En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Come On Home

Dark clouds are comin' like an army
Soon the sky will open up and disarm me
You will go just like you've gone before
One sad soldier off to war, enemies that only you can see.
Dishes stacked, the table cleared
It's always like the scene of the last supper here
You speak so cryptically that's not news to me
The flood is here it will carry you
And I've got work to do.
Come on home, the team you're hitched to has a mind of its own
But it's just the forces of your past you've fought before
Come back here and shut the door
I'm stacking sandbags against the river of your troubles.
There is fire there is lust
Some will trade it all for someone they could trust
There's a bag of silver for a box of nails
It's so simple the betrayal
Though it's known to change the world and what's to come.
Just come on home, the team you're hitched to has a mind of its own
But it's just the forces of your past you've fought before
Don't you recognize them anymore
I'm stacking sandbags against the river of your troubles.
There's the given and the expected
I count my blessings while I eye what I've neglected
Is this for better is this for worse
You're all jammed up and the dam's about to burst.
I hear the owl in the night
I realize that some things never are made right
By some will we string together here
Days to months and months to years
What if everything we have adds up to nothing.
Come on home, the team you're hitched to has a mind of its own
But it's just the forces of your past you've fought before
Come back here and shut the door
I'm stacking sandbags against the river of your troubles.

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lust We Fought For

The lust we fought for in now just a pile of ash.
The lust we fought for was a lie to it's very last.
The lust we fought for burns in my memory every night.
The kust we fought for wasn't worth it's own right.
The lust we fought for seemed so out of control.
The lust we fought for only needed us to grab ahold.
So the lust we fought for wasn't lust at all.
Indeed it was love that made our great fall.
The lust we fought for keeps me crying at night.
The lust we fought for has me praying to turn it right.
The lust we fought for makes me miss you more.
The lust we fought for broke my heart to it's core.
The lust we fought for brings out a million tears.
The lust we fought for challenged all of my fears.
So the lust we fought for was the pain i deserved to face.
Indeed it was love from that magically beautiful place.
The lust we fought for is now gone up in flames...
Because I now know that the lust we fought for was real all the same.

poem by Erin Grantham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carry Me (a River)

carry me (a river)

carry me a river
take i there, by the river
let the cool breeze wash away the pain
from within me not in vain

carry me a river
where the sweet melodies of the birds reign
the birds in a singing mood so plain
wipe off my mind from the railing train
and carry me over yonder to clear my brain
as you carry me a river

carry me a river
by the river side
the pebbles and the bubbles
clear as water by the stream
as you carry me a river
told me the best poor surrogate of wisdom is pride
but intelligence and self trust will avoid troubles
not even in your dream

carry me a river
in touch with i roots
in my gideon boots
and some khaki suites

carry me a river
to dream a better me
and look back to see
the horizon by sundown
lost but not a clown
with my thinking crown
i stood up to go back-a town

next time
carry me a river on time
though you carry me there for some time
but next time
carry me a river on time

® ntema, o.p.
[email protected]
©25.08.2011
2133h rs

poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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So You Want To Be A Soldier

So you want to be a soldier
And learn those fighting moves;
Be a member of a team
In the soldier's school.

So you want to be a soldier
And go far from your home,
And learn there how to be a man
As you fight and roam.

So you want to be a soldier
And hold your buddy's hand,
As they breathe their final,
There on some mortal sand.

So you want to be a soldier
And call the road your bed,
And never know just when or how
You'll lay down your tired head.

So you want to be a soldier
Be buried in some plot-
Maybe far from your hometown,
After you have fought.

So you want to be a soldier-
Well there's no finer choice,
Than giving so unselfishly
To freedoms song, your voice.

You want to be a soldier;
And you could do much worse;
And choose the cowards way to go
And walk, behind the hearse.

But your name they'll remember,
As they speak of you with awe;
And wonder at your bravery,
And wonder what you saw.

Many men will shake your hand
And thank you for their freedom,
They'll say it is a gift from god
That you are still breathing.

You'll live more than other men-
And suffer much more too,
But in the end, you'll count it as
The best thing you could do.

And the biggest thank you,
That you will ever receive,
Is in the eyes of loved ones-
When you're back home again.

So if you know an older soldier,
Please shake his hand today
And tell him that you're grateful
He chose the soldier's way.

poem by Patti Masterman
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Rememberance Day

On remembrance day we honour all
Each gave their best enduring call
God bless each one for being there
All our service men did their share.

Soldiers young and soldiers old
Fought the war brave and bold
They fought in Air, Land and Sea
If not for them where would we be.

Some lived while others died
As they fought side by side
They fought many a day and night
Their mission sure their spirits bright.

The loved ones bore the greatest pain
So many thoughts will never wane
We're proud of all the forces who
Fought for the Red, White and Blue.

