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I honestly don't class myself as a songwriter. I've got 'musician' written on my passport. That's even funnier.

quote by Robert Smith
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Songwriter

Im a songwriter and I know just where I stand
Im a songwriter, pen and paper in my hand
Get the words on the page
Please dont call me a sage,
Im a songwriter
Im a songwriter and I do it for a living
Im a songwriter and I write about men and women
I can write about love and the stars up above
Im a songwriter
Im a songwriter and Im hot on your trail
Im a songwriter and my cheques in the mail
I can move with the scene, I can make up a dream
Im a songwriter
Na na na nana, na na na nana
Im a songwriter I can do it for certain
Im a songwriter even do it when Im hurtin
And if it comes to the bit, have to write another hit
Im a songwriter
Im a songwriter I can put it in words
Im a songwriter and its not for the birds
I can spin you a yarn, its as long as my arm
Im a songwriter
Na na na nana, na na na nana
Im a songwriter
Na na na nana, na na na nana
Im a songwriter

song performed by Van Morrison
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Honestly

This poem is dedicated to Kimberly Ashley Evans.♥

Honestly I know I love you
Honestly I hope you know thats true

Honestly you are the one
Honestly I hope we are never done

Honestly your my life
Honestly I hope you will be my wife

Honestly I know Im yours
Honestly I hope you dont open any other doors

Honestly your mine
Honestly I hope that is fine

Honestly you are so pretty
Honestly I hope you know that Kimi

Honestly do you know what to do?
Honestly I hope you have a clue

Honestly will you marry me?
Honestly I hope you know I wont deceive

Honestly without you I would die
Honestly that is not a lie

Honestly do you know what I see?
Honestly I see someone that deserves glee

Honestly you are amazing
Honestly you are my craving

Honestly God loves you
Honestly I cant blame him because I do too

Honestly your always right
Honestly I hope your always in my sight

Honestly lets spend out lives together
Honestly Forever

poem by Bryan Hammond
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Sure Hit Songwriter’s Pen

Now I was hangin' round Nashville writin' songs and playin' 'em for all of the stars
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back livin' on hope and Hershey bars
So I pawned my guitar and bought a ticket home and I's headin' for the Trailway bus
When I seen an old fountain pen laying in the gutter so I stopped and picked it up
It was worn-out bent and cast aside you know kinda sorta like myself
So I sat down on the curb and wrote a little song
That told the world how both of us felt
Then I run that song down to Music Row and before I had time to spit
It's pitched and sold and cut for a record
And moving up the charts and damn it's a hit
So I wrote me another winner then I wrote me a smash again
And I's a flyin' off the ground cause I knew I'd found me a sure hit songwriter's pen
So the songs they just kept a'pourin' out and the money kept pouring in
I just couldn't miss all it took was a twist of my sure hit songwriter's pen
Remember when I won the Grammy then I won it again and again
Well none of you knew that it was all due to my sure hit songwriter's pen
I was darling with all the ladies I was a hero among the men...
Making big dough working rodeos and TV shows me and my sure hit songwriter's pen
But then one night in Wichita I was just coming off of the stage
Folks all lined up and did crawl for my autograph Lord I was a national rage
One little freckled face girl was there she said I got no pencil sir
So I signed it with my songwriter's pen and then handed the pen back to her
Four o'clock that morning I wake up with the shakes and the bends
With terror in my eyes cause good God I realized I'd lost my sure hit songwriter's pen
I offered rewards in the papers I pleaded on the Sympathy Line
And a whole lotta folks and a whole lotta pens but none of them pen's was mine
So my songs got worse and my money ran out and so did all my so-called friends
And there was no doubt I was nothing without my long-lost sure hit songwriter's pen
So I rolled like a stone down old Skid Row where I feed my blues on wine
And I rest my chops in a two-bit flop and I tell my story for a drink or a dime
And I sleep with my shoes underneath my head and I dream about days back then
When I blazed my name across the sky with my sure hit songwriter's pen
Somewhere in Wichita some little girl who's a freckled face nine or ten
Is doing her arithmetic homework tonight with a sure hit songwriter's pen
God bless ya honey you got yourself my sure hit songwriter's pen

