Terrapin
Terrapin
--------
While you were gone
these spaces filled with darkness
the obvious was hid
with nothing to believe in
the compass always points to Terrapin
Solemn wings of fortune beat like rain
You're back in Terrapin for good or ill again
for good or ill again
Terrapin!
Terrapin!
Terrapin!
Terrapin
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Terrapin Station
Terrapin station - lady with a fan
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm,
That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done.
While the firelights aglow, strange shadows from the flames will grow,
Till things weve never seen will seem familiar.
Shadows of a sailor, forming winds both foul and fair all swarm.
Down in carlisle, he loved a lady many years ago.
Here beside him stands a man, a soldier from the looks of him,
Who came through many fights, but lost at love.
While the story teller speaks, a door within the fire creaks;
Suddenly flies open, and a girl is standing there.
Eyes alight, with glowing hair, all that fancy paints as fair,
She takes her fan and throws it, in the lions den.
Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance.
The sailor gave at least a try, the soldier being much too wise,
Strategy was his strength, and not disaster.
The sailor, coming out again, the lady fairly leapt at him.
Thats how it stands today. you decide if he was wise.
The story teller makes no choice. soon you will not hear his voice.
His job is to shed light, and not to master.
Since the end is never told, we pay the teller off in gold,
In hopes he will return, but he cannot be bought or sold.
Terrapin station
Inspiration, move me brightly. light the song with sense and color;
Hold away despair, more than this I will not ask.
Faced with mysteries dark and vast, statements just seem vain at last.
Some rise, some fall, some climb, to get to terrapin.
Counting stars by candlelight, all are dim but one is bright;
The spiral light of venus, rising first and shining best,
On, from the northwest corner, of a brand new crescent moon,
While crickets and cicadas sing, a rare and different tune,
Terrapin station.
In the shadow of the moon, terrapin station.
And I know well get there soon, terrapin station.
I cant figure out, terrapin, if its the end or beginning, terrapin,
But the trains put its brakes on, terrapin,
And the whistle is screaming, terrapin.
Terrapin station - at the siding
While you were gone, these faces filled with darkness.
The obvious was hidden. with nothing to believe in,
Sullen wings of fortune beat like rain.
Youre back in terrapin for good or ill again, for good or ill again.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If it's not going to sound like Terrapin Station, what's the point of playing Terrapin Station?
quote by Branford Marsalis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About Brother Rabbit.
Brother Rabbit and Brother Terrapin wanted to run round a tree.
They went to Brother Bear and asked him to be the referee.
He said to Brother Terrapin, “You win if you’re the first to take the stone! ”
Brother Rabbit ran and won as Brother Terrapin could only go,
He cried, “Brother Rabbit has run, but has he really won?
Look here, my stone’s on me, so I’m number one! ”
When Brother Fox and Brother Rabbit meet,
Brother Fox always tries to eat
Brother Rabbit who often thinks how
To laugh at Brother Fox. Now
Brother Rabbit said, “Have we met, Brother? Hi! ”
“Oh! I haven’t had lunch”, Brother Fox replied.
“But when we yesterday met,
You also said that.
Poor Brother Fox had no lunch,
Then have for it grass or a branch”.
Brother Rabbit’s taught Brother Wolf a lesson.
He’s done it to amuse his little son.
Now, Brother Wolf’s in a cage.
Nothing he can change.
Yesterday he ate meat in a trap,
And Brother Rabbit didn’t let
Him run out, he locked him then,
He taught him and needn’t teach again.
poem by Konstantin Ananin
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Brer Rabbit You's de Cutes' of 'Em All
Once der was a meetin' in de wilderness,
All de critters of creation dey was dar;
Brer Rabbit, Brer 'Possum, Brer Wolf, Brer Fox,
King Lion, Mister Terrapin, Mister B'ar.
De question fu' discussion was, 'Who is de bigges' man?'
