Quotes about owe, page 7
Should We
If i said yes would you run
I you said no would i run
We have lived loved lied and cheated
But still nothing is completed
If i say hi
If you say goodbye
Will that be the end
Or are we starting again
Have we changed
Are we the same
Do i still know you
Or is it i owe you
Do you still know me
Or do you owe me
Will we even get along
Do you remember our song
Though it has been a while
I never forgot your smile
Should we yes
Should we no
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poem by GJC boyle
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Dear Class
Graduation itself is quite epic
We have achieved the biggest milestone
We feel satisfied and happy
Relaxed in who we have become
Our relationships we have formed
These past 12 years will mold us
And forever change our character.
To our mothers we owe our love
For the endless support
To our fathers we owe our thanks
For the building of our projects
But next there is the big world
Where people work fast and hard
In a way we have not yet known
We have made a brilliant start
But that is all it is, a start
Next we need to open up
To new things and new people
We need to tackle bigger things
And make our contribution
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poem by Kay Young
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Drop Your Buns Aunt Betty
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.
You owe us that!
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let the Sun In You
And you...
Have spent so many days,
From Sun.
All your nights have turned into one.
And I have come to wonder...
Why?
Why you let the Sun go by?
When it's outside and calls to you.
Who do you owe this pain?
And what are you gaining?
Try.
Try to find a reason why.
Why you let your life drift by?
And let your heartache.
When so much awaits for you.
Tomorrow.
What does that mean.
When sorrows you seem to wish near.
And dreams that you had...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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‘Happy Birthday, Mahatma Gandhiji! ’
Our Father of the Indian soil,
You got us freedom with your toil;
All life, you burnt the midnight-oil;
Your Freedom Struggle, none could foil!
What simple life, you led on earth!
Your humbleness was seen from birth;
Such greatness stands always a dearth;
To you, all Indians owe our mirth!
O Mahatma, you’re live today,
In hearts of earthlings to this day;
You showed an exemplary way;
Your sacrifice, none can repay!
Although you were a simple boy,
You won us freedom we enjoy;
You persevered with your own ploy,
And made the British gun, a toy!
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poem by John Celes
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My Heartthrob
When I was young
I learnt to kneel down
Questing for divine help
I consistently besieged God's throne
Praying for good home
Requesting for a mother-wife
Who will be a Godly jewel
I longed for that woman
Whose surname is peace
Whose second name is joy
And the middle name is love
I hoped for an answer
I waited patiently for manifestation
Heavens opened up to me
Heavens honoured my petition
God listened to my prayer
He bequeathed me with an angel
Beautiful and adorable damsel
Ebony black with dimples
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poem by Babatunde Aremu
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I was not born because you died
I was not born because you died
And I'm not the dawn
because you wanted to be the twilight
And I'm not a stone statue
You keep circling about
The way the mist spins around a treetop
Because a treetop is the map without a city
You are looking for
Each bough leads back to its root
In watered shadows foretold
Because a treetop is a barren autumn lightning
Burning the skylinks of earth hooks pinned on leaves
Except that the treetop it wants to stay and grow
Don't think I've got leaves because you pruned me
Or that the green is the colour of an ever life
I was not born because you died
And I'm not the light because you chose your dark
And I'm not the hope because you leave things hopeless
I'm neither your failure nor your success
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poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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If It Opens
I owe the wonderful memories I keep,
To those who were unafraid to adventure.
The people who kept the reaching of destinies,
On their minds.
And finding the saying of 'why Not? ' unconfining.
So grateful I am to have dismissed limits,
To explore the value of a life given to me to live.
With a willingness to comprehend,
My commitment to the mix and my involvement.
Although I've grown to admit of having little patience,
When listening to those describing their fears.
With excuses to make to have them validated.
I owe the wonderful memories I keep,
To those who were unafraid to adventure.
And as I age to recognize doubters who profess faith...
I am happy not to be that one,
Procrastinating with a hesitation done.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Joey
I thought I would go daft when Joey died.
He was my first, and wise beyond his years.
For nigh a hundred nights I cried and cried,
Until my weary eyes burned up my tears.
Willie and Rosie tried to comfort me:
A woeful, weeping family were we.
I was a widow with no friends at all,
Ironing men's shirts to buy my kiddies grub;
And then one day a lawyer came to call,
Me with my arms deep in the washing-tub.
The gentleman who ran poor Joey down
Was willing to give us a thousand poun'.
What a godsend! It meant goodbye to care,
The fear of being dumped out on the street.
Rosie and Willie could have wool to wear,
And more than bread and margerine to eat . . .
To Joey's broken little legs we owe
Our rescue from a fate of want and woe.
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poem by Robert William Service
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Arthritic Johnny
He's worked for bosses all of his working life poor Johnny
And now he walks with the aid of walking cane
His fingers bent and knobby from arthritis
And he feels stiff all over from work strain.
From his drainer job he took early retirement
Four years ago when he was sixty one
He could not carry on due to arthritis
Magnified by the hard labouring he had done.
Those who grew wealthy out of his exertions
Ignore him now when they meet on the street
He's made life better for their sons and daughters
Yet he's a stranger to them when they meet.
Perhaps they feel that they don't owe him any
That's for services rendered to them he's been paid
But of course they won't admit to the vast fortunes
Out of him and others like him they have made.
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poem by Francis Duggan
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