En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The arrow's green and I turn left.

The arrow's green and I turn left.
Straight, there's a strip mall,
A dealership, a gas station,
Then the road climbs a hill.
My way looks much the same.
It's the end of the day,
My way leads to you and home.

It occurs to me of a sudden
I don't know where I'd be
If I went straight at that intersection.
10 years and I've always turned,
Never seen nor wondered
What lies on up that road,
Beyond that hill.

10 years:
A clock, an extra week of vacation,
A mention at the company meeting,
A plaque whose veneer started peeling
Soon as I got to the car,
So my face, kind of amused,
Shone reflected in its shiny backing.
It's been a good job, I've worked hard,
And the pay's been quite OK.

At home the 10 years will earn me a 'Hey'
And a laugh about the wordless plaque
That as a mirror might be almost useful,
Then the talk will get back
To who said what to whom at school,
To what happened at soccer that afternoon,
To what your mother said on the phone.
After dinner I'll loaf and watch the game.

10 years it's taken me to notice
I never saw a choice.

poem by William L Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Come Home

It must have been about a 100 years
At least a hundred years
I wish you would just come back
Just come back home
The day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting with my hand right by the telephone
Yeah maybe where you are you cannot make that call
Or you cant find the pen I know its not your fault
CHORUS
My friends think Im insane
Cause I've turned old and gray
And Im still waiting and I cannot be alone
Please come home (please come home)
I watch the clock hands tick my hours turn to days
And I cant fall asleep cause I don't want to miss that ring
I know that this year your car will park outside
But I can't put my arms around the girl who took my life
REPEAT CHORUS
Its been so long
Its been about 100 years
And a million dreams since the last time
Ive seen your pretty face I would do whatever it takes
I would wait another 100 years
And if that didnt work
Maybe Ill try and see what forever feels like
But until then and I know you hear me
And whatever your doing wherever you are please come home
That day we met feels like 100 years ago
And Im still waiting for you
Baby baby wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home
Please come home
Wont you please come home (Please come home)

song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Home

(Dolly Parton)
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home
Why I can't believe it's been this long
Since I've seen mom and dad
When I left my mountain home behind
I left them both so sad
My brothers and my sisters that were babies then are grown
Years have past and now at last, I'm on my way back home
Back home, back home
Yes I'm going back home
To the factory smoke and city life, I'm sayin' so long
I've shed a lot of tears through all the years that I've been gone
And I've spent a lot of time a' wishin' I could go back home
I got a letter from mama an'
Mama asked me if I'd come back home
She says it sure is lonesome now
Since all of us kids are all growed up and gone
I just can't hardly stand the thoughts of
Momma and daddy being left there all alone
That's really all I need to know
And now I'm on the road back home
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home
To the smog an' smoke an' city life, I'm sayin' so long
I've shed a lot of tears through all the years that I've been gone
And I've spent a lot of time a' wishin' I could go back home
Back home, back home
Yes, I'm going back home

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Way Back Then

Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.

30 April 2008

poem by David Harris
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Bless The Broken Road

I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
And now Im just rolling home
Into my lover's arms
This much I know is true,
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Plaque

They gave him a plaque
to hang on his wall
and not one person had come to call.
He had worked at his desk
8 hours a day.
He'd worked with diligence
and earned his pay.
He never took sick time
or called in late.
He punched the clock
and pulled his weight.

He looked at the plaque
that held his name
and all that he had done
was within that frame.
Outside the frame
was the shell of a man
who'd missed out on life
since his job began.
No pleasure, no fun,
No friends had he made.
He sat and stared at the plaque
and prayed,

'Please God send me a friend.'

poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Prisoner Of War

he waited from night to night
he waited till the son started peeling over the horizon
he waited till he heard the morning birds chirp
he waited for a long time
he waited for his father
his father lost at war
his father he knew since he was born
but as time grew
the boy felt so weary
the boy waited and waited and waited
his mother giving him the same face
the same face when his father left
and the same face when he didn't comeback
but the boy did not notice this
the boy never knew his dad has been lost
but until
until he strayed up one night
a night he would never forget
he saw his father walking about in the streets
his uniform on but he noticed something else
his father had many medals
but he knew nothing of them
all that he cared about was his father was home

the boy waited 10 years
his mother fell asleep in tears
for all those years
but then he finally came home

this poem is dedicated to all POW

poem by Montana Hohensee
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Visalakshi-2

Her husband died of a car accident.
It took place about three years ago.
Now she is free of encumbrances.
Hence I could talk to her as freely as
I did fifty two years back in her village
Where I met her, where we fell for each other.
I managed to get her phone number.

The last meeting of us was in her house
With her spouse, some twenty years ago.
She has married seven years after
Our episode, in the year I married,
Both being unaware of each other.
I saw her there after thirty two years
By when a lemon skinned beauty queen
Has turned into a dry skinned wrinkles.

