Every thing hath an end and a pudding has twa.
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If you're an ant, and you're walking along across the top of a cup of pudding, you probably have no idea that the only thing between you and disaster is the strength of that pudding skin.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentine Chameleon
Who be my
valentine?
Even a friend'd
do, Tina
said- but how
dare i think
valentine
if C
who i thought be
my friend asked
me not to
contact her
furthermore
pudding china
rang in her
voice still yet
cold pudding
it was- imagine
cold pudding!
aye but i
glutton on
cold pudding -
hot pudding
scorches my
lips but hoo
this china
i knew not
self-changed
into chalk
ice plaster
and sour milk
hi what do
you want from
me actually?
wish no more
contact C.-
chameleon
poem by Michael Witkowski
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Pudding Time
You can have a lolly pop
A candy bar a jelly bean.
Ill buy you a rainbow
To hang above your door.
Its pudding time.
Laughter is a sweet
You cant put a price on.
When laughters all gone
Daddy wont buy you more.
Its pudding time.
Its pudding time children.
Money money money
To buy you things.
Daddys gonna buy you a
Diamond ring.
Humpty dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty dumpty had a great fall
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put humpty together again.
San francisco bay the
Striped bass are dying.
But youre gonna get
That brand new bike
Oh joy
Its pudding time
Its pudding time children.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be. . .and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, SEE, this is new It hath been already of old time, which was before us. There is no remembrance of former things.
quote by Ecclesiates 1922 Bible
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers Day2007
She hath my heart, she is my mum.
She hath my heart, she is my only, she is my one.
She hath my heart, though rough winds may blow.
She hath my heart, still her love will flow, her love will always show.
She hath my heart, I thank my lucky stars.
She hath my heart and i have hers.
She hath my heart, i long for her presence.
She hath my heart, her name is essence.
She hath my heart and forever she will.
Lifetimes will come and go, i will love her still
She hath my heart, this fact i cant conceal
Our bond is like sentiment you just cant kill
She hath my heart in times of sorrow.
She hath my heart, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
She hath my heart, my voice will sing.
She hath my heart, she makes the bell in my heart ring.
She hath my heart, in times of trouble.
She wont stumble no i will not let her crumble.
She hath my heart in each and every way
And my love for her grows with each day
She hath my heart for we were once one.
She hath my heart, the heart of the boy inside the man
I hath her heart, the heart we once shared.
Though separated in body the hearts still paired.
She hath my heart i need her near.
She hath my heart my mama dear
She hath my heart and she already knows
In a world of thorny bushes she stands out like rose
She hath my heart for she is always by my side
When the sun sets she is my light, she is my guide.
poem by Soul Child
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The Proof Is In The Pudding
What on Earth is going on with them over there?
'I was approached to give my opinion,
Concerning the world affairs.
And all I said was...
The proof is in the pudding.
The truth in it has been revealed.
And before I knew it,
That's what they began to do.
I'm sure the store owner is thrilled.'
But...
How is the dumping of pudding mixes,
Out into the street...
Connect to your comments made?
'Observe to witness this.
That's all I have to say.
It never ceases to amaze me,
How people re-act to what they hear.'
You don't think they took your figurative comments,
Literally...
Do you?
'Observe to witness this.
That's all I have to say.'
What do you think they are hoping to find?
'Something that reminds them of truth.
Or proof of it.
Who knows? '
I'm not going to say what they are doing is stupid.
'Don't even let that cross your mind.
Just observe it to witness.
The proof is in the pudding.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Put It On The Shelf
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Right now we are tightening up,
Loosen belts!
Just take that,
Out of sight of those uptight.
Just take that,
Perhaps for tomorrow night...
Just take that,
Maybe we will celebrate...
With the eating of icecream,
And with cake!
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Just take that,
Pudding and put in on the shelf.
Right now we are tightening up,
Loosen belts!
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
A peace that will come and will never leave!
Just take that,
Out of sight of those uptight.
Just take that,
Perhaps for tomorrow night...
Just take that,
Maybe we will celebrate...
With the eating of icecream,
And with cake!
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
Just take that,
With a vision of a peace.
