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Misreckoning is no payment.

German proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Somebody's Got To Make A Payment Back

Advances given,
Aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back,
If this is part of a contract.

Advances given,
Aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back,
If this is part of a contract.

Selling one's soul to obtain an image.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.
Selling one's soul to be adored.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.
Selling pieces of a heart will eliminate its beating.
With a defeating of a tortured soul.
And once that's sold the mind goes.

Advances given aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.
Advances given aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.

Selling one's soul to be adored.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.
Selling pieces of a heart will eliminate its beating.
With a defeating of a tortured soul.
And once that's sold the mind goes.

Advances given aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.
Advances given aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back.

Advances given,
Aren't given to forgive.
Somebody's got to make a payment back,
If this is part of a contract.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One More Payment

Aint that the way the luck goes
Seems like it never can be found
Break my back to make those bank notes
Payin on an almost always broken down
Fix that car nine ways to sunday
And it wont start again when monday rolls around
Aint that the way the rent goes
Seems like its never goin down
And that bankers bound to foreclose
At this rate, Ill lose my interest in this town
Paint the walls mend the windows
bout the time the roof comes crumblin to the ground
Ive been footin the bill for some time
Stretchin my credit out of line
Well I may not get ahead but now I wont be far behind
Ive got one more payment and its mine
Were gonna swing it
Aint that the way the heart goes
Seems they just attack without a sign
My minds been on vacation
And my bodys been workin overtime
But Ive done all that I can do
Theres just one more balance due before its mine
Ive been footin the bill for some time
Step by step and line by dotted line
Well I havent bought the farm yet
But Im not that far behind
Ive got one more payment and its mine
One more payment and its mine
One more payment and its mine
One more
One more
One more

song performed by Clint Black
Added by Lucian Velea
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Karma spayment

Uh-oh down low
I am not who I want to be
I probably will not ever be
I drove my car june 14th
I drove it right down the street
I had not had any sleep
So I ate minithins to stay awake
You crashed your car right into me
There was two days I didnt sleep
Uh-oh downlow
I am not who I want to be
I probably will not ever be
I took a trip down to california
Karma payment plan
My car broke down out in the street
The radiator sprung a leak
I met this guy he said he could help me
Im on the karma payment plan
We went to his house and did some speed
He said karma would pay for this deed
He got it fixed and he started to scare me
I ditched him eventually
And came back for the car
The next morning
Im on the karma payment plan
I went to la the next day I got
Jacked in a real bad way
I cant tell you
Its a long story

song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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Brownies

The Brownie is a magical, mysterious little creature,
With brown, wrinkled skin, and haggard looking features.
He will adopt a house and will do many of the chores,
From running little errands, to sweeping all the floors.

A Brownie will happily finish off any leftover task
For their chosen master, without ever being asked.
The Brownie is indispensable, and he will be the one
Who carries out all the tasks, which are left undone.

These hard-working men, who often resemble waifs,
Will watch over farm animals and will keep them safe.
In return for their labour, they do not expect any money:
Just a bowlful of cream, and a cake spread with honey.

They will readily accept payment in the form of food,
But any other form of payment is considered rather rude.
If, as a form of payment, brand new garments are received,
The offended Brownie is very likely to up sticks and leave.

The chances are that, when you're tucked up in bed sleeping,
The Brownie is busy mending, cleaning, or in the field reaping.
These funny looking, little men appear at the dead of night:
They happily work all night long, but are gone before daylight.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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White mine worker’s song (in answer to Don Mattera)

At their jobs beneath spinning wheels
next to yellow mine dumps
and the small train track
after non-payment of many months salaries
people’s lives cannot now turn back
while the mine owners are black

as a man takes the last sight
of the stars gleaming above him
before he hangs himself
on the tree in his garden
only death welcomes him
as he has lost any way
of making a living…

[References: “Mine worker’s song” by Don Mattera. “Num spokesman Lesiba Seshoka said in a statement on Thursday that the union was outraged at hearing Aurora’s commercial director Thulani Nogbane telling the committee that all Num-affiliated members at Grootvlei and more than 80% at Aurora’s Orkney mine had been paid...Aurora director Zondwa Mandela told the committee that illegal miners, acid mine drainage and the termination of a water pumping subsidy by the Department of Mineral Resources as well as involvement by the trade unions Num and Solidarity, were to blame for the mine’s cash flow problems…”Num is pleased that a successful application by the department to obtain another compliance order has been handed down, ” said Seshoka, adding that this should force Aurora to pay outstanding salaries. Solidarity’s Helping Hand project visited the NG Kerk (Dutch Reformed Church) Strubenvale, Thursday providing struggling workers with much-needed food hampers, as well as feedback on the portfolio committee meeting. Aurora management has declined to speak to the press.” The Springs Advertiser Wednesday,20 April 2011.