We'll never let their special day
Their time of honour slip away
Though we may not know each name
We thank all the forces just the same.

'Wrote for November 11 th'

poem by Hazel Connelly
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Blow Away

May your troubles blow away,
so far away, with the whistling wind,
never to pass this way, ever again;
your feet on your own path
follow it faithfully, don't ever look back.
May your troubles blow away.
a smile on your face
knowing you go at your own pace.
May your troubles blow away.
even if friends who care are very few
you do what you've got to do.
May your troubles blow away.
stay forever true
to what it is your heart says to you.
May your troubles blow away.
don't lose hope
just keep going, and cut the binding ropes.
May your troubles blow away.
when everyone says you're different, and should change
you remember, you've got your own soul, your own name.
May your troubles blow away.
if you ever feel all alone
look way ahead, in the dark see there, the glowing lights of home.
May your troubles blow away.
keep singing the song God gave your soul
you know, somehow, you'll get where it is you've got to go.
May your troubles blow away,
so far away, with the whistling wind,
never to pass this way, ever again.

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Harry Carey Goodhue

You never marveled, dullards of Spoon River,
When Chase Henry voted against the saloons
To revenge himself for being shut off.
But none of you was keen enough
To follow my steps, or trace me home
As Chase's spiritual brother.
Do you remember when I fought
The bank and the courthouse ring,
For pocketing the interest on public funds?
And when I fought our leading citizens
For making the poor the pack-horses of the taxes?
And when I fought the water-works
For stealing streets and raising rates?
And when I fought the business men
Who fought me in these fights?
Then do you remember:
That staggering up from the wreck of defeat,
And the wreck of a ruined career,
I slipped from my cloak my last ideal,
Hidden from all eyes until then,
Like the cherished jawbone of an ass,
And smote the bank and the water works,
And the business men with prohibition,
And made Spoon River pay the cost
Of the fights that I had lost?

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Collectivity

A force exerted, some forces push it
And some oppose it. Pro-forces overcome
Or succumb to the opposing forces.
Thus successes or failures emerge.

In a team either you float or you sink.
21.05.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Home Is Not Where The Heart Lies

Home is not where the heart lies.
Home is where there are too many sins to name.
Home is where I cry too many times.
Home has no meaning.
Home is where all of my woes lie.
Home has no love for me.
Home makes me sad.
Home I cannot stand.
Home is where I get picked on most.
Home is where I hate most.
Home I wish would disappear.
Home is only adding to more of my troubles.
Home is where all my family hates me.
Home is where my sister won’t leave me alone.
Home is where my step father won’t stop picking on me.
Home is where my mum won’t stop babying me.
Home is no longer home.
Home has too many things to think about.
Home has too many too many troubles.
Home is where I do secrets no-one knows about.
Home is where everyone lies.
Home is not where the heart lies.

poem by Ellie Parker
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You And I (And Two Football Teams)

you and i
met not long ago

you and i
were a thing of love
we were idolized by all

then the day came
you cheated on me
with the football team

what happened?
to you and i?
i didnt expect you to do this
i let my guard fall

and now as the open woulds bleed through
my heart cant take any more
but as the days go on without you
the wounds do not close
do not heal

my heart weakens more and more
then i heard
you slept with the visiting football team
the same night
as you slept with our home team

i cant take this anymore
you betrayed me
and our home football team

you slept with the visiting team
this is the final blow to my heart
as i walk into your house
i load my nine

i walk into your room
and look you in the eye
despite the other 3 men there
i empty my entire clip
into your slim tan body

i save one bullet
to end my hearts pain
the other 3 men
long gone now
i am now with you
and you are
with only me

we ended up together
yet again
just you and i

poem by Ground Sniper
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By The Alma River

WILLIE, fold your little hands;
Let it drop, that 'soldier' toy:
Look where father's picture stands,--
Father, who here kissed his boy
Not two months since,--father kind,
Who this night may--Never mind
Mother's sob, my Willie dear,
Call aloud that He may hear
Who is God of battles, say,
'O, keep father safe this day
By the Alma river.'

Ask no more, child. Never heed
Either Russ, or Frank, or Turk,
Right of nations or of creed,
Chance-poised victory's bloody work:
Any flag i' the wind may roll
On thy heights, Sebastopol;
Willie, all to you and me
Is that spot, where'er it be,
Where he stands--no other word!
Stands--God sure the child's prayer heard--
By the Alma river.

Willie, listen to the bells
Ringing through the town to-day.
That's for victory. Ah, no knells
For the many swept away,--
Hundreds--thousands! Let us weep,
We who need not,--just to keep
Reason steady in my brain
Till the morning comes again,
Till the third dread morning tell
Who they were that fought and fell
By the Alma river.

