Yet We Will Not Falter
Here is our playground
bigger and better than any golf course
or football stadium
where pebbles of our minds are crested
with opinions and beliefs
some confessional, some consummate
each heart in tandem with another heart
or delighting in some differences
yet we will not falter
as we present our pot-luck
to nourish our ambient souls
fragrance of pious spices
wafting like aroma in a buffet
our round- table larger than a globe
our seats unmarked, to each his own
yet we will not falter
as we partake with love
encrypted in understanding
in this delightful game of life.
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
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Related quotes
Here Is Our Playground
Here is our playground
bigger and better than any golf course
or football stadium
where pebbles of our minds are crested
with opinions and beliefs
some confessional, some consummate
each heart in tandem with another heart
or delighting in some differences
yet we will not falter
as we present our pot-luck
to nourish our ambient souls
fragrance of pious spices
wafting like aroma in a buffet
our round- table larger than a globe
our seats unmarked, to each his own
yet we will not falter
as we partake with love
encrypted in understanding
in this delightful game of life.
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football
I'm a football baby,
Rollin' round the field.
I've been passed and fumbled,
Till I don't know what I feel.
Everybody's the same,
They're all footballs too.
Setting up the big play
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby
In a football game
I'm a football baby
Run--kick
Life's a football game,
As every chump and champ knows.
We don't touch, we collide,
Till we're worn out inside.
We're kicking each other,
Right where it hurts,
Setting up the big play,
And trying to score.
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Block--pass
I'm a football baby,
In a football game
I'm a football baby,
Run---kick---hit---goal .
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The AFL Football
He was exactly like his famous Dad
When he was all stitched up
Of this fact he was very glad
His father had a special role in the 2005 premiership cup
Don't laugh when I tell you
This story is very true
He was a football; Aussie made
With anyone else, he wouldn't ever trade
Of his father he was very proud
Cheer cheer roared the crowd
It was a moment that would certainly go
Down in sporting history; this for sure he did know
Leo Barry; what a mark indeed
All the Sydney Swans fans agreed
The sea of red and white
What a glorious sight
He only wished that he could have been there
With him, all of his special memories; his Dad always did share
In a game a football is an important part
Of it all; this is the heart
Without a football, there'd be no game
Which of course would be a crying shame
Thousands of people travel to the A N Z Stadium or S C Ground
To see a football thrown or kicked around
Everyone gets excited to see
The game being played passionately
The moment that is above the rest
Is when Adam Goodes passes every test
To kick the winning goal
He plays with his heart and soul
The football's father at last did retire
To always be like him; was his son's desire
AFL is at the top of every sports fan's game list
Never ever to be missed
poem by Rose Angel H
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My Teacher
Unveiled faces,
In weariness and toil;
Unspoken words,
In hunger and thirst;
Tablets and stones,
In the cold and of the nakedness;
And like a beast bigger than a baby's head.
Empty pride,
There is a window in the wall!
And of the present evil age of mankind;
But the heir is still an infant.
The flesh of the heart and,
The vine and the vinedresser;
Let down in the basket is youe love because,
The king is now on the donkey.
The fragrance of knowledge is like,
The words of my teacher;
But the law is my aroma and,
Wisdom is my teacher of love.
Come with the spirit of understanding and,
Let me care for your love;
For the hired men and women are full of toil!
And like a window in the wall of the earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Football A Game.
What a name called?
Football a game called,
To known arena called stadium,
Played eleven to eleven side to side each,
Formations of it kinds,
Aims of a two goal post net,
Aims of a trophy,
Aims of winning,
In a color Jersey of its kinds,
In a color booths of it kinds,
Side to side balls picking sons round,
Spectators sat rounding pitch watching,
Centered with a nominated referee officiating,
Lined with a two lines men flagged,
Officials of substitutions in questions,
Pronounced by named commentators,
Red and yellow cards rules in question,
Supported keys of volunteers,
Supported with all sorts of supporters,
Declared a stadium manager jobs,
Declared a team manager jobs,
Host the nations, Host the world,
At moment of a country designated!
At moment of a country authorized!
Called for all practitioners....
Photographers, Cinematography, Press, Medias, Adverts, Sponsors, critics, etc. centred.
What a name called?
Football! football! ! football! ! !
A rounded leather circled!