A peace that will come and will never leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Its Christmas time
Its almost Christmas
People buying plenty of presents
People preparing puddings and pork
The countdown is on
Corks are sealed on Christmas drinks
Many parents wrapping presents
The Choir singing Christmas Carols
Countdown to corks popping Christmas pudding and people cracking up
Perfect plump pudding made to perfection coming on the plate
Excited playful children
Ready for the crazy crackers
Christmas carols flowing through our cheerful ears
There's pork, there's plump pudding, there's presents, pancakes and Christmas joy in our souls
poem by Alyssia Innocent
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An Object
This thing, that hath a code and not a core,
Hath set acquaintance where might be affections,
And nothing now
Disturbeth his reflections.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Sam's Christmas Pudding
It was Christmas Day in the trenches
In Spain in Penninsular War,
And Sam Small were cleaning his musket
A thing as he'd ne're done before.
They'd had 'em inspected that morning
And Sam had got into disgrace,
For when sergeant had looked down the barrel
A sparrow flew out in his face.
The sergeant reported the matter
To Lieutenant Bird then and there.
Said Lieutenant 'How very disgusting'
The Duke must be told of this 'ere.'
The Duke were upset when he heard
He said, 'I'm astonished, I am.
I must make a most drastic example
There'll be no Christmas pudding for Sam.'
When Sam were informed of his sentence
Surprise, rooted him to the spot.
'Twas much worse than he had expected,
He though as he'd only be shot.
And so he sat cleaning his musket
And polishing barrel and butt.
While the pudding his mother had sent him,
Lay there in the mud at his foot.
Now the centre that Sam's lot were holding
Ran around a place called Badajoz.
Where the Spaniards had put up a bastion
And ooh...! what a bastion it was.
They pounded away all the morning
With canister, grape shot and ball.
But the face of the bastion defied them,
They made no impression at all.
They started again after dinner
Bombarding as hard as they could.
And the Duke brought his own private cannon
But that weren't a ha'pence o' good.
The Duke said, 'Sam, put down thy musket
And help me lay this gun true.'
Sam answered, 'You'd best ask your favours
From them as you give pudding to.'
The Duke looked at Sam so reproachful
'And don't take it that way,' said he.
'Us Generals have got to be ruthless
It hurts me more than it did thee.'
Sam sniffed at these words kind of sceptic,
Then looked down the Duke's private gun.
And said 'We'd best put in two charges,
We'll never bust bastion with one.'
He tipped cannon ball out of muzzle
He took out the wadding and all.
He filled barrel chock full of powder,
Then picked up and replaced the ball.
He took a good aim at the bastion
Then said 'Right-o, Duke, let her fly.'
The cannon nigh jumped off her trunnions,
And up went the bastion, sky high.
The Duke, he weren't 'alf elated
He danced around trench full of glee.
And said, 'Sam, for this gallant action.
You can hot up your pudding for tea.'
Sam looked 'round to pick up his pudding
But it wasn't there, nowhere about.
In the place where he thought he had left it,
Lay the cannon ball he'd just tipped out.
Sam saw in a flash what 'ad happened:
By an unprecedented mishap.
The pudding his mother had sent him,
Had blown Badajoz off map.
That's why fuisilliers wear to this moment
A badge which they think's a grenade.
But they're wrong... it's a brass reproduction,
Of the pudding Sam's mother once made.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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Who Hath The Courage?
Who hath courage? Not the hero
Leading in the strife,
To receive a nation's plaudits,
For his waste of life.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He alone who dares
Act up to his own convictions,
And the right declares.
Who hath courage? Not the tyrant
Boasting of his skill,
To enslave and bind his fellow
At his simple will.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He that doth proclaim,
Unto all their right to freedom,
Every man the same.
Who hath courage? Not the sober,
Or untempted one,
Who hath never had his stomach
Eaten out by rum.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He who though he may
Have been using poison freely,
Throws the cup away.
Who hath courage? Not the daring,
Reckless pugilist,
Who for wager smites a brother,
With uplifted fist.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He that won't resent
Every little insult given
With a base intent.
poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark
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The lemon
I pick a ripe yellow lemon from the tree,
the children, even the dog imitates me
and when I warn them to eat it up
the two boys draw up their lips
from its sour taste, the brown Labrador complies,
eating right through the skin,
but will never again eat such a thing
and my picking of it is no sacrament,
to offer to the gods
not even a thieving thing
as that tree with green leaves and thorns
belongs to me
and I am not doing it
to apply as medicine with honey in a drink
but lemon juice in my mother’s pudding treat
is an essential thing
in the mix of biscuits, condense milk and custard.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Clash with Books
I clash with books, with words of enormous depth,
The meaning on the page is that of beauty.
