Quotes about brooding
No More Brooding Bruising Sad Times
No more brooding bruising sad times.
From the depths that soak tears up.
No more clinching on big shoulders.
When those curves on roads get rough.
Tough it around the rocks and boulders.
Squeeze those tears from soggy mops.
Drop that pity in the pot, babe.
Turn off all that sniffing stuff!
Hold your head up.
And keep that misery off the streets.
Hold your head up...
And cease that weeping.
Hold your head up.
And keep that misery off the streets.
Hold your head up...
And cease that weeping.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Should Be No Doubt About It
There should be no doubt about it.
You don't have to pout about it.
Or commute a brooding mood.
To allude with attitude.
You,
Have chosen to bear that load.
There should be no doubt about it.
You don't have to pout about it.
Or commute a brooding mood,
To allude with attitude.
You,
Have chosen to bear that load.
And you,
Have chosen to...
Not-let-go!
There should be no doubt about it.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Can Boot A Droop
I can move from a mood that I've been brooding.
But I don't know why,
I can't give it up!
No...
I can move from a mood that I've been brooding.
And I will defy...
I'm in a rut and stuck up.
I can boot a droop.
And pooh pooh who I choose to leave.
I can fly from any coop.
And still enjoy my own company.
Hey...
I'm in no rut or stuck up,
Since I've got with me a rudder.
And...
I can boot a droop.
And choose to pooh pooh who I leave.
Hey...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brooding
Brooding here in deepest thought.
Do people care for what I've wrought?
I come to share and they don't care,
afraid to explore the darker fare.
I speak only truth for what I feel.
What I've seen,
how I deal.
A brooding soul I may be.
What's so wrong,
I ask not for your pity.
I only come here to express,
how I see in joy and much distress.
No one reads,
no one cares.
Is my point of view so very rare?
I do not come to blacken your door.
I just come to release my fear.
[...] Read more
poem by Michael McParland
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Just A Song
Oh, to get ahead in this world
Takes a lot of kind words
The ruthless damning actions
And I hope, I never have to hurt you
Though I gladly will do
My friend
And I'll be reading in the kitchen
Sipping lazy cups of tea
I won't be brooding in my bedroom
With the shutters down on me
And this song is not cathartic
Because I've done nothing wrong
It's just a song
It's just a song
Oh, you see the more you're trying
The more I know you're lying
The more I start to hate the sight of you
Tell me what would you do?
Pulled by both arms, nearly torn in two
I'll be reading in the kitchen
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song performed by Ordinary Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The City of Dreadful Night
Per me si va nella citta dolente.
--Dante
Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.
Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.
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poem by James Thomson
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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day;
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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If someone plays a brooding actor in a film, people think they're brooding all the time.
quote by Joe Rogan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Brooding
Me and my pride,
me and my hurts.
Who are you, which you are not,
a verbless statement of nirvana?
No pain
no asking, narcissism.
A stream of unbecoming.
Eyes wide open
jaws tightly shut,
sitting in a corner, brooding,
brooding.
Now what?
A stunning duplicity,
a surrogate god
was running an empire.
Precisely polygamous
on the name of a latter saint
annihilating the third image.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Phantom Call
At the death of day
the phantoms come
from their river home,
like children that want to frolic and play
and they are ever hiding from the sun’s brooding beam,
while they rise like fog from where the river flow,
sometimes are mistaken for vapour or steam,
but have fevering eyes that continually glow
whispering on the winds breath:
“follow me” and again “follow me,
I have gifts to bequeath, ”
while ethereal they are in body
and come calling to claim the young and gay
in gestures that obscure the adult eye
trying to carry them away
under a brooding, dark black sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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