Whoever Brought Me Here
must take me back.
my permission
was never asked.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Conditioned To Request Permission
No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.
No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
The pursuing of the blooming...
We expect and accept,
With any happiness we get.
Oh...
Oh oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.
And whoa,
A oh oh....
Oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.
No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.
No need to treat me with suspicion,
And live with secret inhabitions.
Why should we accept conditions,
That might invite future division.
Whoa,
A oh oh....
Oh,
Why should we be the ones conditioned,
To request permission...
To investigate a picked division.
No need to treat me like an alley cat.
Because you are addicted...
To those rumors that will ruin,
Any happiness we get.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Loveliest Thing
By Paul McCartney
To me you are the loveliest thing I've seen all day
You can't take that away
No, you can't take that away
All my life, I wondered why it couldn't be this way
That was up until today
Oh it had to be this way
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given
You seem to have a friendlier smile than all the rest
Well I looked and you were best
Yeah i've looked at all the rest
You can't imagine passionate words that I would say
If only you would stay
Oh you know you gotta stay
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given
You used to be and early bird
But how was I to know you would leave without shedding a tear
I only want to love you
I'll make a wish and suddenly I'm glad that I have you here
Oh I'm glad I have you here
Today
To me you are the loveliest thing I've seen all day
And you can't take that away
No, you can't take that away
All my life, I wondered why it couldn't be this way
That was up until today
Yeah, it had to be this way
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away, today
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given to you, ah
song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loveliest Thing
To me you are the loveliest thing Ive seen all day
You cant take that away
No, you cant take that away
All my life, I wondered why it couldnt be this way
That was up until today
Oh it had to be this way
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given
You seem to have a friendlier smile than all the rest
Well I looked and you were best
Yeah Ive looked at all the rest
You cant imagine passionate words that I would say
If only you would stay
Oh you know you gotta stay
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given
You used to be and early bird
But how was I to know you would leave without shedding a tear
I only want to love you
Ill make a wish and suddenly Im glad that I have you here
Oh Im glad I have you here
Today
To me you are the loveliest thing Ive seen all day
And you cant take that away
No, you cant take that away
All my life, I wondered why it couldnt be this way
That was up until today
Yeah, it had to be this way
Today, wait until the morning comes
Before you slip away, today
Before you slip away
Without permission
Without suspicion
Without permission given to you, ah
song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Many Times Have You Asked Yourself
Finally...
You reach home.
Believing you are sheltered.
And will get deserving rest!
Then suddenly the phone rings.
To leave you wondering,
If the caller is someone you should address.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
Relax?
You can't!
A tension is enhanced.
The phone keeps ringing to erase the chance.
And...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Prerogative
Britney Spears - My Prerogative Lyrics
SPOKEN:
People can take everything away from you
But they can never take away your truth
But the question is..
Can you handle mine?
They say I'm crazy
I really don't care
That's my prerogative
They say I'm nasty
But I don't give a damn
Getting boys is how I live
Some ask me questions
Why am I so real?
But they don't understand me
I really don't know the deal
About my sister
Trying hard to make it right
Not long ago before I won this fight
Everybody's talkin' all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live? (tell me why)
I don't need permission
Make my own descisions (oh)
That's my prerogative
That's my prerogative
[It's my prerogative]
Its the way that I wanna live
[It's my prerogative]
They can't tell me what to do...
Don't get me wrong
I'm really not souped
Ego trips is not my thing
All these strange relationships
It really gets me down
I see nothing wrong
Spreading Myself Around
Everybody's talkin' all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live? (tell me why)
I don't need permission
Make my own descisions (oh)
That's my prerogative
That's my prerogative
Everybody's talkin' all this stuff about me
Why don't they just let me live? (tell me why)
I don't need permission
Make my own descisions (oh)
That's my prerogative
That's my prerogative
Its the way that I wanna live
[It's my prerogative]
[...] Read more
song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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Such A Good Boy
(carly simon/robbie shakespeare/mike mainieri)
He asks her for permission
To take the car
Light his cigar
Play his guitar
Burn down the barn
He asks her for permission
To tie his shoes
To take a snooze
To read the news
To sing the blues
Chorus:
Hes such a good boy
A real mamas boy
She treats him like a toy
Hes such a good boy
(repeat)
He asks her for permission
To get a tan
To play his hand
To blow a grand
To be a man
He asks her for permission
To say goodnight
To see snow white
To watch the fight
cause shes always right
Chorus
She points her finger
And waves her hand
And acts just like a queen bee
But hes foolin? her
cause he doesnt ask
Her for permission
When he comes to see me
Chorus
song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Change
The other day I walked accross the street
i couldnt believe what I appeared to see...
as I looked at a poor boy who came to me
I asked him his name and he didnt know
he just asked me for change.
