding,
Royal pregnancy,
Royal child,
Royal family;
Roya, loyal! !
The lineage,
The history,
The heritage;
Nancy, pregnancy!
Line, lineage;
And, you still have her in your heart.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Steadfast, Loyal And True
Farewell, Royal High School,
We'll remember you.
Dear alma mater,
We're steadfast, loyal, and true.
As we go onward
In the lives we lead.
Your light will guide us,
Your motto is our creed.
We will look back fondly
At your ivy walls,
Recalling precious moments
Within your hallowed halls.
Farewell, Royal High School,
We'll remember you.
Dear alma mater,
We're steadfast, loyal, and true.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steadfast, Loyal & True
(words & music by leiber - stoller)
Farewell, royal high school,
Well remember you.
Dear alma mater,
Were steadfast, loyal, and true.
As we go onward
In the lives we lead.
Your light will guide us,
Your motto is our creed.
We will look back fondly
At your ivy walls,
Recalling precious moments
Within your hallowed halls.
Farewell, royal high school,
Well remember you.
Dear alma mater,
Were steadfast, loyal, and true.
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Death Of A Women
a death of a women is a lost for us
a lost of a great personality
a lost of some one special
a lost of a mother n a loving sister
a lost of a great wealth
a death of a women is full of cries
a death of a protected shield
a death of a key of paradise
a death of a trainer;
a taker carer
a death of a women,
is a death of our heaven
a death of a cheering smile
a death of a emotions n wishes
a death of a world!
poem by Angels beauty
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Gil, the Toreador
THE QUEEN sat in her balcony,
The Loveliest of Spain;
Beneath rode all the chivalry,
And roses fell like rain
To crown the gallant gentlemen
The gonfalon who bore:
A woman’s favor fell for one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
Beneath the royal canopy,
To see the red bull slain,
They sat, like loyal lovers,
The King and Queen of Spain.
Came marshal, noble, knight and squire,
Chulo and picador:
Of all a woman saw but one,—
Gil, the Toreador.
The trumpets clanged, the sport was on,
The royal sport of Spain;
Maddened by shouts and thrust of lance
The bull now charged amain:
Down to their death went chulos then,
And many a matador:—
A woman only knew there fell
Gil, the Toreador.
When through the streets of proud Madrid
Swept next the courtly train,
Sat not upon her balcony
The Loveliest of Spain.
Long live the King and his fair Queen,
Still loyal thousands roar:—
None know what woman died when fell
Gil, the Toreador.
poem by Charles Harper Webb
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Sun, Sun
Sun, sun,
divine Ra-Helios,
you delight
the hearts of kings and heroes,
sacred horses neigh to you,
in Heliopolis they sing hymns to you;
when you shine,
lizards crawl out onto rocks
and boys go laughing
to swim in the Nile.
Sun, sun,
I am a pale scribbler,
a library recluse,
but I love you, sun, no less
than a tanned sailor
smelling of fish and salt water,
and no less
than his accustomed heart
rejoices
at your royal rising
from the ocean,
my heart trembles,
when your dusty, but flaming ray
slips
through the narrow window by the ceiling
onto my filled page
and my thin, yellowish hand,
writing out in vermilion
the first letter of a hymn to you,
O Ra-Helios sun!
poem by Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin
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To a social recluse
He has been all by himself
She has been all by herself
Desperate, alone, miserable and insecure
Both thought that love would be their only cure
To a social recluse
The word ‘socialising’
Is hardly ever ‘tantalising’
In their world to use
Each night, each day she is amused
By this so called man born a social recluse
Her arms are now tattooed with isolation
Washed and shampooed in entire alienation
Once she was bright-eyed in a healthy situation
To a social recluse
The emotional mood
Is that which airs off as being rude!