Dey 'pinted ole Jedge Owl to decide;
He polished up his spectacles an' put 'em on his nose,
An' to the question slowly he replied:
'Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin',
Brer Fox am mighty sly,
Brer Terrapin an' 'Possum — kinder small;
Brer Lion's mighty vicious,
Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious,
Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all.'
Dis caused a great confusion 'mongst de animals,
Ev'y critter claimed dat he had won de prize;
Dey 'sputed an' dey arg'ed, dey growled an' dey roared,
Den putty soon de dus' begin to rise.
Brer Rabbit he jes' stood aside an' urged 'em on to fight.
Brer Lion he mos' tore Brer B'ar in two;
W'en dey was all so tiahd dat dey couldn't catch der bref
Brer Rabbit he jes' grabbed de prize an' flew.
Brer Wolf am mighty cunnin',
Brer Fox am mighty sly,
Brer Terrapin an' Possum — kinder small;
Brer Lion's mighty vicious,
Brer B'ar he's sorter 'spicious,
Brer Rabbit, you's de cutes' of 'em all.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Terrapin
==============================
Smashing Pumpkins - Terrapin
==============================
I really love you, and I mean you,
The star above you, crystal blue
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
I wouldn't see you, and I love to,
I fly above you, yes I do,
Well, oh baby my hair's on end about you
Floating, bumping, noses dodge a tooth
The fins a luminous
Fangs all 'round the clown is dark
Below the boulders hiding
All the sunlight's good for us
Cause we're the fishes, and all we do
The move about is all we do
Well oh baby my hair's on end about you
I really love you, and I mean you,
The star above you, crystal blue
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
Well, oh baby, my hair's on end about you
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Age Old Terrapin
Wordless Calliope- what are you,
Standing there
As a blue monument: what do you mean
After so much tragedy;
The Roman Candles are only shooting forth
A jealous blue,
And another night is ruined into the world:
The monuments float unstructured:
The witches curse the baseball diamonds,
And the schoolyards aren’t even fully formed:
The air-conditioning escapes outdoors
And all of the football teams lose, lose:
And I lye weeping underneath the school bus
Even as it rains and the age old terrapin
Eats my muse-
My muse.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The Reckoning
It's fine to have a blow-out in a fancy restaurant,
With terrapin and canvas-back and all the wine you want;
To enjoy the flowers and music, watch the pretty women pass,
Smoke a choice cigar, and sip the wealthy water in your glass.
It's bully in a high-toned joint to eat and drink your fill,
But it's quite another matter when you
Pay the bill.
It's great to go out every night on fun or pleasure bent;
To wear your glad rags always and to never save a cent;
To drift along regardless, have a good time every trip;
To hit the high spots sometimes, and to let your chances slip;
To know you're acting foolish, yet to go on fooling still,
Till Nature calls a show-down, and you
Pay the bill.
Time has got a little bill -- get wise while yet you may,
For the debit side's increasing in a most alarming way;
The things you had no right to do, the things you should have done,
They're all put down; it's up to you to pay for every one.
So eat, drink and be merry, have a good time if you will,
But God help you when the time comes, and you
Foot the bill.
poem by Robert William Service
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An Interesting Ancestry
To some of us, a tortoise lives on land
while turtles only rarely leave the sea.
‘Chelonians' applies to any brand,
so here I'll use this terminology.
Land dwellers share aquatic ancestry
and most of us decided to stay put.
Chelonians agreed to disagree.
A flippered revolution was afoot.
A late Triassic turtle fossil shows
a hard-shelled belly plate and softer back,
presumably to ward off fatal blows
from deeper-dwelling predators' attack.
Did top shell metaphorically ‘dissolve'
when full-shelled forebear sought the sea's embrace?
Or did an unshelled forebear's shell evolve
in oceanic pilgrimage retrace?
Genetic sleuthing points to latter case.
The evidence suggests that once again,
the tortoise forebears left their liquid space
and plodded (swam?) to shore with sigh, 'amen'. *
From sea to shore to sea to shore once more.
You'd surely think a record lies therein.
Yet maybe making not three trips but four
is water loving cousin terrapin.