“The need for aid to workers of Aurora Gold East Rand is stronger than ever, following the recent suicide of Marius Ferreira. Fifty-two-year-old Ferreira, a respected fitter in the mine for many years, gave in to the pressures of ongoing non-payment of salaries over the past 18 months. Taking his own life by drinking ant poison, he passed away at Far East Rand Hospital on March 29, along with the last inkling of dignity and pride he once possessed. A loving father and husband, Ferreira’s death devastated those who knew him – most of all his wife, Susan. A resident at a retirement village in Krugersrus, Susan’s struggle to come to terms with her husband’s death has only being heightened by the ongoing struggles that she is now forced to face alone. “They went from a comfortable living – Marius earning on average R16000 a month depending on overtime – to one of pure struggle, ” explains a close family member, who prefers to remain anonymous. “They were forced to sell everything. They were forced to move to the retirement village as they could no longer afford the house they were in. They lost their cars and were eventually at the point where they even had to sell their bed linen and cutlery just to put food on the table, ” she adds. Ferreia’s death appears to have sparked a string of potential suicides, with no end to their seemingly never-ending struggle in sight. Johan Cronje and his wife Chané*, together with their three children; aged 11,10 and six; are on the same dark road as Ferreira – Johan having attempted to take his own life no less than three times on Thursday evening. “I was busy in the kitchen when I went looking for Johan. I found a rope tied on a noose already set up outside, ” explains Chané. Calming her husband down, Chané kept a weary eye on him through the night – not daring to sleep for fear of waking up to find his lifeless body. He attempted to hang himself twice more that night. “We were comfortable once. Never would we have expected to find ourselves in such a position, ” says 32-year-old Chané, tears threatening to break. A qualified winding engine driver,36-year-old Johan’s R18000 salary allowed Chané to fulfil her role as a full-time housewife at their Groot Vlei Village home, caring for their two sons and daughter. Losing their vehicles, furniture, dignity and hope as salary problems persisted. Johan’s failed attempts to find alternative work is considered the main reason for his suicide attempts…The couple is R48000 in arrears on their home, recently receiving a eviction notice. Chané says that the last payment received from Aurora was at the end of January – a meagre R1800,10% of one months salary.” The Springs Advertiser Wednesday,11 May 2011. ]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Manufacturers Of Garments In Thirupur (TamilNadu-India)

The manufacturer of hosiery garments
has got the name 'Supplier' from the buyers of garments.
He has to procure dyed or undyed yarn,
for making garments with charming designs,
embroidered or printed at the front and back.
Knitting, dyeing, compacting, washing and padding,
the Supplier arranges to do, to bring the streakless fabric.
My God! He remains sleepless in tension, till
the cutting, stitching, checking, ironing and packing are over.
The frets and worries cast him down for ever.
Borrowed loans lie in wait to bury him deep in agony.

Dare not launch on this business after sixty
as the merchandiser keeps you within the factory
and earns his commissions doing outdoor work.
He brings in his own men and women to work
and blackmail the Supplier demanding increased wages,
for the workers, whose welfare he always talks aloud.
His nifty talk and wide knowledge in all areas of work
make the Supplier build castles for earning huge profit.
He will dig the Supplier's grave in stages and land him in perils.
The company's profit will be zero but the merchandiser's swells.
He will be pushing his hands into his pockets
to help the Supplier at times of need.
When penury seizes the Supplier, he will be readily suggesting:
' Give the company to someone on lease'.

