Stone
(ronnie lane)
Well once I was a stone and many years ago
Into a pool I was thrown, a many years ago.
Time passed by, the pool ran dry, escaped was i.
And tempered the beat came a fiery heat,
By the aim of a man, whos name was dann, dann the blacksmith.
Well once I was a sword, a many years ago.
And my blade was broad, a many years ago.
Worn my pride, in a battle Id ride at a warrior side.
And I cut and I killed and was lost in the field,
And soon did rust, and corrode to dust, oh my.
Well and once I was a daisy, a many years ago.
In pastures green and lazy, a many years ago.
But I was hit by goat who fell in the moat, and forgetting to float
He sunk like a lead and stayed until dead,
But was relieved to find, oh lord, just how kind it all was.
Well and once I was a grub, a many years ago.
And I lived in blood red mud, a many years ago.
But on the very first noon I became a cocoon that resembled a prune.
When the good work was done in the warmth of the sun.
I shed my skins, and dried my wings, and I flew away.
Well and once I was a bullfrog, had to struggle for survival.
And once I was a carp and lived in waters on the mantle.
And once I was a man of earth, quoting verses from the bible,
Said I played them all, I played them all, st. luke.
Well and once I was a mule, a many years ago.
But my master he treat me cruel, a many years ago.
By and by I was sick, couldnt move to his kick, so he took out a stick
And hit it right cross my back with an almighty crack,
And to his dismay, I passed away, into the blue.
Then I was born a human baby, a many years ago.
Well I remember I was born unto a lady, a many years ago.
All our hopes they were found on the back of a child that turned out to be wild.
Sent the devil a prayer and caused the pope to swear.
So I took my leave, to lie and plead, on my way to jail.
Well Ive been a tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor.
Ive known good times and disaster.
Oh but now Ive found a teacher, and the teacher has a master,
And the master is perfection, so he helps us get there faster.
Oh it dont need no proof, because thats the truth, and Ill drink to that.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Life Lesson At the Lone Pine Saloon
One night
I watched a pool shark
Take this guy’s entire paycheck
One game at a time
Over the course of
A long evening.
A pool shark will never
Beat you by more than a ball or two.
He doesn’t want to kill your hope.
He wants you to keep playing.
He wants you to think that it was all luck
Next time things will be different.
He wants you to double the bet
And try again.
By the end the looser
Was very drunk
And lacking any money to go on
Stated a fight.
The pool shark picked up
A pool ball and
Calmly, professionally,
Beat the looser
Unconscious.
Clok! Clok! Thud!
That’s why they tell you these stories
These Cinderella stories
They want you to keep trying
Just a bit longer.
There is still a little more
They can get out of you
Before the beating begins.
poem by Allan Thorne
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Whirl pool
Whirl pool
On lake...
At through the stones...
water...
Rund rund...
Arund...
Whirl pool...
A Simply beauty...
The rain drops on
On pool water...
Many many
Little...little...
whirl pool
Run and rund to be...
Play the pool...
It was nature wool
With cool...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Bells, Pool And Sleep
Bells overbrim with sound
And spread from cupolas
Out through the shaking air
Endless unbreaking circles
Cool and clear as water.
A stone dropped in the water
Opens the lips of the pool
And starts the unovertaking
Rings, till the pool is full
Of waves as the air of bells.
The deep-sea bell of sleep
Under the pool of the mind
Flowers in concentric circles
Of annihilation till
Both sight and sound die out,
Both pool and bells are quelled.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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London Pool
London Pool's in London town,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's in London town,
Where the great ships anchor down!
O to shake the canvas free,
Hear the cordage cheerily
Whistling to the open sea
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a crowded place,
Crafts and crews of every race!
O to hear the clanking chain
Trail along the wharf again, -
Hear the tautening ropes astrain
Down from London Pool, O!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Ay, boys! O boys!
London Pool's a gallant sight,
Toil by day and glare by night!
O to shake our heels and go, -
Feel the four free winds ablow,
Hail the lights of long ago
Down from London Pool, O!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Four Years Old
Hey
Why'd you wake me from my nap?
I'm not in the mood
To play your games
Or sit on your lap
You
Where's my Yankees drinking glass?
I want some juice
And I want it now
So you better move your ass
And feel bad for me
'Cuz I'm just getting over a cold
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Somebody better tie my shoes!
Now
I run down the hall
I scream and I yell
And I cry 'cuz I fell
Bring the rubbing alcohol
Outside
I get mud on my shoe
I come back in the house
I get it on the rug
The cleanging's up to you
And I won't take a bath
Unless you make me Spaghetti-O's
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
Mommy reads to me at night
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Well
I can't have a job
And I can't go to school
If no grownups are around
I can't go near the pool
I'm not alowed to climb
My neighbor's apple tree
I'm not allowed to sit
Too close to the TV
I don't know how to drive
And I don't know how to spell
But if I hear my brother cursing
I do know how to tell
'Cuz he made me eat some bread
That was covered in mold
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I'm four years old!
I just threw up on my grandmother
song performed by by Adam Sandler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By Loe Pool
The pool glitters, the fishes leap in the sun
With joyous fins, and dive in the pool again;
I see the corn in sheaves, and the harvestmen,
And the cows coming down to the water one by one.
