Related quotes
Hen laid eggs
Hen laid an eggs, between legs two,
No small, no big but not in zoo,
Ran after those who made slight dig,
Dog, cat and crow planned very big,
Hen laid eggs……
Hen becomes heroin when find egg,
With big noise run after with one leg,
Even scare pig and allow near no body,
How to protect eggs that is only worry?
Hen laid eggs……
Make no fun when she may have kitten,
Beautiful scene seen when run in garden,
Children love to see and catch with fun,
Prefer little kitten and make gentle run,
Hen laid eggs……
Small kids ask, what will be her task?
How to protect them, by putting a mask?
Often they look at them and draw on page,
night take them all to stay in simple cage,
hen laid eggs……
Papa and mummy, where from kittens came?
Who laid an eggs and how she played game?
Simply they observe and ask funny questions
Why kitten become cock and not small hen?
Hen laid eggs....
What a lovely fun? I couldn’t answer one?
It was more confusing than work undone?
Answered few more questions but not in full,
Avoided by telling you may get it from school
Hen laid eggs.....
How to answer questions? When faced many?
Simple they may look but nature seems funny,
better not answer question any more,
It may not be ending but more and feel bore,
Hen laid eggs......
It is not the hen but cock steals show,
People get irritation when shouts crow,
Kittens and children happy and steadily grow,
Cock serve as alarm when mighty voice blow
Hen laid eggs......
Cocks find preference and first depart,
When runs after hen even looks smart,
Hen not resist when cock’s teasing start,
But end days near when both ways part,
Hen laid eggs......
Story may be funny and more amusing,
Cock and hen story more interest arousing,
Their fight may be limited only for refusing,
Alas! We could learn more and stop abusing,
Hen laid eggs......
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Coloured Eggs
Coloued eggs for a culture,
And of he story of a rabbit that laid them!
Oh, this culture is yet to know the truth;
For rabbits do not lay eggs!
Why should they teach the children this way?
And of coloured eggs lay by rabbits;
But this culture cannot change,
For history had made them so.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Turtle Teachers
TURTLE TEACHERS
Having laid her eggs upon a distant beach,
the turtle hurries quickly to the friendly ocean;
she cannot navigate the land, like those who teach,
producing mirror images for self-promotion.
A turtle may spend no more than an hour on a beach where she lays her eggs and then abandon her eggs, returning to the ocean.
3/30/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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An Act
Deploring an act is to despise the person,
Others do sin as well, but what is that sin?
The entrance shines in front of you,
Take the brother of this gate, and you prosper.
Sins are to be forgiven, welcome to the good,
This gate then opens for some who do not murder.
Let felons work after heaven and hell are laid,
Eggs of dangerous properties are eaten by the criminals.
Once the eggs enter the stomach, a real wrong enters,
Eggs of hens are not lethal, but these are different.
An act so despised can never leave the soul,
And the souls can never enter the brotherly gates.
poem by Naveed Akram
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8 Eggs Laid!
8 eggs laid!
At the completed time;
8 eggs paid by the bird!
At the completed time;
However, try to treat me with respect! !
For, you keep on attacking me with your negative attitude.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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One Day I'll Make You Proud, Dad......! ! ! ! !
Dad, I'm flunked,
said me.....
Son, never worry,
I'm happy you tried.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm ditched,
said me, wailing.....
Son, never weep,
I'm happy someone made you realise the pain.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm expeled,
said me, embarrassed of copying in finals......
son, never shame of mistakes,
I'm happy you admit the wrongdoing......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm sloshed,
said me, apologizing for being like that.....
Son, I'll help you to bed,
I'm happy you learned to apologize.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm paid,
said me, surrendering first salary....
Son, It's yours, keep it safe,
I'm happy you earned them legitimately.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm in love,
said me, shivering in fear.....
Son, choose the best, you deserve best,
I'm happy you don't miss mommy's love anymore......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm married,
said me, Kneeling for his blessings....
Son, blessings always on you since your birth,
I'm happy I dont have to sleep with you anymore......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, eventually I'm a dad,
exclaimed me, an infant in my hands.....
Son, I'm old, cant talk more,
I'm happy You're a perfect man.... He coughed....
ONE DAY HE'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, SON...! ! ! ! ! !