The buyers warn you to finish the work in time
Or else face debit or discount in the payment.
The tailors in booze spoil the work and work no overtime.
Checking women too work at a snail's pace
demanding enhanced rates for tea, tiffin, …
The Quality Checkers from the buying office assail the Supplier
with words of insult and take out the packed garments
for rectifying, re-ironing and packing, accumulating the loss.
Inspections in the end by opening the carton boxes
shatters the heart of the Supplier with alarms of loss.
A canny Supplier can ward off the loss but lack of basics
in this field will drown him and make him bite the dust.
A tenacious man can stand if financial backing is sound.
The Supplier can't give up the business in the middle
as the predicaments will be hard to surmount.

'Hey! You newcomer to the business.
Don't do job-work to big companies.
They will delay the payment for more than a year or cheat you
and drive you out of Thirupur in an overnight.
What you pay instantly to the workers
won't be coming to your accounts from the big companies,
who with a lot of clout are merciless in denying payment

[...] Read more

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Unbelievable

(al anderson/jeffrey steele)
(track 5 - time 2:21)
Shes so kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable
Shes a mouthful of anything and everything a man could want
She aint typical, shes unpredictable, shes available, its a miracle
How my heart stumbled into someone so kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable
Up til now my life has been so lonely and boring
I never thought I would find someone so
Elegant, intelligent, heaven sent, all my money spent
I put a big down payment on that itty bitty diamond ring
Shes so beautiful, its indisputable, its undeniable, shes got-to-havable
Shes music to my ears, and makes my heart sing, so kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable
Theres so many things
I want to tell her
Like I love her
But every time I talk
I start to stutter
Shes so elegant, intelligent, heaven sent, all my money spent
I put a big down payment on that itty bitty diamond ring
Shes so beautiful, its indisputable, its undeniable, shes got-to-havable
Shes music to my ears, and makes my heart sing, kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable
Kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable
Kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable

song performed by Diamond Rio
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rising Sun

On the street of villains taken for a ride
you can have the devil as a guide
crippled by the boundaries, programmed into guilt
'til your nervous system starts to tilt.
And in the room of mirrors you can see for miles
but everything that's there is in disguise
every word you've uttered and every thought you've had
is all inside your file, the good and the bad.
But in the rising sun you can feel your life begin
universe at play inside your DNA
you're a billion years old today
oh the rising sun and the place it's coming from
is inside of you and now your payment's overdue
oh the rising sun, oh the rising sun.
On the avenue of sinners I have been employed
working there 'til I was near destroyed
I was almost a statistic inside a doctor's case
when I heard the messenger from inner space
he was sending me a signal that so for long I had
ignored
but he held on to my umbilical cord
until the ghost of memory trapped in my body mind
came out of hiding to become alive.
And in the rising sun you can hear your life begin
and it's here and there nowhere and everywhere
though it's atmosphere is rare
oh the rising sun and the place that it's coming from
is inside of me and now I feel it constantly
oh the rising sun, oh the rising sun, oh the rising
sun.
But in the rising sun you can feel your life begin
universe at play inside your DNA
you're a billion years old today
oh the rising sun and the place it's coming from
is inside of you and now your payment's overdue
oh the rising sun, oh the rising sun, oh the rising
sun.

song performed by George Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blank Misgivings of a Creature moving about in Worlds not realised

I

Here am I yet, another twelvemonth spent,
One-third departed of the mortal span,
Carrying on the child into the man,
Nothing into reality. Sails rent,
And rudder broken,—reason impotent—
Affections all unfixed; so forth I fare
On the mid seas unheedingly, so dare
To do and to be done by, well content.
So was it from the first, so is it yet;
Yea, the first kiss that by these lips was set
On any human lips, methinks was sin—
Sin, cowardice, and falsehood; for the will
Into a deed e’en then advanced, wherein
God, unidentified, was thought-of still.

II

Though to the vilest things beneath the moon
For poor Ease’ sake I give away my heart,
And for the moment’s sympathy let part
My sight and sense of truth, Thy precious boon,
My painful earnings, lost, all lost, as soon,
Almost, as gained: and though aside I start,
Belie Thee daily, hourly,—still Thou art,
Art surely as in heaven the sun at noon;
How much so e’er I sin, whate’er I do
Of evil, still the sky above is blue,
The stars look down in beauty as before
It is enough to walk as best we may,
To walk, and sighing, dream of that blest day
When ill we cannot quell shall be no more.

