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James Russell Lowell

There is no good arguing with the inevitible. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.

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James Russell Lowell

There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.

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The Only One

You're the only one. It is true.
I could never love anyone but you.
When in despair I look to you.

Hope eternal springs,
with all the joys you bring.
All this splendoer you make me feel.
The fact you're here is so surreal.

There is no other.
You're the only one.
I hope you believe I'm the one.
Playing the field is over and done.
When you know you've found the one.

I never feel the need to frown.
When the one I needs around.
Nothingelse could take the place.
Of this picture perfect face.

Together we'll build a speacial place.
To spend such endless blissful days.
The only one will do for life.

I take thee now as my wife.
To have and hold. Forever cherish.
Never seeing a single blemish.
I never imagined this day would come.
Eternally now with my only one.

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The Only One

Written by: j. pankow/g. oconnor
Whats been goin on
Ive been tryin to get through to you
Has it really been that long?
Ive been thinkin about you baby
And the way it used to be
Theres so many things I want to say
But will the words come out all wrong?
After all thats said and done
Youre still the only one
Youre the only one for me
Im the only one for you
Baby cant you see
Youre still the only one
Each and every night I pray
Hopin therell come a day
Baby you believe
Youre still the only one
Got to find a way
To get back inside your heart again
If I let you walk away
Id be dyin without you baby
So I just keep holdin on
Dont you know we were meant to be
But then I knew it all along
After all that weve been through
Youre still the only one
Youre the only one for me
Im the only one for you
Baby cant you see
Youre still the only one
Each and every night I pray
Hopin therell come a day
Baby you believe
Youre still the only one
And the fire of our love
Keeps me runnin back to you
And no matter where you are
I will never be that far
Away
Youre the only one for me
Im the only one for you
Baby cant you see
Youre still the only one
Each and every night I pray
Hopin therell come a day
Baby you believe
Youre still the only one
Aint no need to wonder why
Ill love you till the day I die
Baby I believe
Youre still the only one
Youre the only one
Youre the only one
Youre the only one for me sweet baby
Youre the only one
Youre the only one
Youre the only one for me sweet darlin
(repeats)
When times are rough and hard
With you is where I want to be, yeah
Aw yeah
When I am down and out, oh yeah
With you is where Ill be
Oh yeah
Yeah yeah baby
The only one for me
Me
Me, yeah

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There Is No Poem To Begin The Week With

THERE IS NO POEM TO BEGIN THE WEEK WITH

There is no poem to begin the week with
Emptiness is the beginning
I try to think
I try to listen to some internal rhythm
I write words down
My thoughts are simple and self- referential
The green- yellow light is there outside my window
The world is moving
Am I writing a poem or simply writing whatever sentences come into my mind?
I sometimes think poetry never stops being written within me
At other times I believe I am just ambitious and pretentious
Today this is the beginning
These lines these words
A poem to begin the week with?

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The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You

I don't look good in no Armani Suits
No Gucci shoes - or designer boots
I've tried the latest lines from A to Z
But there's just one thing that looks good on me

Chorus

The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you

I'm not satisfied with Versace style
Put those patent leather pants - in the circular file
Sometimes I think - I might be lookin' good
But there's only one thing that fits me like it should

Chorus

The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you

Ya it's you - it could only be you
Nobody else will ever do
Ya baby it's you - that I stick to
Ya we stick like glue

Chorus

The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you


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There's a Good Time Coming

There's a good time coming in the golden by-and-by:
And I wish, oh, how I wish that it would come!
There's a wise day dawning, by the portents in the sky,
To usher in the glad millenium.
When heaven-sent technocracy displaces our democracy,
Goodbye to man's hypocrisy and greed.
But I wonder, oh, I wonder if we'll all be planted under
Ere the good time gladdens human need.

