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There Is No Substitute For The Now
he is choosing NOW
he will not exchange it for something else
he is gripping it like a wrench
it IS.
BECAUSE he is tired of promises
most of them turn out to be empty shells
chicken eggs without yolks
yellows have become mere illusions
he goes for NOW.
IT is what he can hold, he feels it
and seemingly
it cannot be taken away from him
until it is taken
until he gives it after he held it
for the moment
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love My Hospital
You are like a line of windows,
All of a design, smelt by the nose;
It is an abode of medical care
Of a remedy and an endless affair.
Your adventures are anywhere and beware
Of the obstacles that mean misery, an armchair;
The arms are sound and the legs may crave
For more room and air, the very brave.
Yolks of eggs are gulped by the nurses,
Think the innocent minds of mad men, he loses;
Who? The doctor. The consultant deserves life
And beyond us he stands, in liquid air, maybe with a knife.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Kitchen Pride....Adult Humour
Tickle my fancy as free as a bird
Stripped of her feathers, or so I've heard
Lace she in daisy chains and ring
'Er neck
With splintering smiles upon
Break.... fast eggs
(All yolks aside)
A messy contortionist has no pride
Twiddle your thumbs and smile at the mess
Feathers and flour upon my...
(oooeeer must i confess!)
Free range
Organically led
Steer well clear from the hospital bed
Skid pon the lino doused in Ribena
Then smile at her spirit
(my have you seen her!)
Free as an ostrich gallumphing in pride
Behind the fridge freezer
Her warming (bestest side)
poem by Karen Sinclair
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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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Efficient
Life's preparatory refuge,
counting down before fate's deluge,
inner sanctum, sacrosanct, the womb.
Safe from scavengers marauding,
temporary home affording,
flickers of awareness time to bloom.
Grey nurse shark's twin uteri keep,
many embryos in eggs sleep,
rouse and hatch with yolks which they consume.
Then by blind instinctive nibblings,
first and fittest eat their siblings,
slaughtered and interred in kindred tomb.
Metre-long with eyes unblinking,
red-brown freckled, awl teeth plinking,
two primed killers leave in gushing flume.
Hovering in near suspension,
worked by swallowed air retention,
slow and stealthy, camouflaged, they loom.
poem by Diane Hine
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Egg love
Dog
Love too
Eat eggs...
Eggs is
Not love
The dog...
But...
Dog don't woory
Eat the eggs...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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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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The goose that lays the golden eggs likes to lay where there are eggs already.
quote by Charles Spurgeon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zero eggs
Eggs
Put on
Teacher...
At exam papper...
All are zero eggs...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hen and the Wren
The lovely, laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren.
'Good morning. It's nice to see you now and then.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'Thank you Mrs. Hen.
I haven't seen you for awhile and don't remember when.'
The laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren, 'If you recall,
The last time we were together was a bit before last fall.'
The wren smiled and said, 'Oh yes I should have guessed.
It's spring again so I'm back to build another nest.'
The hen said, 'Soon we both will be sitting on our eggs.
Not long after that there'll be babies ‘neath our legs.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'I wish my eggs weren't so small.
Your eggs are so large that your babies will be tall.'
Well the lovely laying hen said, 'Your eggs are just right.
And that song you sing brings everyone delight.'
From spring to fall wherever hens and wrens reside,
There'll be nests, eggs and babies chirping far and wide.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Painted Eggs
They painted their eggs and decorated them,
Thinking that they are serving the Creator!
Oh, how sad it is to see them at work;
For the false doctrine is what they love and,
Who will tell them that rabbits do not lay eggs?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Favoured Fare
Some poets sing of scenery;
Some to fair maids make sonnets sweet.
A fig for love and greenery,
Be mine a song of things to eat.
Let brother bards divinely dream,
I'm just plain human, as you see;
And choose to carol such a theme
As ham and eggs and tea.
Just two fried eggs or maybe three,
With lacy rims and sunside up,
Pink coral ham and amber tea
Poured in a big, fat china cup.
I have no crave for finer fare;
That's just the chuck for chaps like me.
Aye, if I were a millionaire--
Just ham and eggs and tea.
When of life's fussiness I tire,
And on my skull I wear a cap,
As tartan-shawled beside the fire
I stroke the kitten on my lap:
Give me no broth and chicken breast;
My last repast shall hearty be . . .
Oh how I'll sup with chuckling zest
On ham and eggs and tea!
poem by Robert William Service
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I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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