III

Well, well,—Heaven bless you all from day to day!
Forgiveness too, or e’er we part, from each,
As I do give it. so must I beseech
I owe all much, much more than I can pay;
Therefore it is I go; how could I stay
Where every look commits me to fresh debt,
And to pay little I must borrow yet I
Enough of this already, now away!
With silent woods and hills untenanted
Let me go commune; under thy sweet gloom,
O kind maternal Darkness, hide my head
The day may come I yet may re-assume
My place, and, these tired limbs recruited, seek
The task for which I now am all too weak.

[...] Read more

poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Litany

FIRST ANTIPHONE.
ALL the bright lights of heaven
I will make dark over thee;
One night shall be as seven
That its skirts may cover thee;
I will send on thy strong men a sword,
On thy remnant a rod;
Ye shall know that I am the Lord,
Saith the Lord God.

SECOND ANTIPHONE.
All the bright lights of heaven
Thou hast made dark over us;
One night has been as seven
That its skirt might cover us;
Thou hast sent on our strong men a sword,
On our remnant a rod;
We know that thou art the Lord,
O Lord our God.

THIRD ANTIPHONE.
As the tresses and wings of the wind
Are scattered and shaken,
I will scatter all them that have sinned,
There shall none be taken;
As a sower that scattereth seed,
So will I scatter them;
As one breaketh and shattereth a reed,
I will break and shatter them.

FOURTH ANTIPHONE.
As the wings and the locks of the wind
Are scattered and shaken,
Thou hast scattered all them that have sinned,
There was no man taken;
As a sower that scattereth seed,
So hast thou scattered us;
As one breaketh and shattereth a reed,
Thou hast broken and shattered us.

FIFTH ANTIPHONE.
From all thy lovers that love thee
I God will sunder thee;
I will make darkness above thee,
And thick darkness under thee;
Before me goeth a light,
Behind me a sword;
Shall a remnant find grace in my sight?
I am the Lord.

[...] Read more

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Free At Last.

Free at last from the yolk of dept
Unlike the gambler who chooses to make another bet
In future before you sign, think, not so fast
Times gone you'd save, but that's in the past
Those offers that are too good to be true
Before long they've snared you
When your financial advisor makes it easy to get your cash
He'll slink away with glee as he increases his stash
No one held a gun to your head
You simply wanted some quick bread
Free at last, no more watching for each statement
No more counting each payment
After all these years of constant drip
With no chance of a payment to miss
The end is in sight and also your pain
So, in future, think and think again.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Spring Song II

THE spring is here, and the long nights grow
Less bitterly cold than awhile ago;
Our rags serve their purpose now, and keep
Warmth enough in us to let us sleep.
The rain that trickles down our walls
No longer seems to freeze as it falls;
There was dust, not mud, on our feet to-day;
There's some green in a flower-pot over the way;
The sky-strip over the court's changed hue,
From dull yellow-grey to clear grey-blue;
Through our broken windows no more the storm
Laughs and shrieks as we try to keep warm,
But through dusty panes the long sunbeams peer,
For the spring is here.

Small joy the greenness and grace of spring
To grey hard lives like our own can bring.
A drowning man cares little to think
Of the lights on the waves where he soon must sink.

The greenest garments the spring can wear
Are black already with our despair:
Earth will be one with us soon--shall we care
If snow or sunshine be over us there,
Or if wintry the world be we found so drear,
Or if spring be here?

In the western half of our Christian town
The Winter only pretends to frown,
And when his undreaded rage is done,
The 'London season' they say is begun.
With wine, feast, revelling, laugh and song,
The hours rose-garlanded dance along,
The whirl of wickedness wilder grows
In this western camp of our bitter foes;
They fight with each other--the victors take
The largest share of the wealth we make;
They spend on their horses, their women, their wives,
The money wrung from our blasted lives:
It is theirs to enjoy--it is ours to pay.
Do they never dream of a reckoning day,
When the lives they have wrecked shall be counted up,
And measured the blood that has brightened their cup,
When we who have worked shall take payment due,
And they for their work shall have payment too?

