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When you’ve made a mistake, admit it and humbly seek forgiveness. You should be quick to say, “I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Dave Willis in The Seven Laws of Love: Essential Principles for Building Stronger Relationships
Added by Micheleflowerbomb
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

U R Wrong

u were wrong... so wrong.. uh uh uh huh uh.
u were wrong dead wrong.. uh uh uh whoaaaaaaa
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
verse1: can i take you back to happy times..
oh oh oh uh oh
everyday was paradise.. dinner and candle lights
oh oh oh uh oh
i never thought you'd change i didn't expect no games
i wanted you to bare my child i wanted you to have my last name
now we was right we was wrong
i really don't care cuz i gotta move one
i'm gone be a man about it
the headache i can live without it
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
verse2: now i admit sometime i make mistakes..
oh oh oh mmmhmmmm
the responsibility of this household was your to take
"well"
i gave you the keys to the range.. broke you off a lil bit of change
ain't no need to explain.. your gonna miss a good thang
and when it's gone away i ain't got time to play
women you had a chance a chance to stay baby baby
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
i picked you up when you were down( when your luck ran out.. baby yes i did)
i took you in when theyput you out ( do you remember that cold monday morning?)
i treated you kids like they was mine( i ain't even they real damn daddynononnono )
when you were dim i made you shine( i was the diamond in your life baby)
chorus: Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
can i break it down fora mineut baby
tell you.. why your wrong
you were wrong staying out all night
coming in sloppy drunk baby
and you were wrong for letting your friend direct your mind
and you were wrong for running up my credit card
and you were wrong for everything you've done to me.
(chorus)
ain't no explination this time.

song performed by 3pc
Added by Lucian Velea
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As Previously Advantaged, Now Disadvantaged

we are humbly sorry that our ancestors
sailed with ships from Europe
to discover other continents,
putting their intelligence and advanced
technology into good practice,
discovering the Cape of Good Hope
and developing this country
to the best of their ability and knowledge
while your ancestors migrated from the big lakes
in central Africa, under chief Dlamini
from eMbo killing the other local inhabitants
as far as they were going,
even wiping them out after they had settled.

We are humbly sorry that our ancestors
took you from the bush, tried to teach you
Christian values and a Christian religion,
instead of worshiping to ancestral spirits,
dead stones of which you believe the silence
have greater meaning and more depth
than any other teachings,
tried to teach you to earn a living
by planting crops, maintaining and herding cattle
instead of pillaging, robbing and killing others,
instead of trapping, killing animals,
with sticks, stones and iron spears.

We are humbly sorry that our ancestors
took the wild bush as pioneers
planned and developed
farms, towns and cities, mines, factories,
the infrastructure that are in them,
developed water resources,
electrical powering and laid railway lines,
developed the roads,
the harbors and airports that link them
to each other and the rest of the wide world,
which you now view as belonging to you,
to at your discretion take over by force
from the people to whom they did belong,
to rob, kill and pillage property
to rename airports, harbors, streets,
towns and cities at your own discretion.

We are humbly sorry that our ancestors
after fighting victoriously against yours
at Blood River and in other wars and battles
respected you as people living in this country,
did not like the Americans and Australians
go out to wipe you out of the country,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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If You Ever Make a Mistake

If you make a mistake,
Admit it.
And get it right out of your way.
Don't you ever fake it to escape.
Believing what is done is okay!

If you ever make a mistake,
Just admit it!
And get it out of the way.
Don't you ever fake it to escape...
That mistake someday you'll repay!

There's no need for moaning or groaning,
Over what's been done.
No one lives a perfect life,
Under the Sun!

Alibis are like houseflies.
They begin to annoy.
And habits are like pests when invited...
They are hard to destroy.

Even if you hit 'em with a bat...
They come right back!

If you make a mistake,
Admit it.
And get it right out of your way.
Don't you ever fake it to escape.
Believing what is done is okay!

If you ever make a mistake,
Just admit it!
And get it out of the way.
Don't you ever fake it to escape...
That mistake someday you'll repay!

Strap in that saddle and take that ride.
Admit that mistake made,
And push it aside!

'Okay, okay, okay!
So I made a mistake.
So what's the big deal? '

~Getting you to admit it! ~

If you make a mistake,
Admit it.
And get it right out of your way.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Admit This

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.
Since we all admit this...
You can!

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.
Since we all admit this...
You can!

Opened minds,
Feel free to be...
Opened minds,
With a truth that's seen.

Opened minds,
Feel free to be...
Opened minds,
With a truth that's seen.

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.
Since we all admit this...
You can!

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.
Since we all admit this...
You can!

You don't have to hide behind,
All your lies.
Nor minimize with alibis.

Why can't you just admit this?
We can.

All you need to do is internalize.
And don't compromise with another disguise.

Why can't you just admit this?
We can.

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.
Since we all admit this...
You can!

