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Linux Songs Poems
Fortune: 15 - 24 of 719 from Linux Songs Poems
Linux Songs Poems: 15 of 719 |
A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than the pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often pleases
By giving people strange diseases.
Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?
You probably contain a germ.
-- Ogden Nash
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 16 of 719 |
A pig is a jolly companion,
Boar, sow, barrow, or gilt --
A pig is a pal, who'll boost your morale,
Though mountains may topple and tilt.
When they've blackballed, bamboozled, and burned you,
When they've turned on you, Tory and Whig,
Though you may be thrown over by Tabby and Rover,
You'll never go wrong with a pig, a pig,
You'll never go wrong with a pig!
-- Thomas Pynchon, "Gravity's Rainbow"
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 17 of 719 |
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all Heaven in a rage.
-- Blake
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 18 of 719 |
A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.
Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.
-- Genesis, "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway"
I don't know what it's about. I'm just the drummer. Ask Peter.
-- Phil Collins in 1975, when asked about the message behind
the previous year's Genesis release, "The Lamb Lies Down
on Broadway".
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 19 of 719 |
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet--
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
-- Dorothy Parker, "One Perfect Rose"
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 20 of 719 |
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
-- William Blake
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 21 of 719 |
A-Z affectionately,
1 to 10 alphabetically,
from here to eternity without in betweens,
still looking for a custom fit in an off-the-rack world,
sales talk from sales assistants
when all i want to do is lower your resistance,
no rhythm in cymbals no tempo in drums,
love's on arrival,
she comes when she comes,
right on the target but wide of the mark...
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 22 of 719 |
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
-- James Henry Leigh Hunt, "Abou Ben Adhem"
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 23 of 719 |
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow's ground
Is too uncertain. And futures have
A way of falling down in midflight,
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth
And you learn and learn
With every goodbye you learn.
-- Veronic Shoffstall, "Comes the Dawn"
| | | Linux Songs Poems: 24 of 719 |
After all my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Just because it perished?
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay
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