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Victor Should Have Been A Jazz Musician

I went to a concert, to see nina, simone,
The concert was over, there was still a band playing, the rap up,
The booguh played with his hands, I close my eyes, and look at him,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
I said to myself, victor should have been a jazz musician,
I looked at his face, and I saw victor, looked at his smile, and I saw victor,
I looked at his hair, and thought,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
And the people dancing on the floor, dancing on the floor, were so high,
You should have seen victor smile, you should have seen victor smile,
As they danced all the while all around on the floor, and he laughed,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Oh, victor should have been a jazz musician,
He was playing so nice, the jazz musician,
Ah, ah,
Hes living in a fast beat, in a city thats hot,
Telling all the latinos and puerto ricans, victor seems happy, but he doesnt even know himself, hes gotta look inside to know his first love,
Victor was a jazz musician, he was playing so nice, victor was a jazz musician, (? ) victor was a jazz musician,
Victor loves his music, he loves his music, somewhere, he plays his music, somewhere,
Victor is a jazz musician,
Jazz.

song performed by Grace Jones
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Honestly (Love Ballad) :

If you say you really love me.
Take some time to show you care.
And if you care alot about me.
I will care alot for you.

Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!

Don't think of ways to cheat or hurt me.
Don't think of ways to deceive my heart.
And don't forget, I truly love you.
Don't forget, I'm truly yours.

Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how I feel.
Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!

Try to give me peace and pleasure.
Try to give me what I need.
What I need is all your loving.
All your love is what I need.

Because I'm the one who really loves you.
I'm the one who really cares.
Honestly!
Honestly!

Honestly! This is how much I love you.
Honestly! This is how much I care.
Honestly!

Love Ballad By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1986,2009..
ALL rights reserved..

poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Honestly

I believe
I believe
I believe
I believe the love you talk about with me
Is it true, do I care
Honestly, you can try to wipe the memories aside
But its you that you erase
cause theres no place that I could be without you
Its too far to discard the life I once knew
Honestly, all the weather storms are bringing
Are just a picture of my dreams
cause when I think of you as mine
And allow myself with time
To lead into the life we want
I feel loved, honestly
I feel loved, this honestly
I believe you mean the best that life can bring
I believe in it all
Honestly, you can try
Your heart is just as long as mine
Is it ours to let go
cause theres not place that I could be without you
Its too dark to discard the life I once knew
Honestly, a single wrong is not enough
To cover up the pain in us
cause when I think of you as mine
And allow myself with time
To lead into the life we want
I feel loved, honestly
Ill make a joke so you must laugh
Ill break your heart so you must ask
Is this the way to get us back
I dont know, honestly
I dont know, this honestly
Theres no place that I could be without you
Honestly
Theres no place that I could be without you
Theres no place that I could gleam without you
Theres no place that I could dream without you
Theres no place that I could be without you
Honestly

song performed by Zwan
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Second Class wait here

At suburban railway stations--you may see them as you pass--
there are signboards on the platform saying 'Wait here second class,'
And to me the whirr and thunder and the cluck of running-gear
Seem to be forever saying 'Second class wait here--
Wait here second class
Second class wait here.'

Seem to be forever saying, 'Second class wait here.'
Yes, the second class were waiting in the days of serf and prince,
And the second class are waiting--they've been waiting ever since,
There are gardens in the background, and the line is bare and drear,
Yet they wait beneath a signboard, sneering 'Second class wait here.'

I have waited oft in winter, in the mornings dark and damp,
When the asphalt platform glistened underneath the lonely lamp,
Glistened on the brick-faced cutting 'Sellum's Soap' and 'Blower's Beer,'
Glistened on enamelled signboards with their 'Second class wait here.'

And the others seemed like burglars, slouched and muffled to the throats,
Standing round apart and silent in their shoddy overcoats;
And the wind among the poplars, and the wires that thread the air,
Seemed to be forever snarling, snarling 'Second class wait there.'

