Look...Over There!
Diversion.
Look...
Over there!
Diversion.
Look...
Over there!
Diversion.
Look...
Over there!
Diversion.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
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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Diversions (American Attitude)
Diversions, diversions for our brain,
you choose one or the other.
You won't have to think for a few hours.
The diversion will help to smother
all the problems of the day
and make your headache go away.
Choose a sport or American Idol
and forget about the mess
that will meet you in the morning
and bring on all the stress.
Look for a job. None in sight?
Pay the bills. Money's tight.
Price at the pump out of sight
and you spend the day depressed.
It's not even worth getting dressed.
Afraid of the news? You got the blues?
Whatever you do you know you lose.
It's time to relax and watch TV.
It's diversion time once more.
These are the best hours of your day.
Tomorrow the lion will roar.
And you will leave your couch.
Another struggle to face is here.
Can't wait for your diversion
and an ice cold can of beer.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sport Just A Diversion
The anthem of Australian Rules Football the song known as 'We'll be there'
And Aussie Rules fans who do not know this song by heart to say the least quite rare
On Saturday after the game at the M C G in groups as they walk along the street
A song sung by the winning fans since victory is sweet.
They sing 'We were there when the boys became the men' their religion is football
And they tell all of those who wish to hear 'the greatest game of all'
But sport is just a diversion from the big problems out there
In the World where the haves make more and the have nots live in despair
Of ever getting anywhere in life they live in poverty
They live their dreams through the success of celebrities that they see on t.v.
And sport is a diversion for them from the reality
Of ever knowing success themselves suppose what is to be will be.
Sport just a diversion from reality for the have nots to enjoy
Poor teenagers dream of sporting fame a dream for most that die
Before they reach their forties when they come to realize
That life is very different when seen through ageing eyes
poem by Francis Duggan
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Proem
Beginneth here the book called Decameron, otherwise Prince Galeotto, wherein are contained one hundred novels told in ten days by seven ladies and three young men.
PROEM.
[Voice: author]
'Tis humane to have compassion on the afflicted; and as it shews well in all, so it is especially demanded of those who have had need of comfort and have found it in others: among whom, if any had ever need thereof or found it precious or delectable, I may be numbered; seeing that from my early youth even to the present I was beyond measure aflame with a most aspiring and noble love more perhaps than, were I to enlarge upon it, would seem to accord with my lowly condition. Whereby, among people of discernment to whose knowledge it had come, I had much praise and high esteem, but nevertheless extreme discomfort and suffering, not indeed by reason of cruelty on the part of the beloved lady, but through superabundant ardour engendered in the soul by ill-bridled desire; the which, as it allowed me no reasonable period of quiescence, frequently occasioned me an inordinate distress.
In which distress so much relief was afforded me by the delectable discourse of a friend and his commendable consolations, that I entertain a very solid conviction that to them I owe it that I am not dead.
But, as it pleased Him, who, being infinite, has assigned by immutable law an end to all things mundane, my love, beyond all other fervent, and neither to be broken nor bent by any force of determination, or counsel of prudence, or fear of manifest shame or ensuing danger, did nevertheless in course of time abate of its own accord, in such wise that it has now left nought of itself in my mind but that pleasure which it is wont to afford to him who does not adventure too far out in navigating its deep seas; so that, whereas it was used to be grievous, now, all discomfort being done away, I find that which remains to be delightful.
But the cessation of the pain has not banished the memory of the kind offices done me by those who shared by sympathy the burden of my griefs; nor will it ever, I believe, pass from me except by death.
And as among the virtues gratitude is in my judgment most especially to be commended, and ingratitude in equal measure to be censured, therefore, that I show myself not ungrateful, I have resolved, now that I may call myself free, to endeavour, in return for what I have received, to afford, so far as in me lies, some solace, if not to those who succoured me, and who, perchance, by reason of their good sense or good fortune, need it not, at least to such as may be apt to receive it.
[Voice: author]
And though my support or comfort, so to say, may be of little avail to the needy, nevertheless it seems to me meet to offer it most readily where the need is most apparent, because it will there be most serviceable and also most kindly received.
Who will deny, that it should be given, for all that it may be worth, to gentle ladies much rather than to men?
