Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell 'em, 'Certainly I can' Then get busy and find out how to do it.
quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Too Busy In a Loop
Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!
Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...
Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!
Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!
Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...
Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!
But many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Down Down
Getting busy
Cannot stop from calling the groove
Getting busy
Cannot stop from calling the groove
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
Feeling sexy, dirty thing got his eyes on me
Walks up close, took a stroke, getting down dirty
This is what you want
I'll make it so it goes on the floor
I'll have him begging for more
What you see's, what you're getting
You for me, you will stick it
It's so hot, in this kitchen
So baby let go
Wind yourself around and grab ahold and ride down
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
Feel the rythem driving, everybody's thriving
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
Would I like baggy jeans got the hip hop style
Come and slick my embrace take my number down
Well it's for fun I know it turns you on
Wanna bump and grind with me
Pull it out of the bag, yeah yeah
Wind yourself around and grab ahold and ride down
You gotta get down down (down down)
[...] Read more
song performed by Sugababes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Creation
The Parent’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to the child; but to irrefutably ensure that the infant was nourished with their breath and blood till the time it could unflinchingly fend for its symbiotic survival; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created them for,
The Sun’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to light; but to irrefutably ensure that the rays optimistically enlightened even the most infinitesimally lugubrious cranny of remorsefully cloistered earth; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rose’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fragrance; but to irrefutably ensure that the majestic resplendence ebulliently blossomed into the lives of countless haplessly beleaguered and bereaved; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Peak’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to victory; but to irrefutably ensure that the royal triumph peerlessly massacred even the most ethereal iota of devilishness form this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
Nature’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to newness; but to irrefutably ensure that the evolution metamorphosed every bit of egregiously stagnating ghoulishness into a sky of rhapsodic freshness; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Cloud’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to rain; but to irrefutably ensure that the water stupendously ignited vivaciously iridescent life in every ingredient of hopelessly dying soil; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Conscience’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to truth; but to irrefutably ensure that the righteousness insuperably conquered every trace of diabolical lies on earth and the atmosphere; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Ocean’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to salt; but to irrefutably ensure that the tanginess wonderfully illuminated every treacherously spiceles and deliriously lackadaisical moment of life; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Poet’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fantasy; but to irrefutably ensure that the dream spellbindingly impregnates the winds of Omnipotent romance into monotonously monstrous robots; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The Lip’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to smiles; but to irrefutably ensure that the happiness altruistically perpetually perpetuates into every dwelling incarcerated in chains of murderous gloom; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rainbow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to vividness; but to irrefutably ensure that the color timelessly enshrouded every gruesomely befriended orphan; miserably deteriorating on the globe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Shadow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to tranquility; but to irrefutably ensure that the peacefulness granted celestial reprieve to every bizarrely estranged soul squandering on this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The philanthropist’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to unity; but to irrefutably ensure that the oneness miraculously coalesced every spuriously staggering and cold-bloodedly fighting caste; creed and tribe into the unassailable religion of humanity; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The wind’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to freedom; but to irrefutably ensure that the liberation unequivocally freed every element of torturously enslaved earth till times immemorial; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The night’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to sensuality; but to irrefutably ensure that the passion brilliantly transformed every speck of infertility into the chapters of everlastingly Omniscient procreation; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The eyelash’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to flirtation; but to irrefutably ensure that the mischief serenely catapulted every fretfully frenetic organism into realms of impeccable childhood; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The soldiers job just doesn’t end at giving birth to martyrdom; but to irrefutably ensure that the valor to timelessly serve the mothersoil; throbbed fearlessly in every chest; even centuries after his veritable death; was what the Almighty Creator had created him for,
The breath’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to life; but to irrefutably ensure that the exultation inexhaustibly transcended over; even the most inane anecdote of baseless corruption and demeaning death; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
And the heart’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to Love; but to irrefutably ensure that the compassionate togetherness tirelessly bonded the entire planet into a paradise of Omnipresently unshakable strength; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for…
©copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Dead End Job
Words and music by The Police
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no teacher
I don't wanna be no slave
I don't wanna work no assembly line
A' like my uncle Dave
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
All I wanna do is play
I just ain't got time to stay
But I ain't gonna run away
Don't wanna be no millionaire
Don't wanna own no mint
I don't wanna be no tax exile
And I don't mind being skint
The queue gets longer every day
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no millionaire
[...] Read more
song performed by Police
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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Busy
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....
