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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 7:58:29 GMT 10
As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [All the world’s a stage] William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616
Jaques to Duke Senior
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 8:02:55 GMT 10
“All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.” ― Seán O'Casey
“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.” ― William Shakespeare, King Lear
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 8:05:01 GMT 10
Roses are red, violets are blue Prep with me, and I’ll prep with you. We’ll make it fun, and make it nice We’ll store some beans, and store some rice. We’ll share our stories of how we prep, We’ll plan it out, for our next step. We’ll trade some jokes, and share some laughter “Here, put these cans above the rafter”. We know something’s coming, but know not what We plan to sit, or move our butt. We have our plans, supplies, and tools We have our pages, sites, and schools. We’ve all prepared as best we can, We’ve stacked and stored, all we could stand. We planned it out as best we could. Let history record how close we stood.
Some call us nuts, or paranoid We stack it tight, filling every void. They didn’t feel that, they should prep No food or water had they kept.
Now food we eat, and quench our thirst While they experience all the worst. We tried to tell them, of the need But now we only wish God’s speed.
From the heart and mind of Preparing with Dave
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 8:43:16 GMT 10
by Les Murray,
The Merchants' Wheel
Now human means transcend All human measure And pile up wealth To impoverish the heart,
Men trace the heights of fear The depths of pleasure, Now human means transcend all Human measure,
Simply to channel this Blind wave of treasure Regardless what bonds Its bright streams wrench apart.
Now human means Transcend all human measure And pile up wealth To impoverish the heart.
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Res-Q
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Post by Res-Q on Aug 29, 2014 9:32:49 GMT 10
INVICTUS
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
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Post by You Must Enter A Name on Aug 29, 2014 12:43:29 GMT 10
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 16:17:03 GMT 10
You Will Never See Me Fall
© Joyce Alcantara
You may see me struggle but you won't see me fall. Regardless if I'm weak or not I'm going to stand tall. Everyone says life is easy but truly living it is not. times get hard, people struggle and constantly get put on the spot. I'm going to wear the biggest smile even though I want to cry. I'm going to fight to live even though I'm destined to die. and even though it's hard and I may struggle through it all. you see me struggle...you will NEVER see me fall.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 16:20:06 GMT 10
For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted; They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 16:39:10 GMT 10
Muhammad Ali
Me? Whee!
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Post by You Must Enter A Name on Aug 29, 2014 17:12:04 GMT 10
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Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 17:24:27 GMT 10
I thought 'the shortest poem in the world' actually was written 'Me, we' so I too am confused ..
It's just a bit of fun when M. Ali was asked to do a poem in front of some audience back in the day. Or is it a serious poem written by someone else- not too sure?
Originally I thoughtthe poem went: "Me, we." Meaning,'Here I am and oh look here we are,... oh joy hallelujuh" sort of thing as in it was a spiritual awakening type of poem.
I dunno,... the new version you responded to seems even more fun so it all adds up to a bit of fun I suspect. Mike Tysons coach used to go over the old boxing champions strengths and weaknesses and said M. Alis strength was his character..
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wolfstar
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Post by wolfstar on Aug 29, 2014 17:56:23 GMT 10
*shrugs* I got it? It's philosophy at its finest
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Post by You Must Enter A Name on Aug 29, 2014 22:16:06 GMT 10
I thought 'the shortest poem in the world' actually was written 'Me, we' so I too am confused .. It's just a bit of fun when M. Ali was asked to do a poem in front of some audience back in the day. Or is it a serious poem written by someone else- not too sure? Originally I thoughtthe poem went: "Me, we." Meaning,'Here I am and oh look here we are,... oh joy hallelujuh" sort of thing as in it was a spiritual awakening type of poem. I dunno,... the new version you responded to seems even more fun so it all adds up to a bit of fun I suspect. Mike Tysons coach used to go over the old boxing champions strengths and weaknesses and said M. Alis strength was his character.. You continue to amaze me.
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remnantprep
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People do not exist for the sake of governments!
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Post by remnantprep on Aug 29, 2014 23:08:01 GMT 10
William Shakespeare - To be, or not to be (from Hamlet 3/1)
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. - Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2014 17:32:41 GMT 10
*shrugs* I got it? It's philosophy at its finest - brevity is the soul of wit they say... I actually told my nephew to tell his year 2 teacher that and ask if he can go straight to year 3.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 30, 2014 17:39:05 GMT 10
whoah, 'ol Bill ay!!!
I like the short ones because I can understand them... the understandable ones that is,
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." - William Shakespeare
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remnantprep
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Post by remnantprep on Jan 30, 2015 17:02:17 GMT 10
Some poems I read today that I thought were relevant to preparing! Both are by a fellow named Saxby Pridmore!!
Us
Let us escape together From this point in time.
There's food in the cupboard Just toss some in a back-pack
and let's go together. There must be more to life than plenty.
Harrington Richardson
Thunder from his gun Sent a leaping hare Spinning in the air.
He broke it. Smoke wisp with The sting of fire-crackers And lob-bobbed a new load in.
There was no knife. Sandpaper fingers Ripped the skin and belly open.
Holding the head and back legs A single wobble- board flick sent The guts into the grass.
He pushed one ear up inside his belt And knotted them on top. Now there was one each side.
He had them facing out, so His trousers wouldn't get grubby. He was your grandfather.
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