I began in an era where four-letter words were not allowed.
quote by Pat Morita
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I Should Be Allowed To Think
I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Am I Allowed
Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bambino Io, Bambino Tu (Legenda)
Lui stava l seduto nel giardino,
ed era quasi nudo e piccolino.
Da dove era venuto non lo so,
era normale che lui fosse l.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Sembrava primavera ed era inverno,
e c'erano dei fiori tutto intorno.
Doveva essere buio e c'era luce,
e tutto quello che mi piace.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Mi sono seduto in terra l vicino,
ed era lui mio padre e lui mio figlio.
Ho parlato di cose che non so,
di cose che non ho saputo mai.
Aveva un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
Poi mi venuto sonno l in giardino,
cantava e la sua voce era sottile.
Mi sono svegliato e lui non c'era pi,
c'era un fiore di carta al posto suo.
Io avevo un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Mi sono svegliato e lui non c'era pi,
io avevo un occhio nero e un occhio blu,
bambino io, bambino tu.
Bambino io, bambino tu.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah...
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
E ninna oh e ninna ah.
song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Epistle to an Orphan after William Mackworth Praed A Letter of Advice
They tell me you're promised a mother,
to cuddle, to cosset, to care.
Take care for she may try to smother,
to cover her inner despair.
The experts agree that another
could just as well clinch the affair, -
and beware that you never discover
the father who's no longer there.
(Parody William Mackworth PRAED - A Letter 31 October 1990)
A Letter to PH from a Disappointed Writer
Dear PH, I leave you this letter
after writing from ten until nine
for a site I'd delight to know better,
for a smile that my heart can't decline.
Yet one finds after wearily pacing,
for replies in the cold, for some sign,
that that heart which with hope had been racing
to darkest despair must incline.
Dear PH from twelve to eleven
each night I would knock at your door
in hope that an angel from heaven
could show me the light, - but no more
will I screed in my need if no answer
effective can echo joy's store -
I can't act as a puppet-stringed dancer,
not even for one I adore!
Dear PH the time have I waited
day in and day out by grief torn,
all write up down written, ill-fated
as my consonants vowed my vowels scorn.
The wonder my dunderhead brought you
tonight may steal thunder at morn,
but the blossoms whose beauty besought you
fade as fast as last season's drenched corn.
As on Thursday applauseless, defeated,
so on Friday all clauseless I'm spurned,
is the cycle of love thus completed,
is this all the thanks that I've earned?
It is hard for a fool to be taken -
its a sign that one's soft in the head, -
but the reason that slept must awaken,
and the spirit, restored, won't be lead!
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Red Letter Today
Open a red letter an' read...
a life in words I attempt to freeze.
there are fine winds blowing,
heavenly sunset an' towering castles of cloud.
bird's chirping, hers breathing...
can hear them all with mine closed eyes.
welding in the back ground, lying here on the ground.
Many lives lived, sown into the earth...
lovers knot above some blue sky,
African soil where child plays.
a red letter tonight,
enclosed in an envelop delight...
count fingers I might,
grass greener inside.
the face of a beauty an' nature beside.
red letter in my pocket
scene of a match,
T-shirt and blue jeans,
slippers and shoe strings.
soft touch on her skin...
anklet above her feet.
red letter tonight, let it reveal
a soul so deep, an empire within.
Red letter tonight traveled in a flight,
course of wonderful dreams,
on black wings an' heavy heart.
blood rush in veins,
a heart beat heard,
murmurs through this ears...
an' hair through this fingers.
red letter collect thy scent,
keep it through all eternity.
Red letter a rhyme
a rock concert in my head,
chasing cars an' wasting time...
keep this moment, hold this moment
grow flowers on my forehead.
red letter tonight,
what is it about a lady?
make me so complete,
make my lips a beach...
onshore kisses an' tidy gulps...
red letter tonight, wet by the rain
pink panties tether at a lover's vigor.
[...] Read more
poem by Merlin Mwaura
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Red letter tonight...
Open a red letter an' read...
a life in words I attempt to freeze.
there are fine winds blowing,
heavenly sunset an' towering castles of cloud.
bird's chirping, hers breathing...
can hear them all with mine closed eyes.
welding in the back ground, lying here on the ground.
Many lives lived, sown into the earth...
lovers knot above some blue sky,
African soil where child plays.
a red letter tonight,
enclosed in an envelop delight...
count fingers I might,
grass greener inside.
the face of a beauty an' nature beside.
red letter in my pocket
scene of a match,
T-shirt and blue jeans,
slippers and shoe strings.
soft touch on her skin...
anklet above her feet.
red letter tonight, let it reveal
a soul so deep, an empire within.
