Quotes about paddy, page 9
Demon voice
he tells me to fight not to walk away
he tells me to scream not to talk rational
he tells me to hate not to forgive
he tells me destroy not to create
he tells me to give in
he tells me to kill
he knows i'm getting weaker
he knows it's almost his time
he knows he will be free
he knows he will have fun
he knows it will be a bloody ride to the end
he knows the end is death and so do i
poem by Paddy Jansen
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Silence
better start talking to a wall
she doesn't talk to me at all
still no answer no matter what i say
but stil i wait for it all day
in the beginning we were great
i thought i found my soulmate
but your tearing my soul apart
a block of ice replaced my heart
why won't u let me hear ur voice
seems like u leave me no choice
with pain i say we have to part
and thanks for ripping out my heart
poem by Paddy Jansen
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A Day in the Life of Paddy Murphy, Broker
Riding home on the train, Paddy's aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
He'll fear nothing then
till noon the next day when
the question will rise all over again.
If his luck holds, he'll survive
the ride home on the train, aware
that after supper, cigarettes, TV and beer
a romp on the wife will cloak
the question for another day.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Humans
free to walk the earth
but trapped forever
in there own fears
consuming all they are
till there's none left
no willpower, no needs
no, nothing just fear
they end up soulless
just an empty shell
of there former beeing
like a cocoon breaking
and releasing a butterfly
so will they bloom again
to rise to there top
then it starts
all over again
[...] Read more
poem by Paddy Jansen
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Lost
seconds, minutes and hours passing me by
forgot what day it is again today
just wanne lie down and die
what must i do to change my way
i can't enjoy anything
for me it's always just another day
it's hard to change but i know it's not right
then again why should i
i need a reason to keep fighting this fight
my whole life feels like a endless stream
of rain filled with pain
will i ever again believe in a dream
poem by Paddy Jansen
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What Will Mubarak Legacy Be?
A generous humble
meek shinning sinless
man of peace bestowing
freedom seeds of peace
upon beloved people like
liberator Mahatma Gandhi?
Egypt scenes incredible
Mubarak uses horses camels
an enduring not endearing
attack globally televised piece
stoning Egyptian protesters will irk
displeasure brutality paddy not trendy.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in February 2011 on the 8.2.2011.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The beauty for an individual human being
The beauty for the cultivating land is attributed
to be paddy and sugarcane plantations;
The beauty for the pond is the
presence of widespread lotus flowers;
The beauty for the chaste womanhood
is the inherent bashfulness in her behaviour;
The beauty for an individual human being,
- said to come for the praise in his afterlife -
is the virtue by which he lived and gained
in the society! - (naanmaNik katikai 9)
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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A Dream
i found a poem that touched my heart
it talks about a beautifull dream
can this be the glue for a soul torn apart
with friends enjoying sun and sand
seeing an angel standing
with a bluching face she waves her hand
my heart pounds hard and it feels great
we talk and time stops
i tell my friends i found my soulmate
or is it just something i want it to be
i just can't believe
a dream like that will ever happen to me
poem by Paddy Jansen
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The End
insomnia finally got me going insane
wished i could blow out my brain
would u miss me or cry if i did try
or like everyone else would u lie
no matter what i do or how i feel
all of it is a dream and none of it seems real
my soul is tired and shatterd apart
nothing left but pain in my heart
loving u is all i want to do
like everything else it's not true
so let's just stop the pretend
and be honest say this is the end
poem by Paddy Jansen
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Politics
Their hobby is politics
Like
The kind of a mother-in-law
Emblemed by a pedestal-sickle
Or a burning stove
And a father-in-law
Emblemed by holding a crushed rosebud..
Their norms and ideals are green
Like
The kind of the flavouring, favouring mint field
Or the kind of a paddy field
Greenish, fleeceable, reaped seasonally seasoned
And politics is creased black and white
Like a crushed news-paper
And all the good 'in-laws sparsely noted
poem by Indira Renganathan
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