10 Things I Hate About You
I hate the way you talk to me.
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare,
I hate your big dumb combat boots.
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick-- it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh -- even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it that you're not around.
And the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you - - not even close,
not even a little bit, not even at all.
I love the movie and the poem is really good
---
Hidden Pictures
A voice to make the angels cry;
Crystal gems falling from the sky.
Hidden in the pounding rain;
Hide thy self and never gain.
A smile to put a goddess to shame;
Hide thy face, disgrace thy name.
Cloaked in impending doom;
Locked away in my safe room.
Never seen and never heard;
Almost gone, like an endangered bird.
A form to disgrace a syrin's own;
Deep red blood and brittle bone.
Thrown into a black heep,
Where I sing myself to sleep.
Stelth and blood-lust, all just me;
Eyes and style for crowds to see.
Grace of a model, head full of philosophy;
Locked box with a missing key.
A creature from fantasy?
Nope. A stunning, twisted picture of me.
---
Untitled
A fearie with icicles in her hair is singing tonight
With a new joy so profound
Like flowers flowers bursting into bloom
Or loosed balloons floating off the ground
Joy like rain after a summer drought
Or the first frigid snowflake in a child's mouth
A fearie with icicles in her hai is happy tonight
A baby in her arms and a song in her heart.
I can't figure out a name for this one. Everything seems like a cliche.
---
Follow Your Dream
Follow your dream,
Wherever it leads,
Don't be distracted,
By less worthy needs...
Shelter it, nourish it,
Help it grow,
Let your heart hold it,
Down deep, where dreams go.
Follow your dream,
Pursue it with haste;
Life is to precious,
To fleeting to waste...
Be faithful, be loyal,
Then all your life through,
The dream that you follow,
Will always come true
* By funky farm
---
A SAD GIRL
People look at me
They think they know me
They dont know me
Know one knows me
I close my heart
I cap my eyes
Behind this face a sad girl crys
I cry silently and secretly
So know one can see
So know one can ever see
The real me as the tears roll down
I ask myself why
Why is it that the sad girl must cry
Why is it that I musnt cry
As if a sin to cry
So I hide so she crys
No one knows that behind this face
A sad girl lies
She lies to everyone but mainly herself
Behind my face a sad girl crys
By: Jess212holla
---
My Best Friend
You are my Angel,
My grace and my wings.
I am a puppet,
And you are my strings.
You are my sidekick,
My partner in crime.
I am near broke,
And you are my dime.
You are my companion
My reliable life line.
I am always your Best Friend.
And you are are always mine
*QTPi18*
---
Fairy Land
Dim vales - and shadowy floods -
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane -
Again - again - again -
Every moment of the night -
Forever changing places -
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down - still down - and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be -
O'er the strange woods - o'er the sea -
Over spirits on the wing -
Over every drowsy thing -
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light -
And then, how deep! - O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like - almost anything -
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before -
Videlicet, a tent -
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
My tribute to Edgar Allan Poe.
---
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Another Edgar Allen Poe tribute. He is my favorite poet. biggrin
---
Friends
Written with a pen, sealed with a kiss,
If you are my friend, please answer me this:
Are we friends, or are we not?
You told me once, but I forgot.
So tell me now, and tell me true,
So I can say "I'm here for you."
Of all the friends I've ever met,
You're the one I won't forget.
And if I die before you do,
I'll go to Heaven and wait for you,
I'll give the angels back their wings
And risk the loss of everything.
There isn't a thing I wouldn't do,
To have a friend just like you!
I found it!!
I hate the way you talk to me.
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare,
I hate your big dumb combat boots.
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick-- it even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you're always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh -- even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it that you're not around.
And the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you - - not even close,
not even a little bit, not even at all.
I love the movie and the poem is really good
---
Hidden Pictures
A voice to make the angels cry;
Crystal gems falling from the sky.
Hidden in the pounding rain;
Hide thy self and never gain.
A smile to put a goddess to shame;
Hide thy face, disgrace thy name.
