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A Day

Where are you
When I am needing you
So far away
So far away
I think youre the most important
To me to me to me to me
My sunken footsteps put theirselves on
Through this gallery of deceased
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Where are you
So far away
It makes no sense
It makes no sense at all, ha
Where are you ?
Where are you ?
Where are you ?
Ha, ho
Where are you
So far away
I think youre the most important
To me to me
My sunken footsteps put theirselves on
Through this gallery of deceased
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Where are you
So far away
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
It make no sense at all
So far away
In just one day
In just one day
It makes no sense at all
It makes no sense at all
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just
In just one

[...] Read more

song performed by Xymox
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Day

Where are you
When I am needing you
So far away
So far away
I think youre the most important
To me to me to me to me
My sunken footsteps put theirselves on
Through this gallery of deceased
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Where are you
So far away
It makes no sense
It makes no sense at all, ha
Where are you ?
Where are you ?
Where are you ?
Ha, ho
Where are you
So far away
I think youre the most important
To me to me
My sunken footsteps put theirselves on
Through this gallery of deceased
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Where are you
So far away
I think their lives must be deceived
Like the sham nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
Nowadays
It make no sense at all
So far away
In just one day
In just one day
It makes no sense at all
It makes no sense at all
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just one day
In just
In just one

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song performed by Xymox
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The Believer's Principles : Chap. IV.

Faith and Sense Natural, compared and distinguished.

When Abram's body, Sarah's womb,
Were ripe for nothing but the tomb,
Exceeding old, and wholly dead,
Unlike to bear the promis'd seed:

Faith said, 'I shall an Isaac see;'
'No, no,' said Sense, 'it cannot be;'
Blind Reason, to augment the strife,
Adds, 'How can death engender life?'

My heart is like a rotten tomb,
More dead than ever Sarah's womb;
O! can the promis'd seed of grace
Spring forth from such a barren place?

Sense gazing but on flinty rocks,
My hope and expectation chokes:
But could I, skill'd in Abram's art,
O'erlook my dead and barren heart;

And build my hope on nothing less
That divine pow'r and faithfulness;
Soon would I find him raise up sons
To Abram, out of rocks and stones.

Faith acts as busy boatmen do,
Who backward look and forward row;
It looks intent to things unseen,
Thinks objects visible too mean.

Sense thinks it madness thus to steer,
And only trusts its eye and ear;
Into faith's boat dare thrust its oar,
And put it further from the shore.

Faith does alone the promise eye;
Sense won't believe unless it see;
Nor can it trust the divine guide,
Unless it have both wind and tide.

Faith thinks the promise sure and good;
Sense doth depend on likelihood;
Faith ev'n in storms believes the seers;
Sense calls all men, ev'n prophets, liars.

Faith uses means, but rests on none;
Sense sails when outward means are gone:

[...] Read more

poem by Ralph Erskine
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Damascus, What Are You Doing to Me?

1
My voice rings out, this time, from Damascus
It rings out from the house of my mother and father
In Sham. The geography of my body changes.
The cells of my blood become green.
My alphabet is green.
In Sham. A new mouth emerges for my mouth
A new voice emerges for my voice
And my fingers
Become a tribe

2
I return to Damascus
Riding on the backs of clouds
Riding the two most beautiful horses in the world
The horse of passion.
The horse of poetry.
I return after sixty years
To search for my umbilical cord,
For the Damascene barber who circumcised me,
For the midwife who tossed me in the basin under the bed
And received a gold lira from my father,
She left our house
On that day in March of 1923
Her hands stained with the blood of the poem…

3
I return to the womb in which I was formed . . .
To the first book I read in it . . .
To the first woman who taught me
The geography of love . . .
And the geography of women . . .

4
I return
After my limbs have been strewn across all the continents
And my cough has been scattered in all the hotels
After my mother’s sheets scented with laurel soap
I have found no other bed to sleep on . . .
And after the “bride” of oil and thyme
That she would roll up for me
No longer does any other 'bride' in the world please me
And after the quince jam she would make with her own hands
I am no longer enthusiastic about breakfast in the morning
And after the blackberry drink that she would make
No other wine intoxicates me . . .