Out beyond a further suburb, 'neath a chimney-stack alone
Lay the works of Grinder Brothers, with a platform of their own;
And I waited there and suffered, waited there for many a day,
Slaved beneath a phantom signboard, telling all my hopes to stay.

Ah! a man must feel revengeful for a boyhood such as mine.
God! I hate the very houses near the workshop by the line;
And the smell of railway stations, and the roar of running gear,
And the scornful-seeming signboards, saying 'Second class wait here.'

There's a train, with Death for driver, that is ever going past;
There will be no class compartments when it's 'all aboard' at last
For the long white jasper platform with an Eden in the rear;
And there won't be any signboards, saying 'Second class wait here'

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Social Classes

The Social Classes
I tried to measure my individual status
Against this worlds benchmark
Pondering on common open remarks
Researching from newspapers
And listening to the media
Learning from decades of history
Some of those events remain a mystery
Trying to unfold the logic
Of the class differences in today’s modern society

Upper Class, Upper Class my foot
These are merely wealthy tycoons
Most of them born with golden spoons
Luck is needed to belong to this ring
Its liking flying to the moon
In a hot aired balloon
Or trying to sing
Through a key ring

Their moral obligation
As a minority of the nation
Is to obtain the best and most expensive education
They make damn well sure
Mechanisms are in place to differentiate
And ensure infinity of inequality
Like ownership of earths land
Placing humans beings in separate class bands

With a unique voice
You could release some hit songs
And become a millionaire
And join the so called
Socioeconomic class
Beware most of these people don’t care
You may never belong

I am not alone
I have not being blessed with this privilege
I wish all social classes could just merge
And unite as one
Maybe we may then be able to get rid of the gun
Right under your very nose
Right under the sun

Middle Class, Middle Class
This is the centre
Of confusion for the masses
The obvious gap between the rich and the poor
Here there is everything to live and die for

[...] Read more

poem by Sylvia Chidi (17 October 2005)
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.

quote by Ann Landers
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Working Class Hero

As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.

There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.

If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.

song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
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Don't Be Fooled

When my twin brother was dying of cancer the insurance company pulled his insurance then the bank foreclosed his house. i hate them! I hate the right wing of today and corporate insurance companies and the rich get richer off the middle class and the union busting etc. i will always fight them no matter what happens. I love people with empathy and compassion and courage and real love. We are in a very bad chapter in American history and even if we do not pull out of it I still will fight because I am a universalist with spiritual ethics based on God is love and love thy neighbor as thyself. I know both parties are in the hands of money and lobby dollars but the right wing is way worse and the tea party even crazier. They won't tax the rich back to the Clinton years while they watch tuitions going up so the rich get to send their kids to school and the poor or lower middleclass can't send their kids to college. The tea party sides with banks and the oil companies and tax breaks for the wealthy not the working class and poor. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) just came out with a report showing that since 1979 the top 1 percent increased wages and wealth a staggering 275%. This inequality and massive distribution of wealth is ruining our economy. The right wing spins this and blames the victims, accuses people of being lazy etc when the truth is they take from the poor to give to the rich and then they turn around and accuse everyone of starting class warfare. They are the class warefare oppressors! These mobsters and political cronies for the rich use evangelicals. Side with the poor and the working class. Remember in the feast of Jubilee the land went back to the original tribe every 50 years in Israel. The fields were to remain fallow and unplowed every seven years for one year and the poor only could glean. During harvest the fields could only be gone over once then the poor could go in. There was always justice and social justice and distribution of wealth. Jesus healed them all. Today we have cattle that don't graze but are fed on corn filled with growth hormones and antibiotics, chickens never seeing the sun with broken legs after a few months because of rapid growth for profit, pigs that never stand up though they are smarter than dogs all for the food industries. The grain companies feed these animals and it all goes for MONEY while corporate Christianity is more worried about the rapture and Armageddon then love and justice. Regulations let down increase lead, mercury, toxic chemicals and cancers and the evangelicals get used by the republican gangsters and rhetoric. GMO’s everywhere that are being questioned by more and more scientist and the right wing church is mum. Ministers preaching right out in the open, vote for these right wing gang leaders and not loosing their tax exempt status! Don't be fooled. It is the rich and major companies that have shipped the jobs out of here; it is not the poor and the middle class. They won’t tax the rich and still give exemptions to the OIL COMPANIES! C’mon folks! ! ! Don’t be fooled!
Big Oil just posted multibillion-dollar profits – AGAIN – and what are Republicans doing? Filibustering a jobs bill. Refusing to make billionaires pay their fair share. Basically anything they can do for the benefit of their wealthy buddies in the top 1% - and at the expense of the middle class. They don't want the middle class strengthened in any way as to give any credit to the left because they don't love their country. They love their power, the rich, the elite and all they do is grandstand and block help for hurting people.
I am for the party that distributes the wealth, that helps kids get to college, that supports women, that supports the mentally ill and doesn’t cut funding, that doesn’t allow companies to pollute and ruin the environment, that is green and wanting clean technology for our children, that leaves the rivers and lakes and wilderness in tact for future generations, that supports unions and good wages for working people with good benefits and a future, that believes is social security, that wants healthcare for every single citizen. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Do onto others as you would want them to do unto you. Do you want healthcare for you and yours, do you want college for your children, do you want clean water, do you want a good job for you and your children? ? ? Then fight these greedy, evil republicans of today who support the 1% of the filthy rich while they dismantle and take away the middle class in a horrible battle of class warfare. See what the Bible preaches about the rich and oppressors. The Scriptures constantly lift up the poor and working people and condemn the rich and those that do not share the wealth. I don’t care about names or tags but as a Christian I cannot see the 1% have all the marbles and allow our country to be taken over by these gangsters and liars. These right-wingers of today support the rich. Powerful and greedy and they are trying for the evangelical vote and bubba while taking bread off everyone’s table except their own. DON’T BE FOOLED

