En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The greatest pain

History
Storage of down-
Trodden memory
Antiquity?
Weight
Added to life's
Forward push to
See
History
The greatest plane
Fly forever
Just depart
No looking back
But to reminisce
The progression
The window
Opportunity

poem by Jeff Rushton
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The History of Now

The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.

The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.

Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.

We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.

The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.

The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.

It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.

poem by David SmithWhite
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Thanks for the Memory

Thanks for the memory,
For a man; golden history,
Lived a life full of misery,
A true man; soul of ivory,
A riddle; unsolved irony,
A hunter, an artist, a Dad,
Truly had given me all he had,
And me? Were I that bad?
Did I really made him sad?
No, he didn't curse me in his bed,
But had forgiven his wayward lad,
A talent, a poet a musician mad,
And he'll forever remember that,
His last wish; in all that he'd said...

Thanks for the memory; I really appreciate your sympathy...And this is for history...

poem by Jimmy Zepp
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Ongoing Process.

Three quarters of a century.
Recorded in my memory.
Experience that made me, me.
A complete life times history.

Of all I've heard and all I've seen.
Recorded in my memory.
What I have done and where I've been.
A complete life times history.

I can look forward eagerly.
A quarter of a century.
To reaching my centenary.
Recorded automatically.

And stored within my memory.
Accessible only to me.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Black History Month

In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.

But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!

Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...

*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity.

Cicero in Pro Publio Sestio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History why do we care

History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....

poem by Andrea Thepoet
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We Affect Forever

We Affect Forever

We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.

poem by Mary Murphy
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A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.

quote by Grandma Moses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While my interest in natural history has added very little to my sum of achievement, it has added immeasurably to my sum of enjoyment in life.

quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History is a living horse laughing at a wooden horse. History is a wind blowing where it listeth. History is no sure thing to bet on. History is a box of tricks with a lost key. History is a labyrinth of doors with sliding panels, a book of ciphers with the code in a cave of the Saragossa sea. History says, if it pleases, Excuse me, I beg your pardon, it will never happen again if I can help it.

quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Were History

You look to me for some outstanding meaning
You got the devil in your eyes and nothing in your soul
If you think Im gonna sell myself, then you must be dreaming
Theres no way, Im gonna fall into your hole
You never seem to help me when Im bleeding
You gotta knife for a tongue and youre tearing at my heart
I thought you were a friend, but in truth you never liked me
You lied and cheated us from the start
You are wrong, love doesnt last forever
Youre nothing new there is no mystery
Now youre gone you thought you were so clever
You and me are now history, were history...
Solo
I dont like your face
I dont like your eyes
I dont like your lips, I hate your lies
This times the last time its goodbye time
You are wrong, love doesnt last forever
Youre nothing new there is no mystery
Now youre gone you thought you were so clever
You and me are now history, were history...
Were history, were history
I dont need you and I dont care
Were history, were history...

song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A strange thing is memory, and hope one looks backward, and the other forward one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.

quote by Anna Mary Robertson Moses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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aaa1 you are, she is, I am She was (conversations in my head)

You are,
She is
The most beautiful memory
And you are
She is, the reason the words won’t come
You are the dream I let go
She was more than I can tell you
You are less than you believe yourself to be
She is two sides of the same story and more than she knows
You gave me just enough, just enough
She stole my respect without me realising
You had to have it your way
She knew my weakness, exploited it
You had the most perfect lips
I still see my finger tracing their arch
Your lips, your lips in bedroom shade
Let me tell you I miss her lips
You have no idea what you did to me, no idea
It still hurts, still hurts, still hurts
Your memory refuses to die, you won’t go away
She is my history, my beautiful, wonderful, painful history
That is what you are, history,
Painful history

poem by Bill Smith
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The History Teacher

Woman!

Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?

Am I History?
Or a part of it?

And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?

Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?

Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.

Are you making me
An emperor?

Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?

And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?

poem by Atef Ayadi
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Golden Days

There are days in our life
we often refer to as our golden days.
Days that will live forever in our memory,
days when our life felt so comfortable
and we had that warm feeling inside.
Times we wished could last forever
and everyday would be like them.
Sadly, all too soon they are placed into our memory.
Sometimes we get the chance to relive them
for a brief spell now and then
whenever we stop and reminisce
with an old friend.
Then for the briefest of moments,
we are transported back then,
the time of our golden days again.

2 January 2009

poem by David Harris
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Peace Messenger

Thousand of rulers have come and gone
thousand of conqueror have conquered the world
most of them have become the chapter of history
history has lost some of name
but the history remember those
who have done for the sake of mankind
amongst them one more name will be added
who shall always be remembered
for his solitude administration
to conquer the peace
the messenger of peace of the present world
His Highness name is
Mr.Barack Obama
the Hon'ble President of USA
who is above all race and religion
May God bless him and his family
with Love and Peace.

poem by Ramesh Rai
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I am still a boy

I am still boy
Playing with toys
I wish to fly
But reply with loud cry

I am pushed to nursery
They claim it as bravery
I feel so sorry
They have added me worry

I miss the home
Particularly the mom
I am afraid of dad
It makes me sad

Still I look with joy
He plays with me like boy
Rides me on the back
I enjoy and give the kick

As the days pass by
They push me more and try
I continuously feel shy
I never question and ask why

It is boredom in class
There is only worry to pass
All paper work and sympathy from teacher
I was reluctant but was made monitor

it is long history
shrouded by mystery
it has negative impact
still it is a fact

it teaches a log way
reality to be far and away
who know what will be in store?
whom to ask and where to explore?

Life may be different to many
It may look hard and funny
It is to be lived as I was told
To show some strength and look very bold

I may not think much
Life may be as such
I need not think much and rush
It requires no such push

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Our History

If my history would end here
I know
your history will begin.

Our history
happens not at the same time
how I wish I could see
what history you will make.

If my history would end here
I know
your history will begin.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Dont Stop For No-one

Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat 3 times)
One day my father said to me
its time for you to leave,
But dont wait for me, its pre-destiny
Dont wait around for someone to believe in
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Just like moses waiting on the mountain
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont hang around in the babylonian gardens
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) tourist attraction
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat)
Sometimes I told I must confess
To a life of tenderness
But I just repeat what he said to me:
dont close your eyes because seeing is believing
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) child, fighting for a meaning
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont dream too long, its time to awake now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Like sleeping lucy waiting for a kiss now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
I think you know the way its gonna go now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
From aztech kings to new york queens
And then it goes on

song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Window Of Opportunity

In every life occasionally
a window opens before us,
a window of opportunity.
It may not be a window to money,
but a window to more friends.
When we pass through it could lead us
to friends in many lands.
So the next time a window opens
just walk on through
you’ll never know
what lies beyond it there.
It could open
to the greatest treasure there,
love and friendship
just for you.

poem by David Harris
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