I asked where is your mum?
he just asked me for change
I asked where is your dad?
he just asked me for change
I asked will someone come?
he just asked me for change
I asked why are you sad?
with no response to my question there was a pause...
but then once again he asked me for change
see, as i watched him dissapear with his pain
I realised that he actualy asked me...
for a change.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Gareth And Lynette
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'
And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'
And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Experience Is God
I asked, ‘What comes with birth? '
Born and see, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is said to be education? '
Study and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is knowledge? '
Know and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is kindness? '
Be kind and shower, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is love? '
Share with others, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What pleasure do you get from wife? '
Marry and experience, God ordered!
I asked, ‘Who is child to you? '
Get a child for you, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is old age? '
Become old and observe God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is poverty? '
Toil and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What happens after death? '
Die and see God ordered!
If anyone wants to know what is life,
And he has to experience and know,
Then why are you, GOD?
GOD said, ‘O' poor man,
The experience itself is ME!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 28
It is related that an athlete had been reduced to the greatest distress by adverse fortune. His throat being capacious and his hands unable to fill it, he complained to his father and asked him for permission to travel as he hoped to be hoped to be able to gain a livelihood by the strength of his arm.
Excellence and skill are lost unless exhibited.
Lignum aloes is placed on fire and musk rubbed.
The father replied: ‘My son, get rid of this vain idea and place the feet of contentment under the skirt of safety because great men have said that happiness does not consist in exertion and that the remedy against want is in the moderation of desires.
No one can grasp the skirt of luck by force.
It is useless to put vasmah on a bald man’s brow.
If thou hast two hundred accomplishments for each hair of thy head
They will be of no use if fortune is unpropitious.
What can an athlete do with adverse luck?
The arm of luck is better than the arm of strength.
The son rejoined: ‘Father, the advantages of travel are many, such as recreation of the mind entailing profit, seeing of wonderful and hearing of strange things, recreation in cities, associating with friends, acquisition of dignity, rank, property, the power of discriminating among acquaintances and gaining experience of the world, as the travellers in the Tariqat have said:
As long as thou walkest about the shop or the house
Thou wilt never become a man, 0 raw fellow.
Go and travel in the world
Before that day when thou goest from the world.’
The father replied: ‘My son, the advantages of travel such as thou hast enumerated them are countless but they regard especially five classes of men: firstly, a merchant who possesses in consequence of his wealth and power graceful male and female slaves and quick-handed assistants, alights every day in another town and every night in another place, has recreation every moment and sometimes enjoys the delights of the world.’
A rich man is not a stranger in mountain, desert or solitude.
Wherever he goes he pitches a tent and makes a sleeping place;
Whilst he who is destitute of the goods of this world
Must be in his own country a stranger and unknown.
Secondly, a scholar, who is for the pleasantness of his speech, the power of his eloquence and the fund of his instruction, waited upon and honoured wherever he goes.
The presence of a learned man is like pure gold
Whose power and price is known wherever he goes.
An ignorant fellow of noble descent resembles Shahrua,
Which nobody accepts in a foreign country.
Thirdly, handsome fellows with whom the souls of pious men are inclined to commingle because it has been said that a little beauty is better than much wealth. An attractive face is also said to be a slave to despondent hearts and the key to locked doors, wherefore the society of such a person is everywhere known to be very acceptable:
A beautiful person meets with honour and respect everywhere
Although perhaps driven away in anger by father and mother.
I have seen a peacock feather in the leaves of the Quran.
I said: ‘I see thy position is higher than thy deserts.’
It said: ‘Hush, whoever is endowed with beauty,
Wherever he places his foot, hands are held out to receive it.’
When a boy is symmetrical and heart-robbing
It matters not if his father disowns him.
He is a jewel which must not remain in a shell.
A precious pearl everyone desires to buy.
Fourthly, one with a sweet voice, who retains, with a David-like throat, water from flowing and birds from soaring. By means of this talent he holds the hearts of people captive and religious men are delighted to associate with him.
