Crackerbox Palace
I was so young when I was born
My eyes could not yet see
And by the time of my first dawn
Somebody holding me . . . they said
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Weve been expecting you
You bring such joy in crackerbox palace
No matter where you roam know our love is true
While growing up or trying to
Not knowing where to start
I looked around for someone who
May help reveal my heart - someone said
While youre a part of cracerbox palace
Do what the rest all do
Or face the fact that crackerbox palace
May have no other choice than to deport you
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Weve been expecting you
You bring us joy in crackerbox palace
No matter where you roam know our love is true
Sometimes are good . . . sometimes are bad
Thats all a part of life
And standing in between them all
I met a mr. grief - and he said
I welcome you to crackerbox palace
Was not expecting you
Lets rap and tap at crackerbox palace
Know that the lord is well and inside of you
(chorus)
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Foreign Window
I saw you from a foreign window
Bearing down the sufferin road
You were carryin your burden
To the palace of the lord
To the palace of the lord
I spied you from a foreign window
When the lilacs were in bloom
And the sun shone through your window pane
To the place you kept your books
You were reading on your sofa
You were singin every prayer
That the masters had instilled in you
Since lord byron loved despair
In the palace of the lord
In the palace of the lord
Bridge:
And if you get it right this time
You dont have to come back again
And if you get it right this time
Theres no need to explain
I saw you from a foreign
Bearing down the sufferin road
You were carryin your burden
You were singing about rimbaud
I was going down to geneva
When the kingdom had been found
I was giving you protection
From the loneliness of the crowd
In the palace of the lord
In the palace of the lord
They were giving you religion
Breaking bread and drinking wine
And you laid out on the green hills
Just like when you were a child
I saw you from a foreign window
You were trying to find your way back home
You were carrying your defects
Sleeping on a pallet on the floor
In the palace of the lord
In the palace of the lord
In the palace of the lord
Etc etc...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Palace Of The Brine
In a place they say is dead
In the lake thats like an ocean
I count about a billion head
All the time
Theres a motion
Palace of the brine
I saw the cloning
Of the famous family
I heard the droning
In the shrine
Of the sea-monkey
Palace of the brine
Beneath reflections in the fountain
The starry sky and utah mountains
They are swimming happily
Cant you see
A life thats so sublime
Palace of the brine.
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buckingham Palace
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.
They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Block City
What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea,
There I'll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Worldly Place
Even in a palace, life may be led well!
So spake the imperial sage, purest of men,
Marcus Aurelius. But the stifling den
Of common life, where, crowded up pell-mell,
Our freedom for a little bread we sell,
And drudge under some foolish master's ken
Who rates us if we peer outside our pen--
Match'd with a palace, is not this a hell?
Even in a palace! On his truth sincere,
Who spoke these words, no shadow ever came;
And when my ill-school'd spirit is aflame
Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win,
I'll stop, and say: "There were no succour here!
The aids to noble life are all within."
poem by Matthew Arnold from Sonnets (1867)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Refusal
MINE is a palace fair to see,
All hung with gold and silver things,
It is more glorious than a king's,
And crownèd queens might envy me.
Ah, no, I will not let you in!
Stay rather at the gates and weep
For all the splendour that I keep,
The treasures that you cannot win.
While you desire and I refuse,
For both the palace still is here--
Its turrets gold, its silver gear
Are yours to wish for--mine to use.
But if I let you in, I know
The spell would break, the palace fade,
And we stand, trembling and afraid,
Lost in the dark where chill winds blow.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Story Teller
The story tellers
of different language
of different clothes
of different color
tells the same story
about the missing prince
in the palace.
People gathered around
and listen
to the story teller
who has the most beautiful face
and dressed like a princess.
One young man
dressed like a beggar
tells the same story
about the missing prince
in the palace
but no one came to listen.
Night comes
and the young man rides his horse
back to the palace
the young man...
is the missing prince.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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A rich queen and a poor king
The handsome threadbare man who struggled in a slum.
I don't know why I loved him and took him to my palace?
I gave an old king's name to bring him to our own society.
This beautiful witch-Queen dragged me to her palace
and given me an ugly name of a Lunatic.
My halcyon slum is a paradise.
The edge of the heavy crown pierced my head
and I never had a sound sleep
since I came to this hell.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Ballad
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine,
They have store of good venison, with old canary wine,
With singing and music to heighten the cheer;
Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare.
In a costly palace Youth is still carest
By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest;
In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails:
Does Age begin to prattle?-no man heark'neth to his tales.
In a costly palace if the child with a pin
Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in;
In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish
For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish.
In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust;
In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust,
Think upon the former days, when he was well to do,
Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too.
In a costly palace Youth his temples hides
With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides;
In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare,
With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air.
In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride,
To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side,
That none to do them injury may have pretence;
Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.
poem by Charles Lamb
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The Golden Palace
Locked behind the door
Taken by force
But Im not guilty of the crime
How can this be real
What is aganst the law
To say whats on your mind
Then I see your face
So warm as it comforts me
And tells me I am not alone
Pray for me tonight
Give me the strength of love
To help me cross the virgin snow
I will run till daybreak
My tears will fade away
Theyll never take me again
No Im never going back
cause when I get to the golden palace
Everything will surely be so clear
Can we give ourselves
Like a mother to her child
They took a part of me
Whenever I think of it
I shiver to the bone
The scar is on my heart
When will the crimes of
Inhumanity be known
I am only one voice
I will not fade away
So many are silent
But I will never look back
cause when I get to the golden palace
Everything will surely disappear
The snow has gone at last
Im out of the shadows and into the sun
And then I see you smile
Angel of mercy
The fight has jus begun
I can hear them calling
Across the frozen land
The world will hear us
You know its never too late
cause when we get
To the golden palace
The memory will surely be so clear
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Face To Face With A Lotus
fRONTING THE
defunct Presidential Palace
Ho Chi Minh
lies the Lotus
just beside the majestic old
stairs
that time it was blooming
and i waited for the rest who climbed the palace
since i had to confront the
Lotus
It speaks too about my
loneliness
my triumphant survival
towards
another ponderous
solitude
oh my, i do not miss anyone
anymore
i rise above the mud
float on the water
and look to the sky
talk in the silence of
God...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Success consists in being successful, not in having potential for success. Any wide piece of ground is the potential site of a palace, but there's no palace till it's built.
quote by Fernando Pessoa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amilia
I am a lover and i am single,
I am a joker and i am single,
I am a writer and i am single,
I am a teacher and i am single,
Come closer to me to know who i am;
Amilia is your name to the world so sweet.