Circled in its color of its choices,
Declared fifa authorities,
Declared statistical over all game,
Respect covered face to face,
Stretchers officials in uniforms of its officials medications,
Football a game called,
With boots of its kinds worn,
Saddled a whole lot supporters,
Saddled a whole lot analysts,
Presumption for a nation's glory,
Preemptive individuals' desirably for survival,
Football a game called,
Called to the passionate in spirit,
Football a game called,
Embrace understanding to unnamed,
Embrace love to unloved,
Embrace unity to diversities,
Embrace creativity to un-creativity,
Football a game called,
Adore a nature,
Football a game called,
Called to a glorious home,
Football a game called,
A rounded leather circled!
With boots of its played,
With jersey of its kinds,
With choices of many kinds,
Football a game called.
poem by Bunmi Orogun Samuel
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Taking On The Arch Angel, Dark Angel, The Exiled Angel(Orginal Now Viewable)
I say to the arch angel,
I say to dark angel,
I say to the exiled angel,
I falter not, you can try all you want.
Still I shall sing my silhouette.
Of that which makes me love, me care,
I will never fall into despair.
No matter the poison in the air.
Use the confused as weapons to
attack my unwillingness to surrender.
I defy you in every way.
Even when I worn out my stay.
I will not lash out, I will sit back and take it.
For my sins can be forgiven.
My prejudice can not.
So I will not say what could be said with no regret.
So I say arch angel, I say dark angel,
I say exiled angel I falter not, no matter
what you got hanging over my head,
my soul is not dead,
my ultimate pledge has not been broken.
So come on hit me from every direction.
Its only my life at risk.
No one else, shall be punished for my mistakes.
Yes they have caused great heart break.
But in the end its for the better.
I shall do this alone in the cold and dark.
Still my insides burn.
On fire till the day I die.
So i say to the arch angel,
i say to the dark angel,
i say to the exiled angel.
I falter not, never ask why,
and look to the sky.
For my purpose is unknown
till he decides it should be shown.
Blind faith, is something you cant touch or taste.
Its deep with in under the skin.
Locked within, waiting to be released like a genetic disease.
It doesn't try to please.
It has but only one need, to believe, in that which cant be seen.
So I say to the arch angel,
i say to the dark angel,
i say to the exiled angel,
i falter not, not matter the cost.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Home
Home is where we sit the table
festooned in the joy
a quiet meal can mean
we two comfort our souls
while our two muffled voices buffet the air
blending with the candlelight.
Our slow night languishes
as we sip wine
smelling the rose bouquet
talking aimlessly;
more company
than discourse;
that being enough
for what we crave;
each heart
bathed in the reciprocity
deep emotions bring.
So here's my toast
to you my love;
you'll always have
this table set in this home
which is always here for you.
The home
which is always here;
in my heart.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Battle Song
There's havoc on the staircase where the guests come streaming,
Shirt-fronts shining and tiaras gleaming,
Frail folk shuddering and stout folk steaming --
Steaming in the heat of the fray.
Midnight striking and the strife appalling,
Strong men staggering and weak men falling,
And deep in the heart of me a still voice calling:
'Make for the buffet while you may.
'Make for the buffet while you may, poor stranger,
Make for the buffet while you can;
There's hope for the stale there, strength for the frail there,
Drink for the thirsty man.
Thrust through the throng! Be obstreperous and strong!
Fight till your strength is sped.
Fight and prevail; do not falter, do not fail,
Make for the buffet and be fed!
'Make for the buffet and be fed, poor stranger,
Make for the buffet and be strong;
Dense is the press and the air is growing less,
Fierce is the fight and long.
Fierce is the fight and oppressive is the night,
Stern is the strife and fell;
Pale is your cheek; you are wan and you are weak;
Make for the buffet and be well!'
Painfully and wearily the hours are dragging,
Old men are falling now and young men flagging;
White ties weakening and stiff shirts sagging --
Sagging as the hours go by.
Consciousness is failing me and outlines merging,
Thunder in my ears as of sea-foam surging,
And deep in the heart of me a faint voice urging:
'Make for the buffet lest you die.
'Make for the buffet lest you die, poor stranger;
Make for the buffet while you can;
Fight your way through like a woman in a queue,
Fight like a jungle-man!
Batter the élite with your hands and your feet,
Butt them in the backs with your head:
Strike for your own! You are hungry and alone;
Make for the buffet and be fed.
'Make for the buffet and be fed, poor stranger,
Make for the buffet lest you die.