When next you gaze with love in tortoise eyes
and wonder at his mind's soliloquy,
from languid, longing looks you may surmise,
he's pondering ‘To sea or not to sea'.
poem by Diane Hine
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The Clean Plater
Some singers sing of ladies' eyes,
And some of ladies lips,
Refined ones praise their ladylike ways,
And course ones hymn their hips.
The Oxford Book of English Verse
Is lush with lyrics tender;
A poet, I guess, is more or less
Preoccupied with gender.
Yet I, though custom call me crude,
Prefer to sing in praise of food.
Food,
Yes, food,
Just any old kind of food.
Pheasant is pleasant, of course,
And terrapin, too, is tasty,
Lobster I freely endorse,
In pate or patty or pasty.
But there's nothing the matter with butter,
And nothing the matter with jam,
And the warmest greetings I utter
To the ham and the yam and the clam.
For they're food,
All food,
And I think very fondly of food.
Through I'm broody at times
When bothered by rhymes,
I brood
On food.
Some painters paint the sapphire sea,
And some the gathering storm.
Others portray young lambs at play,
But most, the female form.
“Twas trite in that primeval dawn
When painting got its start,
That a lady with her garments on
Is Life, but is she Art?
By undraped nymphs
I am not wooed;
I'd rather painters painted food.
Food,
Just food,
Just any old kind of food.
Go purloin a sirloin, my pet,
If you'd win a devotion incredible;
And asparagus tips vinaigrette,
Or anything else that is edible.
Bring salad or sausage or scrapple,
A berry or even a beet.
Bring an oyster, an egg, or an apple,
As long as it's something to eat.
If it's food,
It's food;
Never mind what kind of food.
When I ponder my mind
I consistently find
It is glued
On food.
poem by Ogden Nash
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Rappers of the house of hunger
Rappers of the house of hunger
Why do you rap me out of sleep
So early in the eerie morning?
The loveless day is filled
With dread and anger
The morning asks many questions
The night destroys and give
Only a morsel of the untruth
Who will the neighborhood
Serial killer kill today?
You see
This is what happens when
You apply to live in the city
You remember the chuff girl I
Brought here last time?
Her gray skeleton is
Used as the drinking
Calabash by the drunkard who occupies
The tall grass where you sleep
Death is your constant companion!
You think like those
Banyamulenge
You think bullets cannot penetrate
The fetish of your Bambara man
Mandingo bodies
You will die young
Rappers of the house of hunger
Can't you come up with
A proper African name
For your group of sharecroppers
Rappers of the house of hunger?
Zipping and unzipping like
That don't mean you're original
And the kill the president
Song you plagiarize
Is my own song my brothers and
You don't pay royalties in blood
Rapers of the house of hunger
Don't you know composers who go
Into restaurants with bombs
Strapped to their waists like me
Who creates rap poems
For the pleasure of the libido
And holds
The court of the magistrate of
The house of ill repute in contempt
Have no reputation and they
Don't qualify for anything
I have never won any price in
The form of The Bible in my life
Rappers of the house of hunger
Don't you know homeys
Me and the flying terrapin
Were born like Malcolm X to suffer?
And the government has shown old
Blues man me the scant respect of
The shoving out of the door
And they refuse to love me and
Give me pension in
My junior year of old age
You live off the disputed
Limping proceeds of the illegitimate
Polygamist practice of the poor
Fatherless origins of my music
You take my limpet mines stolen
Legacy poems and you recycle them
Back to me as your own
Rappers of the house of hunger
You will not live to see
The day of the urine's death you
Rappers of the house of hunger
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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O Carib Isle!
The tarantula rattling at the lily’s foot
Across the feet of the dead, laid in white sand
Near the coral beach—nor zigzag fiddle crabs
Side-stilting from the path (that shift, subvert
And anagrammatize your name)—No, nothing here
Below the palsy that one eucalyptus lifts
In wrinkled shadows—mourns.
