Quotes about haul, page 8
One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
[...] Read more
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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An Empty Hearth
Cold tiles mock my motionlessness
And the lashing ambers wavering in tempo.
Frost mourn crawls up with the misery
Knocking me tarnished a vacant chasm.
Severely loosen ties fell apart
Interlaced with fragile chastity
I fought to knot impoverished ends
To haul me out my drab incest.
Scorching emptiness atrophied my mind
As darkness devoured the muted home
The warmth of fire left the hearth
And all my senses had died along
I rolled my eyes of eternal child
To probe a dense and barren room;
Frilled wallpapers and absent figures
Yielded strength to form a storm.
A lone wolf astray the dark
Howling an octave of vital note.
Please vacate this lethal phase,
And leave my heart an empty room.
poem by Norman Santos
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Faded worm grows stronger
old decided to lose, generate new wisdom
for the young to conquer the world that
tickle every minds to the high of illusion that
unbelievable only the pleasure of vanity
reside
watch every step; try to walk seeing what is
beyond your feet can see; a bright light stump
always your clean feet, dirt’s seems snow like
ices you want haul in your little house in you
wiggle in your doorstep and tears like clouds
drops in your pinkest check, the given time is
meant not to bare the decided heart, only a
wish that sweat in you dreamy sky
the blink of the each eyes only ask a beautiful
good bye, wishing all the dream comes fast as
the worm grows faster and stronger at the end
of the day.....
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Runners Sing
The sledge sped across the hardening snow,
huskies in unison, strongly speeding
Bitter cold swirling winds, spitefully blow,
but no living thing gives any heeding.
Pounding along, sharp claws gripping the trail,
with tremendous fleetness they travel fast.
Like a freight train zooming off down the rail,
each fighting the freezing blizzard's full blast.
How powerful these dogs, what a stunning feat,
to haul a toboggan over such land.
With coats of thick fur that keep out harsh sleet,
ordered to fly at a humans command.
The runners sing as they kiss the smooth ice,
gliding so free, sending up stinging sprays.
Hurtling ever onwards, gone in a trice,
a sight astounding on bleak Winter days.
[...] Read more
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Music Is Breath Of Life For Life Artists
those in music for the long haul
are chime web symphony enchanted
because music is an inseparable
part of their intrinsic soul giving being
music is a timeless passion when you feel
reference kiwi artists Tim Finn, Dave Dobbyn
music is breath of life for life artists
music is timeless music which addresses
scale entrapment felt human conditions...
who we are where we are our societies
perceptions of our societies our realities
thinking mind does not outgrow curiosities
interactive sing gifted perceptions
music transforms through generations
insight life quickened mind survives
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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On a Roll On That Road
Seriously!
What is the need?
Let's get to the point,
And stop beating around the bush.
I am not a dentist.
You needn't fear I seek to pull your teeth.
Nor do I excite when I peel a banana.
If it is going to be made difficult,
For me to get...
Keep it.
I don't want it around.
Not me.
If I am going to be in it for the long haul...
That route better be as clear as possible.
I'll prepare for an infrequent storm.
But I am not going to head towards one...
With a wish to live it without an exit.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Saddest Photographs I: Library Picture
I can picture you
In the quietude of the library
Sauntering past the hulking shelves
With the grace and levity of a gypsy
And vague in the opalescent visage
Though you are scarcely touched
By the cascading fluorescent lights
Snooping through the grave of books
That conceals the picturesque vision
Of the dexterous infection of a smile
Whilst your nimble hands graze
The sleeping books on the case
And stir the stationary dusts
Into rippling mystical shards
Until you make your choice
And haul out your book supplely
Like picking up a wild tulip
Whilst I muse upon the scene
Inside a forlorn alley ensconced
In a book left ajar in my palms
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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Why Are You Surprised?
Tunisia, Egypt, Spain, Greece and others did protest
Economic enslavement perpetrated by global banks
Bloody wars, poverty and famine moved slowly West
So why are you surprised at U.S. joining protest ranks
ROTMS
Oct 8,2011
99% vs.1% - The Latest on Occupy Wall St. Movement: 853 Cities Across the World Shoring Up for the Long Haul...
“It's Day 21 of Occupy Wall St. (#OWS) , a movement that has inspired Americans all over the country to fight Wall St.'s assault on their political and economic rights. Wednesday, in the biggest action yet, over 20,000 people marched in Lower Manhattan. Occupations have sprung in hundreds of cities all over the country. Occupy Wall Street is only getting bigger.”
poem by Ray Lucero
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From Gehinnom
From Gehinnom to the middle class
they moved, and they became
a memory collectively of mass
destruction, living flame,
the Holocaust that some of us now call
the Shoah and, like divers,
plumb depths to find their traces and to haul
wrecked hulls that lack survivors.
Leon Wieseltier, addressing The Jewish Center in Los Angeles on Yom Ha'Shoah,5758, asks: 'Who are the survivors? They are the ones who may dispense with collective memory, because they rely on personal memory.' He says of the survivors: 'They went from Gehenna to the middle class...and we must bow our head to their normalcy. For it is a spiritual achievement, one of the greatest spiritual achievements in the history of our people.'
11/7/98
poem by Gershon Hepner
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War the nightmare
‘Tis not a holy war,
Criminals are fooling all.
No one is playing fair,
Haul, growl and foul....
Earth is no less a bower/
To keep own sovereignty
Making sky touching tower
And destroy others dignity/
Nothing is permanent in nature
Friend or foe or lover../
Yester year's fort
Today's dilapidated ghostly
Monuments my dear/
O Hiroshima and Nagasaki!
Thy agony is a historical cover
War is not a solution at all
Peace and peace, we must call
Disarm all, before the humanity fall/
Never seen animal making
A killing machine,
[...] Read more
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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