Within their soft bosoms, betwixt fear and shame, they harbour secret fires of love, and how much of strength concealment adds to those fires, they know who have proved it. Moreover, restrained by the will, the caprice, the commandment of fathers, mothers, brothers, and husbands, confined most part of their time within the narrow compass of their chambers, they live, so to say, a life of vacant ease, and, yearning and renouncing in the same moment, meditate divers matters which cannot all be cheerful.
If thereby a melancholy bred of amorous desire make entrance into their minds, it is like to tarry there to their sore distress, unless it be dispelled by a change of ideas. Besides which they have much less power to support such a weight than men. For, when men are enamoured, their case is very different, as we may readily perceive.
They, if they are afflicted by a melancholy and heaviness of mood, have many ways of relief and diversion; they may go where they will, may hear and see many things, may hawk, hunt, fish, ride, play or traffic. By which means all are able to compose their minds, either in whole or in part, and repair the ravage wrought by the dumpish mood, at least for some space of time; and shortly after, by one way or another, either solace ensues, or the dumps become less grievous.
Wherefore, in some measure to compensate the injustice of Fortune, which to those whose strength is least, as we see it to be in the delicate frames of ladies, has been most niggard of support, I, for the succour and diversion of such of them as love (for others may find sufficient solace in the needle and the spindle and the reel) , do intend to recount one hundred Novels or Fables or Parables or Stories, as we may please to call them, which were recounted in ten days by an honourable company of seven ladies and three young men in the time of the late mortal pestilence, as also some canzonets sung by the said ladies for their delectation. In which pleasant novels will be found some passages of love rudely crossed, with other courses of events of which the issues are felicitous, in times as well modern as ancient: from which stories the said ladies, who shall read them, may derive both pleasure from the entertaining matters set forth therein, and also good counsel, in that they may learn what to shun, and likewise what to pursue. Which cannot, I believe, come to pass, unless the dumps be banished by diversion of mind.
And if it so happen (as God grant it may) let them give thanks to Love, who, liberating me from his fetters, has given me the power to devote myself to their gratification.
poem by Giovanni Boccaccio
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S-e-x-x-y
Dressed only in clothes
From her head to her toes
This is the way
The talking part goes
S-e-x-x-y
More than enough
Around the clock with nobody else
S-e-x-x-y
There she is
Standing on the bed
Cookie in one hand, wig on her head
S-e-x-x-y
X because its extra baby
Y because its extra baby
Unnoticed by few
Very very few
And that includes you
Look inside your mind
Look inside your eye
Secret agent spy, come to see why
S-e-x-x-y
One finger nail
Across your back
Babys first gold tooth initials inscribed
S-e-x-x-y
X because its extra baby
Y because its extra baby
You gotta understand
She wants to be your man
Shes got another plan
Notes
The infamous warren rigg microwave remix goes as follows:
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y s-e-x-x-y
S-e-x-x-y s-e-x-x-y
[...] Read more
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Echoes
Brothers!....
(That is to say, those of you that are.
For, even in the most altruistic mood, there are some I bar.)
Brothers!
Workers, shirkers, writers, skiters, philosophers and others,
Attend. I address myself only to those
Of the class that habitually looketh even beyond its nose.
To him I speak who shrewdly seeketh for the milk in the cocoanut, while his fellows are repeating the bald assertion that 'The fruit is not yet ripe!'
Him I address who knoweth the sheep from the goats, the chaff from the oats,
the half-quid from the gilded sixpence, and the common sense from common tripe.
To the 'Man in the Street' I speak not, nor to the 'Right-thinking Person,'
nor 'Constant Subscriber,' nor 'Vox Populi,' nor 'The Bloke on the Train,'
nor any of their band.
For of the things I write they wot not, neither may they hope to understand.
But ye whom I, even I, presume to address as brother:-
Journalists, politicians, burglars, company promoters, miners, millers,
navvies, shearers, confidence-men, piano-tuners, paling-splitters,
bookmakers, process-workers, judges, brass-fitters, policemen and others.