If it is admitted.
And they did admit it.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Forgive You

(Shut up)
For all the anguish,
And degradation
For every time I needed truth
And you were faithless
But disappointment, self-deprecation
But living a lie for fantasize and you could save me
I need my cross like a blanket
And misery is comfort
I can hardly stand to blame myself for filling prophecy on you
And in the end I decided
I guess I felt I deserved it
I should kiss your dirty lips for bringing me my clarity
And how did you just make me see?
How your lies have buried me
But I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
So I
I feel so high
Just let it go we would
I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
So I
(Shut up)
For all the torment
Loss of independence
For disrespect, carelessness with my emotions
For all the screams I swallow
How a soul is hollow
For giving into temptation
For making me feel like a cheap replacement
And how did you just make me see
How your lies have buried me
But I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
Cos I
I feel so high
Just let it go we would
I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
Cos I
All the lies that I believed
And all the guilt you make me feel
Cos I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
Cos I
Ohh I feel so good just letting go
You know I feel good now you're gone
Getting stronger, letting go
Getting stronger, I'm moving on

[...] Read more

song performed by Darren Hayes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Other Man

(ian hunter)
I forgive you when you cant look straight into my eye
I forgive you when you never want to hold my hand
I forgive you cause youre all Ive got and I love you
But Ill never forgive the other man
I forgive you even though I know the secret you keep
I forgive you even though you dont give a damn
I forgive you cause deep inside youre part of me
But Ill never forgive the other man
Somewhere in the night hes calling
And somewhere in your heart youre falling
Ill forgive you when you stay out late and you never phone
Ill forgive you even though Ill never understand
Ill forgive you cause youre all Ive got and I love you
But Ill never forgive the other man
Somewhere in the night hes calling
And somewhere in your heart youre falling
Ill forgive you when you stay out late and you never phone
Ill forgive you even though Ill never understand
Ill forgive you cause youre all Ive got and I love you
But Ill never forgive the other man
No, Ill never forgive as long as I live
No, Ill never forgive the other man
I said Ill never never never forgive
No, Ill never forgive the other man

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forgiveness

Forgiveness is an act that works through God;
Forgiveness is an act of God in man;
Forgiveness is the work of God’s great love;
Forgiveness is an art that man must learn!

Men with good sense will restrain their anger;
Such men defer their anger for long times;
To forgive transgressions is man’s glory;
To hold one’s tongue is done by people smart.

Forgiving is an act almost divine;
Forgiving is something not all can do;
Forgiving someone is too tough at times;
Forgiving fully is done by just few!

To preach is easy; forgiving is tough;
Forgiving is an honor of men wise;
If God should forgive us, we must forgive;
Like God, we must be slow to anger too.

‘Forgive those who sin against us, ’ tells Christ;
To gain God’s forgiveness, we must then, first;
There is no limit to forgive someone;
Forgiveness is a virtue Jesus taught.

One who forgives has no revenge in heart;
One who forgives has no hate from the start;
‘Forgive and God will forgive you, ’ says Lord.
Forgiving plants the seed of love of God.

When all are sinners, forgiveness is prime;
By doing so, we gain the love of God;
Through forgiveness, our tolerance will grow;
For prayers to be heard, forgive right now!

A man with grudge is like a fruitless tree!
Grudge can stand in-between you and heaven!
Spare no occasion of forgiving men;
Judge not others but show mercy on them!

We turn like God when we forgive others;
Forgiving earns more souls for God, brothers!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-13-2009

poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Heart Of The Matter

I got the call today, I didnt wanna hear
But I knew that it would come
An old, true friend of ours was talkin on the phone
She said youd found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside loves open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, Im learning again
Ive been tryin to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
These times are so uncertain
Theres a yearning undefined
And people filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that lead to happiness
Theyre the very things - we kill I guess
Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesnt keep me warm
Im learning to live without you now
But I miss you, baby
And the more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought Id figured out
I have to learn again
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you dont love me anymore
There are people in your life whove come and gone
They let you down you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on
You keep carryin that anger; itll eat you up inside, baby
Ive been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter

[...] Read more

song performed by Don Henley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Right The Wrong

An indian woman buried her grampa in the black hills
When she was young he used to tell her
That these hills belonged to her still
And even though injustice took them hills away
One day well get them back, he said
And the suns gonna shine that day
When we say, right the wrong
Before she laid him down to rest
She heard his voice in the wilderness
Sayin I got six feet of it back
And now we can right the wrong
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Did you hear the one about the boy just 17
Three years hard time for stealing ice cream
First offence and all his dreams are gone
How long before they right the wrong?
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Right the wrong
2, 3, uh
1, 2, 1-2, come on
(right the wrong baby)
Far be it from me to say
It seem like we could stop the flow of snow in the sky today
But I guess the weather man he likes the rain
Aint that insane
Now sing
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame?
(come on, come on, come on)
Did you hear me baby?
Right the wrong
Im 6 feet in the grave
Im 6 feet in the grave
(right right, right right)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Frankie and Johnnie

Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."

