Marbles IV
(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[Marbles I-IV]
Did anyone see my last marble
As it rolled out and over the floor?
It fell through a hole in the corner
Of a room in a town on a tour
It's lonely without your last marble
I miss it not rattling around
As I lie in my bed there's a space in my head
Where there used to be colours and sound..
When I was a child I had marbles
They brought admiration and fame
They were pretty to look at and marbles
Was always my favourite game
We played all the summer days
In the stony alleyways
In the playground after class
We would trade the coloured glass
More valuable than diamonds
More magical than diamonds
Did anyone see..
Did anyone see..
Does anyone see?
There were almost four hundred until the black day
I discovered how high they would fly to the sky
If you used them for tennis instead of a ball..
Zinging glass satellites crueller than fate
Whacked with a racket up into the blue
I'd smashed all the greenhouses on the estate
And a crowd formed a queue at the gate..
That was almost the end of my marbles
Confiscated, I choked back the tears
I hung onto a handful of favourites
That disappeared over the years
Did anyone see my last marble
I swear that I had it before
Sometimes I think I should go see a shrink
In case he can find me some more
Did anyone see my last marble?
I'd saved it to give it away
Since I was a youth
Now I don't have no proof
Only words
Only words
Only words.
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Marbles I
(HogarthKellyMosleyRotheryTrewavas)
[Marbles I-IV]
Did anyone see my last marble
As it rolled out and over the floor?
It fell through a hole in the corner
Of a room in a town on a tour
It's lonely without your last marble
I miss it not rattling around
As I lie in my bed there's a space in my head
Where there used to be colours and sound..
When I was a child I had marbles
They brought admiration and fame
They were pretty to look at and marbles
Was always my favourite game
We played all the summer days
In the stony alleyways
In the playground after class
We would trade the coloured glass
More valuable than diamonds
More magical than diamonds
Did anyone see..
Did anyone see..
Does anyone see?
There were almost four hundred until the black day
I discovered how high they would fly to the sky
If you used them for tennis instead of a ball..
Zinging glass satellites crueller than fate
Whacked with a racket up into the blue
I'd smashed all the greenhouses on the estate
And a crowd formed a queue at the gate..
That was almost the end of my marbles
Confiscated, I choked back the tears
I hung onto a handful of favourites
That disappeared over the years
Did anyone see my last marble
I swear that I had it before
Sometimes I think I should go see a shrink
In case he can find me some more
Did anyone see my last marble?
I'd saved it to give it away
Since I was a youth
Now I don't have no proof
Only words
Only words
Only words.
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pebbles And Marbles
She started a blaze from one tiny spark
I didn't even detect
She loved the light, was dismayed by the dark
The stars, though, she seemed to respect
The faint light that flutters at night to the Earth
Would land in her eyes and collect
Luminous creatures she'd find in the surf
I never thought to inspect
Pebbles and marbles, like things on my mind
Seem to get lost and harder to find
When I am alone, I am inclined
If I find a pebble in the sand
To think that it fell from my hand
She gave me ideas, planted the seed
But she never stopped to reflect
The course that she's on, wherever it leads
I never would redirect
Pebbles and marbles, like words from a friend
Make us hold tight, but are lost in the end
When we're alone, we all seem to tend
If we find a marble in the dust
To wish someone left it for us
Pebbles and marbles, like things on my mind
Seem to get lost and harder to find
When I am alone, I am inclined
If I find a pebble in the sand
To wish that it fell from my hand
Pebbles and marbles, like things on my mind...
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If every year is a marble, how many marbles do you have left? How many sunrises, how many opportunities to rise to the full stature of your being?
Happy Colored Marbles
Most people are not ok, but they're taking their siestas in the sun
Got some ideas on the way it should be
But most of 'em just carrying on
Happy colored marbles that are rolling in my head
I put 'em back in the jacket of the one I love
Carry that velvet sack full of pretty colored marbles
And I'll ask you for 'em back, when I'm ready and done
Most people are not ok, and they're slackin' cause the job ain't done
Fillin' up on the poison nut
And getting down till the dawn
Happy colored marbles that are rolling in my head
I put 'em back in the jacket of the one I love
Carry that velvet sack full of pretty colored marbles
And I'll ask you for 'em back, when I'm ready and done
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fill your mouth with marbles and make a speech. Every day reduce the number of marbles in your mouth and make a speech. You will soon become an accredited public speaker -- as soon as you have lost all your marbles.
quote by Brooks Hays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The art of alma-tadema
There is no song his colours cannot sing,
For all his art breathes melody, and tunes
The fine, keen beauty that his brushes bring
To murmuring marbles and to golden Junes.