Attend. Him who looketh for the hall-mark on every link, and taketh not the say-so of the label, nor the sworn affidavit of the pill advertisement
him who hath it in him to discern the fair thing from that which is over the odds, and shaketh the new-laid egg that he may know what is within it
Him I address. For lo, my brothers, maybe there is one of us born once a week or thereabouts, but we know it is written that one of the others is born every minute.
Wherefore, attend,
And lend
An ear; for I have planned for you a pleasing diversion.
Come with me, my brothers, and let us make a little excursion
Out over the land, through the cities and the country places, even to the farthest limit of Back-o'-beyond. Hearken brothers! What are these sounds we hear?
Say, what is all this babbling and gabbling, this howling and growling, this muttering and spluttering, that smites the ear?
Listen again. Do you hear them, brothers? Lo, they are the Echoes calling.
They are the multitudinous echoes that sound up and down the land; crying and sighing, squalling and bawling.
In all places they sound; in the city and in the country; upon the high mountains and along the plains, wherever man hideth; and at all times, for the night is loud with the sound of them even as is the day.
Listen again, brothers! What is it that they say?
Lo, this one shouteth. 'The Time is Not Yet Ripe!' And another bawleth.
'Capital is fleeing the Land!' And yet another howleth, 'It is
Inimical to Private Enterprise and Thrift!' And yet another screameth.
'It will Bust up the Home and ruin the Marriage Tie!'
Why do they howl these things, my brothers? I ask ye, why?
For lo, even as they shout, still other Echoes take up the cry till it is increased and multiplied even unto 70,000 times seven;
And a howl, as of 1400 she-elephants simultaneously robbed of their young, assaileth Heaven.
What say ye, brothers? What is the inner significance of these Echoes, and why do they make these divers sounds? What say ye, brothers; is it because they think?
Aha! I apprehend ye! I say ye - nay, verily, I heard ye wink.
For the noise of the falling - of the flapping of your collective eyelid was even as the banging of the bar door what time the clock telleth of eleven thirty p.m., and the voice of Hebe murmureth through the night 'Good-bye, ducky.'....But I digress.
Which is a characteristic failing I must confess!
But, nevertheless,
It hath its compensations, as is plain to any noodle,
When matter is paid for at space rates, for it pileth up the boodle....
However, to resume. Let us isolate a case, my brothers. Let us sample an
Echo. Take Brown.
We all are well acquainted with Brown. Mayhap his name is Smith or Timmins, but no matter. He is the Man in the Street. He hath a domicile in the suburbs and an occupation in town.
This Brown riseth in the morning and donneth the garments of civilisation. In hot socks he garbeth his feet, and upon his back he putteth a coat which hath
a little split in the tail for no sane or accountable reason.
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Football His Diversion
He is not getting on with his unhappy wife
His Football Club his diversion from his problems in life
He looks forward to the weekend through each working day
To cheer on his team such is life some do say.
He and his wife seem to have little in common at all
She does not have any interest in football
And their nineteen year old daughter is living elsewhere
Experiencing life in the big World out there.
With his mates in the pub football stories they share
A diversion for them from their every care
Than football no greater passion in their lives they can name
To them it is more far more than a game.
It would seem love in their marriage it is of the past
But then few things in life ever do seem to last
On saturday he barracks for his team whilst she
Is with her friend in the cafe enjoying afternoon tea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I've Heard Enough Talk
I've heard enough talk about football though many others have said as much before
Yesterday's game replayed today though one can say we do know the score
'Twould seem to me sport's a diversion from our life problems of day to day
But if that is what makes some people happy then to say the least that seems okay.
I've heard enough talk about cricket one might say far more than enough
In this twenty first century of glorified sports stars so many are doing it tough
Some thirty million refugees in refugee camps of their stories too few wish to hear
The victims of war, drought and famine they know about suffering and fear.
I've heard enough talk about golf and tennis far more than I've wished for to hear
The top players over celebrated they grow financially wealthier by millions each year
When thousands are homeless and hungry for every proclaimed millionaire
So many are doing it so hard in the bigger World out there.
I've heard enough talk of millionaire soccer players enough people them do celebrate
They don't have me to thank for their millions and their egos I do not inflate
'Twould seem to me sport is a diversion from the sadness of the World we live in
Where so many are destined to lose out for the few born lucky to win.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Take A Look
I don't know what you're after
Wannna know all the details of my disaster
Like an accident on the side of the road
When you're driving past slow but there's nothing to see here
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
I'm some kind of freak now and
You'll never see me the same
What's all the fuss about?
