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I will undoubtedly have to seek what is happily known as gainful employment, which I am glad to say does not describe holding public office.

quote by Dean Acheson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Woman Has A Role

Stealing is gainful but is bad in law.
Stealing one’s wife is worse and harsh in blow.
Unlike the stolen things, which are mute,
Women in adultery have a role to play.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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In-between life and death

In-between life and death
Let's not resign another breath
Plentiful with a full-pail gainful

Reach up into ends rainbow
Catch that butterfly's coattail..?
Never just be left in "shadow".

poem by Mark Heathcote
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As a member of Congress, I believe it is the responsibility of those elected to represent the people at every level of government to ensure that our government works to ensure that every person who wants gainful employment has it.

quote by Leonard Boswell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gifts From Men

Gifts of men are framed on the wall,
In there is pride and sand and snow.
Why do celestial beings approach us when asleep
And form a coalition with themselves.
We have now crossed the great divide
And bled a normal life,
When do the deities atop refuse our animation?
Why are the bestowals?
We are apoplectic, disgraced by friendships
As much as Hell is on this ground.
Gifts to these idols are not gainful,
For it is manifest.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Pain Is Gain.

Pain is like rain. Though painful, yet gainful. For pain's sake we're abused, for pain's sake we get refused, yet for pain's sake love is diffused.

No pain, no gain. Nothing good comes easy. Still, in pain one feels dizzy. Dizzy with desire, dizzy with passion, dizzy and busy. Pain is gain, it's a stain that disappears with time. Although not all pain is gain, all rain is gain and pain is rain.

Pain is rain, for it touches all men in the open and in chains. After rain comes sun, after dark comes dawn, after pain comes gain.

poem by Darlington Chukwunyere
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Me And Wine

I want my tea as much as wine,
Happy farm of fascination;
These liqueurs converge as liquids
Scorning the very rituals so blessed by some.
They exasperate me as far as heaven,
Yielding rapid results, gainful memories
So helpful to convergence, the reality.
Illicit markets never sell too many liqueurs,
Incurable illnesses diverge filling the glasses.
A silhouette of a man tends to be interesting
Like the goal of civilisation.
Tea and coffee are not the wines in cups
That taste, and blend into more liquid.
The happy farm we concentrate upon
Is the happiest one by far.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

poem by John Donne
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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side

Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

poem by John Donne
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Holy Sonnet 11

Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinn'd, and sinne', and only He,
Who could do no iniquity, hath died.
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety.
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
O let me then His strange love still admire;
Kings pardon, but He bore our punishment;
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire,
But to supplant, and with gainful intent;
God clothed Himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.

poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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