To the Red Palace,
To the White Plalace,
To the Blue Palace,
To the Black Palace,
Like fire and water;
To everything, there is a middle point.
What are your four best colours?
What are your four best foods?
What are your four best songs?
Give me an answer and,
I will tell you who you are.
Amilia is your name and,
You have a lot to learn;
Oh Amilia!
I never knew monkeys do write till i met one.
Like Mount Ararat where Noah's Ark landed,
Do extend my regards to your friend.
Life is like butterflies and rainbows,
Love is like summer and winter,
And hope is the dream of dreams!
But if poeple could see very well,
They will find beauty everywhere.
This message is like a witch's son to you,
This message is like a wizard's daugther to you,
But i am the Sailor who brings in food for many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Thailand November 2009 (2)
In Nakhon Pathom
we posed for
the tallest Buddhist pagoda
then watched
The greatest Elephant Show
In Phetchaburi
we sunbathed in Cha-am Beach,
and had
time viewing the
scenic mountains,
limestone caves,
and ancient temples.
Finally in Prachuap Khiri
we went inside Klai Kangwon Palace,
a summer palace of the King and the Royal Family,
courtesy of the ambassador
friend of my father-in-law.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Buck House...
England attracts with one's view eyes
of tourists.
tall trees, water fountains and colour flags
are bouncing as in the water
as in the mirror.
To be in London and not to see the palace
it is incredible.
To learn his history
it to enter the palace in order
to hear whispers of walls, appliances
and senses hidden deep secrets and the ones
which stopped already being them...
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Sate
'Sate, sate..... te te'
Sound builders satay at night
echoed through the halls of the capital
go on and on so every night
the walls of the houses across the street, alleys
in the capital of the kingdom
witness craft, tenacity and perseverance
peddle wares
favorite food of all citizens,
officials and the king
anticipated arrival
moreover the king's wife and family
they secretly love it
although manners forbade direct contact
with the repairman satay
'Te, te...... te goat, and cow's father.... '
Until one day the king, officials and retainer
In the vicinity of the royal palace
Angry, out skewers
Preceded by residents who are hungry
From staying up all night, patrolling
The Nayaka, the courtiers can only be silent
When the officials angry
Moreover, the royal family.
'If so, tell the repairman satay'
Only selling to serve the royal family.
Or call a palace cook
The rickshaw satay did not enter the palace
Become a palace cook
He prefers, the king occupies land
In addition to the road to the palace mosque
And do not want to be separated with customers
In this life
Most prized possessions is the fidelity
To the people who love him
Not germerlap money, rewards and praise
Of courtiers
Which at times was bored
So kick
Life can not be measured
only of desire
worldly
poem by Prasetya Utama
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What Do You Do About Dry Periods In Your Writing?
When the writing is going well,
I am a prince in a desert palace,
fountains flowing in the garden.
I lean an elbow on a velvet pillow
and drink from a silver goblet,
poems like a banquet
spread before me on rugs
with rosettes the damask of blood.
But exiled
from the palace, I wander --
crawling on burning sand,
thirsting on barren dunes,
believing a heartless mirage no less true
than palms and pools of the cool oasis.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Richard Jones
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‘He came unto His own, and His own received Him not’
As Christ the Lord was passing by,
He came, one night, to a cottage door.
He came, a poor man, to the poor;
He had no bed whereon to lie.
He asked in vain for a crust of bread,
Standing there in the frozen blast.
The door was locked and bolted fast.
‘Only a beggar!’ the poor man said.
Christ the Lord went further on,
Until He came to a palace gate.
There a king was keeping his state,
In every window the candles shone.
The king beheld Him out in the cold.
He left his guests in the banquet-hall.
He bade his servants tend them all.
‘I wait on a Guest I know of old.’
‘’Tis only a beggar-man!’ they said.
‘Yes,’ he said; ‘it is Christ the Lord.’
He spoke to Him a kindly word,
He gave Him wine and he gave Him bread.
Now Christ is Lord of Heaven and Hell,
And all the words of Christ are true.
He touched the cottage, and it grew;
He touched the palace, and it fell.
The poor man is become a king.
Never was man so sad as he.
Sorrow and Sin on the throne make three,
He has no joy in mortal thing.
But the sun streams in at the cottage door
That stands where once the palace stood.
And the workman, toiling to earn his food,
Was never a king before.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Song of the Palace
Tears utmost gauze cloth dream not succeed
Night deep before palace press song sound
Red cheek not old favour first cut
Slant lean on smoke cover sit arrive brightness
Her handkerchief all soaked in tears, she cannot dream,
In deepest night before the palace voices sing.
Her rosy cheeks aren't old, but first love has been cut,
Leaning, wreathed in smoke, she sits until the dawn.
The Dove of Dacca
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
`If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove—if the dove—if the homing dove
Come, and alone, to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace-wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away—
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall!
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame—
Slept in the flame of the palace old—
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove,
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled!
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the Roll of the Kings!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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