I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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I Don't Want to Go
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.
Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!
And I know you don't believe this, but...
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.
Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!
Being here ain't easy.
And you won't let me go!
Your nose is just too busy.
And you won't let me go!
A busy body busy.
And you won't let me go!
I'd rather 'tip' and 'dizzy'
And, you won't let me go!
Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!
Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Call The Law
Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Not yet
Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Step 2 the mic and taste the hype
Its manifested, this blessed gift, I had 2 bring it right
So let me dive right in
Where do I begin? hmm, well, let me...
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the dogs), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
(ooh) the law, they come around when everyones having a ball
And by the way, that reminds me of a party yall
North side minnie, twin cities, mid-summer on the scene
And my people get busy fryin up the bird (get the chicken, baby)
Word, whoever heard of a party bein ready without a money makin pot of spaghetti (ha ha ha)
Yeah, what u laughin at?
Im sellin liquor plus some plates at $7 a crack
Huh, and thats profitable
And 4 a sucker like u, thats a mouthful
Hmph, u better call the law cuz we gettin extreme
Pick it up p
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall) {x4}
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
Alright
Yeah
(man, I dont know what the hell yall sellin)
(fellas, yo, what u doin now? ) (what u doin tone? )
Boy, I aint turning down nothing, this is my place
U know what Im sayin?
Homeboy
Back 2 the scene, the basements packed
Buddy at the front door breakin backs
Thats security ensuring thee
The best possible time 4 u and me, yeah
The partys jumpin (ho, ho, ho)
Everybodys bumpin 2 rock creek park when (ho, ho, ho)
Bo and his girl got silly (whatd she do? )
Jumped up on my chandelier and got busy, yeah
He had 2 snatch the ho (what? )
We got geo in the background screamin, here we go, here we go!
Yeah, the tempos upbeat
Hollywood swingin at the end of the bar
He began singin, if I didnt care...
Yeah, u better call the law (call the law)
Were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho, here we go, here we go!) (alright) {repeat}
Yeah, thats alright
Give it 2 me, come on
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mans Job
Well you can go out with him
Play with all of his toys
But takin care of you darlin
Aint for one of the boys
Oh theres somethin in your soul
That hes gonna rob
And lovin you baby lovin you darlin
Lovin you woman is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Well now his kisses may thrill
Those other girls that he likes
But when it comes to treatin
A real woman right
Well of all of his tricks
No they wont be enough
cause lovin you baby lovin you woman
Lovin you darlin is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Youre dancin with him hes holding you tight
Im standing here waitin to catch your eye
Your hands on his neck as the music sways
All my illusions slip away
Repeat riff from intro twice
Now if youre lookin for a hero
Someone to save the day
Well darlin my feet
Theyre made of clay
But Ive got something in my soul
And I wanna give it up
But gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job woman
Lovin yous a mans job
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hairdresser On Fire
Here is london, giddy of london
Is it home of the free -
Or what ?
Can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary
And psychologically save me
Ive got faith in you
I sense the power
Within the fingers
Within an hour the power
Could totally destroy me
(or, it could save my life)
Oh, here is london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy, busy
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just so busy
Busy, busy
Busy scissors
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
Was a client, over-cautious
He made you nervous
And when he said
Im gonna sue you
Oh, I really felt for you ...mmm...
So can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary;
And supernaturally change me ?