Are you sure you wanna find out?
Cause once you know the truth
You might wish you'd walked away
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
What if I'm not able
To put my cards on the table?
And would it liberate you
If you knew what I knew?
It's been over a year now and
I never saw him again
The facts and the fiction
Collide as the bodies untangle
And the traffic moves on like it did
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
Wanna take a look, take a look
song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Look Who's Dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Well, first the dance floor
was like a forbidden land
where people would never dare to go
but now everyone's doing it
I said it's a dance galore
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
And some are dancing on their feet
some are jumping off the floor
and look at old Granny "B"
she got the, she caught the, she knows the groove for sure
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now, right around
Look who's dancing
who is dancing
Look who's dancing now, get on the floor
(groove section)
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now, around the world
Look who's dancing
oh look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
And some are dancing on their feet
some are jumping off the floor
and look at old Tauter him
he got the, he got the, he got the, he got the beat for sure
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing
Look who's dancing now
Look who's dancing
check the dancing
Look who's dancing now, get on the floor
(groove section)
Do the ska, the rock steady, the ridim and blues
and if you catch them, then you do the della move
it nuh mek nuh sense to sit down, when you know you can goove
any type of danve you do, you neither win or lose
And if your choice is reggae, you don't need nuh dancing shoes
[...] Read more
song performed by Ziggy Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dixie's Land
1 I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
2 Old times dar am not forgotten;
3 Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!
4 In Dixie Land whar I was born in,
5 Early on one frosty mornin,
6 Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land!
7 Den I wish I was in Dixie! Hooray! Hooray!
8 In Dixie's Land we'll take our stand, to lib an' die in Dixie.
9 Away! away! away down South in Dixie.
10 Away! away! away down south in Dixie.
11 Ole missus marry 'Will-de-weaber';
12 Willum was a gay deceaber;
13 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
14 But when he put his arm around her,
15 He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder;
16 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
17 Den I wish I was in Dixie! Hooray! Hooray!
18 In Dixie's Land we'll take our stand, to lib an' die in Dixie.
19 Away! away! away down South in Dixie.
20 Away! away! away down south in Dixie.
21 His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber;
22 But dat did not seem to greab her;
23 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
24 Ole missus acted de foolish part,
25 And died for a man dat broke her heart;
26 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
27 Den I wish I was in Dixie! Hooray! Hooray!
28 In Dixie's Land we'll take our stand, to lib an' die in Dixie.
29 Away! away! away down South in Dixie.
30 Away! away! away down south in Dixie.
31 Now here's health to de next ole missus,
32 An' all the gals dat want to kiss us;
33 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
34 But if you want to drive 'way sorrow,
35 Come and hear dis song tomorrow;
36 Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land!
37 Den I wish I was in Dixie! Hooray! Hooray!
38 In Dixie's Land we'll take our stand, to lib an' die in Dixie.
39 Away! away! away down South in Dixie.
40 Away! away! away down south in Dixie.
41 Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Injin batter,
42 Makes you fat or a little fatter;
[...] Read more
poem by Daniel Decatur Emmett
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The Look
1, 2, 3, 4
Walking like a man
Hitting like a hammer
Shes a juvenile scam
Never was a quitter
Tasty like a raindrop
Shes got the look
Heavenly bound
Cause heavens got a number
When shes spinning me around
Kissing is a colour
Her loving is a wild dog
Shes got the look
Shes got the look, -shes got the look-
Shes got the look, -shes got the look-
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue
When everything Ill ever do, Ill do for you
And I go: la la la la la
Shes got the look
Fire in the ice
Naked to the t-bone
Is a lovers disguise
Banging on the head drum
Shaking like a mad bull
Shes got the look
Swaying to the band
Moving like a hammer
Shes a miracle man
Loving is the ocean
Kissing is the wet sand
Shes got the look
Shes got the look, -shes got the look-
Shes got the look, -shes got the look-
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue
When everything Ill ever do, Ill do for you
And I go: la la la la la
Shes got the look
Walking like a man
Hitting like a hammer
Shes a juvenile scam
Never was a quitter
Tasty like a raindrop
Shes got the look
And she goes:
Na na na na na,
Na na na na na na,
Na na na na na,
Na na na na na na,
Na na na na na na na na,
Shes got the look
[...] Read more
song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Troubadour. Canto 2
THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?