5
I enter the courtyard of the Umayyad Mosque
And greet everyone in it

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poem by Nizar Qabbani
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Footsteps

(l. stansfield/i. devaney/r. darbyshire/f. musker)
Dont give up, youre not alone
Though youre weak and chilled to the bone
I will shore the pain that youre going through
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If youre losing faith, Ill understand
Dont be afraid Im holding your hand
If you trust in me then I will be true
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
Then Im gonna walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on till the hurt is gone
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna keep going, gonna carry on
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on
Im gonna walk on
Dont give up, youre not alone
Gotta try to be strong, youve got to move on
Just hold on tight and youll make it through
If theres one set of footsteps Ill be carrying you
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
If theres one
One set of footsteps in the sand
One set of footsteps
Walk on, walk on
Walk on, walk on
Im gonna walk on till its gone

song performed by Lisa Stansfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Youre So Good For Me

If you were an apple
I would take a bite
If you were a lemon
I would squeeze you tight
Youre so good Ive got to have you
Youre so good that nothing else matters
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good for me
If you were a penny
Youd be good as good
If you were a snowball
I would love the cold
cause youre so good Ive got to have you
Youre so good that nothing else matters
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good for me
If you were a candle
I would light your fire
And if you were hot labor
I would never tire
cause youre so good Ive got to have you
Youre so good that nothing else matters
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good for me
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good
Youre so good for me
Youre so good
1: if you were an apple, I would take a bite.
If you were a lemon, I would squeeze you tight.
Chorus: youre so good Ive got to have you.
Youre so good, that nothing else a-matters.
Youre so good, youre so good, youre so good for me.
2: if you were a penny, youd be good as good.
A-if you were a snowball, I would a-love the cold.
Chorus: cause youre so good Ive got to got to have you.
Youre so good that nothin else a-matters.
Youre so good, youre so good, youre so good,
Youre so good for me.
3: if you were a candle, I would a-light your fire.
A-if you were hard labor, I would a-never tire.
Chorus: cause youre so good Ive got to got to have you.
Youre so good that nothin else a-matters.
Youre so good, youre so good, youre so good,

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song performed by Monkees
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Footsteps

Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
Whenever trouble comes around
Or lonely nights lead underground
And far in the dark
Abandoned cars suddenly start up
An anxious sound
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
When loneliness induces fear
Like waves against a
Ramshackle pier
When thunder and rain
Scar the windowpane once again
I want you near
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Im longing to see you
I want you, I need you
Like a child who feels afraid
Of the dark at night
Hoping to hear a gentle touch
Turning on a welcome light
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
As long as I hear your footsteps
In the dark thats all I need
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps
Footsteps in the dark
Only love will break your heart
Footsteps, footsteps

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Youre The Top

At words poetic Im so pathetic
That I always have found it best
Instead of getting em off my chest,
To let em rest - unexpressed.
I hate parading my serenading,
As Ill probably miss a bar,
But if this ditty is not so pretty,
At least itll tell you how great you are.
Youre the top! youre the collosseum,
Youre the top! youre the louvre museum,
Youre the melody from a symphony by strauss,
Youre a bendel bonnet,
A shakespeare sonnet,
Youre mickey mouse!
Youre the nile! youre the towr of pisa,
Youre the smile, on the mona lisa!
Im a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop!
But if baby Im the bottom,
Youre the top!
Youre the top, youre mahatma gandhi,
Youre the top! youre napoleon brandy,
Youre the purple light, of a summer night in spain,
Youre the national gallery, youre garbos salary,
Youre cellophane!
Youre sublime, youre a turkey dinner,
Youre the time, of the derby winner,
Im a toy balloon thats fated soon to pop;
But if baby Im by the bottom youre the top!
Youre the top, youre a waldorf salad
Youre the top, youre a berlin ballad
Youre the nimble tread of the feet of fred astaire
Youre an oneal drama, youre whistlers mama, youre camembert
Youre a rose, youre infernos dante
Youre the nose, on the great durante
Im a masy leroux whos just about to stop
But if baby Im the bottom,
Youre the top!

