Citatepedia^®.com

I've been homeless. I've worked at 7-Eleven.

quote by Dennis Rodman
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Homeless

Emaweni webaba
Silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Webaba silale maweni
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
We are homeless, we are homeless
The moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
And we are homeless, homeless, homeless
The moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Zio yami, zio yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami amakhaza asengi bulele
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami, angibulele amakhaza
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami somandla angibulele mama
Zio yami, nhliziyo yami
Nhliziyo yami, nhliziyo yami
Too loo loo, too loo loo
Too loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo
Too loo loo, too loo loo
Too loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo loo
Strong wind destroy our home
Many dead, tonight it could be you
Strong wind, strong wind
Many dead, tonight it could be you
And we are homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Homeless, homeless
Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing hello, hello, hello
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody cry why, why, why?
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody sing hello, hello, hello
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih
Somebody cry why, why, why?
Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih

[...] Read more

song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Eleven

ELEVEN

Eleven, eleven, eleven years old,
intrepid, courageous, becomingly bold,
awaiting the whistle to aim at the goal,
youth victory snatches to go for the gold.

Eleven in yellow, eleven in blue,
first warm up, then face out, they know what to do,
team practice their axis extended, each soul
feels ready, steels steady, heart heady, on cue.

Eleven enthusiasts, courage extolled,
engage without rage on the field that has told
long tales of hopes met or defeats swallowed whole,
on one ball all focus as onwards its rolled.

Eleven, eleven, well matched, tackle through,
a game which enflames passions partisan, true,
team work all important as each knows the role
to play so the day stays as record all view

Rupert Kensho Robin Le Saux written Chateaugiron 23 October 2006

robi03_1457_robi03_0000 XXX_MXX

Eleven poem © Jonathan Robin

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

Homeless

Homeless;
- Down by the muddy Mississippi
Skinny as a rail,
Sleeping under the old Eads bridge
Feeling low, dirty, and frail -
Homeless;
- With less than two coins
In both pockets,
Empty eyes
Look through sunken sockets -
Homeless;
- So many people walk right on by
I wonder how many care,
They all keep moving
Even though they stare -
Homeless;
- Lost a job
Lost a home,
Lost a family
Lost all hope -
Homeless;
- Where will I go from here
What should I do,
I'm so thankful when the weather's fair
And the skies are blue -
Homeless;
- Don't know the day nor season
And, yea, it sure gets cold at night,
I've got an old sleeping bag
I'll be alright -
Homeless;
- There's so many of us out here
Without a home,
Even so
I feel so very alone -
Homeless;
- It's a tough situation
Not pretty, just true,
And at any time
It could happen to you -
Homeless;
- Hey buddy...
Could you spare a dime,
And say a prayer for us
... sometime -
- I'm just homeless, not less human...

poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Homeless Man

I reluctantly wake up to another bleary, dreary day
To see the marks from those broken shards of glass
The anxiety, stress and anger, those desperate cries for help
Wrists throbbing, trails of blood, but still on this mortal earth
Shouting, crying at the top of my voice in my head
Those voices and screams, why why, but still left unheard
A hopeless situation in a hopeless uncaring world
Why do I carry on, I do not know
For I am the homeless man

As I walk and wait for the daily metro as the shops begin to open
Looking on as shutters go up, coffees are poured
Those enticing aromas that I can ill afford
Lost in the wilderness, trying to work things out
Confused, not understanding, just want to hide myself away
Those black clouds that are looming heavily above me
To tired to care anymore, to tired to walk, to tired to care
For I am the homeless man

I am the strange man people look at whilst sneering, jeering
Walking down the road getting on with their lives
The business men that carry on with their shallow existence
Unaware and unwilling to care
Their clockwork lives telling them to carry on
Stepping over you, shouting abuse whilst you just sit there
The mothers and children merrily off to school
Complaining because you’re in the way
Why, because I am the homeless man

I wave my hand out, only wanting some small change, begging to live
Thinking whether I will I eat today, but gone without now for so long
Do I even care whether I die or live in the uncaring world
The tall buildings that are drawing me near
Looking from the rooftops above, just one more step and it will all end
Unsure of what is stopping me taking that last plunge
Is there still a glimmer of hope, a strand from a rope to hold on too
For I am the homeless man

I am the man with hidden disabilities
No sticks or wheels to burden or for people to see
But the one in my head, the other person I hate the most
The resentment and anger I have for myself
For the person I have always long to be
Now the paved streets have turned to doors and bars
The sneers and jibes, anxiety and paranoia
What will the future hold for me, we will have to see
For I am the homeless man

So next time you walk through your town or city
On your way to school, work or leisure

[...] Read more

poem by Alun Jones
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Source

the Source of ‘Crab Nebula'

'The greats molder in their graves
Their words collect as dust upon their spines
Their hearts do not beat in time with today
and yet, the Spirit calls & you answer
What more can a ‘writer' do'?

