Citatepedia^®.com

Bolt a door with a boiled carrot!

Latin, German proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Knockin On Heavens Door

Mama take this badge off of me
I cant wear it anymore
Its getting too dark, too dark to see
And I feel like im
Feel Im knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
I feel like, I feel like im
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
I said i, I feel im
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Mama mama mama
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Oh
Take these guns and put em to the ground
I cant, I cant, I cant
I just cant shoot them anymore
Theres a long black cloud
Theres a long black cloud
You know its a, its a comin down
I feel i, I feel i, I feel im
I feel Im knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Now I said mama mama
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Oh now
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Oh
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Wipe this blood from my face
I cant see through the walls
Six white horses coming to carry me away
I feel Im knockin on heavens door
Im
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Gonna take me, gonna take me, gonna take me now
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Wipe this, wipe this, wipe this, wipe this
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Oh mama im
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Mama take these chains off of me
Cause I dont, I dont want them anymore
Theyre getting too damn heavy
And Im crawling across the floor
I feel like, I feel like Im knockin on heavens door
Oh mama
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Ah mama mama mama
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Gonna take me, gonna take me, gonna take me

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Knockin On Heavens Door

Mama take this badge off of me
I cant use it any more
Its gettin dark, too dark to see
I feel like Im knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Mama, wipe the blood from my face
Im sick and tired of the war
[...]
I feel like Im knockin on heaves door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door
Knock, knock, knockin on heavens door

song performed by George Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Move Over

My first guest is one of the most exciting singers there is. some think the most exciting. we have extra stage hands to hold the roof down when she sings. if you have never seen janis joplin,
Is your chance. here is janis joplin!
Hey! this song's about rock & roll, and needs some help from the crowd. it goes like this. i can't hear ya!!
Hey! you say that it's over baby, lord,
You say that it's over dear,
But still you hang around me, come on,
Won't you move over.
Yeah! you know that i need a man, hey,
You know that i need a man,
But when i ask you to you just say
That you think you can.
Hey! please dontcha do it to me, babe, no!
Please dontcha do it to me, baby,
Either take the love i offer
Or let me be.
I ain't got no time for walking, no!
I ain't got no time for walking,
What's a poor girl gonna do with your life,
Life all just dangling ?
Hey! make up your mind, honey,
You're playing with me.
Make up your mind, honey,
You're playing with me,
I said now well either be my loving man,
Come on, let me honey, let me be, yeah!
You say that it's over, baby, huh!
You say that it's over dear,
But still you hang around me, come on,
Won't you move over.
Hey! you know that i need a man, baby,
You know that i need a man.
When i ask you to you just say
That you think you can.
I ain't quite a-ready for walking, no!
I ain't quite a-ready for walking,
'cause whatcha gonna do with your life,
Life all just dangling ?
Honey, i feel that it's dangling
Honey, lord, lord, lord.
It's like a carrot, baby now
Like a carrot, baby now
Like a carrot, baby now
Like a carrot, dear.
Oh! yeah! yeah! whew!

song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

My Front Porch Looking In

Oh yeah
Yeah oh yeah
The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes
Now I look at my front porch and this panoramic view
I can sit and watch the fields fill up
With rays of glowing sun
Or watch the moon lay on the fences
Like that's where it was hung
My blessings are in front of me
It's not about the land
I'll never beat the view
From my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
And the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in, yeah
I've traveled here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air
Brushed by the hand of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get back home
To the one he made for me
It's anywhere I'll ever go and everywhere I've been
Nothing takes my breath away
Like my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Oh, the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
Yeah
Oh, there's a carrot top who can barely walk
(From my front porch looking in)

[...] Read more

song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Camouflaged Flaws In Reality (Revised)

Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’
overwhelms – the enormous scope
of scenes he paints reduces me
to tears and silent wonder

Sam Vimes’ income spent caring for
widows and orphans of deceased
watchmen; Angua facetiously claims
he spends it all on women

Captain Carrot explains Vimes one-
man pension fund scheme, tells how
he lives frugally to provide for those
he sees worse off than him,

For this he receives fairytale rewards:
marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest woman
made a Knight by none other than the
undercover Ankh-Morpork King –

Captain Carrot – who finds evidence of
his kingship on plunging his sword into
granite, destroys powerful GONNE after
reading documents proving his lineage

But steadfast and strong, turns from his
birthright to the throne, preferring to remain
a watchman – this solid nobility becomes
overpowering narrative causality

