If you want to love your household as much as your bread then you will have to knead your wife like dough.
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Bread Hair
Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XIII:The light that rises from your feet to your hair
The light that rises from your feet to your hair,
the strength enfolding your delicate form,
are not mother of pearl, not chilly silver:
you are made of bread, a bread the fire adores.
The grain grew high in its harvest of you,
in good time the flour swelled;
as the dough rose, doubling your breasts,
my love was the coal waiting ready in the earth.
Oh, bread your forehead, your legs, your mouth,
bread I devour, born with the morning light,
my love, beacon-flag of the bakeries:
fire taugh you a lesson of the blood;
you learned your holiness from flour,
from bread your language and aroma.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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Writing Off Debts
writing off debts
crumpling the list
of those who owe
what should not
have been buried
and forgotten
opening a window
letting in air
spread a white sheet
unfold the crumpled
feel the silk of seams
knead the dough
more to grow
to write and not
to say the word
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Here take back the stuff that I am, nature, knead it back into the dough of being, make of me a bush, a cloud, whatever you will, even a man, only no longer make me me.
quote by Georg C. Lichtenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evening Hymn In The Hovels
'WE sow the fertile seed and then we reap it;
We thresh the golden grain; we knead the bread.
Others that eat are glad. In store they keep it,
While we hunger outside with hearts like lead.
Hallelujah!
'We hew the stone and saw it, rear the city.
Others inhabit there in pleasant ease.
We have no thing to ask of them save pity,
No answer they to give but what they please.
Hallelujah!
'Is it for ever, fathers, say, and mothers,
That we must toil and never know the light?
Is it for ever, sisters, say, and brothers,
That they must grind us dead here in the night?
Hallelujah!
'O we who sow, reap, knead, shall we not also
Have strength and pleasure of the food we make?
O we who hew, build, deck, shall we not also
The happiness that we have given partake?
Hallelujah!'
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Biscuits and Bread
Though moulded of the same dough,
were all cast of a different mould,
most rise soft and springy as bread,
other misfits end up as biscuits instead,
yet none wants to be the thing that they were born and bred,
to be,
and it baffles me, the irony,
that though there's time for each,
in any ordinary bakery,
bread soon tries to harden,
and winds up stale instead,
and biscuits crumble, become brittle,
soon as they try to soften,
and be bread.
poem by Kevin Gachuma Waithaka
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The Bride-cake
This day, my Julia, thou must make
For Mistress Bride the wedding-cake:
Knead but the dough, and it will be
To paste of almonds turn'd by thee;
Or kiss it thou but once or twice,
And for the bride-cake there'll be spice.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Do Re Mi
(earl king)
Do re me fa so la ti
This little creature was a-passing me
He got a whole lot of rhythm when he walks
And I can hear music, baby, when he talks
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me, oh yeah
Do re mi fa so la ti
I wonder who can this creature be?
He aint no picture as I can see
But I dont care he looks so good to me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Id like to love you, yeah, yes sirree
It may sound crazy but its a fact
Hey tell me, baby, baby
How you gonna act?
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
Oh yeah
Do re mi fa so la ti
Lets get together and make whoopee
A b c d e f g
Cupids shootin arrows straight by me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
A b c d e f g
The cats in the cupboard and you cant catch me
A b c d e f g
Forget about the dough and think about me
A b c d e f g
Cupids shootin arrows straight by me
Oh, yes
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eat your bread with water and don't ask for another's dough.
By pounding the dough the bread will rise.
South African proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eat A Bagel
The circle of bread happens to us in reality,
I call mine a bagel, you call yours something;
Rolls I withstand til the end of Time,
The differently baked food is always mine.
The real cooks have gin and all the wandering
In the kitchen, like the ones that do a job.
May we extract rolls and loaves from their hands
As we have from our predecessors, like that.
The circles of bread are finer to behold
Than the ones of stickiness and dough.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Question Of The Heart
i came as a man
to look you in the eye and hold your hand
not doing this just because.....but
to show the women i love
to give me her heart
as well as i
begging to come a part
spitten words out looking at those eyes
asking the women of my life
to be the women who will be wife
love make these words bold
serious to create a household
to be everything i dream
as we unite and compete as team
i do love your heart
and wanna be in your life
as i ask the last question fromthe heart
will you be my wife
poem by James Bost
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Marked with D.