(poetic writers are compelled to write
& seldom know why)

Ninth Street

There is a cold water'd house
On a bleak winter'd street
With stale musty stink
Of unwashed sock and sheet
Dirty dishes left still
Standing there in the sink.
Memories drenched in scent
Of kerosene and coal
Christmases without trees
Colored paper or ribbon bows.
Yet ___ there was laughter, warm
and yes ___ love
Her making toast over-done
and coffee too thin for him.
Poverty of wage and things
Cannot suppress the hope
Of loves gentle kiss
As passions
Became a foggy mist
Of what could have been
Instead of what is.

(Genetic Memory of Life before I was)

Curmudgeon

(I did not ask to be born)

Knowing why, doesn't make the search go away
Knowing how, doesn't mean you can stop
There are alternative ways, different days
No one gets to stay forever

There are traps
There are walls

[...] Read more

poem by Donald Goodside
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The American Flag and the Lucky Juju Bead (Not a Poem)

The American Flag and the Lucky Juju Bead

By Uriah Lee Hamilton

Monday night. No ticket to see the sold-out show of British pop singer Lily Allen at St. Andrew’s in Detroit. I’ve never let this stop me before. Off I go with the mad confidence of Hemingway and the sweet disposition of Jack Kerouac, ready as ever just to enjoy everything and be grateful.
I arrive in the parking lot of St. Andrew’s at 5: 50PM. About fifteen other people in line already including a thirty-five year old guy in a kilt. I have nothing against kilts really, but the chilly breeze was blowing 40 degrees Fahrenheit with snowflakes and rain falling, not strictly apropos for wearing your finest kilt. A homeless man approaches and gives me a small American flag. I tell him I can’t give him anything right now, no single bills until I can find a ticket to buy. I forgot I had a pocketful coins in a plastic bag. The homeless guy promptly reclaims the small American flag from me. My feelings were kind of hurt but I never really get mad at the homeless.
As people showed up, I’d ask, “Have an extra ticket? ” “No, man, I sure don’t.” “Ok, you can have my place in line, I’m ticketless.” At least fifteen more people show up that I have this conversation with, including two people from Dayton, Ohio also without tickets. Drats! Competition!
Then another homeless man on a bike approaches me. He says, “It’s going to be a good show isn’t it? ” I reply, “I don’t know, I can’t get a ticket.” “You don’t have ticket? ” Again I respond, “No, I can’t get a ticket.” He then assures me I’ll get a ticket. “You know, I met Lily today. Pretty little thing, I gave her one of my good luck juju beads.” The homeless guy then showed me two of his fingers. They didn’t appear that much more spectacular than any fingers I’ve seen on other hands. I guess he was holding one of his good luck juju beads, though. This time I remembered the pocketful of change I had. I pulled out the plastic bag and said, “I don’t know what’s in here, but you can have it” (I’m guessing two or three dollars) . He said, “Thanks.” And he then opens those not all that uncommon two fingers and gives me this little juju bead that I put in the pocket that had the plastic bag of change. The homeless guy then disappears as calmly as he appeared, almost like Jesus on the road to Emmaus when he slips away after enlightening the down-hearted disciples about the plan of God with the events that just unfolded. That seemed appropriate for the day after Easter.
As soon as the homeless guy vanishes, three guys show up in line and once again I ask, “Have any tickets? ” One of the three responded, “Just one, man.” I asked, “How much? ” He tells me, “Fifty dollars.” I promptly give him the fifty dollars and a God-blessing and felt all happy. I kind of felt bad for the two people from Dayton but maybe they didn’t have a good luck juju bead. I hope they got tickets somehow, but I don’t know. The time is 6: 30PM and the doors open at 7: 00PM.
An Electronic band from Seattle called Natalie Portman’s Shaved Head opened the show. They were a fun party band with a song or two seeming disco-like. Everyone was having a good time dancing and swaying and talking to friends and people they were romantically involved with. All very cool.
Finally, Lily Allen takes the stage wearing a cool gray hoodie. She eventually sheds the hoodie and has a white T shirt on and is just super cute with a new shorter hair cut. She’s dancing and smiling and singing and everyone in the audience is doing the same. She then introduces a song called “Who’d Have Known” saying it is about the early time in a relationship before you really know each other. As she’s singing the song, she notices a gay couple in front of me all happy with each other and the show and points toward them and smiles friendly and approvingly. A song or two later, the one guy of the couple has a tear on his face from how much he is enjoying the show and Lily notices that as well and says, “You’re crying, are you ok? ” She then reaches out her hand with her lovely pink finger nails and shakes his hand. I think that is the only hand she shook last night. She later throws a towel out into the audience and the same guy gets the towel. Uriah left empty-handed but happy. For the final song in the encore, she sings “Womanizer” by Brittany Spears and everybody is just bopping up and down and digging the coolness of it all. My only disappointment is that she doesn’t sing the song “Knock ‘Em Out”
Form her first album. The song is about a guy hitting on her that won’t take no for an answer and Lily says in her perfectly lovely English accent, “It’s not going to happen, not in a million years.” I know something about success in receiving rejection, but not by such a cool British voice. I would have liked to heard that one. Maybe next time.
On the way out, a pretty blonde kept saying, “This was a sold out show, there is no recession.” I don’t know if that line was motivated from any particular political perspective. I’ll just take it as one more person saying good luck to everyone.