And shyness is always seen as an excuse
In her search for love has come desperation
And his charms will lead her to a land of no nations
There are always signs but she refuses to take heed
So she will harvest with weed to feed her own needs
And one day she will cry the tears of her own deed
To a social recluse
With lack of interest, quietness is introduced
With friends and family you instantly lose
That is the very effect a recluse produces
To a social recluse
This dark conspicuous personality
Will creep slowly and tear apart friendly cordial unity
Your families and friends will slowly become diffused
Presently she is too blind to see
Her loving hero is a lone ranger
Slowly she will become everything but free
And to herself she will turn a total stranger
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Pride and Honor
The pride and honor is always supreme
Whether it is nation, individual or team
It will be razed to ground the moment you have arrogance
It must be realized and borne in mind at once
So many kingdoms perished just for one reason
They were headed by headstrong and ambitious persons
What did they want for whole world in return?
Blood bath, killings, molestation in turn
Did Napoleon, Sikandar the Greet any recognition?
Only known for their powerful drive with ambition
What did it carry with their mind and impression?
World can’t be won over by simple invasion
Individual is not known by his ancestral identity
It is simple logic and must be felt with pity
How can you claim your present glory to past
As world is moving toward destiny very fast
The blood of mine was the royal blood...
Toughest to win was that royal blood...
Heavens salute to that royal blood...
Proud to have that royal blood...
But it killed many
Don’t you think royal blood is funny?
At what cost and what benefit?
How did it try for freedom to light?
No violence can protect
Only you must speak with noble act
Nothing can be termed as royal
If you fail to act as loyal
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Royal Review
All hail to the Empress of India, Great Britain's Queen--
Long may she live in health, happy and serene--
That came from London, far away,
To review the Scottish Volunteers in grand array:
Most magnificent to be seen,
Near by Salisbury Crags and its pastures green,
Which will long be remembered by our gracious Queen--
And by the Volunteers, that came from far away,
Because it rain'd most of the day.
And with the rain their clothes were wet all through,
On the 25th day of August, at the Royal Review.
And to the Volunteers it was no lark,
Because they were ankle deep in mud in the Queen's Park,
Which proved to the Queen they were loyal and true,
To ensure such hardships at the Royal Review.
Oh! it was a most beautiful scene
To see the Forfarshire Artillery matching past the Queen:
Her Majesty with their steady marching felt content,
Especially when their arms to her they did present.
And the Inverness Highland Volunteers seemed verygran',
And marched by steady to a man
Amongst the mud without dismay,
And the rain pouring down on them all the way.
And the bands they did play, God Save the Queen,
Near by Holyrood Palace and the Queen's Park so green.
Success to our noble Scottish Volunteers!
I hope they will be spared for many long years,
And to Her Majesty always prove loyal and true,
As they have done for the second time at the Royal Review.
To take them in general, they behaved very well,
The more that the rain fell on them pell-mell.
They marched by Her Majesty in very grand array,
Which will be remembered for many a long day,
Bidding defiance to wind and rain,
Which adds the more fame to their name.
And I hope none of them will have cause to rue
The day that they went to the Royal Review.
And I'm sure Her Majesty ought to feel proud,
And in her praise she cannot speak too loud,
Because the more that it did rain they did not mourn,
Which caused Her Majesty's heart with joy to burn,
Because she knew they were loyal and true
For enduring such hardships at the Royal Review.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Women Of Color
women of color are superficial
women of color are women of wonder
women of color are those who contains the artificial heart
women of color are our mothers
women of color are special
women of color don't need to speak of themselves
it is others that speak of them
women of color have supernatural eyes
i think about them day and night
laugh at them they'll laugh as well cause
you're laughing at yourself
above the mountains their guts can surpass
across the ocean and time their stories stays
if you see one smile then you will see true happiness
poem by jude TOUSSAINT
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Laughing
I'm laughing at your funny face
I'm laughing at this funny place
I'm laughing in my space
I'm laughing at a fast pace
I'm laughing and cannot stop
I'm laughing feeling the bop
I'm laughing at your top
I'm laughing with a cop
My stomach hurts
My cheeks are sore
Yet I want to laugh some more
Just want to laugh day and night
Want to laugh 'cause it feels alright
I'm laughing with Pat
I'm laughing at the cat
I'm laughing at the mat
I'm laughing as the cat sat
Giggle, Giggle, Giggle
Giggle, Giggle, Giggle
Giggle, Giggle.