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Everything Is Kiling Me....

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me

poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Written In Rock

On my way back from a wedding
I drove round some of the old streets
I got swept up by the memories
Of cold nights and warm sheets
I parked outside the house wed lived in
I tried to think of all the pain
But all I remembered was the laughter
And the precious trust we cant reclaim
There are no second prizes
And there will be no consolation wreath
We may as well miss by a mile
As miss by the skin of our teeth
They all thought we were some sure thing
I had the bloody coat and wedding ring
But nothings written in rock
I know Im not the one
Was I just the great pretender
Written in rock
There was no battle won
Only a mutual surrender
No guarantees, thats alright
If I was gonna stay,
I would have stayed all night
Bye bye love, you were so damn right
Nothings written in rock
Nothings written in rock
You finally learned the deep dark secret
That I knew you were waiting for
So I watched the death of innocence
Of the young dreamer at lifes door
This world can tear your soul to pieces
If you give it half a chance
There are no rules to remember
There are no written steps to the dance
I dont believe in fate
I dont believe in blind luck of the draw
I dont believe in love
I mean I dont believe anymore
They all thought we were the real thing
I had the bloody coat and the wedding ring
But nothings written in rock
I know Im not the one
Was I just the great pretender
Written in rock
There was no battle won
Only a mutual surrender
No guarantees, thats alright
If I was gonna stay,
I would have stayed all night
Bye bye love, you were so damn right

[...] Read more

song performed by Rick Springfield
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Studio Musician

I am a studio musician
We've never met
But you know me well
I am the English horn
Who plays the poignant counter-nine
Upon the song you heard
While making love in some hotel
I am a part of you
I've never tried for fame
You'll never know my name
I am the strings that enter softly
Or three guitars that glitter gold
I am the thousand trumpet lines
That were an afterthought
Intended eyes,
the way to get a dying record sold
I never ride the road
I never play around
I played what they set down
I'm a working musician
living from week to week
I'm the voice through each empty men
tried to speak
A studio musician
Blowin' the chance I see
And when the woodwind coushin rises
I start to dream
With the low brass bed
But I awake the horns
The drummer calls to me
We're up the letter D
I'm a man of the moment
pop is my stock n' trade
Singles, jingles and demos
conventently made
A studio musician
Whose music will die unplayed
A studio musician
Whose music could have died unplayed

song performed by Barry Manilow
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Epilogue To Lessing's Laocooen

One morn as through Hyde Park we walk'd,
My friend and I, by chance we talk'd
Of Lessing's famed Laocooen;
And after we awhile had gone
In Lessing's track, and tried to see
What painting is, what poetry--
Diverging to another thought,
'Ah,' cries my friend, 'but who hath taught
Why music and the other arts
Oftener perform aright their parts
Than poetry? why she, than they,
Fewer fine successes can display?

