Quotes about cherry, page 12
The Legend Of The Horseshoe
WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth,
Unknown, despised, of humble birth,
And on Him many a youth attended
(His words they seldom comprehended),
It ever seem'd to Him most meet
To hold His court in open street,
As under heaven's broad canopy
One speaks with greater liberty.
The teachings of His blessed word
From out His holy mouth were heard;
Each market to a fane turn'd He
With parable and simile.
One day, as tow'rd a town He roved,
In peace of mind with those He loved,
Upon the path a something gleam'd;
A broken horseshoe 'twas, it seem'd.
So to St. Peter thus He spake:
"That piece of iron prythee take!"
St. Peter's thoughts had gone astray,--
[...] Read more
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Milking Time
There's a drip of honeysuckle in the deep green lane;
There's old Martin jogging homeward on his worn old wain;
There are cherry petals falling, and a cuckoo calling, calling,
And a score of larks (God bless 'em) . . . but it's all pain, pain.
For you see I am not really there at all, not at all;
For you see I'm in the trenches where the crump-crumps fall;
And the bits o' shells are screaming and it's only blessed dreaming
That in fancy I am seeming back in old Saint Pol.
Oh I've thought of it so often since I've come down here;
And I never dreamt that any place could be so dear;
The silvered whinstone houses, and the rosy men in blouses,
And the kindly, white-capped women with their eyes spring-clear.
And mother's sitting knitting where her roses climb,
And the angelus is calling with a soft, soft chime,
And the sea-wind comes caressing, and the light's a golden blessing,
And Yvonne, Yvonne is guessing that it's milking time.
Oh it's Sunday, for she's wearing of her broidered gown;
And she draws the pasture pickets and the cows come down;
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
When Life Is Not A Drama
When life is not a drama or
a comedy, it’s farce that though we try we can’t ignore
when falling on our arse.
When people hear this in a rumor,
often quite distorted,
it stimulates their sense of humor
as soon as it’s reported.
Embarrassment like this becomes
for us the bottom line
that’s cherished by our so-called chums
who love to see us whine,
and though they seem to sympathize
once we have bruised our butt,
they really laugh and analyze
the farce’s final cut
that’s edited to show how we
at best are merely clowns,
and really cannot wait to see
the mirth of our meltdowns.
[...] Read more
poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Stravinsky's Three Pieces
First Movement
Thin-voiced, nasal pipes
Drawing sound out and out
Until it is a screeching thread,
Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutting,
It hurts.
Whee-e-e!
Bump! Bump! Tong-ti-bump!
There are drums here,
Banging,
And wooden shoes beating the round, grey stones
Of the market-place.
Whee-e-e!
Sabots slapping the worn, old stones,
And a shaking and cracking of dancing bones;
Clumsy and hard they are,
And uneven,
Losing half a beat
Because the stones are slippery.
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Come To Me In Rags Of Blue Fire
Come to me in rags of blue fire, you, muse, you,
the gardenia face on the other side of the black gate
whose ancient spears are tipped with the taste
of wounded moons and iron roses; do not be swayed
by the blossoms on the cherry bridge,
or why the shadows of the brick children
on the walls of atomic decisions
haven’t been signed by the artists; give up
your fixation for amateur comet-watching in the rain
and come to me, touch me, hold me, consume me
in the flames of your igneous dispositions,
pierce me with stars, tear me on the thorns of your light,
as you have loved me in revery, distress, and tears,
as you have loved me in horror and humiliation
and then yourself lain down with me
in the mass graves of the student guitars
that were raped and murdered in the limelights
of the show-bizz army trucks,
antidotes weeping all night from the crescent of your kinder fang
to keep my heart alive like a toad in winter,
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Letter From A Friend
kombanwa!
Tommorow is my day off.
It's not a busy time now at the office.
So I take one day off a week.
Our busy times are in May, August, and year end.
You know, we used to be superbusy a couple of years ago.
My boss is a workaholic.
He has no other life but his company.
My officemates frequently worked overtime.
I could get away from it because of my children.
Then, maybe, because of overwork, he almost dropped dead!
Since then, medyo nagaan ang among load.
I hope she is feeling better now.
Medicine/Science has progressed a lot these days,
and age is really no longer a big obstacle now to childbearing.
I have a cousin in Australia.
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Macbreath
A Tragedy as Played at Ryde**
Macbreath Mr Henley
Macpuff Mr Terry
The Ghost
ACT I
TIME: The day before the election
SCENE: A Drummoyne tram running past a lunatic asylum.
All present are Reform Leaguers and supporters of Macbreath.
They seat themselves in the compartment.
MACBREATH: Here, I'll sit in the midst.
Be large in mirth. Anon we'll all be fitted
With Parliamentary seats.
(Voter approaches the door.)
There's blood upon thy face.
VOTER: 'Tis Thompsons's, then.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
cherry tree (English and Japanese)
-Good morning sir!
To the man
who blocked her way
a little child said.
-Good morning
and good day
to you my girl!
May I ask some questions
dear?
-Dont know sir..Yes..Words..
I do not fear
-Are you alone?
-Maybe, don't know..
you may say so, sir
my parents gone
to clouds for so long..
[...] Read more
poem by Elena Sandu
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Passing Perpetual Cemeteries En Route To The Eventual Wedding
Like a salt seasoned
chain smoking
speakeasy sleuth:
A mind's eye Sam Spade -
too tired to care, sporting a shadowy
jungle growth of shipwrecked
castaway facial hair,
tongue lapped by the sailor's briny thirst,
I prematurely snuff out my cigarette,
pick up my trusty sidekick pen,
pocket traveling notebook and survey the room.
Suspicious sundry of circumstance and motive
outlining the alcohol enthralled milieu
As I write, a pale citrine curious
beam of clean lemon light
illuminates the paper thin margins;
empty space uniting each individual word;
second hand smoke upwreathes in
casual succession rising and dissipating,
rising and dissipating
[...] Read more
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Ryton Firs
The Dream
All round the knoll, on days of quietest air,
Secrets are being told; and if the trees
Speak out — let them make uproar loud as drums —
'Tis secrets still, shouted instead of whisper'd.
There must have been a warning given once:
No tree, on pain of withering and sawfly,
To reach the slimmest of his snaky toes
Into this mounded sward and rumple it;
All trees stand back: taboo is on this soil. —
The trees have always scrupulously obeyed.
The grass, that elsewhere grows as best it may
Under the larches, countable long nesh blades,
Here in clear sky pads the ground thick and close
As wool upon a Southdown wether's back;
And as in Southdown wool, your hand must sink
Up to the wrist before it find the roots.
[...] Read more
poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!