Related quotes
Dirge
We drop our dead in the sea,
The bottomless, bottomless sea;
Each bubble a hollow sigh,
As it sinks forever and aye.
We drop our dead in the sea,--
The dead reek not of aught;
We drop our dead in the sea,--
The sea ne'er gives it a thought.
Sink, sink, oh corpse, still sink,
Far down in the bottomless sea,
Where the unknown forms do prowl,
Down, down in the bottomless sea.
'Tis night above, and night all round,
And night will it be with thee;
As thou sinkest, and sinkest for aye,
Deeper down in the bottomless sea.
poem by Herman Melville
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Spaewife
OH, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why chops are guid to brander and nane sae guid to fry.
An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to keep, is brawer still to gi’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Hoo a’things come to be whaur we find them when we try,
The lasses in their claes an’ the fishes in the sea.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Why lads are a’ to sell an’lasses a’ to buy;
An’ naebody for dacency but barely twa or three.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
Gin death’s as shure to men as killin’ is to kye,
Why God has filled the yearth sae fu’ o’ tasty things to pree.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
Oh, I wad like to ken—to the beggar-wife says I—
The reason o’ the cause an’ the wherefore o’ the why,
Wi’ mony anither riddle brings the tear into my e’e.
It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says the beggar-wife to me.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Wonderful
Take a basket...
Fill it with who...
You think you are...
Mix it up good...
Be frank...
Now pull something...
Out of the basket...
It does not matter...
Whats in the basket...
Its your chatter...
That the basket holds...
It's you...
Not who...but...
You are a good person...
You are a bad person...
Mainly a good person...
That is who you are...
By far...you...
Are a wonderful star...
A real human-being...
Who can smile...
Who cares...
Damn what others think...
You are you...
In the pink...
whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Behold, the fool saith, Put not all thine eggs in the one basket, -- which is but a manner of saying, Scatter your money and your attention, but the wise man saith, Put all your eggs in the one basket and -- watch that basket.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Coronation
At the king's gate the subtle noon
Wove filmy yellow nets of sun;
Into the drowsy snare too soon
The guards fell one by one.
Through the king's gate, unquestioned then,
A beggar went and laughed, 'This brings
Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better being kings.'
The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
Propping his face with listless hand;
Watching the hour-glass sifting down
Too slow its shining sand.
'Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?'
The beggar turned, and pitying,
Replied, like one in dream, 'Of thee,
Nothing. I want the king.'
Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it by.
'O man, thou must have known,' said he,
'A greater king than I.'
Through all the gates, unquestioned then,
Went king and beggar hand in hand.
Whispered the king, 'Shall I know when
Before
his
throne I stand?'
The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste
Were wiping from the king's hot brow
The crimson lines the crown had traced.
'This is his presence now.'
At the king's gate, the crafty noon
Unwove its yellow nets of sun;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
The guards waked one by one.
'Ho here! Ho There! Has no man seen
The king?' The cry ran to and fro;
Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween,
The laugh that free men know.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father's stead.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Children
Give me your hand, oh little one!
Like children be we two;
Yet I am old, my day is done
That barely breaks for you.
A baby-basket hard you hold,
With in it cherries four:
You cherish them as men do gold,
And count them o'er.
And then you stumble in your walk;
The cherries scattered lie.
You pick them up with foolish talk
And foolish glad am I,
When you wipe one quite clean of dust
And give it unto me;
So in the baby-basket just
Are three.
All this is simple, I confess,
A moment piled with peace;
Yet loving men have died for less,
And will till time shall cease. . . .
A silken hand in crinkled one--
O Little Innocence!
O blessed moment in the son
E'er I go hence!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Running To Paradise
As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurty upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Noumenon
a thing-in-itself:
a wicker basket is a wicker basket
you cannot place love there, perhaps just plain fruits and
flowers
and perhaps even nothing
because a wicker basket is a wicker basket
nothing more nothing less
in the same manner, i am what i am
and you are what you are
what we feel for each other
or perhaps what i feel you alone
or only
is what i only feel
nothing more and nothing less
if i go somehow inventing that you shall love me
how absurd can this be!
for you are what you are and i am what i am
nothing more and nothing less
and so thanks, i am what i am and i will always be what i am
and you are you, and you do not know me,
and if i bleed, it is i who bleed only or
alone
and i have no right to let you know because you are what you are
and you shall never love me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Walks In Meadows
She walks the stretch of meadow land
To pick the blooms so fair and wild
Arrayed in basket by her hand
A touch so gentle and so mild
Inside her basket lies my heart
Snared in her eyes, bound in her smile
Devoid of all will to depart
But stay for many more a mile
And there to be merry as lark
To sing in never-ending rhymes
From early morning until dark
Blithesome and carefree at all times.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Arbitrary
I am in my Honda Civic car at Haji Ali:
Boy of thirteen knocks on window screen,
But I turn away from this beggar, sure,
Not knowing how to go about it always.
In the morning however at Worli
I had asked driver to slow down
While I took out a ten rupee note
And gave it to that young beggar.
There is no difference between the two,
Both are begging by tapping on car window;
One makes my hand to open a wallet
And the other make my eyes move away.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Be not a beggar
Avoid seeking aids
Unless in bare needs;
Avoid getting helps
Unless in dire needs.
Provide in equals
To those aids and helps.
You should not afford
To be a beggar.
Offer help and aids
That must not be baits;
Offer gifts and kinds
That should not be a debt.
Your pay out should not be
Less than your receipts.
You cannot afford to be a beggar,
You be not greedy
Which makes you ugly.
Then you aren’t shut
Doors by the dear ones.
You may remain poor
But not a beggar.
Being a beggar
Is worse than a slave.
18 09,2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pandora
Pandora, undone by her own curiosity according to the story, found Hope at the bottom of the fatal basket. Hope indeed had wings-and sequins, sang and was more or less green. She also spat tobacco juice when you squeezed her tummy. She had enormous eyes that peered in all directions.
'Hi', she said, sticking out her hand, 'I'm Hope'.
Pandora was taken aback, but shook her hand, not wanting to be rude.
'Pleased to meet you', said Pandora, politely. She came to put alot of stock in Hope.
'See you later', said Hope, suddenly taking wing.
'Where are you going? '
'Don't worry. I'll be back.'
But Hope was not the last item in the basket to emerge. The myth was wrong as myths often are and completely opposed to reality, which is never wrong, though...
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The rattan basket criticizes the palm leaf basket, still both are full of holes.
A Tisket - A Tasket
A-tisket a-tasket
A brown-and-yellow basket
I send a letter to my mommie
On the way I dropped it
I dropped it, I dropped it
Yes, on the way I dropped it
A little girlie picked it up
And put it in her pocket
She was truckin' on down the avenue
Without a single thing to do
She was peck, peck, peckin' all around
When she spied it on the ground
She took it, she took it
My yellow basket
And if she doesn't bring it back
I think that I will die
A-tisket a-tasket
I lost my yellow basket
And if that girlie don't return it
I don't know what I'll do
(Was it red?) No, no, no, no
(Was it brown?) No, no, no, no
(Was it blue?) No, no, no, no
Just a little yellow basket
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I've always been a fella who put most of my eggs in one basket and then take a dump in the basket but I really don't know.
quote by Robert Downey, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
What is put in a basket before going to the market won't be the same thing returned in the basket.
The way to become rich is to put all your eggs in one basket and then watch that basket.
quote by Andrew Carnegie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!