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telegraph

Quotes about telegraph, page 4

Moonlight In Vermont

Karl suessdorf / john blackburn
Pennies in a stream
Falling leaves a sycamore
Moonlight in vermont
Gentle finger waves
Ski trails down a mountain side
Snowlight in vermont
Telegraph cables, how they sing down the highway
As they travel each bend in the road
And when people meet, in this romantic setting
Theyre so hypnotized be the lovely...
Evening summer breeze
Sweet warblings of the meadowlark
Moonlight in vermont

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Guys And Dolls Medley: Fuge For Tinhorns (feat. Michael Crawford And Hinton Battle)

I got the horse right here
his name is Paul Revier
and here's a guy who says if the weather's clear
can do,can do
this guy says the horse can do
can do ,can do
I'm picking valentine
cause on the morning line
the guy has got him figured 5 to 9
has a chance, has a chance
this guy say the horse has a chance
if he says the horse has a chance
has a chance, has a chance
no way
for Paul Revier I'll bite
I hear his foots alright
of course it all depends
if it rained last night
I know it's valentine
the morning word the find

[...] Read more

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Robert Frost

The Line-Gang

Here come the line-gang pioneering by,
They throw a forest down less cut than broken.
They plant dead trees for living, and the dead
They string together with a living thread.
They string an instrument against the sky
Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken
Will run as hushed as when they were a thought
But in no hush they string it: they go past
With shouts afar to pull the cable taught,
To hold it hard until they make it fast,
To ease away -- they have it. With a laugh,
An oath of towns that set the wild at naught
They bring the telephone and telegraph.

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Rudyard Kipling

A Legend of Truth

Once on a time, the ancient legends tell,
Truth, rising from the bottom of her well,
Looked on the world, but, hearing how it lied,
Returned to her seclusion horrified.
There she abode, so conscious of her worth,
Not even Pilate's Question called her forth,
Nor Galileo, kneeling to deny
The Laws that hold our Planet 'neath the sky.
Meantime, her kindlier sister, whom men call
Fiction, did all her work and more than all,
With so much zeal, devotion, tact, and care,
That no one noticed Truth was otherwhere.

Then came a War when, bombed and gassed and mined,
Truth rose once more, perforce, to meet mankind,
And through the dust and glare and wreck of things,
Beheld a phantom on unbalanced wings,
Reeling and groping, dazed, dishevelled, dumb,
But semaphoring direr deeds to come.

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Pidgin English

Theres a young girl with her old man whos too sick to mention
Shell be turning twenty seven as she draws her widows pension
But he couldnt catch a common cold he couldnt get arrested
Too terrified to answer back
Too tired to have resisted
Many hands make light work
Shorthand makes life easy
When hes out on night work
Make sure no one sees me
It all ends up in a slanging match with body talk and bruises
A change is better than a rest
Silly beggars cant be choosers
One of a thousand pities you cant categorize
There are ten commandments of love
When will you realise
There are ten commandments of love
I believe, I trust, I promise, I wish loves just a throwaway kiss
In this pidgin english
If youre so wise use your lips and your eyes
Take it to the bridge she sighs

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No News

She said, its just a woman thing,
And pulled out of the drive
I said not to worry
Im and understanding guy
I heard that when you love someone
You gotta let them go
She hollered, when I find myself
Youll be the first to know.
Ooo-hooo no news
Ive learned to do the laundry
Feed the cat and clean the house
I promised to be patient
While she worked her problems out
When she packed her bags
Her destination was unclear
But I sensed that her intentions
Were honest and sincere
Ooo-hooo no news
(chorus)
She could telephone, tell a friend

[...] Read more

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What is left unsaid

He shuffles towards me, this obscure stranger
Again, the shock of his bearing surprises me
I see him through the lengthened glass of memory –
the sinewy arms that balanced
a wobbling girl on her new blue bicycle,
the feet that trod sturdily over mountainsides
with hampers and children and dogs.
His cobalt eyes brighten, his beaming smile assures
we are not yet robbed of recognition, my name
still sounds from his lips, he who names people
but fewer and fewer things
His priorities always were fine ones.
Like broken telegraphic code, we communicate
in half sentences, his utterances
A tangled ball of words, so knotted and twisted
it cannot be undone
As I guess at his meanings, his face held so close,
I can feel the spittle and sour-sweet odour of winter, that
which frightens his grandchildren, without offence.
I fill in the blanks in the air, writing what is left unsaid