Pratchett remonstrates about fairy tales
yet creates luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters,
weaving details as Discworld sagas

Despite cynical commentary on society
and human nature, Pratchett idealistically
creates wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality

[ORIGINAL]

SO overwhelmed by the enormous scope of
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’ - scenes
had me in tears before reducing me to silent
wonder - Sam Vimes spent his income

On widows and orphans of former watchmen; I

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice Second
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Odyssey: Book 22

Then Ulysses tore off his rags, and sprang on to the broad
pavement with his bow and his quiver full of arrows. He shed the
arrows on to the ground at his feet and said, "The mighty contest is
at an end. I will now see whether Apollo will vouchsafe it to me to
hit another mark which no man has yet hit."
On this he aimed a deadly arrow at Antinous, who was about to take
up a two-handled gold cup to drink his wine and already had it in
his hands. He had no thought of death- who amongst all the revellers
would think that one man, however brave, would stand alone among so
many and kill him? The arrow struck Antinous in the throat, and the
point went clean through his neck, so that he fell over and the cup
dropped from his hand, while a thick stream of blood gushed from his
nostrils. He kicked the table from him and upset the things on it,
so that the bread and roasted meats were all soiled as they fell
over on to the ground. The suitors were in an uproar when they saw
that a man had been hit; they sprang in dismay one and all of them
from their seats and looked everywhere towards the walls, but there
was neither shield nor spear, and they rebuked Ulysses very angrily.
"Stranger," said they, "you shall pay for shooting people in this way:
om yi you shall see no other contest; you are a doomed man; he whom
you have slain was the foremost youth in Ithaca, and the vultures
shall devour you for having killed him."
Thus they spoke, for they thought that he had killed Antinous by
mistake, and did not perceive that death was hanging over the head
of every one of them. But Ulysses glared at them and said:
"Dogs, did you think that I should not come back from Troy? You have
wasted my substance, have forced my women servants to lie with you,
and have wooed my wife while I was still living. You have feared
neither Cod nor man, and now you shall die."
They turned pale with fear as he spoke, and every man looked round
about to see whither he might fly for safety, but Eurymachus alone
spoke.
"If you are Ulysses," said he, "then what you have said is just.
We have done much wrong on your lands and in your house. But
Antinous who was the head and front of the offending lies low already.
It was all his doing. It was not that he wanted to marry Penelope;
he did not so much care about that; what he wanted was something quite
different, and Jove has not vouchsafed it to him; he wanted to kill
your son and to be chief man in Ithaca. Now, therefore, that he has
met the death which was his due, spare the lives of your people. We
will make everything good among ourselves, and pay you in full for all
that we have eaten and drunk. Each one of us shall pay you a fine
worth twenty oxen, and we will keep on giving you gold and bronze till
your heart is softened. Until we have done this no one can complain of
your being enraged against us."
Ulysses again glared at him and said, "Though you should give me all
that you have in the world both now and all that you ever shall
have, I will not stay my hand till I have paid all of you in full. You
must fight, or fly for your lives; and fly, not a man of you shall."
Their hearts sank as they heard him, but Eurymachus again spoke

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hot Potatoes

My baby woke me up this mornin
She said get down that labour exchange,
And if you dont come home with a job son,
Youll get no dinner to-day.
You gotta secure me a weekly workin wage.
Youll get no more fancy cookin,
Youll get no more apple pie,
Youll just get those plain hot potatoes
To satisfy your appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin every single day.
I said I dont need your fancy cooking,
I like the simple things in life,
Just give me those plain hot potatoes
And Ill be well satisfied,
Theyll satisfy my appetite.
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, yeh,
I want your lovin 60 minutes an hour,
I want your lovin 24 hours a day,
I want your lovin 7 days a week.
Yeh, yeh, oh yeh.
I want your love, I need your love,
But all I get is hot potatoes
When I come home late at night
To satisfy my appetite.
Dont give me no more potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes,
I want your lovin every single day.
I want your lovin
La la la la la la potatoes,
Boiled, french fried, any old way that you wanna decide.
Hot potatoes, hot potatoes, yeh.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Ballad of the Carpet Bag

Ho! Darkies, don't you hear dose voters cryin'
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get to de Poll, you must get there flyin';
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel by de road, you must travel by de train,
And the things what you've done you will have to explain,
And the things what you've promised, you must promise 'em again.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!