When will the youth feel as he felt,
When first at beauty's feet he knelt?
As if her least smile could confer
A kingdom on its worshipper;
Or ever care, or ever fear
Had cross'd love's morning hemisphere.
And the young bard, the first time praise
Sheds its spring sunlight o'er his lays,
Though loftier laurel, higher name,
May crown the minstrel's noontide fame,
They will not bring the deep content
Of his lure's first encouragement.
And where the glory that will yield
The flush and glow of his first field
To the young chief? Will RAYMOND ever
Feel as he now is feeling?--Never.
The sun wept down or ere they gain'd
The glen where the chief band remain'd.
It was a lone and secret shade,
As nature form'd an ambuscade
For the bird's nest and the deer's lair,
Though now less quiet guests were there.
On one side like a fortress stood
A mingled pine and chesnut wood;
Autumn was falling, but the pine
Seem'd as it mock'd all change; no sign
Of season on its leaf was seen,
The same dark gloom of changeless green.
But like the gorgeous Persian bands
'Mid the stern race of northern lands,
The chesnut boughs were bright with all
That gilds and mocks the autumn's fall.
Like stragglers from an army's rear
Gradual they grew, near and less near,
Till ample space was left to raise,
Amid the trees, the watch-fire's blaze;
And there, wrapt in their cloaks around,
The soldiers scatter'd o'er the ground.
[...] Read more
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Don't Look Back
How does it feel up there
breathing in the fine air
You can't look down
but you do not care
when every face knows
the lonely place you've become
And you can dream up there
with your soul laid bare
and close your eyes
on the life you share
and you can pretend that it won't mean a thing
when it's gone
Cuz now you see
you're so good looking
you should be on TV
but now you're on the radio
don't look back
don't look back
when you hear me calling
don't look back
don't look back
don't look back
don't look back
when you hear me calling
don't look back
don't look back
How does it feel up there
breathing in the fine air
you can't look down
but you do not care
when every face knows
the lonely place you've become
And you can dream up there
with your soul laid bare
and close your eyes
on the life that you share
and you can pretend that it won't mean a thing
when it's gone
cuz now you see
you're so good looking
you should be on tv
but now you're on the radio
[...] Read more
song performed by Nine Days from So Happily Unsatisfied
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Look Of Love
When your world is full of strange arrangements
And gravity wont pull you through
You know youre missing out on something
Well that something depends on you
All Im saying, it takes a lot to love you
All Im doing, you know its true
All I mean now, theres one thing
Yes one thing that turns this grey sky to blue
Thats the look, thats the look
The look of love
When your girl has left you out on the pavement (goodbye)
Then your dreams fall apart at the seams
Your reason for livings your reason for leaving
Dont ask me what it means
Whos got the look? I dont know the answer to that question
Wheres the look? if I knew I would tell you
Whats the look? look for your information
Yes theres one thing, the one thing that still holds true
(whats that? )
Thats the look, thats the look
The look of love
If you judge a book by the cover,
Then youd judge the look by the lover
I hope youll soon recover,
Me I go from one extreme to another
And though my friends just might ask me
They say martin maybe one day youll find true love
I say maybe, there must be a solution
To the one thing, the one thing, we cant find
Thats the look, thats the look
The look of love
Thats the look, thats the look
The look of love
Thats the look, thats the look
Sisters and brothers
Should help each other
Oh, oh, oh
Heavens above
Thats the look, thats the look, hip hip hooray, ay
Thats the look, thats the look, yippee ai yippee aiay
Thats the look, thats the look
Be lucky in love
Look of love
song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dont Look Back
How does it feel up there
Breathing in the fine air
You cant look down
But you do not care
When every face knows
The lonely place youve become
And you can dream up there
With your soul laid bare
And close your eyes
On the life you share
And you can pretend that it wont mean a thing
When its gone
Cuz now you see
Youre so good looking
You should be on tv
But now youre on the radio
Dont look back
Dont look back
When you hear me calling
Dont look back
Dont look back
Dont look back
Dont look back
When you hear me calling
Dont look back
Dont look back
How does it feel up there
Breathing in the fine air
You cant look down
But you do not care
When every face knows
The lonely place youve become
And you can dream up there
With your soul laid bare
And close your eyes
On the life that you share
And you can pretend that it wont mean a thing
When its gone
Cuz now you see
Youre so good looking
You should be on tv
But now youre on the radio
Dont look back
Dont look back
When you hear me calling
Dont look back
Dont look back
Dont look back
Dont look back
When you hear me calling
[...] Read more
song performed by Nine Days
Added by Lucian Velea
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.