Change me, change
Oh, here in london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just too busy
To see me
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
[...] Read more
song performed by Morrissey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dirty Job
Its a dirty job
But somebodys got to do it
Better get to it
Somebodys gotta do it
Whatever it takes, whatever it takes
Any work at all
Is better than none
Better buckle down to it
Gotta get the job done
Gotta earn my pay... I gotta earn my pay
I cant wait around on the lottery
And there aint no millionaires
Lookin for me
And somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebody
I can think of better things
Id rather do
I might get lucky
And Im hopin to
But until I do
I gotta compromise
The job aint much
But at least its mine
It beats standin
In the unemployment line
Put pride aside
And Ill improvise
Even if I do get a better job
Somebody else
Has gotta fill my spot
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebody
Somebody
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Its a dirty job
Its a low-down dirty job
Somebody
Even if the rules are too hard to follow
Even when pride is too hard to swallow
Its another day so its another dollar
Thats what its all about, oh
Its a dirty job
But somebodys got to do it
Better get to it
Somebodys gotta do it
[...] Read more
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Busy Bodies
So you think that you have seen her
When youre lying in between her
And you tell me that you dont care
Busy bodies getting nowhere
Evrybodys getting meaner
Busy bodies
Caught in the concertina
You check her outline
Break her regulations
You watch her legs through several
Service stations
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youre ready for the merger
With the company youre part of
And you do the dirty business
With your latest sleeping partner
Youre becoming
Automatic
Busy bodies
Out playing with the traffic
You want attention
You try my patience
With the best intentions you are nothing but a nuisance
Busy bodies
Busy busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youve given your performance
Though the matinee was idle
And you find that a wave of her right hand
Could seem so tidal
Just a second
Satisfaction
Busy bodies
Temporarily out of action
You wash and brush up
You want to dress up
You want to kiss her
But shes busy with her makeup
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere (x6)
song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sixth Book
THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter II)
When angels came before Yahweh,
Satan too joined them again.
The Lord asked him, “Whence do you come? ”
And Satan told, “By roaming earth,
And going on lands, back and forth.”
God asked, “Did you notice my servant Job?
There’s none like him upon the earth! ”
“You ruined Job without a cause! ”
And Satan answered Lord and said,
“Man gives all things to save his life;
Just touch his body, he’ll curse God.”
So, God placed Job in Satan’s hands;
‘Just spare his life, ’ God warned Satan.
So, Satan went from Lord’s presence,
And caused Job boils from head to foot;
Job took a potsherd to scrape with
And sat amongst the ashes sad.
His wife advised, “Curse God and die! ”
Job told her not to be foolish.
“When good things come, we praise the Lord.”
“Why shouldn’t some evil come? ” asked Job.
In all this, Job didn’t sin by word!
Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar-
Good friends of Job, heard the sad news,
And rushed to mourn and console him!
From far, they couldn’t recognize Job;
They wept aloud and tore their cloaks;
They sprinkled dust upon their heads;
And sat with him upon the ground,
For seven days and nights, speechless.
They saw his grief was very great!
poem by John Celes
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How Many Times Have You Asked Yourself
Finally...
You reach home.
Believing you are sheltered.
And will get deserving rest!
Then suddenly the phone rings.
To leave you wondering,
If the caller is someone you should address.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
Relax?
You can't!
A tension is enhanced.
The phone keeps ringing to erase the chance.
And...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rich Man, Poor Man
When God looked down from Heaven's Throne to Job upon the Earth,
God saw Job's faith had fully grown and that this man had worth...
God told the Devil of this man, so righteous and so pure.
God said, 'He does the best he can, almost without a flaw...'
The Devil fumed and then replied, 'You made him rich, that's why!
How many times has that man sighed? He has no cause to cry! '
Then God let Satan smite Job's land and suffer for a while
And death was very near to hand... and poor Job lost his smile...
The Lord received Job's faithful praise, despite the tragic loss!
Job proved he loved the Lord always! That made the Devil cross!
'What say you now? ' the Lord remarked! But Satan argued still...
For he was livid, he was narked, 'What if I make him ill? '
So God agreed, 'But spare his life! ' So Satan went below
And Job fell ill, such that his wife saw skin boils start to grow...
'Why praise the Lord? Reject His love! ' But Job dismissed each word.