Red letter tonight traveled in a flight,
course of wonderful dreams,
on black wings an' heavy heart.
blood rush in veins,
a heart beat heard,
murmurs through this ears...
an' hair through this fingers.
red letter collect thy scent,
keep it through all eternity.
Red letter a rhyme
a rock concert in my head,
chasing cars an' wasting time...
keep this moment, hold this moment
grow flowers on my forehead.
red letter tonight,
what is it about a lady?
make me so complete,
make my lips a beach...
onshore kisses an' tidy gulps...
red letter tonight, wet by the rain
pink panties tether at a lover's vigor.
[...] Read more
poem by Merlin Mwaura
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Con Voi
Mia cara, voglio farvi sapere
Qualcosa che è molto importante per me,
E qualcosa che può essere
Molto importante per lei,
Se apprezzi il mio amore solo
Come valore di tuo.
Mia cara, sono stato con voi per
Come posso ricordare.
Mi ricordo quando eravamo bambini,
E i nostri genitori erano vicini,
E siamo stati vicini, come pure,
Naturalmente
E i nostri genitori sarebbero pianificare 'gioco-date'
Come chiamati li allora e ancora adesso,
E c'era molto di più ad esso.
Si, tua sorella e tuo fratello sarebbe venuto sopra,
E potrebbe appendere fuori con mio fratello, mia sorella e me.
Ricordo che pensavo che le ragazze erano lorde,
E voi, vorrei evitare
E hai pensato che avevo una malattia,
Così sarebbe evitare me, troppo.
Ma, dopo un paio di settimane,
Siamo diventati amici,
[...] Read more
poem by James Roberts
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Grandfather Bridgeman
I
'Heigh, boys!' cried Grandfather Bridgeman, 'it's time before dinner to-day.'
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thumped a surprising 'Hurrah!'
Up jumped all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in his throat,
Said, 'Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the note.'
The old man glared at him harshly, and twinkling made answer: 'Too bad!
John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water, my lad!'
II
But soon it was known thro' the house, and the house ran over for joy,
That news, good news, great marvels, had come from the soldier boy;
Young Tom, the luckless scapegrace, offshoot of Methodist John;
His grandfather's evening tale, whom the old man hailed as his son.
And the old man's shout of pride was a shout of his victory, too;
For he called his affection a method: the neighbours' opinions he knew.
III
Meantime, from the morning table removing the stout breakfast cheer,
The drink of the three generations, the milk, the tea, and the beer
(Alone in its generous reading of pints stood the Grandfather's jug),
The women for sight of the missive came pressing to coax and to hug.
He scattered them quick, with a buss and a smack; thereupon he began
Diversions with John's little Sarah: on Sunday, the naughty old man!
IV
Then messengers sped to the maltster, the auctioneer, miller, and all
The seven sons of the farmer who housed in the range of his call.
Likewise the married daughters, three plentiful ladies, prime cooks,
Who bowed to him while they condemned, in meek hope to stand high in his books.
'John's wife is a fool at a pudding,' they said, and the light carts up hill
Went merrily, flouting the Sabbath: for puddings well made mend a will.
V
The day was a van-bird of summer: the robin still piped, but the blue,
As a warm and dreamy palace with voices of larks ringing thro',
Looked down as if wistfully eyeing the blossoms that fell from its lap:
A day to sweeten the juices: a day to quicken the sap.
All round the shadowy orchard sloped meadows in gold, and the dear
Shy violets breathed their hearts out: the maiden breath of the year!
VI
Full time there was before dinner to bring fifteen of his blood,
To sit at the old man's table: they found that the dinner was good.
But who was she by the lilacs and pouring laburnums concealed,
[...] Read more
poem by George Meredith
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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
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Eighth Book
ONE eve it happened when I sate alone,
Alone upon the terrace of my tower,
A book upon my knees, to counterfeit
The reading that I never read at all,
While Marian, in the garden down below,
Knelt by the fountain (I could just hear thrill
The drowsy silence of the exhausted day)
And peeled a new fig from that purple heap
In the grass beside her,–turning out the red
To feed her eager child, who sucked at it
With vehement lips across a gap of air
As he stood opposite, face and curls a-flame
With that last sun-ray, crying, 'give me, give,'
And stamping with imperious baby-feet,
(We're all born princes)–something startled me,–
The laugh of sad and innocent souls, that breaks
Abruptly, as if frightened at itself;
'Twas Marian laughed. I saw her glance above
In sudden shame that I should hear her laugh,
And straightway dropped my eyes upon my book,
And knew, the first time, 'twas Boccaccio's tales,
The Falcon's,–of the lover who for love
Destroyed the best that loved him. Some of us
Do it still, and then we sit and laugh no more.