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Pablo Neruda

Bird

It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;

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Itll Be Me

If you hear somebody knocking on your door
See somebody crawling out across the floor
Baby itll be me
And Ill be looking for you
If you see somebody climbing up a telegraph pole
You find a new love then you shut the door
Itll be me
And Ill be looking for you
Chorus
I want to search in the city
Where might you be
I want to search the countryside
I want...
If you find a new bait on your fishing hook
You see a funny face in your comic book
Itll be me
And Ill be looking for you
Chorus
Repeat last verse
Chorus

[...] Read more

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Rudyard Kipling

The Mare's Nest

Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse
Was good beyond all earthly need;
But, on the other hand, her spouse
Was very, very bad indeed.
He smoked cigars, called churches slow,
And raced -- but this she did not know.

For Belial Machiavelli kept
The little fact a secret, and,
Though o'er his minor sins she wept,
Jane Austen did not understand
That Lilly -- thirteen-two and bay
Absorbed one-half her husband's pay.

She was so good, she made hime worse;
(Some women are like this, I think;)
He taught her parrot how to curse,
Her Assam monkey how to drink.
He vexed her righteous soul until
She went up, and he went down hill.

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John Wesley Harding

John wesley harding
Was a friend to the poor,
He travled with a gun in evry hand.
All along this countryside,
He opened a many a door,
But he was never known
To hurt a honest man.
twas down in chaynee county,
A time they talk about,
With his lady by his side
He took a stand.
And soon the situation there
Was all but straightened out,
For he was always known
To lend a helping hand.
All across the telegraph
His name it did resound,
But no charge held against him
Could they prove.
And there was no man around

[...] Read more

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The Benjamin Franklin of Monogamy

Reminiscing in the drizzle of Portland, I notice
the ring that's landed on your finger, a massive
insect of glitter, a chandelier shining at the end

of a long tunnel. Thirteen years ago, you hid the hurt
in your voice under a blanket and said there's two kinds
of women—those you write poems about

and those you don't. It's true. I never brought you
a bouquet of sonnets, or served you haiku in bed.
My idea of courtship was tapping Jane's Addiction

lyrics in Morse code on your window at three A.M.,
whiskey doing push-ups on my breath. But I worked
within the confines of my character, cast

as the bad boy in your life, the Magellan
of your dark side. We don't have a past so much
as a bunch of electricity and liquor, power

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Bullroarer

In the desert in the dry
Before the breaking of the rain
The temperature in the shade
Had reached a hundred and ten again
In the desert in the dry
On the overland telegraph line
Dont take the law into your own hands
Dont go looking for a fight
Ive heard the bullroarers
In the desert in the dry
Sun sits so high
Long days mile and the
Radio crackles and the bones bleached white
Its a knock-em-down storm
See the tin roof shake
Wild dog howls and the long grass
Whistles and the tall trees break
Ive seen the wild horses
Ive heard the bullroarers
Ive seen the wild horses

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Hoop Dance

_____ For Kevin Locke, Hoop Dancer
July,1989

The sun is a painted pony on the
runaway hoop of the sky.

Grounded at last. Golden
As old grass headed out in the heat,

The pale skull of Yellow Hair is balding
on the bosom of the earth.

Hear that squaw sound keening
along the telegraph wires?

“Custer died. STOP. All divisions massacred. STOP.”
Blue seeps into the dawn like cavalry coats.

Drum sound. Pierced with stars
Bright arrows in the coulees.