[...] Read more

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Iliad: Book 21

Now when they came to the ford of the full-flowing river Xanthus,
begotten of immortal Jove, Achilles cut their forces in two: one
half he chased over the plain towards the city by the same way that
the Achaeans had taken when flying panic-stricken on the preceding day
with Hector in full triumph; this way did they fly pell-mell, and Juno
sent down a thick mist in front of them to stay them. The other half
were hemmed in by the deep silver-eddying stream, and fell into it
with a great uproar. The waters resounded, and the banks rang again,
as they swam hither and thither with loud cries amid the whirling
eddies. As locusts flying to a river before the blast of a grass fire-
the flame comes on and on till at last it overtakes them and they
huddle into the water- even so was the eddying stream of Xanthus
filled with the uproar of men and horses, all struggling in
confusion before Achilles.
Forthwith the hero left his spear upon the bank, leaning it
against a tamarisk bush, and plunged into the river like a god,
armed with his sword only. Fell was his purpose as he hewed the
Trojans down on every side. Their dying groans rose hideous as the
sword smote them, and the river ran red with blood. As when fish fly
scared before a huge dolphin, and fill every nook and corner of some
fair haven- for he is sure to eat all he can catch- even so did the
Trojans cower under the banks of the mighty river, and when
Achilles' arms grew weary with killing them, he drew twelve youths
alive out of the water, to sacrifice in revenge for Patroclus son of
Menoetius. He drew them out like dazed fawns, bound their hands behind
them with the girdles of their own shirts, and gave them over to his
men to take back to the ships. Then he sprang into the river,
thirsting for still further blood.
There he found Lycaon, son of Priam seed of Dardanus, as he was
escaping out of the water; he it was whom he had once taken prisoner
when he was in his father's vineyard, having set upon him by night, as
he was cutting young shoots from a wild fig-tree to make the wicker
sides of a chariot. Achilles then caught him to his sorrow unawares,
and sent him by sea to Lemnos, where the son of Jason bought him.
But a guest-friend, Eetion of Imbros, freed him with a great sum,
and sent him to Arisbe, whence he had escaped and returned to his
father's house. He had spent eleven days happily with his friends
after he had come from Lemnos, but on the twelfth heaven again
delivered him into the hands of Achilles, who was to send him to the
house of Hades sorely against his will. He was unarmed when Achilles
caught sight of him, and had neither helmet nor shield; nor yet had he
any spear, for he had thrown all his armour from him on to the bank,
and was sweating with his struggles to get out of the river, so that
his strength was now failing him.
Then Achilles said to himself in his surprise, "What marvel do I see
here? If this man can come back alive after having been sold over into
Lemnos, I shall have the Trojans also whom I have slain rising from
the world below. Could not even the waters of the grey sea imprison
him, as they do many another whether he will or no? This time let
him taste my spear, that I may know for certain whether mother earth

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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The Iliad: Book 5

Then Pallas Minerva put valour into the heart of Diomed, son of
Tydeus, that he might excel all the other Argives, and cover himself
with glory. She made a stream of fire flare from his shield and helmet
like the star that shines most brilliantly in summer after its bath in
the waters of Oceanus- even such a fire did she kindle upon his head
and shoulders as she bade him speed into the thickest hurly-burly of
the fight.
Now there was a certain rich and honourable man among the Trojans,
priest of Vulcan, and his name was Dares. He had two sons, Phegeus and
Idaeus, both of them skilled in all the arts of war. These two came
forward from the main body of Trojans, and set upon Diomed, he being
on foot, while they fought from their chariot. When they were close up
to one another, Phegeus took aim first, but his spear went over
Diomed's left shoulder without hitting him. Diomed then threw, and his
spear sped not in vain, for it hit Phegeus on the breast near the
nipple, and he fell from his chariot. Idaeus did not dare to
bestride his brother's body, but sprang from the chariot and took to
flight, or he would have shared his brother's fate; whereon Vulcan
saved him by wrapping him in a cloud of darkness, that his old
father might not be utterly overwhelmed with grief; but the son of
Tydeus drove off with the horses, and bade his followers take them
to the ships. The Trojans were scared when they saw the two sons of
Dares, one of them in fright and the other lying dead by his
chariot. Minerva, therefore, took Mars by the hand and said, "Mars,
Mars, bane of men, bloodstained stormer of cities, may we not now
leave the Trojans and Achaeans to fight it out, and see to which of
the two Jove will vouchsafe the victory? Let us go away, and thus
avoid his anger."
So saying, she drew Mars out of the battle, and set him down upon
the steep banks of the Scamander. Upon this the Danaans drove the
Trojans back, and each one of their chieftains killed his man. First
King Agamemnon flung mighty Odius, captain of the Halizoni, from his
chariot. The spear of Agamemnon caught him on the broad of his back,
just as he was turning in flight; it struck him between the
shoulders and went right through his chest, and his armour rang
rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground.
Then Idomeneus killed Phaesus, son of Borus the Meonian, who had
come from Varne. Mighty Idomeneus speared him on the right shoulder as
he was mounting his chariot, and the darkness of death enshrouded
him as he fell heavily from the car.
The squires of Idomeneus spoiled him of his armour, while
Menelaus, son of Atreus, killed Scamandrius the son of Strophius, a
mighty huntsman and keen lover of the chase. Diana herself had
taught him how to kill every kind of wild creature that is bred in
mountain forests, but neither she nor his famed skill in archery could
now save him, for the spear of Menelaus struck him in the back as he
was flying; it struck him between the shoulders and went right through
his chest, so that he fell headlong and his armour rang rattling round
him.
Meriones then killed Phereclus the son of Tecton, who was the son of