To Ianthe:
Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd,
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd --
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak?
Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,
As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,
Love's image upon earth without his wing,
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!
And surely she who now so fondly rears
Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,
Beholds the rainbow of her future years,
Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears.
Young Peri of the West!-'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye unmov'd may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline,
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed,
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,
But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.
Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,
Glance o'er this page; nor to my verse deny
That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh,
Could I to thee be ever more than friend:
This much, dear maid, accord; nor question why
To one so young my strain I would commend,
But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend.
Such is thy name with this my verse entwin'd;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast
On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrin'd
Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last:
My days once number'd, should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre
Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast,
Such is the most my memory may desire;
Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require?
[...] Read more
Eyes Across the Sky
(Look up, look with your eyes across the sky -
Any pair of eyes will do!)
Look up – look with your eyes across the sky.
Look up – look with your eyes across the sky.
Look up (see all the magic there on high)
Look up see the summer sun shining
Look up (to all the clouds there going by)
Look up see how they drift in timeless timing.
Eyes across the sky
Are waiting to meet another new day,
Waiting to meet another new day.
Look up – look with your eyes across the sky.
Look up – look with your eyes across the sky.
Look up (for imaginations you desire)
Look up see the summer sun shining.
Look up (to contact the clouds higher)
Look up see the summer sun shining.
Eyes across the sky
Are waiting to meet another new day,
Waiting to meet another new day.
(Across the sky)
Everybody... your eyes across the sky,
Look up – look with your eyes across the sky,
Look up (see all the magic there on high)
Look up see the summer sun shining.
Look up (to all the clouds there going by)
Look up see how they drift in timeless timing.
Eyes across the sky
Are waiting to meet another new day,
Waiting to meet another new day.
Eyes across the sky
Are flying in a fantasy play,
Flying in a fantasy play
Now and forever – today.
Today!
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Flight of the Duchess
I
You're my friend:
I was the man the Duke spoke to;
I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;
So here's the tale from beginning to end,
My friend!
II
Ours is a great wild country:
If you climb to our castle's top,
I don't see where your eye can stop;
For when you've passed the cornfield country,
Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,
And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,
And cattle-tract to open-chase,
And open-chase to the very base
Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,
Round about, solemn and slow,
One by one, row after row,
Up and up the pine-trees go,
So, like black priests up, and so
Down the other side again
To another greater, wilder country,
That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,
Branched through and through with many a vein
Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;
Look right, look left, look straight before—
Beneath they mine, above they smelt,
Copper-ore and iron-ore,
And forge and furnace mould and melt,
And so on, more and ever more,
Till at the last, for a bounding belt,
Comes the salt sand hoar of the great sea shore
—And the whole is our Duke's country.
III
I was born the day this present Duke was—
(And O, says the song, ere I was old!)
In the castle where the other Duke was—
(When I was happy and young, not old!)
I in the kennel, he in the bower:
We are of like age to an hour.
My father was huntsman in that day;
Who has not heard my father say
That, when a boar was brought to bay,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,
Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel’s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I’ve wandered by thy vaunted rill;
Yes! sighed o’er Delphi’s long-deserted shrine
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale - this lowly lay of mine.
II.
Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.
III.
Childe Harold was he hight: - but whence his name
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for aye,
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lines of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
IV.
Childe Harold basked him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly,
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of satiety:
Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seemed to him more lone than eremite’s sad cell.
V.
For he through Sin’s long labyrinth had run,
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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