Laugh you, sweet Marian! you've the right to laugh,
Since God himself is for you, and a child!
For me there's somewhat less,–and so, I sigh.
The heavens were making room to hold the night,
The sevenfold heavens unfolding all their gates
To let the stars out slowly (prophesied
In close-approaching advent, not discerned),
While still the cue-owls from the cypresses
Of the Poggio called and counted every pulse
Of the skyey palpitation. Gradually
The purple and transparent shadows slow
Had filled up the whole valley to the brim,
And flooded all the city, which you saw
As some drowned city in some enchanted sea,
Cut off from nature,–drawing you who gaze,
With passionate desire, to leap and plunge,
And find a sea-king with a voice of waves,
And treacherous soft eyes, and slippery locks
You cannot kiss but you shall bring away
Their salt upon your lips. The duomo-bell
Strikes ten, as if it struck ten fathoms down,
So deep; and fifty churches answer it
The same, with fifty various instances.
Some gaslights tremble along squares and streets
The Pitti's palace-front is drawn in fire:
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In Your Letter
In your letter ooh in your letter
In your letter ooh in your letter
In your letter ooh in your letter
In your letter ooh in your letter
In your letter you said you didnt love me
You said youre gonna leave me
But you couldve said it better
Oh in your letter, you said you couldnt face me
You said you could replace me
But you couldve said it better
You couldve left him only
For an evening let him be lonely
But you hid behind your poison pen and his pride
You couldve told him something
And proved to me you dont love him
But you hid behind your future full of lies
Instrumental bridge
You couldve left him only
For an evening let him be lonely
But you hid behind your poison pen and his pride
You couldve told him something
And proved to me you dont love him
But you hid behind your future full of lies
In your letter you said you didnt love me
You said youre gonna leave me
But you couldve said it better
Oh in your letter, you said you couldnt face me
You said you could replace me
But you couldve said it better
song performed by Reo Speedwagon
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Love Letter
A love letter from me,
To you;
To say something important.
A love letter from me,
To tell a love story,
About you and me.
A love letter about friendship,
To strengthen our relationship,
And express our special feelship.
A love letter about love,
Love of life partnership,
Love of life friendship.
A love letter from you,
To say that;
You always miss me.
A love letter from you,
To tell that;
You always think of me.
A love letter written
For You, my love,
On this day.
A love letter written,
Sealed With kisses, and
Hug and Smile.
A love letter sends
By hand and
with much Heartfelt.
A love letter to
Say “I love You”;
Say “ I Miss you”;
Say “I think of you”.
A Love letter seals,
With a lot of love, and
Heartfelt.
A love letter written,
About love poem written,
In Remembrance of our sweet memory.
© Lawrence Hiung, January 2012.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.
Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Lancelot And Elaine
Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning's earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh;
That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;
That at Caerleon; this at Camelot:
And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there!
And here a thrust that might have killed, but God
Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,
And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.
How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.
For Arthur, long before they crowned him King,
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain side:
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together; but their names were lost;
And each had slain his brother at a blow;
And down they fell and made the glen abhorred:
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached,
And lichened into colour with the crags:
And he, that once was king, had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass,
All in a misty moonshine, unawares
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Reminders
Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As word
s confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.Two different views, As words confuse and break. I can't get out, There's no way out of here,I can't get clear.
song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fourth Book
THEY met still sooner. 'Twas a year from thence
When Lucy Gresham, the sick semptress girl,
Who sewed by Marian's chair so still and quick,
And leant her head upon the back to cough
More freely when, the mistress turning round,
The others took occasion to laugh out,–
Gave up a last. Among the workers, spoke
A bold girl with black eyebrows and red lips,–
'You know the news? Who's dying, do you think?
Our Lucy Gresham. I expected it
As little as Nell Hart's wedding. Blush not, Nell,
Thy curls be red enough without thy cheeks;
And, some day, there'll be found a man to dote
On red curls.–Lucy Gresham swooned last night,
Dropped sudden in the street while going home;
And now the baker says, who took her up
And laid her by her grandmother in bed,
He'll give her a week to die in. Pass the silk.
Let's hope he gave her a loaf too, within reach,
For otherwise they'll starve before they die,
That funny pair of bedfellows! Miss Bell,
I'll thank you for the scissors. The old crone
Is paralytic–that's the reason why
Our Lucy's thread went faster than her breath,
Which went too quick, we all know. Marian Erle!