Cloaked in impending doom;
Locked away in my safe room.
Never seen and never heard;
Almost gone, like an endangered bird.
A form to disgrace a syrin's own;
Deep red blood and brittle bone.
Thrown into a black heep,
Where I sing myself to sleep.
Stelth and blood-lust, all just me;
Eyes and style for crowds to see.
Grace of a model, head full of philosophy;
Locked box with a missing key.
A creature from fantasy?
Nope. A stunning, twisted picture of me.
---
Untitled
A fearie with icicles in her hair is singing tonight
With a new joy so profound
Like flowers flowers bursting into bloom
Or loosed balloons floating off the ground
Joy like rain after a summer drought
Or the first frigid snowflake in a child's mouth
A fearie with icicles in her hai is happy tonight
A baby in her arms and a song in her heart.
I can't figure out a name for this one. Everything seems like a cliche.
---
Follow Your Dream
Follow your dream,
Wherever it leads,
Don't be distracted,
By less worthy needs...
Shelter it, nourish it,
Help it grow,
Let your heart hold it,
Down deep, where dreams go.
Follow your dream,
Pursue it with haste;
Life is to precious,
To fleeting to waste...
Be faithful, be loyal,
Then all your life through,
The dream that you follow,
Will always come true
* By funky farm
---
A SAD GIRL
People look at me
They think they know me
They dont know me
Know one knows me
I close my heart
I cap my eyes
Behind this face a sad girl crys
I cry silently and secretly
So know one can see
So know one can ever see
The real me as the tears roll down
I ask myself why
Why is it that the sad girl must cry
Why is it that I musnt cry
As if a sin to cry
So I hide so she crys
No one knows that behind this face
A sad girl lies
She lies to everyone but mainly herself
Behind my face a sad girl crys
By: Jess212holla
---
My Best Friend
You are my Angel,
My grace and my wings.
I am a puppet,
And you are my strings.
You are my sidekick,
My partner in crime.
I am near broke,
And you are my dime.
You are my companion
My reliable life line.
I am always your Best Friend.
And you are are always mine
*QTPi18*
---
Fairy Land
Dim vales - and shadowy floods -
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane -
Again - again - again -
Every moment of the night -
Forever changing places -
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down - still down - and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be -
O'er the strange woods - o'er the sea -
Over spirits on the wing -
Over every drowsy thing -
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light -
And then, how deep! - O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like - almost anything -
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before -
Videlicet, a tent -
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
My tribute to Edgar Allan Poe.
---
The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
Another Edgar Allen Poe tribute. He is my favorite poet. biggrin
---
Friends
Written with a pen, sealed with a kiss,
If you are my friend, please answer me this:
Are we friends, or are we not?
You told me once, but I forgot.
So tell me now, and tell me true,
So I can say "I'm here for you."
Of all the friends I've ever met,
You're the one I won't forget.
And if I die before you do,
I'll go to Heaven and wait for you,
I'll give the angels back their wings
And risk the loss of everything.
There isn't a thing I wouldn't do,
To have a friend just like you!
I found it!!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Welcome to Quadrent L!
L for lyrics!! This is where I'll put my songs, which have been growing in number recently.
Untitled
With summer closing in,
A new world to begin,
Summer closing in
I watch you watch her
And I just know that
With summer closing in
A new world to begin
Summer closing in
I just know it, I just know it
We are at our end
With Summer closing in
We are at the end
And I know that you--
Are waiting for me to know-it-too--
So I just say that
With summer closing in
A new world to begin
And with summer closing in
We are over, we are over
And this is so the end.
With summer closing in
A new world to begin
And with summer closing in
The music starts and the music stops
And the world finishes it's spin
With summer closing in
A new world to begin
And with summer closing in
I'm ready to spin
With summer closing in
A new world to begin
And with summe rclosing in
A new world yet again
With summer closing in
This is so the end.
-This song is really fast. Well, not really fast for some people, but for me, it totally is. I like writting slow, angry songs.
