Quotes about belgian, page 2
A very considerable body of the German people live in America and propose to fight that Government. Bourke in his great speech last week welcoming the Belgian mission to Boston worked out the President's meaning with care.
quote by Shane Leslie
Added by Lucian Velea
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In the Belgian air force a general supposedly saw a UFO, tracked it with his plane, photographed it with his wing cameras. And I believe it because I said to myself why would this person, not getting paid for this, do it unless it actually happened or he thought it happened.
quote by Robert Stack
Added by Lucian Velea
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America
Once in English they said America. Was it English to them.
Once they said Belgian.
We like a fog.
Do you for weather.
Are we brave.
Are we true.
Have we the national colour.
Can we stand ditches.
Can we mean well.
Do we talk together.
Have we red cross.
A great many people speak of feet.
And socks.
poem by Gertrude Stein
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Adage 4
'Don't make use of another man's mouth unless it has been loaned to you.'
Belgian Proverb
if i let you borrow
my mouth
will you follow what it will say?
or will you tell it
what to say?
i am a poet
without a motive
my words speak for themselves
the only function of my
mouth and my tongue
is to eat
and shut up.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Candy Shop
It's Aunt Nora's birthday
She's partial to Belgian chocolates
I go with mama
To the candy shop
'We're here to get a present
for Aunt Nora, ' she admonishes.
'Don't even ask for candy! '
And I promise.
But once inside,
the aroma of the place
The gleaming display cases
Candies winking at me
Like jewels
I know she'll say no
But I just have to ask!
poem by Diana Holinski
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Themes
themes should be universal they say.
to talk of the cruellest month.
excellent.
cities, monuments, flowers.
irreproachable.
a painting of a boy falling out of
the sky, hung in a belgian gallery
or epic sung by a blind bard.
ideal.
bad poets being fortunate, no muse to be invoked.
poems sprout, wild weeds in walled garden.
broken heart tears betrayal
pain shame fear despair bewilderment.
[...] Read more
poem by Soo Lee
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Poem
(Abbreviated from the conversation with Mr. T E H.
Over the flat slope of St Eloi
A wide wall of sandbags.
Night,
In the silence desultory men
Pottering over small fires, cleaning their mess-tins:
To and fro, from the lines,
Men walk as on Piccadilly,
Making paths in the dark,
Through scattered dead horses,
Over a dead Belgian’s body.
The Germans have rockets. The English have no rockets,
Behind the lines, cannon, hidden, lying back miles.
Before the line, chaos.
My mind is a corridor. The minds about me are
corridors.
[...] Read more
poem by Ezra Pound
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4th July 1882, Malines. Midnight
Belgian, with cumbrous tread and iron boots,
Who in the murky middle of the night,
Designing to renew the foul pursuits
In which thy life is passed, ill-favoured wight,
And wishing on the platform to alight
Where thou couldst mingle with thy fellow brutes,
Didst walk the carriage floor (a leprous sight),
As o'er the sky some baleful meteor shoots:
Upon my slippered foot thou didst descend,
Didst rouse me from my slumbers mad with pain,
And laughedst loud for several minutes' space.
Oh may'st thou suffer tortures without end:
May fiends with glowing pincers rend thy brain,
And beetles batten on thy blackened face!
poem by James Kenneth Stephen
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Snow Fall in the Moonlight
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Like soft cotton falling from the sky,
Covering the ground and bushes in pure white,
Glowing beautifully in the night of December.
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Like a child I walked happily through the pure white snow,
Making soft crackling sound in the silent winter night,
When I reached the far end of the open field,
I turned to see the path I had taken,
A straight line through the pure white snow.
Snow fall in the moonlight,
Can there be a more beautiful sight than this?
As I look into the night sky,
And the soft snow flakes touches my face,
I breathe the fresh cold air of the winter night.
As I stood alone in silence, stillness in the air,
My feeling and longing comes to my lips,
And I thank Allah for this beautiful moment,
[...] Read more
poem by Spiritual Seeker
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I Wonder.
In Flanders Fields red poppies grow.
But long dead warriors lie below.
Their rotted bodies nourishing
The scarlet poppies flourishing..
As if to draw attention to.
The graves of men who never knew.
That they would not see their homes more
But here they lie for evermore.
In Flanders Fields lost heroes lie.
In unmarked graves beneath the sky.
Far from the which gave them birth
They add their substance to the earth.
Which Belgian farmers cultivate.
Selected randomly by fate.
There can be few survivors left
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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