And yet suppose
I count these nacreous frames of tropic death,
Brutal necklaces of shells around each grave
Squared off so carefully. Then
To the white sand I may speak a name, fertile
Albeit in a stranger tongue. Tree names, flower names
Deliberate, gainsay death’s brittle crypt. Meanwhile
The wind that knots itself in one great death—
Coils and withdraws. So syllables want breath.
But where is the Captain of this doubloon isle
Without a turnstile? Who but catchword crabs
Patrols the dry groins of the underbrush?
What man, or What
Is Commissioner of mildew throughout the ambushed senses?
His Carib mathematics web the eyes’ baked lenses!
Under the poinciana, of a noon or afternoon
Let fiery blossoms clot the light, render my ghost
Sieved upward, white and black along the air
Until it meets the blue’s comedian host.
Let not the pilgrim see himself again
For slow evisceration bound like those huge terrapin
Each daybreak on the wharf, their brine-caked eyes;
—Spiked, overturned; such thunder in their strain!
And clenched beaks coughing for the surge again!
Slagged of the hurricane—I, cast within its flow,
Congeal by afternoons here, satin and vacant.
You have given me the shell, Satan,—carbonic amulet
Sere of the sun exploded in the sea.
poem by Harold Hart Crane
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Apple-Pie and Cheese
Full many a sinful notion
Conceived of foreign powers
Has come across the ocean
To harm this land of ours;
And heresies called fashions
Have modesty effaced,
And baleful, morbid passions
Corrupt our native taste.
O tempora! O mores!
What profanations these
That seek to dim the glories
Of apple-pie and cheese!
I'm glad my education
Enables me to stand
Against the vile temptation
Held out on every hand;
Eschewing all the tittles
With vanity replete,
I'm loyal to the victuals
Our grandsires used to eat!
I'm glad I've got three willing boys
To hang around and tease
Their mother for the filling joys
Of apple-pie and cheese!
Your flavored creams and ices
And your dainty angel-food
Are mighty fine devices
To regale the dainty dude;
Your terrapin and oysters,
With wine to wash 'em down,
Are just the thing for roisters
When painting of the town;
No flippant, sugared notion
Shall my appetite appease,
Or bate my soul's devotion
To apple-pie and cheese!
The pie my Julia makes me
(God bless her Yankee ways!)
On memory's pinions takes me
To dear Green Mountain days;
And seems like I see Mother
Lean on the window-sill,
A-handin' me and brother
What she knows 'll keep us still;
And these feelings are so grateful,
Says I, "Julia, if you please,
I'll take another plateful
Of that apple-pie and cheese!"
And cheese! No alien it, sir,
That's brought across the sea,--
No Dutch antique, nor Switzer,
Nor glutinous de Brie;
There's nothing I abhor so
As mawmets of this ilk--
Give me the harmless morceau
That's made of true-blue milk!
No matter what conditions
Dyspeptic come to feaze,
The best of all physicians
Is apple-pie and cheese!
Though ribalds may decry 'em,
For these twin boons we stand,
Partaking thrice per diem
Of their fulness out of hand;
No enervating fashion
Shall cheat us of our right
To gratify our passion
With a mouthful at a bite!
We'll cut it square or bias,
Or any way we please,
And faith shall justify us
When we carve our pie and cheese!
De gustibus, 't is stated,
Non disputandum est.
Which meaneth, when translated,
That all is for the best.
So let the foolish choose 'em
The vapid sweets of sin,
I will not disabuse 'em
Of the heresy they're in;
But I, when I undress me
Each night, upon my knees
Will ask the Lord to bless me
With apple-pie and cheese!
