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Foul play
Foul play not good
Foul players destroy themselves.
Foul play means play with injustice
Foul play means neglect justice.
Foul play I do not like
Foul play I do not like.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Dream Home
My dream home would be a log home in the city
Downstairs would be the kitchen with the laundryroom in it
And a storage area
Also there would be a family room with a living room
The log home would have 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms
In the hall of the log home would be the linen closset
At the front of the log home there would be the stone driveway
But at the back of the log home there would be the indoor garden so that We could use it all year round
The floor in the log home would be wood
And the walls in the log home would be beige
There would be Ikea furniture inside of the log home
Also the neighbourhood would be a well established neighbourhood
But very quiet indeed
Not too much traffic
The parks nearby would be very sophisticated with colorful
Flowers and beautiful trees
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Field mice and Screech owls
Both of you disturb my precious sleep,
scurrying and screeching.
You have no pity for my beloved! ?
She scrubbed the whole day
and washed the dirty linen.
Now she is in a sound sleep.
For me I don't mind, , just a scribbler.
But you must look after her.
She gets up early in the morning.
Not only that, she is the one
who feeds you everyday.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave from the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave.
quote by Francis Scott Key
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Iron Laundress Named Speed Queen
I stepped into the coin laundry early in the morning today
And washed my dirty linen.
Then I saw a warning tag says; 'Do not put any person in this washer'
But my inner soul cries; ' Jump into the humble commercial washer
And become an innocent King after rinsed all the sins as her name is Speed Queen.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's best to wash one's soiled linen at home.
It is at home, not in public, that one washes his dirty linen.
Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salmon
I am a child wearing a linen ephod and,
You are Salmon sitting and watching what i do;
But, i am not a beggar sitting among Princes.
Like the tresspass offering and the five golden rats,
Come in and warm yourself under my shelter of love;
For my linen will let you know who i am.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Dont Wanna Go Home
(lead vocal - lenny zakatek)
Go back home you damn fool
Surely you know you cant win
You should never have come near this place
You should have stayed outside, lookin in
Its too late to turn back
Nobody asked you to try
But they blinded you with diamonds
And all the money that money can buy
And Im so afraid of being on my own
But I dont wanna go home
You cant win you damn fool
You drank all the wine from the cup
And your painted ladys gone now
And youre way back on the downside, lookin up
You cant catch the monkey on your back
Nobody asked you to try
But for every heart they held a spade
And you lost more than money can buy
And Im so afraid of being on my own
But I dont wanna go home
Im like a washed up rag
Tattered and torn
I wish Id never been born
And Im so afraid of being on my own
But I dont wanna go home
Im like a down and out just blowin my horn
Oh I dont wanna go home
Im like a washed up rag
Tattered and torn
Oh I dont wanna go home
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trailing Voices
A million cried
Help! Help! Help!
Another million yelled
Foul! Foul! Foul!
Before an unfeeling
Sovereign! In vain! !
And a billion populace
That raised the reign
Remained maimed!
Letting quietly its body
To be eater away
By its own organelle! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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For at least another hundred years we must pretend to ourselves and to every one that fair is foul and foul is fair; for foul is useful and fair is not. Avarice and usury and precaution must be our gods for a little longer still.
quote by John Maynard Keynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But whether, for example, a coat can be exchanged for twenty yards of linen cloth or for forty yards is not a matter of chance, but depends upon objective conditions, upon the amount of socially necessary labor time contained in the coat and in the linen respectively.
quote by Rudolf Hiferding
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Trance Yet Unveiled
A blue transparent hangs on decathlon back
It swings
It needs someone to throw apart
The linen also covers the amazon in front base
A forest of very deep density
Shouting catch of some nails
Though it was the daytime hall-room
Sipping zones are allowed for the visitors
First-look I caught the glance of such high profile
And next was called to the inner chamber
Under the linen to hide my swimming experiences
It was a fantastic journey never I forget
How the lioness howled from her softy submissions
And chopped me pieces
In a single combustion
After such hustling para-jump, returned home
With a shadow of twilight yet grooving in my nerves
Blue howling yet over my birth
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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All My Tears
(julie miller)
When I go dont cry for me
In my fathers arms Ill be
The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and Ill be whole
Sun and moon will be replaced
With the light of jesus face
And I will not be ashamed
For my savior knows my name
It dont matter where you bury me
Ill be home and Ill be free
It dont matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away
Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heavens store
Come and drink and thirst no more
So weep not for me my friend
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to him
Who will raise the dead again
It dont matter where you bury me
Ill be home and Ill be free
It dont matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White-Washed Sea
White bread and white maids,
Marmalade and sugar tarts: stick me
High atop the citrus tree,
Like a paper airplane, paper nose pointing
The way to the white-washed sea:
Pretty dolls and forget-me-nots,
Ivory beavers slapping dams,
Lover-boys in snowy trams making their
Procession to the white-washed sea:
Tourists there, Mickey-Mouse, and fricassee,
Conquistadors jounced on vanilla poles,
Saints and crosses like Spanish scarecrows on
Concrete atolls, bleed anemically towards
The white-washed sea: Hills of windmills are
Picaresque, lovely cherries on her white washed-
Breasts, bones of birds and pica ninnies;
Aunts sing cantos at their nieces nurseries,
Pale and freckled and on their knees,
Girls who’d been roller-skating as if on foam,
Stop and pray to the white-washed sea;
Pick themselves up, adjusting their silky delicates,
Before rolling home, to sit cross-legged smoking
Candied cigarettes and gossiping underneath the
Sky’s crenulated dome, eyes so lost and hopeless,
All fair and so lonely, yet well-perceived,
Searching for some solutions across the white-washed sea.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Call Of The Whippoorwill
I hear the call of the whippoorwill
The calf it bawls in the field
The mare is soon to birth a foul
I can't help it, I miss you still
I feed the geese that once loved you
And that hound from the field you found
The puppy stray you brought home and raised
I pet him while he's lying down
Honey come home...