There's a good time coming, but the road we have to go
Is strewn with all the wreckage of the past.
And there's quite a lot of salvage ere we end this worldly woe
And gain the golden terminus at last.
The wonders of machinery that dominates our scenery
Have left the blundering ancients far behind;
But I wonder, oh, I wonder if we haven't made a blunder
In neglecting that machine, the human mind.

There's a good time coming; but the echo answers, 'When?'
And I wish, oh, I wish that I could say.
Two thousand years have scarce sufficed to change the minds of men;
We may hardly hope to change them in a day.
I would not cry calamity when others aim at amnity,
And hope within me ever conquered fear.
But I wonder, oh, I wonder, when the clouds are torn asunder,
If you and I are likely to be here.

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

There Is But One May In The Year,

There is but one May in the year,
And sometimes May is wet and cold;
There is but one May in the year
Before the year grows old.
Yet though it be the chilliest May,
With least of sun and most of showers,
Its wind and dew, its night and day,
Bring up the flowers.

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There was one I met upon the road

There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.

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How Good Will Be The Move

Getting out!
To get back into what?
And how big will be the next box...
To pout about in.
As you try to figure out,
Why you are feeling restricted.
Without acknowledging,
You did this to yourself.

Getting out!
To go where and why?
Will a meeting with more comfort,
Satisfy the removal of unneeded despair?
And to who's benefit,
Will the discovery of going nowhere provide?

When a getting out has been accomplished,
How good will be the move?
And to who is this going to be proven?
If...
You are the only one to travel,
With the company of uncertainty.

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George Santayana

There May Be Chaos Still Around the World

There may be chaos still around the world,
This little world that in my thinking lies;
For mine own bosom is the paradise
Where all my life's fair visions are unfurled.
Within my nature's shell I slumber curled,
Unmindful of the changing outer skies,
Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies,
Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled.
I heed them not; or if the subtle night
Haunt me with deities I never saw,
I soon mine eyelid's drowsy curtain draw
To hide their myriad faces from my sight.
They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe
A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.

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There's A New Angel In The Sky

There's a new angel in the sky
Seeking her eternal rest
She fits the steps that walk by gods side
That lead her to her nest

Still her soul remains as does her wisdom as her body lie
She is still alive where it counts the most
As our memories never die

The sun will set as it will rise
This is a guarantee from god
That the moments he gave us will still pass by

Like our hearts but not our minds
The one thing that will never fade with time
Is our passion for wanting, our passion for love
These only strenghten with every tear we cry
These are the possessions that ensure
Our memories will never die

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The Only Ones

Can you feel me, I'm so close I'm sure
Anytime if you would call be right to your door
Is it over, lost this time for good
I never knew that I could be so misunderstood
* We are the only ones, left alone with this heart of stone
We are the only ones with nothin' left but fools alone
Life's so empty, there's nothin' left for me
Oh I wish you were back, baby you and me
Last September, it's like yesterday
You slipped through my hands, there's nothing more to say
* Repeat
I can feel the magic in your heart tonight
I thought we had something oh so right
Baby tell me do you still care
'Cause this ain't no game of kiss and dare
[INSTRUMENTAL]
* Repeat twice then go into the instrumental fade out

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Good Night to the Season

Good-night to the Season!—the rages
Led off by the chiefs of the throng,
The Lady Matilda's new pages,
The Lady Eliza's new song;
Miss Fennel's Macaw, which at Boodle's
Is held to have something to say;
Mrs. Splenetic's musical Poodles,
Which bark 'Batti, batti!' all day.
. . .
Good-night to the Season!—another
Will come with its trifles and toys,
And hurry away, like its brother,
In sunshine, and odour, and noise.
Will it come with a rose or a briar?
Will it come with a blessing or curse?
Will its bonnets be lower or higher?
Will its morals be better or worse?
Will it find me grown thinner or fatter,
Or fonder of wrong or of right,
Or married, or buried?—no matter,
Good-night to the Season, Good-night!

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Boris Pasternak

There'll be no one in the house...