The music of those marbles you can hear
In every crevice, where the deep green stains
Have sunken when the grey days of the year
Spilled leisurely their warm, incessant rains
That, lingering, forget to leave the ledge,
But drenched into the seams, amid the hush
Of ages, leaving but the silent pledge
To waken to the wonder of his brush.
And at the Master's touch the marbles leap
To life, the creamy onyx and the skins
Of copper-coloured leopards, and the deep,
Cool basins where the whispering water wins
Reflections from the gold and glowing sun,
And tints from warm, sweet human flesh, for fair
And subtly lithe and beautiful, leans one--
A goddess with a wealth of tawny hair.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Again and Again
poetry in progress
childhood days are roses and thorns
they comprise memories light as
the roll of one marble as well as
heavy as a bag full of the blue white
gleaming rolly pollies sitting so
quietly in the old store room
childhood is full of schemes
marbles - we made sure the other boys
are emptied of theirs
kites - we made sure the string of
their kites snap, kite flying away
like a helpless chinese princess
pigeons - one was downed by us so that
its mate waited for it one whole day
on the precipice of a roof
one memory i wish to tear to shreds
dragonflies - in my hands they ate
each other up
childhood is festooned with lessons
both inside and outside the classroom
with the two legged, four legged, the hornbills,
doggies, and those with no legs but then
morphed into the best hoppers - frogs, toads
and grasshoppers to teach us never
to underestimate the poorest of anything
arithmetics, music, football or paintballs
childhood lane
a ball floating and sinking
a patch here and there, a lake, a stream,
a river - so many fishes had splashed
their tails and now only concretes
to make the memory jump
a cry, a lane, a walk, a pet, a church,
a school, mother's hand holding so tight,
shaking, and still elucidating her
discomforts, and those yelps of puppies
there, here, here there we had more than
five doggies all those years
winding through there, here
a range of sepia, black and white, chromes,
working themselves into an abstract
marbles rolling onto empty canvas -
light and ever so desirable these bonuses
at children's alleyway dates
- rolling ever still rolling
the drive that reels and roils the mind
going back is the same as moving forward
there is never a point in time we can rest on
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Tough Cookies
I just want to wander again
Like a youngster in my worldly playpen
Playing marbles in a dusty dirt ring
That was my favorite thing
My catseyes were shiny and new
My shooter was marbled with red white and blue
Every marble I sought in that ring
Was a treasure that made me a king
Life was so great
Not a thing on my plate
So with a smile on my face
Sunburned in spring
Browned in early fall
I want to live that life again
So i'll give it my all
Remember we were the best shooters of all
When life greyed us in the late fall.
in my hands again
childhood marbles
how fast the years have rolled by
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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storeroom's bag of marbles
how fast childhood years
have rolled by
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Monument For The Soldiers
A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?
And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
And out of our faith secure:
We would build it out of the great white truths
Their death hath sanctified,
And the sculptured forms of the men in arms,
And their faces ere they died.
And what heroic figures
Can the sculptor carve in stone?
Can the marble breast be made to bleed,
And the marble lips to moan?
Can the marble brow be fevered?
And the marble eyes be graved
To look their last, as the flag floats past,
On the country they have saved?
And the answer came: The figures
Shall all be fair and brave,
And, as befitting, as pure and white
As the stars above their grave!
The marble lips, and breast and brow
Whereon the laurel lies,
Bequeath us right to guard the flight
Of the old flag in the skies!
A monument for the Soldiers!
Built of a people's love,
And blazoned and decked and panoplied
With the hearts ye build it oft
And see that ye build it stately,
In pillar and niche and gate,
And high in pose as the souls of those
It would commemorate!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Unbeliever
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan
He sleeps on the top of a mast
with his eyes fast closed.
The sails fall away below him
like the sheets of his bed,
leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper's head.
Asleep he was transported there,
asleep he curled
in a gilded ball on the mast's top,
or climbed inside
a gilded bird, or blindly seated himself astride.