Why, Marian Erle, you're not the fool to cry?
Your tears spoil Lady Waldemar's new dress,
You piece of pity!'
Marian rose up straight,
And, breaking through the talk and through the work,
Went outward, in the face of their surprise,
To Lucy's home, to nurse her back to life
Or down to death. She knew by such an act,
All place and grace were forfeit in the house,
Whose mistress would supply the missing hand
With necessary, not inhuman haste,
And take no blame. But pity, too, had dues:
She could not leave a solitary soul
To founder in the dark, while she sate still
And lavished stitches on a lady's hem
As if no other work were paramount.
'Why, God,' thought Marian, 'has a missing hand
This moment; Lucy wants a drink, perhaps.
Let others miss me! never miss me, God!'
So Marian sat by Lucy's bed, content
With duty, and was strong, for recompense,
To hold the lamp of human love arm-high
To catch the death-strained eyes and comfort them,
Until the angels, on the luminous side
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Your Letter
I saw a letter lying on the floor
I couldn't help but look inside
Thought it was something that you must've left
Left there for me to find
All your words were on that page
All my dreams came true that day
I found
[chorus:]
Your letter...
Your letter...
It said you loved me
But you didn't know the words to say
It said you never knew that you could ever feel this way
It said you only wish someday that i would feel the same
In your letter
Your letter
I guess it just never occured to me
That you would feel the way i did
You kept the sweetest secret from my heart
You kept those feelings in
Though you never showed a sign
Give a clue to what i'd find
Inside
[chorus]
I was so happy that i almost cried
To think that you would think of me that way
It's like you took my sweetest dream
And made that dream come true
I would be with you
Always...
I saw a name i didn't recognize
I felt the tears come to my eyes
Seeing that the love that you've been longing for
Was another love, not mine
No, you never showed a sign
But it was right there in the lines
Inside
Your letter
Your letter
It said you loved him
But you didn't know the words to say
It said you never knew that you could ever feel this way
It said you only wish someday that he would feel the same
In your letter
Your letter
I saw a letter lying on the floor...
song performed by 112
Added by Lucian Velea
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Special Delivery
The postman got himself in to a bit of a mess:
And he delivered a letter to the wrong address.
The intended recipient would feel a lot better,
When, in her hand, she was holding the letter.
When she opened that letter, intended for her,
Emotions inside her would soon start to stir.
The letter had travelled across many a mile;
To her face, it would bring a great big smile.
The letter was from a soldier in Afghanistan:
Maybe it bore news from her beloved man?
I am sure that she cried when he was deployed.
Receiving the letter, she would be so overjoyed.
The light blue letter had travelled all that way;
I was sure it would make the young lady's day.
From her boyfriend she would be dying to hear;
Receiving his letter would bring her much cheer.
I imagined the message written from his heart,
Helping to bridge the gap, during their time apart.
I pictured him writing, while rockets flew overhead.
She would re-read many times, all that he had said.
Holding that letter, made me stop and think:
With that soldier, I felt a strange kind of link.
Looking at the envelope, I held in my hands,
Her emotions, I suddenly began to understand.
I thought about the couple's mix of emotions,
During their time, parted by the mighty oceans.
I thought about how he would wish he was here,
And how they had both shed some secret tears.
Hearing from him, she would cry tears of relief.
I bet he signed his name with kisses underneath.
To her, the letter would be a wonderful sight,
And she would sleep well in her bed that night.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Love Ain't Nothing But A Four Letter Word
She was waiting alone at the station praying for her train to arrive
Thinking bout her destination, the tattered bag had all she had in life
She turned her back on her family, she turned her back on her friends
She turned her back on a married man when she took off that wedding band
She said, Im giving up, silver clouds have turned to grey
Had enough, theres got to be a better way
Giving up, you know youve gotta walk
Theres some things in life still worth fighting for
Aint no big secret so forget all you heard
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
For some its for better, for some its for worse
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing
This time he said was the last time, last time he said just the same
In your heart you know that theyll be a next time
That your battered bones would have to explain
Givin up, nothings changing but the score
Had enough, every night love turns to war
Give it up, gave it all and wanted more
It aint nothing worth dying for
Its no big secret so forget all you heard
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
For some its a blessing, for some its a curse
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing
Forget your mamas rosary beads to get you through this time of need
You know you gotta cross that line
You take it one day at a time
Had enough, the silver clouds all turning grey
Im heading for a better day
No big secret so forget all you heard
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
For some its for better, for some its for worse
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing (it aint nothing now, baby)
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing (nothing now, baby)
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
Love aint nothing...
Love aint nothing but a four-letter word
song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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