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Not My Slave

With sadness in my heart and joy in my mind
I thought about the ghost that we left behind.
With everyone around telling us what to do
With deafening sound whisper I love you.
The fire in your eyes-- may it never go out.
The sweetness of your tears make it feel like night.
I see no escape from the roles we always play
What do we have to prove on this judgement day
Youre missing the whole point-- youre not my little pet
Dont throw away your life-- the games not over yet
I do not own your soul--dont want you in a cage
I only want your heart to find a special place
Youre mine now but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
With sadness in my heart and clounds in my head
I thought about us both and the lives we led.
The pages on a book and pictures on a screen
We shape ourselves like clay from someone elses dream.
One second you are cast just like stones at my feet
But I am not a king please dont worship me.
With everyone around telling us what to do
With deafening sound whisper I love you.
Youre missing the whole point-- youre not my little pet
Dont throw away your life-- the games not over yet
I do not own your soul--dont want you in a cage
I only want your heart to find a special place
Youre mine now but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my sister
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine but youre not my child
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave
Youre mine now but youre not my slave

song performed by Oingo Boingo
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am Needing What It Is You Have To Give!

I'm needing it.
I can't resist...
More time,
With you by my side.

I am needing it.
And I can't resist...
More time,
With you by my side.
And less time,
For you to decide...
How much time you're going to give,
To fulfill my need.
Or the time you've given is enough for me.

I'm needing it.
I can't resist...
More time,
With you by my side.

I'm needing it.
I can't resist...
More time,
With you by my side.

Hope?
I have and got it.
Hope?
I've never doubted.
Hope?
I do not mope.
Or cope,
With hope to scope.

Hope?
I have and got it.
Hope?
I've never doubted.
Hope?
I do not mope.
Or cope,
With hope to scope.

I am needing it.
And I can't resist...
More time,
With you by my side.
And less time,
For you to decide...
How much time you're going to give,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Following In Your Footsteps

(ian hunter/mick ronson)
Some folk leave courage,
Some folk leave you hope
Why am I out here hangin
Like a fool at the end o my rope
Some folk leave you wisdom,
Some folk leave you signs
You can never be sure
What went on before
Life is just a matter of time
Picture of you,
Clouding my view
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to make some sense of it all
Maybe its a sign of weakness,
But thats where my footsteps fall
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to hang on to your dreams
You never got what you wanted
So I never got what I need
Im following in your footsteps,
cos thats where the footsteps lead
Someone must have given me anger,
Someone must have given me hate
Or why would I stand here shakin,
When theres so many chances to take
Pictures of you,
Climb into view
Im following in your footsteps,
Tryin to make some sense of it all
Maybe its a sign of weakness,
But thats where my footsteps fall
Im following in your footsteps,
Watchin my children grow
Theyre following in my footsteps
Takin it on the road
Were following in your footsteps
cos thats where the footsteps go
Were following in your footsteps, yeah
cos thats where your footsteps go

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Since Youre Gone

Since youre gone
Since youre gone
The nights are gettin strange
Since youre gone
Well, nothings makin any sense
Since youre gone
I stumbled in the shade
Since youre gone
Everythings in perfect tense, well
I cant help it
When you fall apart
d I (and I) cant help it
Guess you better start
That is forgettin about you
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
Nights are gettin strange
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
Thrownin it all away
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
The nights are gettin strange
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
Thrownin it all away
I cant help it
Everythings a mess
I cant help it
Youre so treacherous
When it comes, to tenderness
(since youre gone)
I cant help it
Everythings a mess
I cant help it
Youre so treacherous
Oh, wheres that tenderness?
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
I missed the peak sensation
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
I took the big vacation
(since youre gone)
Well, never feel sedate
(since youre gone)
Well, the moonlight aint so great
(since youre gone)
Since youre gone
(since youre gone)