I got her over phone and shared her grief.
She was upset, implying her bond with him.
She declined my offer of any meeting,
However incidental it might be.
‘Let us forget ours as a child game
With no renewal at this stage and age’
She said. Anxiety driven, she enquired
About me and family and my life.

Now she is seventy and weak as she told.
She is as old as me who am still robust.
It means we both were sweet seventeen
When we loved each other that went to
Being together with clothes stripped of
In her bolted room with a resolution
To elope, till we were caught red handed.
How quick a woman vomits her ex lover!
24.06.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Take Me Back

Everyone tells me
I was dealt a losing hand
The way that I look
And the way that I act
Its not hard to understand
Sure I got troubles
Maybe you gotem too
Id like to explain what has happened to me
So it doesnt happen to you
I was born in los angeles
Many, many, many years ago
We lived out in north hollywood then
In a steamy little bungalow
My mother, my father
My baby brother and me
Playin cowboys all day
Out there in the valley
What a perfect family
Hey, hey
Get em up, get em up
Come a ti yi
Hey
Went off to high school
When I was thirteen
I was kind of advanced
If you know what I mean
Got into some trouble
Drinkin heavy with my friends in the hills
My daddy had to come down to the station to get me
He said, where is my angry young man?
Take me back
Baby, please take me back
I dont wanna live here by this dirty old airport
In this greasy little shack
Take me back
Baby, please take me back
Just give me a chance and well start all over again
Now that young girl
Was just a summertime thing
She went back to school
When the school bell ring
Now I do my laundry by myself
Every night I eat alone
Baby please, please, please
Wont you let me come back home
Goin off to college
Passed every test
They said, lets send this boy to palo alto
He could be one of the best
Four years at stanford
Worked very hard
A lot of good it did me, little tramp,
Yourre ruining my life
Take me back
Baby, please take me back
I dont wanna live here by this dirty old airport
In this greasy little shack
Take me back
Baby, please take me back
Just give me a chance
And well start all over again
Just give me a chance
And well start all over

song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Plans

Monday morning - Nine O'clock - coffee going cold
Just sitting here thinking about our plans for growing old
We dreamed that we would travel more to places never seen
We’d take long walks along the beach and watch the waves roll in

We'd stroll back to our little home flower garden - picket fence
Then my thoughts return to now and nothing's making sense
All those years of making plans and waiting for the day
When we would start enjoying life - it all just slips away

Last weekend we had dinner out – did chores 'cause we were off
Sunday morning I went to church - you played a round of golf
I'm trying to remember now - what was it that we said -
Memories and so much more are spinning in my head

You said, 'Honey, what time is dinner', and, 'Don't worry if I'm late -
Oh, and just-in-case I meet a friend, Could you set an extra plate? '
You put your arms around me and looked into my eyes
We never ever - ever dreamed that’d be our last goodbye

All those years of making plans and waiting for the day
When we'd spend time together - it all just slips away

The table was set for three, the cooking was all done
There was nothing left to do but watch the setting sun
Just moments after darkness fell – someone at the door
A man in blue was telling me you won't be home anymore

All those years of making plans and waiting for the day
When we would start enjoying life - it all just slips away
All those years of making plans and waiting for the day
When we'd spend time together - it all just slips away

-Monday evening - Nine O'clock - Got through my first day
And just like all those plans we made - time just slipped away

song lyrics - 2004

poem by Marquita Lawson
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Dilema Of Going Home

Two decades now
Have I lived in America
And my mother
Calling from far away Africa,
Also my little sister
She propably was told of America
They all weap in my
dreams these days,
They want me back in Africa
To build the threshold of my father
That is far gone in decadence.
.
Home, I am coming home
To see my mothers face again
And my little sister Franscisca
She must be a woman by now.
But tell me brothers;
How could I ever go back to Africa
When I yet do not have wings for flight?
.
What would I say to the hungry
eyes of my mother, my sister?
What would I say to friends I left
behind my Africa ten years ago?
What would I say when they asked:
What have you brought for old
buddies you left behind ten years ago.
.
Ten years is long enough time
to be away from home,
And yet have nothing to show
for the labours.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Seven More Years

David I said as I lay on my bed
another years gone bye
your starting your parole in the morning they said
please tell her I'm alright
seven more years if only if she can hold on
seven more years and I'll be home again
david you got to tell her that I miss her
tell her I'll miss every day till then
but tell her it ain't so bad
and say you're my friend
say that I'm ok
and tell her too wate for me
and I'll be home again
getting home again
getting home again
david I said as he started to go
another years gone by
won't you write me some time
I'll miss you ,you know
but I'll make out alright
seven more years if only I can hold on
seven more years and I'll be home again
david you got to tell her that I miss her
tell her I'll miss her every day till then
but tell her it ain't so bad
please tell her my friend
say that I'm ok
and tell her to wate for me
and I'll be home again
getting home again
getting home again
getting home,getting home again
seven more years if only I can hold on
seven more years and I'll be home again
david you got to tell her that I miss her
tell her that I'll miss her every day till then
I only got seven more years
I only got seven more years
I know I got only got seven more lousy years
I only got seven more years
I only got seven more lousy years
[fade out]

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Hill

Oh, here the air is sweet and still,
And soft's the grass to lie on;
And far away's the little hill
They took for Christ to die on.