Come, we'll lay us down, my child,
Poor the bed is, poor and hard;
Yet thy father, far exiled,
Sleeps upon the open sward,
Dreaming of us two at home:
Or beneath the starry dome
Digs out trenches in the dark,
Where he buries--Willie, mark--
Where he buries those who died
Fighting bravely at his side
By the Alma river.

Willie, Willie, go to sleep,
God will keep us, O my boy;
He will make the dull hours creep
Faster, and send news of joy,

When I need not shrink to meet
Those dread placards in the street,
Which for weeks will ghastly stare
In some eyes--Child, sy thy prayer
Once again; a different one:
Say, 'O God, Thy will be done
By the Alma river.'

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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A Song Of The Sandbags

No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
(The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes 'em good and 'ard I doesn't 'ate the Boche,
I guess they're mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
I guess they loves their 'omes and kids as much as you or me;
And just the same as you or me they'd rather shake than fight;
And if we'd 'appened to be born at Berlin-on-the-Spree,
We'd be out there with 'Ans and Fritz, dead sure that we was right.

A-standin' up to the sandbags
It's funny the thoughts wot come;
Starin' into the darkness,
'Earin' the bullets 'um;
(Zing! Zip! Ping! Rip!
'ark 'ow the bullets 'um!)
A-leanin' against the sandbags
Wiv me rifle under me ear,
Oh, I've 'ad more thoughts on a sentry-go
Than I used to 'ave in a year.

I wonder, Bill, if 'Ans and Fritz is wonderin' like me
Wot's at the bottom of it all? Wot all the slaughter's for?
'E thinks 'e's right (of course 'e ain't) but this we both agree,
If them as made it 'ad to fight, there wouldn't be no war.
If them as lies in feather beds while we kips in the mud;
If them as makes their fortoons while we fights for 'em like 'ell;
If them as slings their pot of ink just 'ad to sling their blood:
By Crust! I'm thinkin' there 'ud be another tale to tell.

Shiverin' up to the sandbags,
With a hicicle 'stead of a spine,
Don't it seem funny the things you think
'Ere in the firin' line:
(Whee! Whut! Ziz! Zut!
Lord! 'ow the bullets whine!)
Hunkerin' down when a star-shell
Cracks in a sputter of light,
You can jaw to yer soul by the sandbags
Most any old time o' night.

They talks o' England's glory and a-'oldin' of our trade,
Of Empire and 'igh destiny until we're fair flim-flammed;
But if it's for the likes o' that that bloody war is made,
Then wot I say is: Empire and 'igh destiny be damned!
There's only one good cause, Bill, for poor blokes like us to fight:
That's self-defence, for 'earth and 'ome, and them that bears our name;
And that's wot I'm a-doin' by the sandbags 'ere to-night. . . .
But Fritz out there will tell you 'e's a-doin' of the same.

Starin' over the sandbags,
Sick of the 'ole damn thing;
Firin' to keep meself awake,
'Earin' the bullets sing.
(Hiss! Twang! Tsing! Pang!
Saucy the bullets sing.)
Dreamin' 'ere by the sandbags
Of a day when war will cease,
When 'Ans and Fritz and Bill and me
Will clink our mugs in fraternity,
And the Brotherhood of Labour will be
The Brotherhood of Peace.

poem by Robert William Service
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Green River

Take me back to the Green River
Let my troubles roll on down
Take me when the leaves are falling
That's when my baby's love was still around
My memories take me to the Green River
How plain was the picture in my mind
Autumn leaves were paint in the water
Love was shining in your eyes
How I long for us to return
To the love we had back then
Darling, I'll be waiting a lifetime
For you to take me back again
How I miss the sound of the water
Gently flowing past the trees
How I miss your tender kisses
The way you once loved me

song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bei Hennef

The little river twittering in the twilght,
The wan, wandering look of the pale sky.
This is almost bliss.

And everything shut up and gone to sleep,
All the troubles and anxieties and pain
Gone under the twilight.

Only the twilight now, and the soft 'Sh! ' of the river
That will last for ever.

And at last I know my love for you is here;
I can see it all, it is whole like the twilight,
It is large, so large, I could not see it before,
Because of the little lights and flickers and interruptions,
Troubles, anxieties and pains.

You are the call and I am the answer.
You are the wish, and I the fufilment.
You are the night, and I the day.
What else? It is perfect enough.
It is perfectly complete,
You and I,
What more--?
Strange how we suffer in spite of this.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Rosey Won't You Please Come Home

Rosy won't you please come home?
Mama don't know where you've been.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Your room's clean and no one's in it.
Oh my Rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Since you've joined the upper classes,
You don't know us anymore.
Live and let your troubles pass.
Rosy, Rosy, will you write and tell me,
If you don't want to come back?
I would sacrifice all I have
To have a happy home once more.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Two long years have passed away.
Since you tried to change your life,
Christmas wasn't quite the same.
Rosy, Rosy, got any answers?
You are miles across the sea,
And I'll bake a cake if you tell me
You are on the first plane home.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Mama don't know where you've been.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Your room's clean and no one's in it.
Oh my Rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Oh Rosy, will you please come back?