"I am founded on marble pillars,"
said a cloud. "I never move.
See the pillars there in the sea?"
Secure in introspection
he peers at the watery pillars of his reflection.
A gull had wings under his
and remarked that the air
was "like marble." He said: "Up here
I tower through the sky
for the marble wings on my tower-top fly."
But he sleeps on the top of his mast
with his eyes closed tight.
The gull inquired into his dream,
which was, "I must not fall.
The spangled sea below wants me to fall.
It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all."
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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More than a marble
I love that curvaceous woman,
Carved out of marble,
Kept in a show case.
It loves me not.
Dear, you are not different.
Expressionless or expression hidden,
You be, I love you.
It matters not.
You merit more than the marble.
01.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Perhaps We Are Then.... (Part Two)
or...
perhaps we are then,
old green glass marbles,
in a metal bucket.
the old worn bra,
drawing disability on the shelf.
imaginary cowboys,
and cardboard saviours.
moondust sold at a county fair!
oil dripping from a broke down car.
spiders living in boxes
full of old photographs.
the guitar that needs strings,
and the half written letter.
the coffee turned cold,
and the spicket turned grey!
words never quite born,
the face wrinkled with age.
black things hidden in shadows,
that have both names and memories!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Prettier Than Helen.
Janice you thought
prettier than Helen
more refined
whose voice
was softly spoken
as if her words
had been fresh baked
in an oven
in her mouth
and her hair fair
and well groomed
but Helen had
that down to earthiness
that brought her
closer to you
and something about
her thin framed
thick lens glasses
made her seem
more lovable
to your boyish world
and she stared at you
through them
and smiled
that shy smile
and said things
with a rough edge
as if she'd bounced
the words around
before she uttered them aloud
you can come to tea
and we'll have bread and jam
and a big mug of tea
or if mum's remembered
lemonade
she said at playtime
in the playground
out of hear shot
of the other boys
who kicked ball
or who swapped cards
or threw marbles
along the ground
or fought battles
with imaginary swords
or shot pretend bullets
from rat-a-tat guns
and she said
to entice you more
you can see my new doll
my dad brought back
from the store
ok
you said
sure
and she smiled
and her nose creased up
and her glasses moved
and some small place
in your chest thumped
like furniture being dropped
or a bed being bounced
in some small hotel
and you watched her
go off to play skip rope
that thin framed
thick lens glasses
working-class
school girl.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Origin Of Greed
it started when we were yet children
playing marbles and rubber bands
play money and toy guns
and gunpowders
we hoard them like some kind
of treasures
then we move to food
and other goods
to houses and lots and
money,
it does not end there
we move to other matters
like time and places
and diamonds and islands and planes
and even submarines
then to power, how other people's lives
have become mere words within the touch of the tips of our fingers
we like to be god,
God,
but God has His own mysterious ways,
today your life has ended.The End.
to God, you have become the flower of the day
taken by the wind and gone away.To dust you shall return,
and there is no more name left for that.
You are nothing. Nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Childhood Marble Poem
in my hands again
childhood marbles
how fast the years had rolled by
how quietly and gently childhood
had been stored away
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Unintelligent Design
An hour a day,
sometimes more,
I chipped away
with mallet and chisel
on a block of marble
I found in Carrara
and shipped to New York
on the deck of a trawler.
I offered the marble
to a famous sculptor
who told me he works
in granite only
so I grabbed his beret
and one of his smocks
and said I'd sculpt
the block myself
with whittling skills
picked up as a kid
from a drunken uncle
named Whittling Sid.
Several weeks later,
to my surprise,
I finished the bust
of a chimpanzee
simply by wielding
mallet and chisel
the way I wield
pencil and eraser
when hewing a poem.
Working with marble
or working with words,
a sculptor or poet
proves less is more
by chipping away
until something emerges
upright and walking
with a soul of its own.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Saints
They raise up saints
in the religions I've known.
And then they carve them
in white marble stone.
What have they done
to deserve such praise?
Have they done anything more
than our poor earthly slaves?
It seems to me
that they're so far away.
Why do people pray to them
every single day?
Sainthood is saved
for holy ones,
not sisters, brothers and sons,
who may not be holy
but give up their lives.
Their white marble stone
never ever survives.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Whether I played marbles, whether I played football or slam anything else, I wanted to excel.
quote by Robert Mondavi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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