Quotes about peg, page 6
Preaching Vs Practice
It is easy to sit in the sunshine
And talk to the man in the shade;
It is easy to float in a well-trimmed boat,
And point out the places to wade.
But once we pass into the shadows,
We murmur and fret and frown,
And, our length from the bank, we shout for a plank,
Or throw up our hands and go down.
It is easy to sit in your carriage,
And counsel the man on foot,
But get down and walk, and you'll change your talk,
As you feel the peg in your boot.
It is easy to tell the toiler
How best he can carry his pack,
But no one can rate a burden's weight
Until it has been on his back.
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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2: 25 P.M. Roxas
there are things that do not jibe
round peg to a square hole for instance
birds that dive and fly in the belly of the sea
or fish that swim in the molten lava of the earth
us, for instance, is another thing
we have ceased to be human tired of the power of words in our lips
we should have kissed as often as we signify a love that does not change
but, we are some of these things that do not jibe at last
our dances have become awkward
people are watching and they just couldn't say it honestly that we have to stop
us, scarecrows
not scared but powerless over the vultures that feed on our flesh
over those birds that steal the grains of our youth
over time that is too cruel
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dear Father
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You've given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I've left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my buddies too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we've reached the beloved's house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
poem by Amir Khusro
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Leg Theory
Oh, what a pleasant game is life
When we are bravely batting
And glorying in skill and strife.
We scorn defensive patting
As Fate sends down the easy ones
We set the ball a-soaring
Straight to the fence and pile up runs
And go on scoring, scoring.
A week it lasts, a month, a year
Ten years if luck holds steady
No crafty trick may wake our fear,
For every move we're ready
No matter how the ball is bumped.
We are so sure, so clever
We can't be caught or bowled or stumped
We're set! We're in forever!
But comes a time, as I have found,
When in our carefree playing,
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Summer's Over
Mom where are you summer’s over
Are you still sitting at the beach?
In your short chair toes buried in the sand
Reading a book wearing your sunglasses
Summer is over won’t you come home?
I’m missing you and your smile
Let’s have a clambake or maybe burgers
Even better we could go to Tweet’s
Or maybe Peg Leg Pete’s
That way you won’t have to cook just enjoy
Summer is over won’t you come home?
I miss you Mom I wish I could see you
Or even just hear your voice
I didn’t even know you were sick
I wish I could have been there to say goodbye
To let you know I’ve always loved you
Summer has always been special to you and me
We always loved going to the beach
Summer’s over and I am very sad
You’re not coming home
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poem by Bonnie Brown
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Homogaybians
The homogaybians,
Admit to transcending...
Classifications of preferred sex.
With the opposite or the same.
And those of transgender bendings.
The homogaybians...
Are men and women satisfying needs.
And pleasuring themselves,
As if these are deeds to be done...
With any consenting one.
And those who still attempt to slot and peg...
Are finding themselves lost in these times,
Instead.
While homophobics are discovering their partners,
In bed.
And shocked by what they see.
Only to hear their cheating mates,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy New Year, ’10
Sing a song with youthful joy;
New Year marches gallantly;
Bring the cheer of great rejoice;
Welcome it undauntedly!
Ring out old and ring in new;
Forget all the past years’ woes;
String the kite and fly it high;
This is how life on earth goes!
Dance a tune most gracefully;
Rhythms enchant minds and hearts;
Drink a peg to health of all;
Let the spirit do more feats.
Smile and laugh until you cry;
This day comes once annually;
Kiss those dear and embrace ones,
Who matter most in life earthly!
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poem by John Celes
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Bilgeways Hold
(Bilgeways Hold)
Bilgeways hold. Boat 's atop the blocks
timber 's under the keel, the chain-bolts,
bumkins are hawling down the fore-tack
the timber daggers and the gun-deck oak.
Hours walk, I bonk the timber false heel,
incinerate tar to blusher upon main keel,
chocks of upper deck fay across the apron,
hammer the nails, arrest 'em 'n scout peg.
Sweat dribbles, hammer drops on dagger
drops trickle down the floor and swagger
my muscled arms rustle, bitter to befit
abridge the shafts scout and fix the bitts.
Brawn arms on sluggish job, head together
two strakes hooked, gunwales to foregather
as sinews work on manly effort and hoist
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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I have found my Valentine
Both of us by love chord bound,
End to end eternity surround(s) ,
In all births I have Him found,
Howsoever strange, it may sound.
Meeting of lips,
Love nectar sips,
All doubts clips,
In Oneness dips.
Since several births I am in His heart,
From birth to birth we never part,
In each birth new role we start,
But the truth is, we are One heart.
Waiting and yearning love waves generate,
Kisses and embraces its rhythm create,
Sense of duality in us eliminate,
Thus, we go on from date to date.
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poem by C.P. Sharma
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Dog, Actually
Don't waste your time calling my name
I'm far too busy to play your game
I'm sniffing a dog's bum and it's doing the same
Cos I'm a dog: and that's what dogs do
I'm very excited when it's time for my walk
The peg where my lead hangs I watch like a hawk
I'd shout 'Take me walkies! ' if only I'd talk
Cos I'm a dog: and that's what dogs do
I run down the garden chasing after my ball
I leap on my hind legs so I look rather tall
When food's being offered I'll respond to your call
Cos I'm a dog: and that's what dogs do
I'm quite young and active and love to play
And when evening comes by the fire I'll lay
I'd like to sleep on a bed but in my basket I'll stay
Cos I'm a dog: and that's what dogs do
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poem by Kevin Crinks
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