Without you it's not any kind of home
Own my own, I'm so alone
Honey, please come home
Your hound and I we so try
Through the days we somehow get by
We think we can make it, then comes the night
The loneliness we must fight
The whippoorwill as it calls from the field
Sometimes your name I hear it feels
I miss you so, I love you still
Honey, I always will
Honey come home...
Without you it's not any kind of home
Own my own, I'm so alone
Honey, please come home
The whippoorwill and I we both try
I hear it call I hear it cry
Something is missing from both of our lives
Honey, I'm so empty inside
Honey come home...
Without you it's not any kind of home
Own my own, I'm so alone
Honey, please come home.
poem by Bill Simmons
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Laundress
Dhobis usually operate from door to door collecting dirty linen from households. After a day or two, they return the linen washed, sometimes starched and ironed. Dhobis were the forerunners on the Indian subcontinent to modern professional dry cleaners. Since the dhobi charges are much lower than those of dry cleaners, they are popular with most households.Each dhobi marks a unique symbol or character on garments belonging to a particular household. This is marked in black indelible ink to prevent it from being washed off. Dhobis may wash the clothes themselves or outsource it to dhobis who only wash clothes. In Andhra Pradesh this caste is known as Rajaka (Chakali) and they make up 6% of the Andhra Pradesh population.This group is known as Madvala or Rajaka in the state of Goa.In Mumbai, dhobis are an integral feature of the city.All the dhobis wash their linen in the Mahalaxmi area known as Dhobi Ghat. This area is strangely popular with foreign tourists looking for a piece of quintessential Indianness. Another region in South Mumbai, Dhobitalao, used to be a lake where British soldiers used to have their uniforms washed about 120 years ago.There are also streets called Dhobi (or Dhoby) Ghaut in Singapore and Penang (Malaysia) , where Indian dhobis used to carry out their ancestral business.Dhobi remains British Armed Forces slang for washing (i.e. 'doing your dhobi') . In addition, washing powder is known as 'dhobi dust'.
Sometimes, a colloquial verb 'to dhobi' is used. The sentence 'My clothes were stinking, so I took them off and dhobied them native fashion by bashing them on a wet rock' from The Gold of Malabar by Berkely Mather, an author who had spent many years in India.The word 'dhobi' has been absorbed into the Malay language as 'dobi' to mean 'laundry'. So 'kedai dobi' means 'laundry shop'. A laundry shop in Malaysia may be owned by any race, not only Indian.Dhobi itch is an alternative name for jock itch. In Sri Lanka too the rheumatoid culture is same and they treat them as low caste and offer a small chair to sit! What a ridiculous World is this?
What are you doing my little Angel at this Twilight by the River bank?
I thought you're a Goddess and I am a Buffalo boy
To my stingy Master's herd!
Please do not run like a reindeer
I am your faithful brother.
If you wait for a while I play the flute
And if you are interested the tune
I spend my whole life to teach you,
Why you wash others dirt and their sins?
If I have a tiny World of my own
Definitely I give you a Buffalo ride
But I am only a Buffalo boy
And not a seasonal Jockey!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nobody Home
I can tell by the way
There aint no lights in the windows
And by the way your curtains hang
Yeah, I know which way the wind blows
I said no, I said no, I said no, nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
You went away, what a heavy load
You must have took it with you
Down and out, to no thanks to boat
But no one can get ya
I said no, I said no, I said no, aint nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
I said nobody, nobody home
From the way that you act
I guess you havent been there
By the look in your eyes
Theres nobody been there
I said no, I said no, I said no, nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
I said nobody, nobody, nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
I said no, I said no, I said no no no, nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
I said nobody, nobody home
Nobody home, nobody home
Aint nobody home, nobody home,
Nobody home
Nobody home
Nobody home
Nobody home
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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