There's hope for stale there, strength for the frail there,
Drink for the throat that's dry.
Courage and strength will rewarded be at length;
Weight in the end will tell.
Up, then, and on! Are you weary? Are you wan?
Make for the buffet and be well,
Poor stranger!
Make for the buffet and be well,
Poor ranger!
Make for the buffet and be well!'
poem by Patrick Barrington
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There's An Understanding Between Me and You (Stave Stanza Sestets)
There's an understanding between me and you,
we are twin souls in what we think and do
severally Cupid's arrows did us strike,
we are different and very much alike
our views, beliefs and minds are quite the same
I call it love, you belief or another name.
I am bewitched by your sultry voice
people call you my only object-choice,
while you do bring life to every day
your loving go further than you do say,
at times to you it is a kind of game;
I call it love, you belief or another name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Small Victories!
small minds, small dreams,
small prayers, small God.
small thoughts, small answers,
to questions not small!
playing the race game,
the salvation game,
the mine and yours game,
the right and wrong game.
like cattle herded
unknowingly to slaughter.
every body a ticket,
to pay the fare.
bigger picture, bigger concepts,
bigger than i and me!
bigger risk, bigger world,
bigger choices, small victories.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Another Heart
(skip ewing/tim johnson)
You treat love like a game
But you dont play by any rules
You keep an ace held up your sleeve
For any unsuspectin fool
I thought I would be different
So I did not expect
That to you Id be another
Heart in the deck
Just another heart
For you to shuffle around
Just a little part
Of a bigger game thats going down
I dont like this deal
So Ill get out while I still can
I dont want to be just another heart in your hand
Like a riverboat gambler
Someday youll lose your touch
To a smooth operator
Who cheats you out of love
When your diamonds turn to teardrops
When your gold begins to rust
Its then you will know this feeling of running out of trust im
Just another heart
For you to shuffle around
Just a little part
Of a bigger game thats going down
I dont like this deal
So Ill get out while I still can
I dont want to be just another heart in your hand
I cant take anymore
Of what youre not giving me
I can live with a lot
But I dont want to be
Just another heart
For you to shuffle around
Just a little part
Of a bigger game thats going down
I dont like this deal
So Ill get out while I still can
I dont want to be just another heart in your hand
I dont like this deal
So Ill get out while I still can
cause I dont want to be
Just another heart in your hand
You treat love like a game
But your dont play by any rules
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boy Who Always Laughs
For Lio
Lio, the boy who always laughs
Went away the other day
None he took away with him
But one left:
His heart, the one he gave my heart
He told me he wanted to travel
Around the world
With the bees, the bread and a slight of Kimi Raikkonen
'I'm hoping to be a racer, ' he said
I said, 'Well you should be.
You're the driver of the life, this life you get
anyway.'
The sun gets brighter
When all men's dreams get bigger
And his, get larger
With each passing day
Just yellowen the sun in my sky
That has always been gray
And now, with his heart in mine
It makes my soul shine
It makes me
want to travel
around the globe
With the bees, the bread and his hope
poem by Sabrina Jubahar
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Heartache
Some say hearts are like religions of the mind,
Naughty people glide on the backs of your throat.
Hearts can falter and find a discovery for all times,
Internal conversations abide in the very stems of human thought.
A mind is cherished, as well as that heart
Speaking in the forethought of majesties and high nesses.
My character is only small, yet larger than most,
But my heart avidly seeks atonement.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Please
Please tread softly as you pass my heart,
For wounded souls are sensitive to sorrow,
And need the solace of a peaceful calm,
To mend the grief and start a new tomorrow.
Please speak softly as you near my heart,
The beats unsteady still, the hurt remains,
And yet a voice that soothes, becomes a balm,
To clear the path, and break restricting chains.