Dragon-flies mailed in lapis and malachite
Flash through the bending reeds and blaze on the pool;
Sea-ward, where trees cluster, the shadow is cool;
I hear a singing, where the sea is, out of sight;
It is noontide, and the fishes leap in the pool.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Flags & Banners
(rod stewart, ronnie lane, 1973)
[vocals by ronnie lane]
Last night I was woken by my cry
Had a dream just as plain as you and i
Saw the morning sun on a woodland in the spring
Still hear the echo crashing through the trees
Oh when I saw you down I fell upon my knees
You and I we were wearing southern grey
I called to you, but I used another name
I beat the ground and I cried out in your pain
But through a scarlet door I watched you slipping away
And your brothers helpless prayers were all in vain
Last night I was woken by my cry
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace
Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It will not ebb like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies --
You are my deepening skies;
Give me your stars to hold.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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The Forest Pool
LOST amid gloom and solitude,
A pool lies hidden in the wood,
A pool the autumn rain has made
Where flowers with their fair shadows played.
Bare as a beggar's board, the trees
Stand in the water to their knees;
The birds are mute, but far away
I hear a bloodhound's sullen bay.
Blue-eyed forget-me-nots that shook,
Kissed by a little laughing brook,
Kissed too by you with lips so red,
Float in the water drowned and dead.
And dead and drowned 'mid leaves that rot,
Our angel-eyed Forget-me-not,
The love of unforgotten years,
Floats corpse-like in a pool of tears
poem by Mathilde Blind
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The Disciple
When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of
sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping
through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it
comfort.
And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet
waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of
their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that
you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was
he.'
'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.
'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us
did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your
banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he
would mirror his own beauty.'
And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on
my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw
ever my own beauty mirrored.'
poem by Oscar Wilde
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Courage is setting yourself free
As she maneuvered
her entourage
of a motorized wheelchair
trained assistance dog
and personal assistant
into the Olympic size swimming pool
at the health club
I thought that it was
a nice idea
to come and sit
at the edge of the pool
and that it would probably
be therapeutic
or at least a refreshing
change of place
for someone in a wheelchair
but she scooted her vehicle
into front of the first swim lane
and as she was chatting to her assistant
the dog just sat there by the door
resting
her assistant reached behind her and
lifted her torso up and placed
her at the edge of the pool
as I was sitting in the
nearby whirlpool
at 4: 30 in the afternoon
I became curious
about what they were going to do next?
was the parapaligic
going to just go in the water
and sit or was there something more in store
when she was tossed in the water
I realized she must have been a swimmer before
you could tell by her upper body
that she had once had a sleek form
that swimmers have
powerful shoulder muscles
she started with a back stroke
her thick arms making a V stroke
her clenched fists
providing an engine to paddle her body
down the lane
since she had no control over her legs
the graceful placement of her head
during her swimming stroke
face up in the pool
forced her knees to come up
to the surface
this improvised technique
had half her body moving furiously
and the other half
the useless half
being dragged behind
she had an unusual turn
in which instead of using the wall
of the turn to propel off
she turned first sideways
and then circled back
and went on her way
but as she finished the turn
I saw a peaceful look
on her face
she had found
freedom of movement
once again
in a swimming pool
one of the most dangerous places
to be in
when you have lost control
of most of your body
poem by Oscar Mireles
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Everything Is Nothing!
Everything is nothing,
Nothing is everything,
Everything is Truth and Truth is everything,
All come from a pool and remain in the pool,
fool is that Truth which identifies itself with some fool,
When fool is grown enough to know the pool,
And can see beyond,
He sees he is that,
He is that,
he is that nothing
Thinking on nothing!
Nothing can exist as it is!
Remain in the pool,
Coming and going is that illusion!
Raising and falling as waves of unidentifiable formless energy,
Taking forms with different blends of its own forms,
Truth is that which bestows an atom to absorb the ocean
And Truth is that truth fools itself with wrong identification!
Then every breath is meditation,
Stopping train of thoughts,
Seeing all in true colour,
Remains as everything and nothing in his own nature!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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You were like a angel surrounded with sunshine
In the pool of the fountain
the sky reflect cobalt blue
and shadows fall over the inner court
and there are images sprouting up
whirling in my brain about you and me
in the pool of the fountain
and you were like a angel surrounded with sunshine
and dripping wet we embraced each other there
and shadows fall over the inner court
and even the wind blows with a chorus
and there are pure white lilies that I look at,
in the pool of the fountain
and the time with you was noble, was totally pure
or so everybody was thinking and we kept the countenance of it
and shadows fall over the inner court
drawing the two of us, line after line
and the sky is now reflecting dull blue
in the pool of the fountain
and shadows fall over the inner court.
poem by Gert Strydom
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His Life, a Porridge Pool
Sitting on a traditional stool
Starring, ripples in a pool
He stirred porridge with a wooden spoon
Ripples, cause of his spoon
Porridge, had become a pool
His life, a porridge pool.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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A Pool of Blood
A pool of water causes us to play with words,
Inner feelings may conceive an exalted frame of mind.