'I trust the Lord who dwells above! Rejection's quite absurd! '
Alas, poor Job conferred with friends, who said that he had sinned...
But Job had faith that never ends! Though he no longer grinned!
Through gritted teeth, he set them straight, 'Of what sin am I blamed?
Of every sin I've learned to hate! I sit here unashamed! '
Then God spoke loud and God spoke clear, of everything He'd made,
Both sun and moon, things far and near, so truth could be displayed.
A structured world to live upon, from valleys to snowflakes!
If rainbow-coloured lights are shone, then, oh, what joy, each makes!
Poor Job, he suffered all he could, yet now he'd seen God's face,
By faith, he'd done the things he should, yet Job was saved by grace!
By faith, not works, lest any boast, no matter, rich or poor...
In Christ, receive the Holy Ghost... You'll never want for more...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Lawyer’s First Tale: Primitiæ or Third Cousins
I
‘Dearest of boys, please come to-day,
Papa and mama have bid me say,
They hope you’ll dine with us at three;
They will be out till then, you see,
But you will start at once, you know,
And come as fast as you can go.
Next week they hope you’ll come and stay
Some time before you go away.
Dear boy, how pleasant it will be,
Ever your dearest Emily!’
Twelve years of age was I, and she
Fourteen, when thus she wrote to me,
A schoolboy, with an uncle spending
My holidays, then nearly ending.
My uncle lived the mountain o’er,
A rector, and a bachelor;
The vicarage was by the sea,
That was the home of Emily:
The windows to the front looked down
Across a single-streeted town,
Far as to where Worms-head was seen,
Dim with ten watery miles between;
The Carnedd mountains on the right
With stony masses filled the sight;
To left the open sea; the bay
In a blue plain before you lay.
A garden, full of fruit, extends,
Stone-walled, above the house, and ends
With a locked door, that by a porch
Admits to churchyard and to church;
Farm-buildings nearer on one side,
And glebe, and then the countrywide.
I and my cousin Emily
Were cousins in the third degree;
My mother near of kin was reckoned
To hers, who was my mother’s second:
My cousinship I held from her.
Such an amount of girls there were,
At first one really was perplexed:
’Twas Patty first, and Lydia next,
And Emily the third, and then,
Philippa, Phoebe, Mary Gwen.
Six were they, you perceive, in all;
And portraits fading on the wall,
Grandmothers, heroines of old,
And aunts of aunts, with scrolls that told
Their names and dates, were there to show
Why these had all been christened so.
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poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Gareth And Lynette
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'
And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'
And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter XXXXII)
I know You do just everything;
To You, no one can hindrance bring;
May be, I’ve dealt with some great things-
Things all unknown to e’en earth’s kings!
No one can block your purpose, Lord;
I came to know You by mouth’s word;
And now, my eyes both have seen God;
I’m sorry for whatev’r I said.
Of things I knew, I cannot know;
They are so wonderful Lord, O!
I disown things I said before;
In ashes, dust, I repent, Oh!
The Lord then spoke to Eliphaz,
‘I’m angry with you three, because
How you spoke to Job of me was
Never aright and made Job worse.’
‘My servant Job had spoken right;
Take bullocks, rams all seven each
To job who’ll pray with all his might,
To make up for your blunders, breach.’
‘Concerning me, you didn’t talk well,
As well as my servant Job’s spell!
I’ll accept his prayer to not
To punish severely, I thought.’
Eliphaz, Zohar, Bildad did
According to what God had bid.
God accepted Job’s prayer soon
For all, life turned from bane to boon!
God then restored Job’s sad a plight,
After Job prayed for friends aright;
He blessed him two-fold as before,
And Job was happy, all the more.
His relatives came back to him,
Enquiring how life had turned grim;
They condoled, comforted him also,
And shared their wealth with him therefore.
The latter days of Job were blessed,
More than the earlier ones, God dressed;
God gave him immense cattle-wealth;
He lived one-forty years in health.
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poem by John Celes
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