[...] Read more
Yes Sir, No Sir
Yes sir, no sir
Where do I go sir
What do I do sir
What do I say
Yes sir, no sir
Where do I go sir
What do I do sir
How do I behave
Yes sir, no sir
Permission to speak sir
Permission to breathe sir
What do I say, how do I behave, what do I say
So you think that youve got ambition
Stop your dreaming and your idle wishing
Youre outside and there aint no admission
To our play
Pack up your ambition in your old kit bag
Soon youll be happy with a packet of fags
Chest out stomach in
Do what I say, do what I say
Yes right away
Yes sir, no sir
Where do I go sir
What do I do sir
What do I say
Yes sir, no sir
Permission to speak sir
Permission to breathe sir
What do I say, how do I behave, what do I say
Doesnt matter who you are
Youre there and there you are
Everything is in its place
Authority must be maintained
And then we know exactly where we are
Let them feel that theyre important to the cause
But let them know that they are fighting for their homes
Just be sure that theyre contributing their all
Give the scum a gun and make the bugger fight
And be sure to have deserters shot on sight
If he dies well send a medal to his wife
Yes sir, no sir
Please let me die sir
I think this life is affecting my brain
Yes sir, no sir
Three bags full sir
What do I do sir, what do I say
What do I say, how do I behave, what do I say
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Prerogative
Get Busy/
Everybody's talking all this stuff about me/
Why don't they just let me live/
I dont need permission, make my own decisions/
Thats my perogative/
They say Im crazy I really dont care/
Thats my perogative/
They say Im nasty but I dont give a damn/
Getting girls is how I live/
Some ask me questions/
Why am I so real/
But they dont understand me, I really dont know the deal/
about a brother trying hard to make it right/
not long ago before I really spied/
(Sing!)
Everybody's talking all this stuff about me/
Why don't they just let me live/
(Tell me why)
I dont need permission, make my own decisions/
Thats my perogative/
Its my Per-rog-a-tive
Its the way that I wanna live
(Its my perogative)
I can do just what I feel/
(Its my perogative)
No one can tell me what to do/
(Its my perogative)
Cause what Im doing Im doing for you/
Dont get me wrong/
I really not souped
Evil tricks is not my thang/
All these strange relationships really gets me down/
I see nothing wrong with spreading myself around/
(Sing!)
Everybody's talking all this stuff about me/
Why don't they just let me live/
(Tell me why)
I dont need permission, make my own decisions/
Thats my perogative/
Its my Per-rog-a-tive
Its the way that I wanna live
(Its my perogative)
I can live my life/
(Its my perogative)
Im doing it just for you/
(Its my perogative)
Tell me, Tell me/
Why cant I live my life/
(Live my Life)
Without all of the thangs/
[...] Read more
song performed by New Edition
Added by Lucian Velea
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With Admission Acquisitioned
You let a fishing for your mission...
Get out of hand,
And...
You let too many you would listen,
Take more a stand...
And,
'Something' inside you felt missing...
And then you ran,
Away!
You don't need permission,
To be,
Magic!
Turn on that ignition,
With admission acquisitioned.
You don't need permission,
To be,
Magic!
Turn on that ignition,
With admission acquisitioned.
You let a fishing for your mission...
Get out of hand,
And...
You let too many you would listen,
Take more a stand...
And,
'Something' inside you felt missing...
And then you ran,
Away!
When you entered on this Earth,
You were a miracle at birth...
And,
You don't need permission,
To be,
Magic!
Turn on that ignition,
With admission acquisitioned.
And,
You don't need permission,
To be,
Magic!
When you entered on this Earth,
You were a miracle at birth!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 6)
When Jesus went across the Sea
Of Galilee, a crowd followed;
They saw His miracles on sick;
He ascended the mountain-slope
And sat down with His disciples;
The Feast of Passover was near.
Then Jesus saw a large crowd come;
He asked Philip, ‘Where to buy food? ’
He asked this just to test Philip.
He knew what He’as going to do.
Then Philip replied, ‘Two hundred
Days’ wages worth food wouldn’t suffice.’
Andrew told Jesus, ‘There’s a boy
With barley loaves five and fish two.
It wouldn’t do well for such a crowd.’
Then Jesus told the crowd to rest.
Five thousand people sat on grass.
Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks
And had it shared along with fish.