You must pack up a volume of Coghlan's Figures,
Pack dat carpet bag!
And a lot o' little jokes to amuse those niggers.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must wheedle all de gals with a twinkle of your eye,
You must bob down your head when de eggs begin to fly.
Oh! those eggs what they're saving, and they'll throw 'em by and by.
Pack dat carpet bag!

Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!

You must get upon a stump, you must practise speakin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must follow Georgie Reid or Alfred Deakin.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must come to de scratch, or you're bound to fail,
For it ain't any time to be sittin' on de rail,
Or de votes that you'll get -- they won't keep you out o' jail.
Pack dat carpet bag!

Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!

And supposin' that you're beat, and you feel like cryin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must hustle back to work -- just to keep from dyin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel second-class when you travel by de train,
For you haven't got a pass on de end of your chain,
While the other fellow's packing for de great campaign.
Pack dat carpet bag!

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Door To Door

All us angels wearing studs
Yeah, plastic mouth melts in the sun
Oo, running colors everyone
Cause were all in prison having fun
Oh, perfect pictures hang around
Well, delusions swing you up and down
Well fall out windows climb up trees
Im lookin for tranquillity
Hmm, got your, o locks and chains
Well, still gonna blow your brains out
Those locks and chains
No, nah, never felt like a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oo yeah, I never felt like a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oo, yeah you got your herds of people choosing arms
Gonna keep us all in mass alarm
Oh, murder movies make your day
Ah, ah, living in the usa
Cracked up people on the edge
They got no heroes got no bread
Oh, get the jitters get the shakes
Lookin like (? ) the final take
Ooh, well locks and chains
Gonna protect you
Well locks and chains
Dont feel no more
Never felt a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Oh, never felt a dream like you before
(ahh,ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Ha- shh, oo
Yeah locks and chains
Well gonna blow your brains out?
Yeah locks and chains
Cant feel no more
Never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)
Even knocking door to door
Uh well I never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)
Oo, even knocking door to door
Oh, livin in a dream is all the same
Ah, yeah livin in a dream is a-all the same
Oh never felt a dream like you before
(ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh)

[...] Read more

song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To Knock on a Door

Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.

poem by Hannah Shier
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Book VI - Part 02 - Great Meteorological Phenomena, Etc

And so in first place, then
With thunder are shaken the blue deeps of heaven,
Because the ethereal clouds, scudding aloft,
Together clash, what time 'gainst one another
The winds are battling. For never a sound there come
From out the serene regions of the sky;
But wheresoever in a host more dense
The clouds foregather, thence more often comes
A crash with mighty rumbling. And, again,
Clouds cannot be of so condensed a frame
As stones and timbers, nor again so fine
As mists and flying smoke; for then perforce
They'd either fall, borne down by their brute weight,
Like stones, or, like the smoke, they'd powerless be
To keep their mass, or to retain within
Frore snows and storms of hail. And they give forth
O'er skiey levels of the spreading world
A sound on high, as linen-awning, stretched
O'er mighty theatres, gives forth at times
A cracking roar, when much 'tis beaten about
Betwixt the poles and cross-beams. Sometimes, too,
Asunder rent by wanton gusts, it raves
And imitates the tearing sound of sheets
Of paper- even this kind of noise thou mayst
In thunder hear- or sound as when winds whirl
With lashings and do buffet about in air
A hanging cloth and flying paper-sheets.
For sometimes, too, it chances that the clouds
Cannot together crash head-on, but rather
Move side-wise and with motions contrary
Graze each the other's body without speed,
From whence that dry sound grateth on our ears,
So long drawn-out, until the clouds have passed
From out their close positions.
And, again,
In following wise all things seem oft to quake
At shock of heavy thunder, and mightiest walls
Of the wide reaches of the upper world
There on the instant to have sprung apart,
Riven asunder, what time a gathered blast
Of the fierce hurricane hath all at once
Twisted its way into a mass of clouds,
And, there enclosed, ever more and more
Compelleth by its spinning whirl the cloud
To grow all hollow with a thickened crust
Surrounding; for thereafter, when the force
And the keen onset of the wind have weakened
That crust, lo, then the cloud, to-split in twain,
Gives forth a hideous crash with bang and boom.
No marvel this; since oft a bladder small,

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Poetic Standard

Poetic Standard

Poetic inspiration must supply
Open sourced resourcefulness, may not
Exist in half-light, cuts the gordian knot
That holds back harmony from inner eye.
Insidious compromise can't satisfy
Creative impulse that rejects as blot
Secondary lot where, half forgot,
Tired lines block, lock life's vista, dreams deny.
All hesitation acts out living lie
None should accept to temper daily rot,
Dread time-trap snapped shut once one bolt is shot.
Aloft soar, draw from intuitions, fly!
Read much, hunch heed, rise from rant's rubbish vent,
Dare to revise, creative dance invent.