8: 39PM 4-14-2009

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless

There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.

There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.

There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.

There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.

Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.

poem by Francis Duggan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun

Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.
His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view
Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.
Thar warn't no places vacant then,--fer be it understood,
That wuz the time when talent flourished at that altitood;
But thar the stranger lingered, tellin' Raymond 'nd the rest
Uv what perdigious wonders he could do when at his best,
Till finally he stated (quite by chance) that he hed done
A heap uv work with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, that wuz quite another thing; we owned that ary cuss
Who'd worked f'r Mr. Dana must be good enough fer us!
And so we tuk the stranger's word 'nd nipped him while we could,
For if we didn't take him we knew John Arkins would;
And Cooper, too, wuz mouzin' round fer enterprise 'nd brains,
Whenever them commodities blew in across the plains.
At any rate we nailed him, which made ol' Cooper swear
And Arkins tear out handfuls uv his copious curly hair;
But we set back and cackled, 'nd bed a power uv fun
With our man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

It made our eyes hang on our cheeks 'nd lower jaws ter drop,
Ter hear that feller tellin' how ol' Dana run his shop:
It seems that Dana wuz the biggest man you ever saw,--
He lived on human bein's, 'nd preferred to eat 'em raw!
If he hed Democratic drugs ter take, before he took 'em,
As good old allopathic laws prescribe, he allus shook 'em.
The man that could set down 'nd write like Dany never grew,
And the sum of human knowledge wuzn't half what Dana knew;
The consequence appeared to be that nearly every one
Concurred with Mr. Dana of the Noo York Sun.

This feller, Cantell Whoppers, never brought an item in,--
He spent his time at Perrin's shakin' poker dice f'r gin.
Whatever the assignment, he wuz allus sure to shirk,
He wuz very long on likker and all-fired short on work!
If any other cuss had played the tricks he dared ter play,
The daisies would be bloomin' over his remains to-day;
But somehow folks respected him and stood him to the last,
Considerin' his superior connections in the past.
So, when he bilked at poker, not a sucker drew a gun
On the man who 'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.

Wall, Dana came ter Denver in the fall uv '83.
A very different party from the man we thought ter see,--
A nice 'nd clean old gentleman, so dignerfied 'nd calm,
You bet yer life he never did no human bein' harm!
A certain hearty manner 'nd a fulness uv the vest
Betokened that his sperrits 'nd his victuals wuz the best;

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Homeless who writes on a ballot!

Homelessness describes the condition of people without a regular dwelling. People who are homeless are unable or unwilling to acquire and maintain regular, safe, and adequate housing, or lack 'fixed, regular, and adequate night-time residence.'The legal definition of 'homeless' varies from country to country, or among different entities or institutions in the same country or region.

The term homeless may also include people whose primary night-time residence is in a homeless shelter, a warming center, a domestic violence shelter or other ad hoc housing situation. Government homeless enumeration studies also include persons who sleep in a public or private place not designed for use as a regular sleeping accommodation for human beings.

If the Citizen are good
Then why should a Police Department?
If the Citizen are good
And a Homeless becomes the President
Then why do they bother for another Election?