Please touch softly as you take my heart,
Such trust will falter, should any harshness stain,
Yet as each day of care weaves like a charm,
Love comes anew, and thus there's no more pain.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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You May Know A Lot About Your Favourite Game
You may know a lot about your favourite game
And from your commentaries and writings on it you know of wealth and fame
But there's more to life than talking of and writing of football
And about other things you seem to know little at all
By the followers of football your type are well known
And they look up to you as one in a class of your own
They well may be happy your praises to sing
For football to them is an important thing
But by other than me it has been said before
That football is just a game that and little more
For many from life's cares a brief getaway
To cheer on their team in the game of the day
And you football writer and commentator and sporting celebrity
You may seem enlightened to many but not so to me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Avenue Of Hope
Along the avenue of hope
The footsteps falter, the fingers grope
and days, stretch out, beneath the sun
No-one's born, and no-one dies, no-one lives, so no-one cries
and we wait to see just what we will become
Don't let me falter, don't let me ride
Don't let the earth in me subside
Let me see just who I will become
You're like the clouds in my home town
You just grow fat and hang around
and you're days stretch out beneath the sun
and you don't live, you don't die, you don't love so you don't cry
and we wait, to see just what we will become
Don't let me borrow, don't let me bring
Don't let me wallow, don't make me sing
Let me see just who I will becomee
Don't let me falter, don't let me hide
Don't let someone else decide
Just who or what I will become
Don't let them borrow, don't let them bring
Don't let them wallow, don't make them sing
Let them stretch out beneath the sun
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For A Round Of Golf
For leisure the game that so many do play
For a round of golf 'tis a beautiful day
By the wide slow flowing river that crawls to the sea
Men and women practice their strokes before their evening tea.
As a boy I believed hobby golfers had easy jobs
And that those who enjoyed golf were well to do snobs
But such antiquated thinking not relevant today
As all kinds of classes the game of golf play.
A beautiful day for a beautiful game
For most hobby golfers with no aspirations to fame
After work they go to the golf course in the evening sun
And play the eighteen holes for the sake of fun.
Of the praises of golf everybody doesn't sing
But for the participants a game without physical contact can be such a fun thing
In the golf course by the river that to the sea crawl
The crack of the iron on the stone hard golf ball.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Why Do You Love Football?
Why do you love football Kevin
what do you see in it?
why not watch another sport
like Rugby, Golf, or Cricket?
Well let me answer that my friend
and put your mind at rest
I love the beautiful game
because it's simply the best.
No other sport is as exciting
no other comes anywhere near
football has lots of passion
and can create a great atmosphere.
It is loved all around the world
most children kick a football
rich kids, and poor kids,
small kids, and some very tall.
Ask a lad what he wants to be?
a footballer I bet he will say
not a cyclist or a pole vaulter
a top swimmer no way!
A good football match is a real joy
that's why thousands go to every game
when you get goals and lots of action
the fans are so glad that they came.
So yes my friend I do love my football
it's the number one sport for me
so while your watching snooker and darts
I'll be cheering on my beloved Coventry.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Playground
I climb up, spending daylight
Slide down drunken on the other side
Some sweet girl, playing my wife,
Runs off with a boy whose bike shell ride
Playground (its a playground)
Marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Bells will ring, door flings open
Hare and greyhound in the old kiss chase
Youve been caught, game has ended
Smack on kisser from her slap on face
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Watch the leaves all tear away (one by one)
Leaving you but lined like an exercise book
What did your report once say (know the one)
This boy must try harder to please
From down on his knees
Playground, playground, playground, playground, playground,
Playground, playground, playground
Brain gets bent, heart gets broken
You cant jump off once the page is turned
School is out but never over
Thats the only lesson you can learn
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square
Playground (its a playground)
Go for the high jump if you let em push you in the
Playground (its a playground)
Theres no escaping, escaping from their big square world
You may leave school, but it never leaves you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Football Jock And The Cheerleader
Football jocks- they allow nothing to get in their way
Girls hearts they’d break every day.
What is a heart? But tissue and mass.
They’ll get over it, it will pass.
Life is a game and we play it to our best
If girls can’t cope then give it a rest.
Love is like football and it has
many tactics that we must learn
and along the way people get burned.
They tend to dropp their hearts
and it shatters on the ground
But someone will pick up the pieces
Whatever could be found.
We are the jocks with one goal in mind
“ to win” every turn and every time.
We are the cheerleaders of the team
We get the fans to jump and scream.
We give you guys moral support
With out us your fans would abort.
You think because you’re football jocks
That all the women s clocks must stop.
Well! We have a surprise for you
Without us you wouldn’t know what to do.
As for our hearts shattering on the ground
My friend! You better turn and look around.
You see! LOVE IS NOT! A football game
And no heart remains the same
You are about to get your dues
For we know exactly what to do.
You may be great on the football field
But our hearts, you will not steal.
You can not get in our heads
nor can you get us in your beds.
poem by Louis Rams
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