A pool is like radiation, all the yawning is converted
Into a character of good, a conversion has been made.
A pool is of blood, a real royal boredom of blue blood,
A spoilt man is issuing secrets that kingdoms do love.
When murder is bloody and minded by the some
We crave, destruction is the key, for almighty freedom.
A pool of immediate appearance is before my own eyes,
My ears are against my sight, for I have no idea of sound.
What is the murder when pools of bright blood stain the floors
With the anger and hunger of a killer, a sentinel of alien rudeness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Still Life
Dave Murray, Steve Harris
Take a look in the pool and what do you see
In the dark depths there faces beckoning me
Can't you see them it's plain for all to see
They were there oh I know you don't believe me.
Oh...I've never felt so strange
But...I'm not going insane.
I've no doubt that you think I'm off my head
You don't say but it's in your eyes instead
Hours I spend out just gazing into that pool
Something draws me there I don't know what to do.
Oh...they drain my strength away
Oh...they're asking me to stay.
Nightmares...spirits calling me
Nightmares...they won't leave me be.
All my life's blood is slowly draining away
And I feel that I'm weaker every day
Somehow I know I haven't long to go
Joining them at the bottom of the pool.
Now...I feel they are so near
I...begin to see them clear
Nightmares...coming all the time
Nightmares...Will give me peace of mind.
Now it's clear and I know what I have to do
I must take you down there to look at them too
Hand in hand then we'll jump right into the pool
Can't you see not just me they want you too.
Oh...we'll drown together
It...will be forever.
Nightmares...forever calling me
Nightmares...Now we rest in peace.
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At a pool party, with everybody around, a guy and I had sex in the pool, but nobody knew it.
quote by Krista Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pool
By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,
I have sat with you time and again;
And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,
To the sibilant sound of the rain.
And the pool, it is silvery bright, dear love,
And as pure as the heart of a maid,
As sparkling and dimpling, it darkles and shines
In the depths of the heart of the glade.
But, oh, I 've a wish in my soul, dear love,
(The wish of a dreamer, it seems,)
That I might wash free of my sins, dear love,
In the pool that I see in my dreams.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Bleeding In A Pool Of Shame
Some people are prone to condon,
Their distasteful behavior.
To make any claim whatsoever,
With a justifying of their misdeeds.
And this they do,
With a censoring done to others.
With attitudes they will excuse.
As a standard of values,
They monitor to ensure...
Others they choose to suppress,
Keep endeared and respected.
Some people are prone to condon,
Their distasteful behavior.
To make any claim whatsoever,
With a justifying of their misdeeds.
Only to witness their own credibility,
Bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what it is that the cruel people do,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
And no matter what the evilness people may choose,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what deceitful people choose what they do.
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what those evil people choose for you,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what it is that the cruel people do,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
And no matter what the evilness people may choose,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what deceitful people choose what they do.
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
No matter what those evil people choose for you,
They'll be bleeding in a pool of shame.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Names Upon a Stone: (Inscribed to G. L. Fagan, Esq.)
ACROSS bleak widths of broken sea
A fierce north-easter breaks,
And makes a thunder on the lea—
A whiteness of the lakes.
Here, while beyond the rainy stream
The wild winds sobbing blow,
I see the river of my dream
Four wasted years ago.
Narrara of the waterfalls,
The darling of the hills,
Whose home is under mountain walls
By many-luted rills!
Her bright green nooks and channels cool
I never more may see;
But, ah! the Past was beautiful—
The sights that used to be.
There was a rock-pool in a glen
Beyond Narrara’s sands;
The mountains shut it in from men
In flowerful fairy lands;
But once we found its dwelling-place—
The lovely and the lone—
And, in a dream, I stooped to trace
Our names upon a stone.
Above us, where the star-like moss
Shone on the wet, green wall
That spanned the straitened stream across,
We saw the waterfall—
A silver singer far away,
By folded hills and hoar;
Its voice is in the woods to-day—
A voice I hear no more.
I wonder if the leaves that screen
The rock-pool of the past
Are yet as soft and cool and green
As when we saw them last!
I wonder if that tender thing,
The moss, has overgrown
The letters by the limpid spring—
Our names upon the stone!
Across the face of scenes we know
There may have come a change—
The places seen four years ago
Perhaps would now look strange.
To you, indeed, they cannot be
What haply once they were:
A friend beloved by you and me
No more will greet us there.
Because I know the filial grief
That shrinks beneath the touch—
The noble love whose words are brief—
I will not say too much;
But often when the night-winds strike
Across the sighing rills,
I think of him whose life was like
The rock-pool’s in the hills.
A beauty like the light of song
Is in my dreams, that show
The grand old man who lived so long
As spotless as the snow.
A fitting garland for the dead
I cannot compass yet;
But many things he did and said
I never will forget.
In dells where once we used to rove
The slow, sad water grieves;
And ever comes from glimmering grove
The liturgy of leaves.
But time and toil have marked my face,
My heart has older grown
Since, in the woods, I stooped to trace
Our names upon the stone.
poem by Henry Kendall
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