Related quotes
Fear clogs; faith liberates.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.
quote by John Dryden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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autumn drizzle
in the lane
the clatter of clogs
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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autumn chill
between the clatter of my clogs
haiku moments
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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autumn sojourn
in the evening chill
the clatter of my clogs
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Bad news goes about in clogs, Good news in stockinged feet.
Falling Snow
The snow whispers around me
And my wooden clogs
Leave holes behind me in the snow.
But no one will pass this way
Seeking my footsteps,
And when the temple bell rings again
They will be covered and gone.
poem by Amy Lowell
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There was a Young Lady of Ryde,
Whose shoe-strings were seldom untied.
She purchased some clogs,
And some small spotted dogs,
And frequently walked about Ryde
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dictated Dialogue
It’s crazy time at university
first term final essays due
students are scurrying bees busy
checking references facts never knew.
Writing stereo-typical answers
making lecturers more brilliantly blue
these are research required formats
that which all rabid mind-clogs do.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Alone
Over the fence, the dead settle in
for a journey. Nine o'clock.
You are alone for the first time
today. Boys asleep. Husband out.
A beer bottle sweats in your hand,
and sea lavender clogs the air
with perfume. Think of yourself.
Your arms rest with nothing to do
after weeks spent attending to others.
Your thoughts turn to whether
butter will last the week, how much
longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.
poem by Deborah Ager
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Surprise in Japan - Drain as toilet
first world country
oh these quaint toilets where
you have to do it into a drain
I was terribly surprised that in some parts of Tokyo a toilet meant
you do your business right into a drain. You wear a pair of clogs into the toilet which is nothing more than a deep drain. I am still trying to find out where the shit would flow to till this day.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I love you, too
At the distance precisely I perceived
some ripples in the still wind breaking
the clogs of the waves, crawling towards
me the little chain of the words ‘ I love you ‘
which risen up from the below part of her belly
and clearly asked me ‘why did you not accept
the softest words the most heart felt feeling
of the world? ' I replied with a smile ‘ please
stop shaking and return to tell that I had
accepted her before you reached here ‘
poem by Abdul Wahab
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4. Footwear for Spiders
A spider went shopping
To buy some new shoes
He tried on so many
But just couldn’t choose
He first tried four pairs
Each laced polished black
Then eight yellow flip flops
But all were to slack
Having searched every rack
He found some brown boots
Which he tried on at once
But they looked like tree roots
So he settled for clogs
Making eight feet look wider
Because no one sells shoes
For a smart trendy spider
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Mummification
Preserve me in your acts of compassion
As my heart shrinks in one last contraction;
Before my blood clots and clogs deep inside
The vessels of my so-soon-to-be-dried,
Disintegrating internal organs.
When I am lifeless, soulless, and barren;
When I am petrified, dark and ashen,
Permit for me to be indemnified.
Preserve me.
While I lay, looking through my glass coffin;
Resting on a fine, white bed of linen,
Allow my spirit to be purified.
As I am wrapped, embalmed and mummified
In the thick tars of refined bitumen,
Preserve me.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Beautiful
A cinder,
neither coal nor ash,
my life,
clogs the roots of swaying carnations.
Fear, like a cheetah, runs faster than discretion.
Helplessly you tear off the last page
of the book
without reading the end.
One petaled coral, green,
hides the white death,
drowning the hope.
The river has changed the course,
without meaning, purpose,
meandering, engulfing the cardinal designs.
A homeless god wanders,
in my garden, to sit for a while
in the ruins of burnt umbers,
till the shrine is completed.
poem by Satish Verma
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On the Same
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs;
As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona’s twin-born progeny,
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee.
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs,
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt when Truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;
For who loves that must first be wise and good:
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood.
poem by John Milton
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Songs Set To Music: 6. Set By Mr. Smith
Phillis, since we have both been kind,
And of each other had our fill,
Tell me what pleasure you can find
In forcing Nature 'gainst her will.
'Tis true, you may, with art and pain,
Keep in some glowings of desire,
But still those glowings which remain
Are only ashes of the fire.
Then let us free each other's soul,
And laugh at the dull constant fool
Who would Love's liberty control,
And teach us how to whine by rule.
Let us no impositions set
Or clogs upon each other's heart;
But, as for pleasure first we met,
So now for pleasure let us part.
We both have spent our stock of love,
So consequently should be free;
Thyrsis expects you in yon grove,
And pretty Chloris stays for me.
poem by Matthew Prior
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After Three Generations
No man can be relevant
After three generations.
A few might be relevant
After two generations.
Most of men are forgotten
Within their generations.
If at all a name exists
After three generations
It is as good as irrelevant
As his progeny would branch
Out beyond the traceability.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Flying Inside Your Own Body
Your lungs fill & spread themselves,
wings of pink blood, and your bones
empty themselves and become hollow.
When you breathe in you’ll lift like a balloon
and your heart is light too & huge,
beating with pure joy, pure helium.
The sun’s white winds blow through you,
there’s nothing above you,
you see the earth now as an oval jewel,
radiant & seablue with love.
It’s only in dreams you can do this.
Waking, your heart is a shaken fist,
a fine dust clogs the air you breathe in;
the sun’s a hot copper weight pressing straight
down on the think pink rind of your skull.
It’s always the moment just before gunshot.
You try & try to rise but you cannot.
poem by Margaret Atwood
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