"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."

Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"

Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,

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poem by Anonymous
Added by Poetry Lover
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Frankie and Johnnie

Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,
O, my Gawd, how they could love,
They swore to be true to each other,
As true as the stars above;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie was a good woman,
As everybody knows,
Gave her man a hundred dollars,
To get him a suit of clothes;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie and Johnnie went walking,
Johnnie in his bran' new suit,
"Oh, my Gawd," said Frankie,
"But don't my Johnnie look cute?"
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to Memphis,
Went on the morning train,
Paid a hundred dollars,
Got Johnnie a watch and chain;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie lived in a crib-house,
Crib-house with only two doors,
Gave her money to Johnnie,
He spent it on those parlour whores;
He was her man, but he done her wrong.

Frankie went down to the corner,
Went for a bucket of beer,
She said, "Oh, Mr. Bar-tender,
Has my loving Johnnie been here?
He is my man, and he's done me wrong."

"I won't make you no trouble,
I won't tell you no lie,
But I saw Johnnie an hour ago
With a girl named Nellie Bly;
He is your man, and he's doing you wrong."

Frankie went to the hock-shop,
Bought her a big forty-four,
Aimed that gun at the ceiling,
Shot a big hole in the floor;
"Now where's my man that's doing me wrong?"

Frankie went down to the hook-shop,
Looked in at a window so high,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
Added by Poetry Lover
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Its Wrong Apartheid

The wretchedness of satans wrath
Will come to seize you at last
cause even he frowns upon the deeds you are doing
And you know deep in your heart
Youve no covenant with god
cause he would never countenance people abusing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
The pain you cause in gods name
Points only to yourself to blame
For the negative karma you will be receiving
cause when people are oppressed
With atrocities that test
The future of all mankind we, the world wont stand seeing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Ubuqaba babo bucacile
Woqamba kuze kucace
Ngoba nosathane uyabugxeka
Lobuqaba
Oh, freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Say it again
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, its coming
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Oh, the whole world is with us
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
Say it again
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Hold on tight, cause were with you
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Oh, oh, oh, freedom is coming, yeah, yeah, yeah,
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, yeah
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
Freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight

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song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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S[t]alking Mirror Sestina - CV in hand

CV in hand through contest I would stalk,
ILLEgitimate undertaking I admit,
Lightly through the rhyme scheme let me walk,
I subtle sense within sestina fit,
Stalking pseudo is not hard to talk,
Away for those with golden goblet lit

CV of charming nymph will o’ wisp lit
ILLEgible to most seems simple stalk,
Lightly pen traces, hears the table talk,
I see the comments – praises all admit,
Stalking may be fun - together fit,
Away from prying eyes will life-lines walk.

CV few APe, divine, her verse I’d walk
ILLEgal act for gaol or goal bright lit?
Lightly linking her name to my fit
I root acrostic in sestina stalk,
Stalking talking balking not – admit,
Away with critics and their jealous talk.

CV masks beauty more than my trite talk.
ILLEcebrous attractive and alluring walk,
Lightly stroking peerless miss admit,
I find no other muse as charming lit,
Stalk king if she queen Stork to nest add stalk
A way I’d find to offer homage fit.

CV seems perfect. Could another fit?
ILLEcebrum around swan neck would talk
Lightly of love I bear for stem and stalk,
I cannot stem, so, in pursuit I walk,
Stalking close by inspiration lit,
Away she’ll never slip all must admit.

CV in hand my errors I’ll admit
ILLEist I’m never, should hat fit,
Lightly I’d wear it, with her smile love-lit,
I vaunt her emblem, on none else would talk,
Stalking kitten purring I, cat, walk,
Away from idols past – she bloom, I stalk!

All here admit one Muse should stalk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,
Her praise I talk, with trophy walk.

.............................

Her praise I talk, with trophy walk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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You Know Where You Went Wrong

(tennant/lowe)
---------------
Two men on the street
Drinking something cheap
No home, no family
Its cold, nowhere to sleep
Passers-by never catch their eye
Anywhere, one man drinks, the other swears
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
The old man cant understand
No one will shake his hand
I gave security, bombs and colour tv
It cost a few lives
Someones son always dies
No one shakes his hand
He dont understand
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
This is the history of the world
Of every boy and every girl
Who dont understand whats going on anymore
The history of the world
Of every boy and every girl
Who dont understand whats going on anymore
(whats going on? )
Two girls have a photograph
One looks, the other laughs
He could have been mine
Why did I change my mind?
Then hands on hips
The other girl says: admit! admit!
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
You know where you went wrong
You know where you went wrong
(aaaah) you know
This is the history of the world (of the world)
Of every boy and every girl
Who dont (who dont) understand (understand)
Whats going on anymore (whats going on? )

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song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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