*'A Moral collapse, culture of greed and selfish indifference is to blame for the recent riots.'
-British Prime Minister Mr.David Cameron

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Philadelphia Revised

The sad images of Philadelphia popped out of my eyes today
And I could see the streets of Philadelphia where the homeless sleeps
And freeze to death
While Politicians, doctors, Dentists, lawyers, teachers, and nurses get rich
Day by day
But the homeless freeze to death in the streets of Philadelphia and even die
But I have to ask all of you fellow americans where is your heart?
And doesn't charity starts at home first?
Don't you have anything at home that you could give away to the Homeless so they could have something either to wear or to eat?
Why can't we feed the homeless?
I can't understand you fellow Americans?
Please put yourself in their shoes for a day and try to picture what do they Have to go throw everyday
Is it right for the homeless to sleep in the streets and freeze and eventualy Die in the streets of Philadelphia?
Would you fellow Americans go few days without eating?
I don't think so
Why should the homeless that lives in the streets of Philadelphia starve?
Fellow Americans it is time to think about others and not just yourself Because others live In America just like you
Fellow Americans do you have a heart?
Fellow Americans did you ever learned to share what you have with Others?
Fellow Americans America is a sad world because we waste 98% of our Food at home, restaurants, and supermarkets
And all that wasted food ends up in the dump
It is so ashame and so sad at the same time
But the truth is that we are running out of food
And there is not enough food to feed anyone in America
But the cost of food keeps going up
Because we have to pay the American farmers who plants the food and Transport the food to the supermarkets

poem by Aldo Kraas
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Aftermath

Now the radio stutters. snaps to life.
Some sour song that sets it right.
And when London falls
He'd like to call
But the stars collide.
They're beautiful and much maligned.
In a universe where you see the worst,
And it's up to you to fix it.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
It's easy to dismiss the "what's it all about" crowd.
There is no doubt. it's this, here, now.
And you close your eyes.
He's not coming back.
So you work it out, overfeed the cat.
And the plants are dry and they need to drink.
So you do your best. and you flood the sink.
Sit down in the kitchen and cry.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
Now the universe left you for a runners lap.
It feels like home when it comes crashing back.
And it makes you laugh
And it makes you cry,
When London falls
And you're still alive.
The radio stutters,
It makes you laugh
And the aftermath,
Open up your eyes.
You're so alive.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all

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

Eleven today

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Today you're eleven
That's nine add on two.

Now ten is behind you
And twelve is to come
When riding your bike
Don't fall on your bum.

A six and a five
Make eleven as well
Your maths are so good
This I don't need to tell.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Legs are eleven
But you've only TWO!

Eleven is better
Than ten any day
That's what I think
And I'm going to say:
'Roses are red
Violets are blue,
Eleven is lovely
And so too are you.'

Written Sept 1994

poem by John Carter Brown
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mampi: A Girl Of 11

Pranab k c
15/07/2011

Father is blind of one eye
only the elder brother
going to lose his kidney
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently

She can't do anything to share
She can't learn her lesson well
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently

She dreams to share her family
She dreams to fight a lot
Mampi the girl of eleven
feels poverty silently

One morning noise everywhere
Mampi sleeps noiseless
Mampi a girl of eleven
committed suicide

Two days later
family found a suicide note
broken words of Mampi's hand

give my kidney to my brother
give my eye to my father
I die because I learnt
man can share body-parts
with others after death'

Mampi the girl of eleven years
felt poverty silently

poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,
Reversing our straight nature, lifting up
Our base needs, keeping down our lofty thoughts,
Head downward on the cross-sticks of the world.
Yet He can pluck us from the shameful cross.
God, set our feet low and our forehead high,
And show us how a man was made to walk!

Leave the lamp, Susan, and go up to bed.
The room does very well; I have to write
Beyond the stroke of midnight. Get away;
Your steps, for ever buzzing in the room,
Tease me like gnats. Ah, letters! throw them down
At once, as I must have them, to be sure,
Whether I bid you never bring me such
At such an hour, or bid you. No excuse.
You choose to bring them, as I choose perhaps
To throw them in the fire. Now, get to bed,
And dream, if possible, I am not cross.

Why what a pettish, petty thing I grow,–
A mere, mere woman,–a mere flaccid nerve,-
A kerchief left out all night in the rain,
Turned soft so,–overtasked and overstrained
And overlived in this close London life!
And yet I should be stronger.
Never burn
Your letters, poor Aurora! for they stare
With red seals from the table, saying each,
'Here's something that you know not.' Out alas,
'Tis scarcely that the world's more good and wise

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I am Not Homeless

I am not homeless
there is a number on my door
a room mate cat quilt desk sofa
spray bottles under the sink.