AS YOU MADE ME PROUD.....
poem by shinej K.P
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Green Eggs & Ham
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them
Sam, I am
I do not like them here or there
I do not like them anywhere
I do not like them in a boat
I would not, could not, with a goat
I will not eat them in the rain
I do not like them on a train
I do not like them in a box
I will not eat them with a fox
I do not like them in a house
I would not, could not, with a mouse
I do not like green eggs and ham
I do not like them
Sam, I am
Green eggs and ham
Green eggs and ham
Dont like green eggs and ham
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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rAT 9
this morning i read about a red hen
laying eggs
above the haystacks
waiting
and there is this young writer
saying that
he is the hen and that his mentor
is the one feeding him
and that he is laying the eggs
and that he is waiting for
a surprise
know what? i get bored about
other people's ego
as though everything is about themselves
and that i must have to read
about them
crazy.
sometimes, i feel so angry
i like to kill that red hen that has not laid the golden egg.
i feel so humiliated sometimes
about self-centeredness
i like to let things pass and then
sit alone and empty myself like a bag without any content.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Frog's Life
Once upon a lily pad,
There sat a mother frog
Hungry for some food,
She hopped from log to log
Eating flies and skeeters,
All throughout the day
Worms weren’t quite as good,
But she ate them anyway
She found a comfy spot,
And laid a bunch of eggs
Then hopped away from the nest,
With a push from her back legs
The eggs turned into tadpoles,
That swam around the pond
They started growing legs,
And turned into tiny frogs
poem by Chris Marion
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Symbols
I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower:
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at evensong.
I watched a nest from day to day,
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:
But when they should have hatched in May,
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired, and flew away.
Then in my wrath I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair:
I would have vengeance now.
But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again:
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just? And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Putting all the eggs in one basket
Every time I leave
Mother always reminds me
This: do not put all your eggs
In one basket,
Because when I fall
All the eggs will break and I will be left with
Nothing.
Even a nincompoop understands that.
Oh mama! I do not have those many eggs
And she does not have any basket,
We sure both, have nothing to lose.
Thanks for the reminder, anyway.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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11 Eggs Laid by The Bird
11 eggs laid by the bird!
But the teachings had to be in you;
Because, you need a positive character to change you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Balbus
I'll tell you the story of Balbus,
You know, him as builded a wall;
I'll tell you the reason he built it,
And the place where it happened an' all.
This 'ere Balbus, though only a Tackler,
Were the most enterprising of men;
He'd heard Chicken Farms were lucrative,
So he went out and purchased a hen.
'Twere a White Wyandot he called Mabel,
At laying she turned out a peach,
And her eggs being all double-yoked ones
He reckoned they'd fetch twopence each.
When he took them along to the market
And found that the eggs that sold best
Were them as came over from China
He were vexed, but in no ways depressed.
For Balbus, though only a Tackler,
In business were far from a dunce,
So he packed Mabel up in a basket
And started for China at once.
When he got there he took a small holding,
And selecting the sunniest part,
He lifted the lid of the basket
And said "Come on, lass... make a start!"
The 'en needed no second biddin',
She sat down and started to lay;
She'd been saving up all the way over
And laid sixteen eggs, straight away.
When the Chinamen heard what had happened
Their cheeks went the colour of mud,
They said it were sheer mass production
As had to be nipped in the bud.
They formed themselves in a committee
And tried to arrive at some course
Whereby they could limit the output
Without doing harm to the source.
At the finish they came to t' conclusion
That the easiest road they could take
Were to fill the 'en's nest up wi' scrap-iron
So as fast as she laid eggs they'd break.
When Balbus went out the next morning
To fetch the eggs Mabel had laid
He found nowt but shells and albumen
He were hipped, but in no ways dismayed.
For Balbus, though only a Tackler,
He'd a brain that were fertile and quick
He bought all the scrap-iron in t' district
To stop them repeating the trick.
But next day, to his great consternation
He were met with another reverse,
For instead of old iron they'd used clinker
And the eggs looked the same, or worse.
'Twere a bit of a set-back for Balbus,
But he wasn't downhearted at all,
And when t' Chinamen came round next evening
They found he were building a wall.
"That won't keep us out of your 'en 'ouse"
Said one, with a smug kind of grin;
It's not for that purpose," said Balbus,
"When it's done, it will keep you lot in."
The Chinamen all burst out laffing,
They thowt as he'd gone proper daft
But Balbus got on wi' his building
And said "He laffed last who last laffed."
Day by day Balbus stuck to his building,
And his efforts he never did cease
Till he'd builded the Great Wall of China
So as Mabel could lay eggs in peace.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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Crazy Tradesmen Rhymes No2
I used to know a fellow in the farming trade,
You could always tell his chickens
By the eggs they laid;
They were small like him
And between you and me
You would have to buy a dozen
If you needed only three.