'For 'tis so, surely! Even in Greece,
Where best the poet framed his piece,
Even in that Phoebus-guarded ground
Pausanias on his travels found
Good poems, if he look'd, more rare
(Though many) than good statues were--
For these, in truth, were everywhere.
Of bards full many a stroke divine
In Dante's, Petrarch's, Tasso's line,
The land of Ariosto show'd;
And yet, e'en there, the canvas glow'd
With triumphs, a yet ampler brood,
Of Raphael and his brotherhood.
And nobly perfect, in our day
Of haste, half-work, and disarray,
Profound yet touching, sweet yet strong,
Hath risen Goethe's, Wordsworth's song;
Yet even I (and none will bow
Deeper to these) must needs allow,
They yield us not, to soothe our pains,
Such multitude of heavenly strains
As from the kings of sound are blown,
Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn. '

While thus my friend discoursed, we pass
Out of the path, and take the grass.
The grass had still the green of May,
And still the unblackan'd elms were gay;
The kine were resting in the shade,
The flies a summer-murmur made.
Bright was the morn and south the air;
The soft-couch'd cattle were as fair
As those which pastured by the sea,
That old-world morn, in Sicily,
When on the beach the Cyclops lay,
And Galatea from the bay
Mock'd her poor lovelorn giant's lay.

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Arnold
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 20

Despite the abundant admonitions of the most illustrious Sheikh Abulfaraj Ben Juzi to shun musical entertainments and to prefer solitude and retirement, the budding of my youth overcame me, my sensual desires were excited so that, unable to resist them, I walked some steps contrary to the opinion of my tutor, enjoying myself in musical amusements and convivial meetings. When the advice of my sheikh occurred to my mind, I said:

‘If the qazi were sitting with us, he would clap his hands.
If the muhtasib were bibbing wine, he would excuse a drunkard.’

Thus I lived till I paid one night a visit to an assembly of people in which I saw a musician.

Thou wouldst have said he is tearing up the vital artery with his fiddle-bow.
His voice was more unpleasant than the wailing of one who lost his father.

The audience now stopped their ears with their fingers, and now put them on their lips to silence him. We became ecstatic by the sounds of pleasing songs but thou art such a singer that when thou art silent we are pleased.

No one feels pleased by thy performance
Except at the time of departure when thou pleasest.
When that harper began to sing
I said to the host: ‘For God’s sake
Put mercury in my ear that I may not hear
Or open the door that I may go away.’

In short, I tried to please my friends and succeeded after a considerable struggle in spending the whole night there.

The muezzin shouted the call to prayers out of time,
Not knowing how much of the night had elapsed.
Ask the length of the night from my eyelids
For sleep did not enter my eyes one moment.

In the morning I took my turban from my head, with one dinar from my belt by way of gratification, and placed them before the musician whom I embraced and thanked. My friends who saw that my appreciation of his merits was unusual attributed it to the levity of my intellect and laughed secretly. One of them, however, lengthened out his tongue of objection and began to reproach me, saying that I had committed an act repugnant to intelligent men by bestowing a portion of my professional dress upon a musician who had all his life not a dirhem laid upon the palm of his hand nor filings of silver or of gold placed on his drum.

A musician! Far be he from this happy abode.
No one ever saw him twice in the same place.
As soon as the shout rose from his mouth
The hair on the bodies of the people stood on end.
The fowls of the house, terrified by him, flew away
Whilst he distracted our senses and tore his throat.