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Delighted Attachments

Dreams I feed I keep unbroken.
Timeless are my wishes.
Age has removed them from possibility.
I thought in my youth with limitation,
And speed to reveal desires concealed.
To rush into reality.
To please what I thought then...
Was a success I had to show!
But those 'successes' expired...
With each payment that would grow.
I did not wish my dreams attached,
To payment plans and acceptance.
I needed to accomplish what I inside...
Would hide but someday show!
And even though I wept to fulfill them...
The dreams I feed I keep unbroken,
I see!
But I did not expect,
Them to come with delighted attachments...
And a joyfulness I would release,
Showing a smile wide...
And everyone all of my teeth!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hope

The spirit killeth, but the letter giveth life.
The week is dealt out like a hand
That children pick up card by card.
One keeps getting the same hand.
One keeps getting the same card.
But twice a day -- except on Saturday --
The wheel stops, there is a crack in Time:
With a hiss of soles, a rattle of tin,
My own gray Daemon pauses on the stair,
My own bald Fortune lifts me by the hair.
Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox
Still laughs the postcard, Hope:
Your uncle in Australia
Has died and you are Pope,
For many a soul has entertained
A Mailman unawares --
And as you cry, Impossible,
A step is on the stairs.
One keeps getting the same dream
Delayed, marked "Payment Due,"
The bill that one has paid
Delayed, marked "Payment Due" --
Twice a day, in rotting mailbox,
The white grubs are new:
And Faith, once more, is mine
Faithfully, but Charity
Writes hopefully about a new
Asylum -- but Hope is as good as new.
Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox
Still laughs the postcard, Hope:
Your uncle in Australia
Has died and you are Pope,
For many a soul has entertained
A mailman unawares --
And as you cry, Impossible,
A step is on the stairs.

poem by Randall Jarrell
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Willaloo

By E. A. P.
In the sad and sodden street,
To and fro,
Flit the fever-stricken feet
Of the freshers as they meet,
Come and go,
Ever buying, buying, buying
Where the shopmen stand supplying,
Vying, vying
All they know,
While the Autumn lies a-dying
Sad and low
As the price of summer suitings when the winter breezes blow,
Of the summer, summer suitings that are standing in a row
On the way to Jericho.
See the freshers as they row
To and fro,
Up and down the Lower River for an afternoon or so—
(For the deft manipulation
Of the never-resting oar,
Though it lead to approbation,
Will induce excoriation)—
They are infinitely sore,
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme
Up and down the way to Iffley in an afternoon or so;
(Which is slow).
Do they blow?
'Tis the wind and nothing more,
'Tis the wind that in Vacation has a tendency to go:
But the coach's objurgation and his tendency to 'score'
Will be sated—nevermore.
See the freshers in the street,
The elite!
Their apparel how unquestionably neat!
How delighted at a distance,
Inexpensively attired,
I have wondered with persistence
At their butterfly existence!
How admired!
And the payment—O, the payment!
It is tardy for the raiment:
Yet the haberdasher gloats as he sells,
And he tells,
'This is best
To be dress'd
Rather better than the rest,
To be noticeably drest,
To be swells,
To be swells, swells, swells, swells,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
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Parson Turell’s Legacy

OR, THE PRESIDENT'S OLD ARM-CHAIR

A MATHEMATICAL STORY

FACTS respecting an old arm-chair.
At Cambridge. Is kept in the College there.
Seems but little the worse for wear.
That 's remarkable when I say
It was old in President Holyoke's day.
(One of his boys, perhaps you know,
Died, _at one hundred_, years ago.)
He took lodgings for rain or shine
Under green bed-clothes in '69.