I am not homeless
on the train initiated
showing a monthly ticket to the guard

I am not homeless
at my desk in the office
expected to talk beg
bring in the business
give them the business
business as usual or get the hell out

I am not homeless
in a world of obligation
scrambling to pay rent
electricity gas oil phone commutation
food food food

I am not homeless —
unless I am expected
to feel at home.

poem by J. Barrett Wolf
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Snake Eyes

(lead vocal - chris rainbow)
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down boys
Gimme
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down tonight
No dont let me down tonight
Just one minute more, give me just one minute more
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
Just one minute more, then Ill walk right through that door
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
If ya gimme
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down boys
Snake eyes
Seven eleven
Dont let me down tonight
No dont let me down tonight
Just one minute more, then Ill walk right through that door
Its gonna be alright, its gonna be alright
Butcha gotta
Gimme one more marker more
Then Ill walk right through that door
Gimme one more, dont let me down
Its gonna be alright, alright, alright

song performed by Alan Parsons Project
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Its Not True

Its not true
Its not true
You say Ive been in prison
You say Ive been in prison
You say Ive got a wife
You say Ive got a wife
You say Ive had help doing
You say Ive had help doing
Everything throughout my life
Everything throughout my life
Chorus:
Chorus:
Its not true, its not true
Its not true, its not true
Im telling you
Im telling you
cause Im up here and youre nowhere
cause Im up here and youre nowhere
Its not true, so there
Its not true, so there
I havent got eleven kids
I havent got eleven kids
I werent born in baghdad
I werent born in baghdad
Im not half-chinese either
Im not half-chinese either
And I didnt kill my dad
And I didnt kill my dad
(chorus)
(chorus)
If you hear more rumors
If you hear more rumors
You can just forget them too
You can just forget them too
Fools start the rumors
Fools start the rumors
None of them are true
None of them are true
(chorus)
(chorus)
You say Ive been in prison
You say Ive been in prison
You say Ive got a wife
You say Ive got a wife
You say Ive had help doing
You say Ive had help doing
Everything throughout my life
Everything throughout my life
I havent got eleven kids
I havent got eleven kids

[...] Read more

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

Eleven rules of football

I took my little boy
to a nearby football pitch
He said he was tired
of playing hide and seek
He now wanted a football
to play around and kick

As he clutched my hand
I spoke to him
and tried to make him understand
the eleven rules of football
taking into consideration
that he was quite small

Now rule number one
Football is made of eleven strong men
When one or two are naughty
you may still get away
with playing nine or ten

Rule number two
When a member of your crew
hits the ball into the net
A goal is scored
that I can place a bet
For I am very sure

Rule number three
The maximum number of players
you can substitute is three
It does not cost a dime
It is totally free

Rule number four
There are rules you must comply with
When a team commits an offense
named a foul
before the game can commence
A small advantage has to be given
to the otherside

Rule number five
A freekick
is given after a foul
Sometimes awarded after
unnecessary dives

Rule number six
When you are shown a card that is yellow
Its time for your temper to mellow

[...] Read more

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

An English Girl

A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
In her magnificent comeliness,
Is an English girl of eleven stone two,
And five foot ten in her dancing shoe!
She follows the hounds, and on she pounds -
The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish -
Over the hedges and brooks she bounds -
Straight as a crow, from find to finish.
At cricket, her kin will lose or win -
She and her maids, on grass and clover,
Eleven maids out - eleven maids in -
(And perhaps an occasional "maiden over").
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!

With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs,
She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims -
She plays, she sings, she dances, too,
From ten or eleven till all is blue!
At ball or drum, till small hours come
(Chaperon's fan conceals her yawning),
She'll waltz away like a teetotum,
And never go home till daylight's dawning.
Lawn tennis may share her favours fair -
Her eyes a-dance and her cheeks a-glowing -
Down comes her hair, but what does she care?
It's all her own and it's worth the showing!
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!

Her soul is sweet as the ocean air,
For prudery knows no haven there;
To find mock-modesty, please apply
To the conscious blush and the downcast eye.
Rich in the things contentment brings,
In every pure enjoyment wealthy,
Blithe as a beautiful bird she sings,
For body and mind are hale and healthy.
Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill -
Her heart is light as a floating feather -
As pure and bright as the mountain rill
That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather!
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

If We Worked Today...

if we worked today
with equal hands,
with equal hearts,
and with equal backs...
if we worked today
with equal souls,
we'd build a world
worth dying for!

if we worked today
with honest hands,
with honest hearts,
and with honest backs...
if we worked today
with honest souls,
we'd build a world
worth dying for.

if we worked today
with loving hands,
with loving hearts,
and with loving backs...
if we worked today
with loving souls,
we'd build a world
worth living for!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!