©Copyright 2010 Willmington. All rights reserved
poem by Somniator Moon
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Women In Uniform
Beehive hairdo, 45 on the hip
Patrolwoman Saunders, don't you give her no whip
Took me to the station for a breathtest
then back to the bedroom for some house-arrest
[Chorus:]
Women in uniform, sometimes they look so cold
Women in uniform, but, Oh! They feel so warm
Coming back to London on a 747
Stewardess made me feel like I'm in heaven
Looking up the aisle to see what I could see
She leaned over said; Give it to me
White apron, brown leather shoes
The nurse at the clinic left my heart all bruised
Gave me a massage, sprained my right
Now she takes my temperature every night
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Commando raid on the Lebanese border
Sergeant Anita, she gives the order
Khaki jacket and a love gun
Baby, I surrender, let's have some fun
[Chorus]
[Solo]
[Chorus]
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Women in uniform
Women in uniform, Khaki, white and blue
Women in uniform, coming after you
Women, women, Women in uniform
Women, women, Women in uniform
[Chorus]
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Righteous Life
The life of righteous and chaste women
Belongs to the sensitive arguments;
You bring in new points and units of prayer,
Laughing in the ways of men who keep.
They are to persevere and never apologise,
Words are sent to the other side
For this other side to differ and respect
The mountain of spirituality.
The joy of more age is significant
And in this place of monuments
The royal people agree with their king,
Opening me with complaints.
poem by Naveed Akram
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White Magic Women
White magic women seen walking on the rode
White magic women with poison lips and bitter eyes
White magic women with that black magic hair
White magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women on that rode
I saw her kiss you with those poison lips and stare with bitter eyes
I saw that black magic hair
I saw that white magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women
poem by Jasmine Shipp
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Middle-aged women have greater stability, they are more loyal, and their capacity for steady work is greater than that of younger women.
quote by Kate Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Receptacle
A receptacle is handed down to peace,
For the liquid consumed itself;
For a recluse, he handles peace,
And for a student his war rages on.
Reckless panicky men are like substances,
This recitation inverts the brain’s signals.
I can not hand down peace quite the same,
For our recluse inhibits the contests
As much as competitions allow.
Let him waste the receptacle now.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Song
THE world's heart is kindless and grey and unholy,
As the head of the wandering Jew,
And can never be won from the cause of its folly
Till man to Humanity’s true;
There’s a path to redemption—but that we shall miss
While we seek in the old warring manner;
Till we re ready to fight a new battle for this—
The motto inscribed on our banner,—
To principles let us by loyal alway,
And true to all good in man’s story;
Not to that mockery, royal display,
Nor that Juggernaut, national glory!
And though ever someone, to be doughty and noted,
Like Nimrod, should aim at a throne,
It were easy to leave him a wight unpromoted,
To brood o’er his project alone!
Or to meet him at once with a withering hiss,
For we love not ambition’s old manner,
We are fired for a new race of glory with this—
The motto inscribed on our banner—
To principles let us by loyal alway,
And true to all good in man’s story;
Not to that mockery, royal display,
Nor that Juggernaut, national glory!
poem by Charles Harpur
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The distance is magic
The distance maintained, gives you
Adulation, authority and admiration.
The distance is cherished
By the loyal, the royal, the noble and the holy alike.
20.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lost Women
i need to know their names
those women i would have walked with
jauntily the way men go in groups
swinging their arms, and the ones
those sweating women whom i would have joined
after a hard game to chew the fat
what would we have called each other laughing
joking into our beer? where are my gangs,
my teams, my mislaid sisters?
all the women who could have known me,
where in the world are their names?
poem by Lucille Clifton
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