Written Autumn 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Eggs Are Falling
Discover the unseen,
Learn the unknown like,
Red wine with a candle light;
A world of darkness is around us.
The line of poetry,
The marks of love;
Respectable to a muse when,
The teacher becomes a student.
Eggs are falling, eggs are falling!
A walk through the Saxon Forest with,
An art by the mile:
Eggs are falling, eggs are falling! !
Discover the unseen and know my mind,
A thought by an inch with a poem by the yard;
The blosson time of love is hear to stay.
Of blue rooms for love,
Of red rooms for roses,
Eggs are falling to where the trees blossom;
Learn the unknow with Red Wine.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Eggxample
What came first chickens or eggs?
Chickens of course!
Chickens have legs!
Chickens have feathers,
Eggs have a shell,
How would you like your eggs, done well?
This may be a 'yolk',
But consider it folk!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Plated Upon Another Day
Palmettos panting in the frosty glade
Easter eggs lying where they were laid, and the sun
Going up and mollifying the earth like
A stone
The pantries being raided while the heroes are
Un home
And the bold earth is lying with the yard
The dogs are basking in the perfumes of the spirits
Acquainted with the tulips
It seems as if each four legged creature is in love,
And it is not hard to find them out
In the open
Believing that they are free to leap through the keyholes
Into their latchkey homes
While the sugar canes burn across the canal
And the lions wait yawning their yellows across the
Concrete, like eggs running waiting for their
Breakfast to be plated upon another day
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Meditations Upon An Egg
1.
The egg's no chick by falling from the hen;
Nor man a Christian, till he's born again.
The egg's at first contained in the shell;
Men, afore grace, in sins and darkness dwell.
The egg, when laid, by warmth is made a chicken,
And Christ, by grace, those dead in sin doth quicken.
The egg, when first a chick, the shell's its prison;
So's flesh to the soul, who yet with Christ is risen.
The shell doth crack, the chick doth chirp and peep,
The flesh decays, as men do pray and weep.
The shell doth break, the chick's at liberty,
The flesh falls off, the soul mounts up on high
But both do not enjoy the self-same plight;
The soul is safe, the chick now fears the kite.
2.
But chicks from rotten eggs do not proceed,
Nor is a hypocrite a saint indeed.
The rotten egg, though underneath the hen,
If crack'd, stinks, and is loathsome unto men.
Nor doth her warmth make what is rotten sound;
What's rotten, rotten will at last be found.
The hypocrite, sin has him in possession,
He is a rotten egg under profession.
3.
Some eggs bring cockatrices; and some men
Seem hatch'd and brooded in the viper's den.
Some eggs bring wild-fowls; and some men there be
As wild as are the wildest fowls that flee.
Some eggs bring spiders, and some men appear
More venom'd than the worst of spiders are.[16]
Some eggs bring piss-ants, and some seem to me
As much for trifles as the piss-ants be.
Thus divers eggs do produce divers shapes,
As like some men as monkeys are like apes.
But this is but an egg, were it a chick,
Here had been legs, and wings, and bones to pick.
poem by John Bunyan
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The Drive
The dogfight days panted
In my face, in my rage
Pallid and weary from a hunger.
I can reckon the butterscotch fume
Lingering with a surreal tang
Of charred embitterment
And the malingering wails
Of alcohol staring daggers
Pummeling the desolation,
I can reckon the one way road
Where we used to flounder
Counting scars and cussing stars
And how I veered a trifle
And you turned a colossal pivot
Towards esoteric digression,
I can reckon with my head
Swaying in a garrote
Of my favored laces,
I can reckon the loss
And the fear of irrevocable damage
Let us press the streetlights gone
And wander slow and near,
And shot another bullet
To disappear in the long run
And stir past the vexation,
And stir past the apprehension
I will stand in front of the storms
Steadfast to the helm
With a dire need and desire
To drive the immovable communion.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Book with Four Backs
I put our books face to face
so they could talk.
They whispered about us.
I put yours on top of mine.
They would not mate.
Like poor dumb pandas in the London Zoo,
they would not come together.
I put them back to back.
They would not sleep.
I put them right side up to upside down.
They would not lick each other's wounds.
The night we met
you fed me fish eggs & dark beer.
We spoke of animals & Shakespeare.
You talked about acidic inks & papers.
You told me how our books digest themselves.
You laid the pages of your body over mine.
You printed my face with kisses.
The letters fell into a heap under our bed.
The sheets were dust.
The fish eggs swam our mouths.
poem by Erica Jong
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