Quotes about haul, page 7
My Virtues
My virtues can be recorded by people,
Who are led on a regular basis by my own headship.
How does cruelty ever shine on a real basis
With cars to revolve on the Earth,
And windows to be shattered into pieces?
The accidents are numerous, as even the rituals
Speed up entertainment, the long haul concerned all.
My virtue converts into reality, it is blue as the whole sky
And forests over the moon are witnessed by the alien ones,
Their virtue carried pain, yet mine not.
There is meaning in places of under water as well,
For it is wet, it is dry, and never are there fish-people.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Only words fly
Only words fly
And about two planes a day
In this debating-hall of race.
Realities remain on earth.
I wish my mother were the sea
So I would weep for the faraway
Troubled sea on the crushing Cape shore
But I think I was of desert born
On the steppes of the city.
Desert meets me everywhere
With her spacious inspiration
To make love and create.
I am not afraid for children
The world is younger here
And would not haul them down:
This flood of time is still.
Rains chill me bad
Sun warms me up and pierces me
Where I am cold and sad.
[...] Read more
poem by Frank Bana
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Bye-Bye Modern World
We squeak, like pips. The pincers pinch us.
On one side, our puffy-fingered betters
Haul away what's ours, our wages and our
Pensions and our dignity. They'll capture
All, and, when they're done, we'll see
The hands of time have had a backward
Spin, and we, once yeomen, will be
Serfs, and, on our other side, the
Hollow-eyed and empty-headed ones
Who'd have us turn our backs to
Science and to any other thoughts
Which aren't provided by their God.
Toil! Worship! Starve and die! And,
If you find an idle moment, shed a tear
And squeak in sorrow for the things
We had before the pincers came,
And they were pinched.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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Shadow of Reflection
you have come to my sense
turning me round to see my future;
like droplets of dew in my midst,
roaring down my heart, in the shadow
of weird emotional distress
you even wish to talk yet!
you refuse to listen, where can I go then, than
to settle in my unknown silent of darkness,
just to find the way and my soul tremble to
capture your senses
you seem right at the first glance
and haul to carry my pain, such sweet
tenderness cried for laughter
until you embrace the night
goodbye
choose an easy way, as you never return
for you lay down my soul, forever difficult to
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Kaumaram-3
Palani-third of the six special
abodes of Lord Murugan
Those hosannas'Muruganukku arohara, Kandhanukku arohara'
Thine mightiness in 'Kaavadi' of Thine beneficence
Heightened Shivagiri, Shakthigiri on hauling up drumming
Evanesced now, divine Thine anger puerile
Won Thine fruit of Truth in ripened fruition
Devout Thine fanatics with ecstatic 'Aroharas'
O'Lord, behold, jiggling Thine abode
Humble Thine sentinel Idumban smothered
Thronging cheers of 'vel, vel, vetri vel'
Hail to Thine dulcet bliss of kingly presence
Why then this recluse..esconce in Thine golden charriot
We haul with 'Muruganukku Arohara, Kandhanukku Arohara'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Well I Wonder
Well I wonder why and when
Montage reeled, callosities peeled,
Wrathful flames ignited
From another's confusion
And flowers withered into oblivion
Well I wonder why and how
Do I haul myself from this labyrinthine limbo
And how and why would you tell me things
Tied on their ends with a riddle
Devoid of any answer
Well I wonder why and what
It takes to abjure this incarceration
And smear the fragrance on the floorboards
Where memories sprawled like blood
Blackening and drying everyday
Well I wonder, I wonder
Why I snooped in the latticing webs
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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America 2009
America has traded in his Mercedes
For a beat up, General Motors car.
It has a fender and door of different colors.
It leaks water, burns oil and won’t go far.
America is standing at unemployment,
all morning, just to see the clerk.
Diligently, he pursues positions,
along with millions looking for work.
America is loading up a U-haul.
His wife and kids are moving to their aunt’s.
A sign in the yard says “For Sale - Bank Owned”.
When he bought it, he didn’t stand a chance.
America is standing at an off ramp,
wearing jeans he bought at Goodwill,
a cardboard sign saying “Help my Family”,
collecting dollars from passing automobiles.
poem by John Lyday
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A Question Mark Seldom Sums Sweet Scented Rose
A question mark: love's spark? dark thoughts stark caught?
Quest or request? What wistful vista sketch
Uncertain decks fair face? Has some base wretch
Embarked upon seduction? Is change sought?
Sweet nothings? Transatlantic ticket bought
To guarantee dream destiny, wreath etch
In smiles, not care lines' sybilline twines? Fetch
Overseas another life well wrought?
Naught offers easy answer. Last resort?
Mortar, bricks, altar? Lonesome? Two mast ketch
A-sail upon life's tide? Short haul? Long stretch?
Reward? Loss taught? Eyes tender? taut? distraught?
Knowledge alone in rhyme flows, free verse, prose,
Seldom sums soft glows, sweet scented rose.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Raking Leaves
Look to the tallest tree
and see how the noon-day sun
glints through slender grey limbs
to where leafless Life contracts
to its tender core
(this year’s ring
complete)
and waits for winter’s storms.
Leaves lie,
golden harvest, luxuriant carpet
to kick and scatter like
brittle snow...
... years ago
playing through long autumn days,
we built castles and smashed them,
diving deep into fragrant mounds
as the incense of burn piles
filled the chilled air of November.
[...] Read more
poem by Steven Federle
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Nonsense Verses
1
THE Window has Four little Panes:
But One have I;
The Window-Panes are in its sash,—
I wonder why!
2
My Feet they haul me 'round the House:
They hoist me up the Stairs;
I only have to steer them and
They ride me everywheres.
3
Remarkable truly, is Art!
See—Elliptical wheels on a Cart!
It looks very fair
In the Picture up there;
[...] Read more
poem by Gelett Burgess
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