And there's a hill across the brook,
And down the brook's another;
But, oh, the little hill they took,—
I think I am its mother!

The moon that saw Gethsemane,
I watch it rise and set:
It has so many things to see,
They help it to forget.

But little hills that sit at home
So many hundred years,
Remember Greece, remember Rome,
Remember Mary's tears.

And far away in Palestine,
Sadder than any other,
Grieves still the hill that I call mine,—
I think I am its mother!

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Her Letter

"I'm taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me;
My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow,
And even with my glasses on I'm troubled sore to see. . . .
You'd little know your mother, boy; you'd little, little know.
You mind how brisk and bright I was, how straight and trim and smart;
'Tis weariful I am the now, and bent and frail and grey.
I'm waiting at the road's end, lad; and all that's in my heart,
Is just to see my boy again before I'm called away."

"Oh well I mind the sorry day you crossed the gurly sea;
'Twas like the heart was torn from me, a waeful wife was I.
You said that you'd be home again in two years, maybe three;
But nigh a score of years have gone, and still the years go by.
I know it's cruel hard for you, you've bairnies of your own;
I know the siller's hard to win, and folks have used you ill:
But oh, think of your mother, lad, that's waiting by her lone!
And even if you canna come -- just write and say you will."

"Aye, even though there's little hope, just promise that you'll try.
It's weary, weary waiting, lad; just say you'll come next year.
I'm thinking there will be no `next'; I'm thinking soon I'll lie
With all the ones I've laid away . . . but oh, the hope will cheer!
You know you're all that's left to me, and we are seas apart;
But if you'll only say you'll come, then will I hope and pray.
I'm waiting by the grave-side, lad; and all that's in my heart
Is just to see my boy again before I'm called away."

poem by Robert William Service
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As Years Go By

Tell me how the years go by
Its been a long long time
Tell me how your plans fell through
And how you changed your mind
Tell me bout the hearts you broke
How many have you known
Tell me how the years went by
And left you all alone
Tell me dear
I want to hear
bout the lost and wasted years
Tell me when now tell me why
Tell me how the years go by
Tell me how the years go by
Like borrowed dancing shoes
That gather dust beneath your ned
Mislaid and seldom used
Like a heart that haunts a phone booth
On a corner far from home
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Close your eyes
Tell me what do you see
Its an imperfect world
Still we dream perfect dreams
Its no big surprise when were down on our knees
Truth isnt always what we will believe.
Tell me how the years go by
In seasons at your door
And how the things you left me for
Dont matter anymore
Tell me how the more we learn
The more we leave unknown
Tell me how the years went by and left you
All alone
Alone
Close your eyes (x3)

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Five Long Years

(by eddie boyd)
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve to put me out.
I got a job in a steel mill, shucking steel like a slave.
Five long years, every friday I come straight back home with all my pay.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve to put me out.
I finally learned my lesson, should a long time ago.
The next woman that I marry, she gonna work and bring me the dough.
Have you ever been mistreated? you know just what Im talking about.
I worked five long years for one woman, she had the nerve,
She had the nerve,
She had the nerve,
She had the nerve to put me out.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kerrigan Boys

By jove it’s hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think I’ll sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And I’d rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.

A touch of pride, well perhaps it is, though I haven’t much cause for pride.
It’s sixteen years to a day almost, since old man Kerrigan died.
Sixteen years and his place is sold and the fortune he left us spent,
For the road down hill is an easy road and that was the way we went.

Kerrigan, that was our father’s name, was one of the tough old sort.
And he held by graft as he held by God, and he hated drink and sport.
We lads were fond of a bit of fun though he kept us under the rein,
And we had to bow to the old man’s will, though it went against our grain.

He was kind enough in his hard old way, but we had to earn our keep,
Driving horses and milking cows, branding and shearing sheep.
No wonder we bucked a bit at times, for you know what youngsters are,
We mustn’t dance at the local hall or drink in Mulligan’s bar.