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Night At A Tavern

Solitary at the tavern,
I am shut in with loneliness and grief.
Under the cold lamp, I brood on the past;
I am kept awake by a lost wildgoose.
...Roused at dawn from a misty dream,
I read, a year late, news from home
And I remember the moon like smoke on the river
And a fisher-boat moored there, under my door.

poem by Du Mu, translated by Witter Bynner
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Leaving the Long Ago Gone

Woke up uncertain...this morning
in everything
Was high without trying
stacking round peg
stacking square
going nowhere...

Drove to work but I wasn't there
tried to be myself
even if it's someone
I don't like

Caught enough recollections
to recall
just enough to get by
just enough to pass...bye

Went to bed uncertain this eve...
want to say in everything...
but I'm not certain.

poem by Midnights Voice
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The River of Permanence

It is not possible to step
Into the same river twice,
Said Heraclitus of Ephesus.
Since other and yet other waters
Keep flowing on,
The river is never the same.
And like the river,
Everything in the world
Is in constant change and flux.

Nonsense! Retorted Parmenides
Of Elea. Nothing is in flux.
Things never change, he said,
The world is permanent.
Objects of thought and speech
Must exist all the time.
They cannot change
Because change consists in
Things coming into being,
Or ceasing to exist;
Whereas words have
An immutable meaning.

Of course a table differs from a chair
Parmenides continued,
And so does the nightingale
From the elephant.
Or the land from the sky.
However,
We live in an illusionary world.
Things only appear to be different.

And mind you,
There are no opposites in the world.
For warm means merely not cold
And dark means no light.

More than a century later,
Aristotle scratched his head rumbling:
Is not this talk a next door to madness?
After all even a lunatic
Would not confuse fire with ice.
How can one argue,
From thought and language
As a frame of reference
To the world at large?
How can one reconcile
The existential with the copulative?
The past with the future?
Tell us Parmenides,
How can Socrates be alive
If he is dead?

Yet Parmenides
Remained unperturbed and smiled.
Your logic, Aristotle, is not flawless.
It does not hold water.

Look:
On a deeper level of reality
Things are always the same,
Belonging to an ultimately
Homogeneous cosmos.
In the final analysis
There is neither past nor future
Only an eternal present.
When you refer to Socrates
Your memory unfolds
Not in the past but in the present.
Your recollection happens now,
Right in this moment,
Immortalizing him.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Proud Mary

Left a good job in the city,
Workin for the man evry night and day,
And I never lost one minute of sleepin,
Worryin bout the way things might have been.
Chorus:
Big wheel keep on turnin,
Proud mary keep on burnin,
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Cleaned a lot of plates in memphis,
Pumped a lot of pain down in new orleans,
But I never saw the good side of the city,
til I hitched a ride on a river boat queen.
Chorus
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
If you come down to the river,
Bet you gonna find some people who live.
You dont have to worry cause you have no money,
People on the river are happy to give.
Chorus
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.
Rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.

song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Looking Back!

This was my cup and this, my draught!
If it was good, to thank God, I ought;
If it was not, and perilously fought;
Let me take blame and be not distraught;

If things didn’t happen, the ways I sought,
And in umpteen troubles, I got caught;
If what I expected, happened not,
Let me not blame others for my lot!

This was the environs given to me;
Whatever they be, let me thank the Almighty;
But, did I use my fullest energy?
Did I use my time properly?

The past is past, be it good or bad;
The future is wide open and right in my hands;
Let me revamp my body, mind and heart;
And do even better, right from the start.

Let me reset my life’s aims and ambitions;
Let me work harder, with perseverance, undeterred;
Let me take things as they come my way;
But let not fear ever dampen my spirits, any day.

For,
Life is to live and to accomplish;
Life is to face its hurdles and challenges;
Life is to make this world a better place for oneself and others;
Life is to seek God’s love and truth and Heaven.

Knowing and continually reminding ourselves,
The impermanence of human endeavors
And transience of our earthly stay;
The omnipotence and incredible perfection of the Maker
And supremacy of Nature’s fury,
Every day!

poem by John Celes
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Dams On The Cuyahoga

Just west
of the Lake,
meanders
the burning river.

The river
in my dreams.

The river on fire.

The river
that oozes

rather than flows.

The river
in which
a person
does not drown

but decays.

And there
the river sits,

waiting for me
to come back home.

poem by Holden Solo
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