Know old Cambridge? Hope you do.--
Born there? Don't say so! I was, too.
(Born in a house with a gambrel-roof,--
Standing still, if you must have proof.--
'Gambrel?--Gambrel?'--Let me beg
You'll look at a horse's hinder leg,--
First great angle above the hoof,--
That 's the gambrel; hence gambrel-roof.)
Nicest place that ever was seen,--
Colleges red and Common green,
Sidewalks brownish with trees between.
Sweetest spot beneath the skies
When the canker-worms don't rise,--
When the dust, that sometimes flies
Into your mouth and ears and eyes,
In a quiet slumber lies,
_Not_ in the shape of umbaked pies
Such as barefoot children prize.

A kind of harbor it seems to be,
Facing the flow of a boundless sea.
Rows of gray old Tutors stand
Ranged like rocks above the sand;
Rolling beneath them, soft and green,
Breaks the tide of bright sixteen,--
One wave, two waves, three waves, four,--
Sliding up the sparkling floor.

Then it ebbs to flow no more,
Wandering off from shore to shore
With its freight of golden ore!
Pleasant place for boys to play;--
Better keep your girls away;
Hearts get rolled as pebbles do
Which countless fingering waves pursue,
And every classic beach is strown

[...] Read more

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Crippled by Knowledge

The wayward way of thinking has always been: “Son, I want you to go to college, graduate with a degree so you will have the education to secure a well-paying job. You know back in my day, I was able to go to college, so I want to make sure you have every opportunity to! ”

The inevitable downfall: The rise in college tuition, along with the decrease in federal aid for working middle class families’, students and their parents are placed under enormous pressure in paying back mass amounts of student loan debt.

The vicious cycles remains: Parents could not afford college for themselves ' Parents want better for their kids ' Parents struggle daily and sacrifice their home, their livelihood to ensure their child will have the opportunity at a college education ' Casting a dark cloud over the excitement of their child’s graduation - Four years in a state school and one bachelors degree later ' Parents are faced with a $500 a month student loan payment ' Their son will begin paying on his portion of the loan next month.

The pleasures in being a working middle class family in today’s society. Parents who in the course of hard work and determination established careers with little to no higher education, providing and making the ends meet. Nevertheless, no tuition grants or federal aid for their hopeful first generation college student. “Son, we make too much money for you to qualify for grants. I know who would think a daily struggle is equivalent to making too much money. It is simply loans for us, and I'm not sure we can afford the $568 a month payment. I guess we will manage like we always have. I sure didn't foresee this worry and grief when I just wanted better for you.'

His son, an elementary school teacher in a low-socioeconomic urban school district has hopes that each and every child in his classroom will have the opportunity to pursue higher education. Thoughts of his monthly struggle on a state teacher’s salary to make ends meet and pay back his student loans, escape him every time he walks into the classroom full of young minds craving to learn.

The children we raise and educate today are the minds that will drive our society into the 21-century. Must you realize you are sacrificing the well-being our nation and placing the future of our society in jeopardy to only have history repeat itself. Senators, congressmen, lawyers and lobbyists almost certainly would not have had the opportunity to be where they are now without the support and devotion of their underpaid and overworked school teachers. Everyday leaders such as school teachers and their hard working families do not deserve the crippling burden of outrageous monthly student loan payments when the end goal is to simply further their education in order to influence and guide the society that will lead our nation’s future.

If educators take a primary role in being the driving force behind a society of accountable well-informed people; I can only help to wonder if serving in our nation’s military can pay back student loans, why can’t serving in our nation’s classrooms pay back student loans.

© 2010 April Michelle

poem by April Michelle
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I had learned to respect the intelligence, integrity, creativity and capacity for deep thought and hard work latent somewhere in every child they had learned that I differed from them only in years and experience, and that as I, an ordinary human being, loved and respected them, I expected payment in kind.

quote by Sybil Marshall
Added by Lucian Velea
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