There'll be no one in the house
Save for twilight. All alone,
Winter's day seen in the space that's
Made by curtains left undrawn.

Only flash-past of the wet white
Snowflake clusters, glimpsed and gone.
Only roofs and snow, and save for
Roofs and snow-no one at home.

Once more, frost will trace its patterns,
I'll be haunted once again
By my last year's melancholy,
By that other wintertime.

Once more, I'll be troubled by an
Old unexpiated shame,
And the icy firewood famine
Will press on the window-pane.

But the quiver of intrusion
Through those curtains folds will run.
Measuring silence with your footsteps,
Like the future, in you'll come.

You'll appear there in the doorway
Wearing something white and plain,
Something in the very stuff from
Which the snowflakes too are sewn.

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Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You

I don't look good in no Armani Suits
No Gucci shoes - or designer boots
I've tried the latest lines from A to Z
But there's just one thing that looks good on me
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
I'm not satisfied with Versace style
Put those patent leather pants - in the circular file
Sometimes I think - I might be lookin' good
But there's only one thing that fits me like it should
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
Ya it's you - it could only be you
Nobody else will ever do
Ya baby it's you - that I stick to
Ya we stick like glue
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you

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There are times when I recall the sweet scents

There are times when I recall the sweet scents
Of our friendship in its prime youth
What vile winds, what whispering sands,
What foul thoughts poisoned the truth
Constancy thrives only in heavenly realms of above
Life is painful and thorny, and it wares us into vain
And to strive to be worth of the one we love
Does work like havoc madness in the brain

But never either of us found the other again
To free the hollow heart from gnawing pain
Stubbornly we stood aloof and far, the scars remaining
The soul wounded and ailing
With no end to suffering and painting
In the reign of wrath, doubts and never reaching
There will never be souls bridging
Like lofty cliffs which had been set asunder
The cold dreary sea now flows between
And neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
Shall move this ocean away from within
Oh Dear me, Oh Dare me to wean
The marks of her who once had been

copy rights 2010

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There Is A Red Sky In The Morning

There is a red sky in the morning
And its calling you and me
It is a heavenly warning
Of just how things are going to be

Behold the King is coming
And He is coming in the cloud
And every eye shall see Him
And every knee is bowed

And in those days, they'll fall away
And the tribes of the earth shall mourn
They shall revile the precious Son of God
And upon His name pour scorn

And of that name which is above all names
They shall mock and they will deny
Yet every man shall see the Son
In His glory in the sky

There is no name under heaven
Bt which a man is saved
Its the glorious name of Jesus
And the road to hell is paved

With well intentioned people
Who fear man instead of God
Who have a form of Godliness
But deny the power therof

And so to some it may be nothing
To remove Christ from their name
But its a Christless Christianity
That will bring everlasting shame

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Good Year For The Roses

I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick on the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin cold the way you left em, but at least your lips caressed them while
You packed
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee that you poured and didnt drink
But at least you thought you wanted it, thats so much more than I can say
For me
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses
After three full years of marriage, its the first time that you havent
Made the bed
I guess the reason were not talkin, theres so little left to say we
Havent said
While a million thoughts go racin through my mind, I find I havent said a word
>from the bedroom the familiar sound of a babys cryin goes unheard
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses

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A Good Year For The Roses

I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick
On the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin' cold the way you left 'em,
But at least your lips caressed them
While you packed
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee
That you poured and didn't drink
But at least you thought you wanted it,
Tat's so much more than I can say for me
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin'
Funny I don't even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
It's been a good year for the roses
After three full years of marriage,
It's the first time that you haven't made the bed
I guess the reason we're not talkin',
Tere's so little left to say we haven't said
While a million thoughts go racin' through my mind
I find I haven't said a word
From the bedroom the familiar sound
Of a baby's cryin' goes unheard
What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin'
Funny I don't even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
It's been a good year for the roses

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Good-By To The Cradle

GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.

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