When all had eaten indeed well,
Jesus told, ‘Gather all fragments.’
It was twelve wicker basketsful.
When people saw the miracle,
They accepted Jesus, Prophet-
The one who had come to the world!
They wanted to make Him the king.
So, Jesus withdrew to mountain.
When evening came, they went by boat,
Across the sea to Capernaum.
While traveling, it turned quite dark;
The sea was rough with fierce a wind.
When they had gone three miles off-shore,
They saw Jesus come walk on sea
Towards the boat, and grew afraid.
But Jesus said, ‘It’s I, Don’t fear! ’
They thought Jesus would come aboard;
But suddenly, the boat reached shore!
They realized the next day that
The disciples had come by boat
But Jesus did not come by same!
From Tiberias, other boats came.
As Jesus had not arrived still,
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 26)
Then Jesus told His disciples,
‘’Twill be Pass-ov’r in two days’ time;
The Son of Man will handed be
Over to them who crucify! ’
So, chief priests and all elders there
Assembled in Caiaphas’ palace.
They consulted with the high priest
On how to arrest Jesus by
Treachery and put Him to death.
They decided not to do so,
During the festival-time as
A riot, people could then cause.
In Bethany, while Jesus was
Within Simon, the leper’s house,
There came a woman with a jar
Of costly, perfumed oil and poured
It on his head while he reclined.
His disciples grew indignant
And asked, ‘Why waste such costly oil?
The money could have been given
Better to poor as charity! ’
As Jesus knew this, He told them,
‘Don’t you trouble the woman as,
A good thing for me, done, she has! ’
‘The poor can always have you but
You’ll not have me with you always.
By pouring oil on my body,
She prepared it for burial! ’
‘Amen, amen, I say to you,
Wherever this gospel is proclaimed
On earth, her act will be retold,
And lauded in her memory.’
Then one amongst the Twelve, Judas
Iscariot went to the chief priests
And asked, ‘What will you give to me,
If I hand him over to you? ’
They paid him thirty silver coins.
From that time onwards, he looked for
A chance to hand Jesus over.
When on the first day of the Feast
Of Unleavened Bread, disciples
Asked, ‘Where do you want us to prepare
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Sixth Book
THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Lawyer’s First Tale: Primitiæ or Third Cousins
I
‘Dearest of boys, please come to-day,
Papa and mama have bid me say,
They hope you’ll dine with us at three;
They will be out till then, you see,
But you will start at once, you know,
And come as fast as you can go.
Next week they hope you’ll come and stay
Some time before you go away.
Dear boy, how pleasant it will be,
Ever your dearest Emily!’
Twelve years of age was I, and she
Fourteen, when thus she wrote to me,
A schoolboy, with an uncle spending
My holidays, then nearly ending.
My uncle lived the mountain o’er,
A rector, and a bachelor;
The vicarage was by the sea,
That was the home of Emily:
The windows to the front looked down
Across a single-streeted town,
Far as to where Worms-head was seen,
Dim with ten watery miles between;
The Carnedd mountains on the right
With stony masses filled the sight;
To left the open sea; the bay
In a blue plain before you lay.
A garden, full of fruit, extends,
Stone-walled, above the house, and ends
With a locked door, that by a porch
Admits to churchyard and to church;
Farm-buildings nearer on one side,
And glebe, and then the countrywide.
I and my cousin Emily
Were cousins in the third degree;
My mother near of kin was reckoned
To hers, who was my mother’s second:
My cousinship I held from her.
Such an amount of girls there were,
At first one really was perplexed:
’Twas Patty first, and Lydia next,
And Emily the third, and then,
Philippa, Phoebe, Mary Gwen.
Six were they, you perceive, in all;
And portraits fading on the wall,
Grandmothers, heroines of old,
And aunts of aunts, with scrolls that told
Their names and dates, were there to show
Why these had all been christened so.
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough from Mari Magno or Tales on Board
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)
Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.
Act I
Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.
Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!
Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…
Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!
Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.
Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.
Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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He asked me if I'd take a penny for my thoughts.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and I told him the things on my mind.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I had thought then I'd be paid in kind.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
and the closest friends we came to be.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought then the one he cared for, was me.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now rich with my thoughts he was.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
I thought his reason was more than 'just because'.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
he's made me rich with a broken heart.
A penny for your thoughts he asked,
now my life has a broken start.
poem by Mandy Lee
Added by Poetry Lover
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