poem by Eugene Field
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At Noey's House
At Noey's house--when they arrived with him--
How snug seemed everything, and neat and trim:
The little picket-fence, and little gate--
It's little pulley, and its little weight,--
All glib as clock-work, as it clicked behind
Them, on the little red brick pathway, lined
With little paint-keg-vases and teapots
Of wee moss-blossoms and forgetmenots:
And in the windows, either side the door,
Were ranged as many little boxes more
Of like old-fashioned larkspurs, pinks and moss
And fern and phlox; while up and down across
Them rioted the morning-glory-vines
On taut-set cotton-strings, whose snowy lines
Whipt in and out and under the bright green
Like basting-threads; and, here and there between,
A showy, shiny hollyhock would flare
Its pink among the white and purple there.--
And still behind the vines, the children saw
A strange, bleached, wistful face that seemed to draw
A vague, indefinite sympathy. A face
It was of some newcomer to the place.--
In explanation, Noey, briefly, said
That it was 'Jason,' as he turned and led
The little fellows 'round the house to show
Them his menagerie of pets. And so
For quite a time the face of the strange guest
Was partially forgotten, as they pressed
About the squirrel-cage and rousted both
The lazy inmates out, though wholly loath
To whirl the wheel for them.--And then with awe
They walked 'round Noey's big pet owl, and saw
Him film his great, clear, liquid eyes and stare
And turn and turn and turn his head 'round there
The same way they kept circling--as though he
Could turn it one way thus eternally.
Behind the kitchen, then, with special pride
Noey stirred up a terrapin inside
The rain-barrel where he lived, with three or four
Little mud-turtles of a size not more
In neat circumference than the tiny toy
Dumb-watches worn by every little boy.
Then, back of the old shop, beneath the tree
Of 'rusty-coats,' as Noey called them, he
Next took the boys, to show his favorite new
Pet 'coon--pulled rather coyly into view
Up through a square hole in the bottom of
An old inverted tub he bent above,
Yanking a little chain, with 'Hey! you, sir!
Here's _comp'ny_ come to see you, Bolivur!'
Explanatory, he went on to say,
'I named him '_Bolivur_' jes thisaway,--
He looks so _round_ and _ovalish_ and _fat_,
'Peared like no other name 'ud fit but that.'
Here Noey's father called and sent him on
Some errand. 'Wait,' he said--'I won't be gone
A half a' hour.--Take Bud, and go on in
Where Jason is, tel I git back agin.'
Whoever _Jason_ was, they found him there
Still at the front-room window.--By his chair
Leaned a new pair of crutches; and from one
Knee down, a leg was bandaged.--'Jason done
That-air with one o' these-'ere tools _we_ call
A '_shin-hoe_'--but a _foot-adz_ mostly all
_Hardware_-store-keepers calls 'em.'--(_Noey_ made
This explanation later.)
Jason paid
But little notice to the boys as they
Came in the room:--An idle volume lay
Upon his lap--the only book in sight--
And Johnty read the title,--'Light, More Light,
There's Danger in the Dark,'--though _first_ and best--
In fact, the _whole_ of Jason's interest
Seemed centered on a little _dog_--one pet
Of Noey's all uncelebrated yet--
Though _Jason_, certainly, avowed his worth,
And niched him over all the pets on earth--
As the observant Johnty would relate
The _Jason_-episode, and imitate
The all-enthusiastic speech and air
Of Noey's kinsman and his tribute there:--
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Good Fortune
They say to celebrate
you should raise a glass or two,
but if you do not drink
that is something hard to do.
Instead, you can toast
by raising a cup of tea
and light several candles
for the more misfortunate
than you,
and then thank god
for bringing good fortune
to you.
Good fortune may not be money
to line your pockets well.
Good fortune might be the joy
of triumphing over adversity,
or it could be
getting over your fears.
Whatever good fortune
means to you.