I see fire in the whole of literature, the whole poison,
When information has a path, forming beauty.
My books are written with zeal, full of fervour,
Entirely exact, full of splendour, and rich.
This sea of bringing in has many problems
I need to crash into, into a lovely pudding.
The pudding is perfect as a sight or image,
The picture on the wall of my house.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The pudding that smells anthropological
My singsong beloved grumbles these days
As she needs to make a pudding for an Exhibition
And she expects a new idea.
Then I said; ' Try this method darling!
Make layers of all the ethnics in the World in their distinguished colors
And the top leave a hard icing with symbolic monuments of the tyranny rulers,
It should be a strong one like iron otherwise the monuments sink in the pudding and get discolored.
If you want you can named it as Dwarfs and Giants.'
* To my friend George Murdock in gratitude as he firmly believes that water is colorless.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Dorchester Giant
THERE was a giant in time of old,
A mighty one was he;
He had a wife, but she was a scold,
So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold;
And he had children three.
It happened to be an election day,
And the giants were choosing a king;
The people were not democrats then,
They did not talk of the rights of men,
And all that sort of thing.
Then the giant took his children three,
And fastened them in the pen;
The children roared; quoth the giant, "Be still!"
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill
Rolled back the sound again.
Then he brought them a pudding stuffed with plums,
As big as the State-House dome;
Quoth he, "There's something for you to eat;
So stop your mouths with your 'lection treat,
And wait till your dad comes home."
So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout,
And whittled the boughs away;
The boys and their mother set up a shout.
Said he, "You're in, and you can't get out,
Bellow as loud as you may."
Off he went, and he growled a tune
As he strode the fields along
'Tis said a buffalo fainted away,
And fell as cold as a lump of clay,
When he heard the giant's song.
But whether the story's true or not,
It isn't for me to show;
There's many a thing that's twice as queer
In somebody's lectures that we hear,
And those are true, you know.
. . . . . .
What are those lone ones doing now,
The wife and the children sad?
Oh, they are in a terrible rout,
Screaming, and throwing their pudding about,
Acting as they were mad.
They flung it over to Roxbury hills,
They flung it over the plain,
And all over Milton and Dorchester too
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw;
They tumbled as thick as rain.
. . . . .
Giant and mammoth have passed away,
For ages have floated by;
The suet is hard as a marrow-bone,
And every plum is turned to a stone,
But there the puddings lie.
And if, some pleasant afternoon,
You'll ask me out to ride,
The whole of the story I will tell,
And you shall see where the puddings fell,
And pay for the punch beside.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Phillis I
My Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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Phillis 01
MY Phillis hath the morning sun
At first to look upon her;
And Phillis hath morn-waking birds
Her risings still to honour.
My Phillis hath prime-feather'd flowers,
That smile when she treads on them;
And Phillis hath a gallant flock,
That leaps since she doth own them.
But Phillis hath too hard a heart,
Alas that she should have it!
It yields no mercy to desert,
Nor grace to those that crave it.
poem by Thomas Lodge
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The King Of Sweden
THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call
To that great King; shall hail the crowned Youth
Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth,
By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall,
If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend?
And what to him and his shall be the end?
That thought is one which neither can appal
Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath done
The thing which ought to be; is raised 'above'
All consequences: work he hath begun
Of fortitude, and piety, and love,
Which all his glorious ancestors approve:
The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Anomalous
What hath a mind
If it hath not a choice
What hath a man
If he hath not a voice
What is a man
If the voice the man hath
Is that of another
On a surrogate path
Rather I say
Inimitably give
Make each moment yours
Expectations, outlive
Bring no shame upon
How you sound or appear
Speak loud, proud,
Conscious, and clear
You're not born with a voice
It forms over time
Just speak for yourself
You'll turn out sublime
poem by Brandon McConnell
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Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd
(Comus.) Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd;
Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd:
Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Chorus.) Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Man.) We ha' cheated the parson, we'll cheat him agen,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
One in ten,
One in ten,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
For prating so long like a book-learn'd sot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot.
(Chorus.)Burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot.
We'll toss off our ale till we canno' stand,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England:
Old England,
Old England,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England.
(Chorus.) Old England,
Old England,
And Hoigh for the honour of Old England.
poem by John Dryden
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