Skein poetic weaves life's leaves. Flash wink
Turns think through ink to stage fulfilling page
As insight mixes music, words wild, sage.
No Tao is tainted that cues tone-true link
Descriptive and instructive, scanned in sync.
Although some self-styled poets feel form's cage,
Review Stravinsky's words, all doubts assuage.
Deny blank prose poetic rose crown. Drink
Pierian deep, sip not lip-service brink,
Or compensate for feelings trapped to wage
Ego war against injustice guaged,
To ease maimed spirit's claims of unfair stink.
Inside poetic process progress make,
Craft well, rewrite, reword from second take.

6 September 2009 robi3_1908_robi3_0845 ASX_IXX
Acrostic Sonnet POETIC STANDARD STANDARD POETIC
See notes and related poems below
__________________
Pierian Spring

The Pierian Spring from greek mythology is held the metaphorical source of knowledge about the arts and science. Pieria, ancient Macedonia, was the location of Mount Olympus, the seat of worship of Orpheus and the Muses. The spring is believed to be a fountain of knowledge that inspires whoever drinks from it.

Alexander Pope - Essay on Criticism

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Knockin On Every Door

Hey now honey
You got to face the floor
You headed for the heart
But you couldnt find the door, could you?
Could you?
Well, Im standing in the sun
But Im living in the rain
I got to get a-whirlin like a human hurricane over you
Over you
Now youre looking like a fox on the run
And youre faster than a shot from a gun
Im pointing at you, oh you
Talking bout you, hey you
I thought we had love in store
You keep on knockin on every door
Babe, Ive seen it all before
You keep on knockin on every door
Aint no lovin you ignore
You keep on knockin on every door
Keep keep knock knockin on every door
You keep on knockin on every door
Hey now honey
Time is all youve spent
You moved into the bed
But you couldnt pay the rent, could you?
Could you?
In the twinkle of an eye
You electrify
I got to get a-shootin like a rocket in the sky, bye bye
Goodbye
Now youre burning like youre hot on the scene
Dont you love to steal a part of my dream?
Im looking at you, oh you
Talking bout you, yea you
I thought we had love in store
You keep on knockin on every door
Babe, Ive seen it all before
You keep on knockin on every door
Aint no lovin you ignore
You keep on knockin on every door
Keep keep knock knockin on every door
You keep on knockin on every door
I thought we used to have love in store
You keep knock knockin on every door
Hey babe, dont run around here no more
You keep on knockin on every door
Aint no sugar you ignore
You keep on knockin on every door
Keep keep knock knockin on every door
You keep on knockin on every door

[...] Read more

song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

No Knock On My Door

She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
She knew my feelings were jangled and frayed
She took me into a wind blown alley way
She took me into a wind blown alley way
She showed me a world a boy should see
She showed me a world a boy should see
Ill thank her till the day that I die
Ill thank her till the day that I die
So, here we go
No knock on my door
So, here we go
Believe it till you see
No knock on my door
What living has done to me
Believe it till you see
And Im sure that I need holding
What living has done to me
And Im sure that I need holding
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
She made me feel proud that I would stand for
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
I took her to a room and I showed her myself
For that Ive got to thank her and I mean it
She made me feel proud that I would stand for
Theres nothing that this girl wouldnt do for me
So, here we go
For that Ive got to thank her and I mean it
A face in the crowd,
Jump up and jump down
Baby, can you see through me?
So, here we go
A face in the crowd,
Sure, Ive been here before
Jump up and jump down
No knock on my door
Baby, can you see through me?
No love in the
Baby, please be my
Sure, Ive been here before
Sure, Ive seen it before
No knock on my door
No knock on my door
No love in the
Love in the
Baby, please be my
Can be painful, I know
Cry, I cry every night
Sure, Ive seen it before
I need to hold you tight
No knock on my door

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

How Wide The Sky

Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.

Come out and from behind,
Those fears locked up...
In your mind.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Come out and from behind,
Those fears locked up...
In your mind.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.

How wide the sky,
When your eyes see it!
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
How wide the sky,
When your eyes see it!
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.

Come out and from behind,
Those fears locked up...
In your mind.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
Stop peeking, open that door.
How wide the sky,
When your eyes see it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Great Hunger

I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick Kavanagh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!