You must celebrate
with happiness
and share your good fortune
with everyone
you will meet.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Men Of Good Fortune
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
The rich son waits for his father to die
The poor just drink and cry
And me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Very often cant do a thing
While men of poor beginnings
Often can do anything
At heart they try to act like a man
Handle things the best way they can
They have no rich, daddy to fall back on
Men of good fortune
Often cause empires to fall
While men of poor beginnings
Often cant do anything at all
It takes money to make money they say
Look at the fords, but didnt they start that way
Anyway, it makes no difference to me
Men of good fortune
Often wish that they could die
While men of poor beginnings
Want what they have and to get it theyll die
All those great things that live has to give
They wanna have money and live
But me, I just dont care at all
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
Men of good fortune
Men of poor beginnings
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darkness and Rain
As i stand outside in the darkness and rain i try to keep the memories of us but they seem to fade away when you left no weathers been good all weathers been bad the best weather came when i was with you the best weather i ever had one kiss used to brighten my day 2 to keep the clouds away 3 kisses so i never felt blue but those kisses didnt matter as long as i had you darkness are now my days rain became part of the nights just take me away from all this darkness and bring me back to the light protect me and be my sun and be my shelter and save me from this bad weather.....forever some think im crazy some think im insane because i still wait for you outside in the darkness and rain
poem by Isaiah Ferguson
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Good To Be Back
Written by pam reswick/steve werfel
Background vocals: natalie cole
Let me look at you, just look at you
Youre a sight for sore eyes, yes you are
If you knew how many nights I spent holding you so tight
Then Id wake up and were still apart
Now youre really near and Im really here
And I can wrap my arms around you, yes I can
This is just like I remember, no I think its even better
Maybe even more than I can stand
Baby, its good to be back, so good to be back
Baby, its good to be back in your arms again
Baby, its good to be back, so good to be back
Honey, its good to be back with you, oh yeah
Well its not the first time weve been apart
But as far as Im concerned its the last
I dont care what we have to do to stay together from now on
But those days away from you are past
cause when I go through the day and I havent seen your face
Seems like nothing that I do feels right
Youre the one I wanna see when I wake up every day
Youre the one I wanna kiss goodnight
Baby, its good to be back, so good to be back
Baby, its good to be back in your arms again (ooh)
Baby, its good to be back, so good to be back
Honey, its good to be back with you
So good, so good, so good, so good, so good with you, baby
So good with you
Why dont you start me up with just one kiss
Thats just one of the things Ive missed
You better kiss me once again til it finally settles in
Well, I think I could get used to this
Baby, its good to be back, so good, so good to be back, real good
Baby, its good to be back in your arms again, I just got to say it
Good to be back, so good to be back
Honey, its good to be back with you
Baby, its good to be back, feels mighty good to be back
Baby, its good to be back with you
Baby, its good to be back, so good, so good to be back
Aw honey, honey its good to be back with you
And its so good to be back, aw sing it girls
Yeah, good to be back, I like the way you sang
Baby, its good to be back in youre arms again
Sang, sang, sang, sang
And its so good to be back...
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Empty Spaces
She knew
the rain well.
It,
filled her
empty spaces.
So did I.
She had a
bland,
albeit,
deliciousness
about her
Her thickened
sweetness
was ladled
upon my
tongue,
time and time
again.
a beautiful
woman,
who,
painted
beautifully.
delicate
br ush
strokes,
caressed
her
coarse
canvas
fi ner details;
that of
love,
she ignored.
Yes,
she was
a beautiful
woman,
who,
painted
beautifully.
And the rain...,
It filled her
empty spaces.
So did I.
T. Labbe`
A step from the darkness
A step from the darkness, into the light
The dark pulls me back, but I chose to fight
The dark is bad, it’s full with harm
It can make you feel at home, with its darkness charm
But I’ve been there for too long, and it’s time to get out
So darkness back away, and hear me shout
I let the light take me, it’s a better place there
Filled with fun and laughter, and people who care
So light lead me to good, take away the bad
I wish to be happy, not always sad
poem by Lisa French
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Good To Me
Got an 84 ford to get me home
I get in, start up, and go
it's not a vintage cadillac
but it'll always get me there and back
Always be...Good to me
Always be...Good to me
Always be...Good to meeeee
I got a beat up cruddy amp
I plug it in and it sounds like a champ
It's not a Fender Tweed Deluxe
It only cost me a couple of bucks
And it'll...always sound...good to me.
...always sound...good to me...
always sound...good to me...
...always sound...good to meee.
I got a girl and she's so true
no other kinda girl will do
she's not like the girls from the past
And I knew none of them would last
always be good to me(x7)
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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