I said: ‘It will be proper to shorten the tongue of objection because his talent has become evident to me.’ He then asked me to explain the quality of it in order to inform the company so that all might apologize for the jokes they had cracked about me. I replied: ‘Although my sheikh had often told me to abandon musical entertainments and had given me abundant advice, I did not mind it. This night my propitious horoscope and my august luck have guided me to this place where I have, on hearing the performance of this musician, repented and vowed never again to attend at singing and convivial parties.’

A pleasant voice, from a sweet palate, mouth and lips,
Whether employed in singing or not, enchants the heart
But the melodies of lovers of Isfahan or of the Hejaz
From the windpipe of a bad singer are not nice.

poem by Sa di
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Honestly

Don't act like I don't know what I'm talking about
Don't forget that I'm the one who knows you inside out
You can't even answer when I ask you what's wrong
Just how much longer can the silence go on?

Honestly
Honestly
There's trouble in your heart that you can't hide from me
Talk to me
Cause I can see
Your love ain't what it used to be
If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth
Honestly

Just say we stand a chance
And you're willing to try
Or say there's nothing left for you and tell me goodbye
We both know love has got to be an open door
And if it's time for you to fly
I can't hold you any more

Honestly
Honestly
There's trouble in your heart that you can't hide from me
Talk to me
Cause I can see
Your love ain't what it used to be
If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth
Honestly

If I mean anything to you
Don't be afraid to turn me loose
I'm strong enough to face the truth

song performed by LeAnn Rimes from Blue
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I Love You, I Honestly Love You

I Love You, Honestly I Love You
Maybe I hang around here
A little more than I should
We both know I got somewhere else to go
But I got something to tell you
That I never thought I would
But I believe you really ought to know
I love you
I honestly love you
You don't have to answer
I see it in your eyes
Maybe it was better left unsaid
This is pure and simple
And you should realize
That it's coming from my heart and not my head
I love you
I honestly love you
I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable
I'm not trying to make you anything at all
But this feeling doesn't come along everyday
And you shouldn't blow the chance
When you've got the chance to say
I love you
I honestly love you
If we both were born
In anoother place and time
This moment might be ending in a kiss
But there you are with yours
And here I am with mine
So I guess we'll just be leaving it at this
I love you
I honestly love you
I honestly love you

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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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For It Is Written

It is written says it best for the words written have stood the test.
While enduring the test of time it exposes God's Sovereign Design.
Prophecy sets The Word apart pointing to the end from the very start.
The Word you can't belittle as there's truth in every jot and tittle.

My dear friend it is written: Zeal for your house will consume me,
And The Lord cleared the temple of all money changing Pharisees.
It is written: These people honor me but their hearts are far from me,
And many religious people you see are filled with empty hypocrisy.
It is written: God’s name is blasphemed by Gentiles because of you,
And an empty zeal without knowledge is in the heart of many Jews.

It is written: Those who were not told, they will see and understand,
And that is why the Gentile Nations have accepted The Son of Man.
It is written: I lay in Zion a rock that causes men to stumble and fall,
And that rock, my friend, is Jesus Christ The Lord and God above all.
To Abraham it is written: I have made you the Father of many Nations.
Is it any wonder that through the Jew we have been afforded Salvation?

My friend, it is written: There is no one righteous, not even one.
And God so loved us that He sent to the world His Only begotten Son.
For it is written: In the Gospel a righteousness from God is revealed,
And that righteousness is Christ by whose wounds we have been healed.
My friend it is written: Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree,
And Christ became that curse as He died on the cross for you and me.

And friend it is written: He was numbered with the transgressors,
And Christ died with criminals at the hands of angry oppressors.
It is written: The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me,
And all of man’s hostility towards God was laid on Christ at Calvary.
It is written: I’ll strike the shepherd and the flock will be scattered,
And the disciples left at the cross seeing Christ so sorely battered.

The Word of God can't be denied as God alone is The Father of Time.
Christ stands outside the window of time guiding His Eternal Design.
Time for God truly stands still as God fulfills His Sovereign Will.
Scoffing tongues will be stilled as every jot and tittle is fulfilled.

poem by Bob Gotti
Added by Poetry Lover
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