When the chilled dough of his flesh went in an oven
not unlike those he fuelled all his life,
I thought of his cataracts ablaze with Heaven
and radiant with the sight of his dead wife,
light streaming from his mouth to shape her name,
'not Florence and not Flo but always Florrie.'
I thought how his cold tongue burst into flame
but only literally, which makes me sorry,
sorry for his sake there's no Heaven to reach.
I get it all from Earth my daily bread
but he hungered for release from mortal speech
that kept him down, the tongue that weighed like lead.
poem by Tony Harrison
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Perpetual Tan
contrary to popular belief,
I do like bread.
Its just dough i can't stand
nor skins, bucks samolians...
I don't need a perpetual tan
to tell which way the wind blows.
poem by Jerome Moore
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This Is All About Like
the world where
we live, and which we say
we love is all about like,
we operate on the likeness
and the unlikeness of it all,
forest like an emerald
crown of the head
of the mountain
love like ruby ring
in my finger
death like sunset fading
into darkness
life like bursting waves
in the sea
birth like a tight rose bud
unfolding to the
sun
and growth like dough
becoming bread on yeast
like cocoons to butterflies
we go and fly
to the next level of our
existence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He’s Gone to England for a Wife
HE’S GONE to England for a wife
Among the ladies there;
And yet I know a lass he deemed
The rarest of the rare.
He’s gone to England for a wife;
And rich and proud is he.
But he was poor and toiled for bread
When first he courted me.
He said I was the best on earth;
He said I was “his life”;
And now he thinks of noble birth,
And seeks a lady wife!
He said for me alone he’d toil
To win an honest fame;
But now no lass on southern soil
Is worthy of his name!
I think I see his lady bride,
A fair and faultless face,
And nothing in her heart beside
The empty pride of race.
And she will grace his gilded home,
The wife his gold shall buy;
But will she ever dream of him,
Or love as well as I?
poem by Henry Lawson
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So Soft
Held in your arms in the back seat,
Cruising down the main street,
How can anyone have such little defense?
You're soft.
In between the sheets, left in limbo,
Covered me like the pillow
I can hardly tell the difference.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
Love would melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
Walking down the street, brushing arms,
You're moonlight dancing.
I try hard to keep my feelings in.
You're soft.
Dancing to the music, so low.
I knead you like dough.
How can anyone be so loving
And soft,
So soft?
To be, to be with you
I'd leave everything.
But I don't know how to deal with you.
I swear you'd fall like a feather if I was cruel.
You melt me like hot butter.
You're soft,
So soft.
To be, to be with you
I'd do anything.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dinah Kneading Dough
I have seen full many a sight
Born of day or drawn by night:
Sunlight on a silver stream,
Golden lilies all a-dream,
Lofty mountains, bold and proud,
Veiled beneath the lacelike cloud;
But no lovely sight I know
Equals Dinah kneading dough.
Brown arms buried elbow-deep
Their domestic rhythm keep,
As with steady sweep they go
Through the gently yielding dough.
Maids may vaunt their finer charms--
Naught to me like Dinah's arms;
Girls may draw, or paint, or sew--
I love Dinah kneading dough.
Eyes of jet and teeth of pearl,
Hair, some say, too tight a-curl;
But the dainty maid I deem
Very near perfection's dream.
Swift she works, and only flings
Me a glance--the least of things.
And I wonder, does she know
That my heart is in the dough?
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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My Death Wish
Carve me like a pumpkin
With a cap upon my head
Scoop out my brains to mix with yeast
And knead them into bread
Cut out my eyes so I can’t see
The evil everywhere
And use them to play pool with
Doesn't matter
I don’t care
Snip off my hair to knot and braid
A rope that I can use
To tie around my woeful neck
And end it none to soon
And with what’s left
Chop, blend and mix
A tonic that will grow
A crop of red tomatoes in
The Summer you might sow
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder
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Bread & Butter
I love bread and butter
and jam upon hot toast
and flowers in the summer
but I love you most.
I love the red spring tulips
and cold strawberry mousse
and I love chocolate pudding
but I love you most.
I love bread and butter
and honey for to spread
though honey is but nothing
to your warm caress.
I love bread and butter
but egg with chips will do
although they only half compare
to my love for you.
I dare not feign indifference
I love a red, red rose.
Their scent is ever fragrant
but I love you most.
You know I love my mother
and sumptuous Sunday roast,
I love her home made puddings
but I love you most.
poem by Ruth Walters
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