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song performed by Cars
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Who Do You Think Youre Foolin

You made it to the bright lights
You only come alive at night
Youre one of the sights
You hang out with those big names
A rising star out on the gain
Thats the price of your fame
(fame is only a dream land away)
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?
Youre halfway up the ladder
Or are you really halfway down
You never know in this town
But you swear youre gonna make it
And you dont care how you fake your life
Youre gonna make it alright
(fame is only a dream world away)
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?
Fame is only a dream world away
Fame is only a dream world away
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?

song performed by Donna Summer
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The Canterbury Tales; The Clerkes Tale (a)

THE CLERKES TALE - PROLOGUE

Heere folweth the Prologe of the clerkes tale of Oxenford.

'Sire clerk of Oxenford,' oure Hooste sayde,
'Ye ryde as coy and stille as dooth a mayde,
Were newe spoused, sittynge at the bord.
This day ne herde I of youre tonge a word.
I trowe ye studie about som sophyme;

But Salomon seith, `every thyng hath tyme.'
For Goddes sake, as beth of bettre cheere;
It is no tyme for to studien heere,
Telle us som myrie tale, by youre fey.
For what man that is entred in a pley,

He nedes moot unto the pley assente;
But precheth nat as freres doon in Lente,
To make us for oure olde synnes wepe,
Ne that thy tale make us nat to slepe.
Telle us som murie thyng of aventures;

Youre termes, youre colours, and youre figures,
Keep hem in stoor, til so be that ye endite
Heigh style, as whan that men to kynges write.
Speketh so pleyn at this tyme, we yow preye,
That we may understonde what ye seye.'

This worthy clerk benignely answerde,
'Hooste,' quod he, 'I am under youre yerde.
Ye han of us as now the governance;
And therfore wol I do yow obeisance
As fer as resoun axeth, hardily.

I wol yow telle a tale, which that I
Lerned at Padwe of a worthy clerk,
As preved by his wordes and his werk.
He is now deed, and nayled in his cheste;
I prey to God so yeve his soule reste.

Fraunceys Petrark, the lauriat poete,
Highte this clerk, whos rethorike sweete
Enlumyned al Ytaille of poetrie,
As Lynyan dide of philosophie,
Or lawe, or oother art particuler.

But deeth, that wol nat suffre us dwellen heer
But as it were a twynklyng of an eye,
Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle shul we dye.
But forth to tellen of this worthy man,

[...] Read more

poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Maryanne Webber Gallery

Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011

poem by Christina Sunrise
Added by Poetry Lover
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Maryanne Webber Gallery

Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Long Ago, Far Away

by Bob Dylan
To preach of peace and brotherhood,
Oh, what might be the cost!
A man he did it long ago
And they hung him on a cross.
Long ago, far away;
These things don't happen
No more, nowadays.
The chains of slaves
They dragged the ground
With heads and hearts hung low.
But it was during Lincoln's time
And it was long ago.
Long ago, far away;
Things like that don't happen
No more, nowadays.
The war guns they went off wild,
The whole world bled its blood.
Men's bodies floated on the edge
Of oceans made of mud.
Long ago, far away;
Those kind of things don't happen
No more, nowadays.
One man had much money,
One man had not enough to eat,
One man lived just like a king,
The other man begged on the street.
Long ago, far away;
These things don't happen
No more, nowadays.
One man died of a knife so sharp,
One man died from the bullet of a gun,
One man died of a broken heart
To see the lynchin' of his son.
Long ago, far away;
Things like that don't happen
No more, nowadays.
Gladiators killed themselves,
It was during the Roman times.
People cheered with bloodshot grins
As eye and minds went blind.
Long ago, far away;
Things like that don't happen
No more, nowadays.
And to talk of peace and brotherhood,
Oh, what might be the cost!
A man he did it long ago
And they hung him on a cross.
Long ago, far away;
Things like that don't happen

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song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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