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Jungle Telegraph

Mama had a epidural
Hoping I would be a girl.
The night was black, the sky was blue
The darker clouds are showing noon
I heard screaming, the doctor shouts,
Didnt give in,
I came out.
And here I am.
I found my way, down the street.
Chicken hawks, filled with meat.
The man was big, the gun was loaded,
She had cash, but never showed it,
I heard screamin, bleeding throat
And baby I got on that boat.
And here I am.
Now Im up here in the trees
Shaking off the bugs and fleas
The days are long, the sun is beatin
He says (it says) I dont die with you
Send me some lovin

[...] Read more

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Before We Were Married

BLACKSOIL PLAINS were grey soil, grey soil in the drought.
Fifteen years away, and five hundred miles out;
Swag and bag and billy carried all our care
Before we were married, and I wish that I were there.

River banks were grassy—grassy in the bends,
Running through the land where mateship never ends;
We belled the lazy fishing lines and droned the time away
Before we were married, and I wish it were to-day.

Working down the telegraph—winters’ gales and rains
Cross the tumbled scenery of Marlborough “plains”,
Beach and bluff and cook’s tent—and the cook was a “cow”
Before we were married, but I wish that it was now.

The rolling road to Melbourne, and grey-eyed girl in fur—
One arm to a stanchion—and one round her;
Seat abaft the skylight when the moon had set—
Before she was married, and I wish it wasn’t yet.

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Un Conference In Dubai Nov 13th,2012

If most UN conferences are now held in Dubai
Maybe the whole UN should move there and say goodbye,
We don't seem to know much of what is happening over there,
Being as oil-rich as they are, is extremely rare.

Have you heard the UN may soon control the Internet web?
With International Telegraph Union rules - their spider web,
They'll decide at another UN conference soon in Dubai,
For us the results could mean the Internet goodbye.

And how will Canada vote at that conference over there?
This could mean a lot to those of us; Internet aware,
Canadian Civil Liberties wants to veto this UN event,
But UN dictatorships want to monitor their own local dissent.

They and their UN dictator friends like this whole affair,
Under the wire and completely out of the public glare,
Which is why they are now writing the new regulations,
Don't you dare point a finger at their UN foundations.

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A Wrangdillion

Dexery-tethery! down in the dike,
Under the ooze and the slime,
Nestles the wraith of a reticent Gryke,
Blubbering bubbles of rhyme:
Though the reeds touch him and tickle his teeth--
Though the Graigroll and the Cheest
Pluck at the leaves of his laureate-wreath,
Nothing affects him the least.

He sinks to the dregs in the dead o' the night,
And he shuffles the shadows about
As he gathers the stars in a nest of delight
And sets there and hatches them out:
The Zhederrill peers from his watery mine
In scorn with the Will-o'-the-wisp,
As he twinkles his eyes in a whisper of shine
That ends in a luminous lisp.

The Morning is born like a baby of gold,
And it lies in a spasm of pink,

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To Juliette's twins

Dear Catherine, and David too,
How very sweet it was of you
To telegraph that you were here,
New-lighted on this lower sphere.
That though unlooked for, both had come,
To bring into the earthly home
The light and joy of Paradise
That shine from your four infant eyes.

Your excellent and learned papa,
Your beautiful and sweet mama,
Must be most charmed to call you theirs;
Although you bring new fears and cares.
Perhaps at night you'll cry and roar,
And they must wake, and walk the floor.
You'll have the measles and the mumps,
The whooping-cough, the rash, the dumps.

And all those things, so troublesome,
That mortal children suffer from.

[...] Read more

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American Heartbeat

The nights alive with wind and fire,
We telegraph our hearts desire,
Though the night -- with our eyes,
Wheels are turnin -- fast and hard,
Hearts are burnin on the boulevard,
Hear them pound -- young and proud,
Its the american heartbeat.
Chart the stars and head out for the action,
Hit the streets and find some satisfaction.
*its the american heartbeat,
The american heartbeat,
Its the american heartbeat --
American heartbeat. *
The stage is set, the roles are chosen,
The lights grow hot at the midnights closin
In at last, it comes so fast,
Poundin harder as the midnights striking,
It hits us like a blot of lightning,
But deeper down its the sound of the american heartbeat.
So chart the stars and head out for the action,

[...] Read more

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