Well, those were the orders the old man gave, but we did it just the same,
Jack was two years younger than I, so I was the more to blame.
But I’ve often thought had he been less hard and left us a bit more free
It might have been better for him perhaps, and better for Jack and me.

The old man dropped in the yard one day where we had the weaners penned.
We picked him up and we carried him home but we knew that it was the end.
The neighbours gathered from miles around he hadn’t a single foe,
And the crowd that stood by the open grave spoke well of the man below.

We grieved a lot for the old man’s death though he left us wealthy men;
If we had not known what he meant to us we realized it then.
Our only sister had died at birth and our mother was long since dead,
And we found that we were the only heirs when the old man’s will was read

We were just a couple of country lads; we’d never been off the farm,
We’d been held in check from our boyhood up by the weight of the old man’s arm.
Good in the saddle and fair with our fists with a touch of the old man’s pride,
But the neighbours muttered and shook their heads when old man Kerrigan died.

Hard and all as the old man was for years he had kept a stud.
For the love of the horse for the horses sake is strong in the Irish blood.
But breeding was only a hobby with him a sort of a harmless craze,
Though I’d often thought that he had his fling way back in his younger days.

We got mixed up with a racing crowd and started to go the pace.
Forgot the sound of the old man’s voice and the frown on his rugged face.
For the road down hill is and easy road though it ends in a swift descent,
We were only youngsters, a reckless pair, and that was the way we went.

We staked for a win on the Chester colt on the strength of a trail he showed.
But someone got to the boy on top, we knew by the race he rode.
He lost ten lengths and he finished last it was useless to make a fuss,
For the men we met in the racing game were far too cunning for us

We backed him again in the Greytown Cup and he won by half the straight,
But we left our cash in the bookies bags, for he failed to draw the weight.
We cursed the jockey and we cursed the horse, and we sold him there and then.
We’d had enough of the racing game and the ways of racing men.

We could have got out of our troubles still if we put our hands to the plough,
But the life of leisure and cards and drink had got the grip on us now.
You may call it flashness or call it pride or simply a want of sencse,
But the publicans and auctioneers grew wealthy at our expense.

We sat and drank in Mulligan’s pub and gambled the whole night long.
We dealt in cattle and dealt in sheep and most of our deals went wrong.
As long as the banks would cash our cheques we didn’t care what we spent,
For the road downhill is an easy road and that was the way we went.

Then things got bad and a drought came on and it lasted over a year.
Our stock died off and our dams gave out and we knew that the end was near.
Our credit stopped and the bank foreclosed and our fathers place was sold,
For the road downhill is and easy road as the prodigal found of old.

Five years after the old man’s death together we took the track.
I wandered into the nearest pub and I had a drink with Jack.
Then he shook my hand and he wished me luck and I knew he was close to tears,
And I’ve never set eyes on Jack since then or heard of him now for years.

Somewhere out to the west of Bourke he’s humping his swag maybe,
Tramping along in the broiling sun and cursing himself and me.
I’d give two years of my worthless life, though it may not last that long,
For one more look at his honest face, one grip of his fingers strong

Well that’s the tale of the Kerrigan boys and the moral is near the end.
You’ll always have plenty of friend at hand as long as you’ve cash to spend.
We had our chance and we played the fool, it’s too late now to repent,
For the road downhill is an easy road and that was the road we went.

poem by Edward Harrington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woak Hill

When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;

I packed up my goods all a sheenèn
Wi' long years o' handlèn,
On dousty red wheel ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.

The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
I then wer a-le{'a}vèn,
Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me{'a}ry,
My bride at Woak Hill.

But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
Too soon vor my ja{'y} an' my childern,
She died at Woak Hill.

But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.

Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn,
To bide at Woak Hill--

I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' a{'i}r-reachèn hand,
To my zide at Woak Hill.

On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.

An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandrèn
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.

But no; that my Me{'a}ry mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.

poem by William Barnes
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For Years Now

For years now
I have been dreaming about returning home.
For good.

For years now
I have been packing my bags.
in my thoughts.

For years now
I have been going home when I become nostalgic
and to rest from everything.

For years now I have been at home
and I go to London
when I want to bring more life to my life.

poem by Vida Nenadic
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The Broken Road

The broken road
I set out on the narrow way
Many years ago,
Hoping I would find true love
Along the broken road.
I got lost a time or two,
Wiped my brow, kept pushing through
I couldnt see how every sign pointed straight to you.
Every long-lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were just northern stars,
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms.
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you
I think about the years I spent
Id like to find the time I lost and give it back to you.
You just smile and take my hand; youve been there, you understand,
Its all part of a greater plan that is coming true.
Every longlost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were just falling stars,
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms.
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was single for six years and during those six years I went back to college and got my degree in Social Work and then... while I was single... Barney came here to Portsmouth on vacation.

quote by Betty Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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