In your neighbors' soup there is always one fatty morsel.
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Richness has is a beauty.
A fatty woman
With richness painted
All over her skin,
Was full in glow,
Tempting me to look
Back at her again and again,
From my seat in a train,
Defying the concept
That to be slim is beauty.
A fatty cow, a fatty pig,
How nice they look!
Richness has beauty
2.12.2000, Vijayvada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Are Our Neighbors
Offered are no alternatives.
But complaints are voiced and heard.
Suggestions they have none.
But they come with venom,
On their tongues.
Exposing the teeth of wolves...
Seeking tender meat,
To consume and run!
These are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
These are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
Knockingdownwhatcanbefoundtogetnothin gdone.
Takingoutofcontextwithawishfailurecomes!
And these are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
Yes these are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
And these are our neighbors...
Every one.
Pickinguptheirtelephonestogossipwithm orelies.
Hopingwhatissaidwillkeepthetruthindis guise.
To keep deceit and defeat on the rise!
And...
These are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
Yes...
These are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
Offered are no alternatives.
But complaints are voiced and heard.
Suggestions they have none.
But they come with venom,
On their tongues.
Exposing the teeth of wolves...
Seeking tender meat,
To consume and run!
Pickinguptheirtelephonestogossipwithmorel ies.
Hopingwhatissaidwillkeepthetruthindisguis e.
To keep deceit and defeat on the rise!
And these are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
Yes these are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
And these are our neighbors...
Every one.
These are my neighbors.
These are your neighbors.
These are our neighbors...
Every one.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fatty Pig
P for pig, fatty pig
Eating lots of rice
O fatty pig
So funny you look
When you dance around.
poem by Dilipbhasker Mathra
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Soup Of The Day
Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cloaked As Someone's Philanthropist
'Where are your 'things'? '
My 'things'?
I didn't need them.
I gave them away!
'WHHHHAAAATTT! ?
Are you crazed?
What are my friends and neighbors going to say?
What lives are we going to live without those 'things'?
You've ruined my pretentions.
And succeeded in my defeat.
I can no longer flaunt my superficiality!
Why did you do this?
Aren't you feeling just a wee bit dazed? '
Not at all!
From now on I am going to be 'me'!
'AND...
Where will that leave me to be? '
Exposed as the leech you are.
Once cloaked as someone's 'philanthropist'.
To no benefit to the masquerading,
That now has to cease to exist!
'WHHHHAAAATTT! ?
Are you crazed?
What are my friends and neighbors going to say? '
I have no idea.
Why don't you ask?
Most of them I passed...
Standing in line at the soup kitchen!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grant Us Peace, Father of Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael
Grant us peace,
that we may not oppress our neighbors
Grant us justice,
that we may not enslave our neighbors
Grant us sanity,
that we may not torture our neighbors
Grant us mercy,
that we may not murder our neighbors
Grant us conscience
that we may not expel our neighbors
Grant us love,
that we may hunger for truth
Grant us discernment
that we may know what is ours, and what is not
Grant us decency
that we may return what we stole
Grant us courage
that we may admit what we’ve done
Give us strength to atone.
Ask only
that we end our silence.
I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy
I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.
Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.
What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.
I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.
20/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Talk Soup
I dated siamese twins
I slept with bigfoot, too
Get me on sally jesse
Put me on donahue
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
My dogs a narcoleptic
My moms a circus freak
I gotta get a spot on
Geraldos show this week
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just an anorexic codependant bingo addict
Stripper born without a chin
And Im only comfortable talking about it
When the whole wide world is listening in
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
My wife ran off with elvis
My boss shaved off my hair
Ive got a thing for poodles
And rubber underwear
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
I had a close encounter
I never chew my food
I got eleven nose jobs
I yodel in the nude
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just a cross-dressin alcoholic neo-nazi
Porno star, as you may have guessed
And Im really gonna feel a whole lot better
If you let me get this thing off my chest
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Im just your average schizophrenic nymphomaniac
Albino go-go dancer, you see
Nothin so bad that I cant share it
With a billion friends on national tv, whoa...
I have no genitalia
I sold my kids for cheese
I love my blow up doll, so
Bring out those cameras, please
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sky Seasoning
A piece of sky
Broke off and fell
Through the crack in the ceiling
Right into my soup,
KERPLOP!
I really must state
That I usually hate
Lentil soup, but I ate
Every drop!
Delicious delicious
(A bit like plaster),
But so delicious, goodness sake--
I could have eaten a lentil-soup lake.
It's amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soup of day
She said severely:
“God have said: the soup must be warm! ”
It was a Gazpacho, a cold soup to a warm evening.
I have mixed tomatos, cucumbers,
red and green peppers,
red onions, a few garlics,
a few parsleys and coriander.
This soup had a beautiful colour: red and green! green and red!
It was cold, very cold, iced.
I have warmed up her soup
I have grilled also some scallops
with a pistachio dressing
she said:
“It is delightful mostly the orange and red parts.”
It was only a question of colours
I have dreamt at a blue gazpacho, blue scallops
Blue like the sea but the sea is never blue
and the blue is not a tasty colour.
Then we have recited some french poems
This evening was quiet and tender
despite the heat wave.
I like to remember this iced soup
and the awful warmth.
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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A man who touches the bottom of a soup plate with a ball of foofoo is no longer searching for soup.
One spoon of soup in need has more value than a pot of soup when we have an abundance of food.
Supper
The supper of the red soup came with love,
And Veh came along with Xeh as the next door neighbours;
But Beh was my friend on the supper of the red soup,
And i will take Beh back home on this love.
The pictures of my mind brought up wonderful colours,
And of the muse of the red soup so enjoyed last night;
But i will take Beh back home to embrace my love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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You cook vegetable soup
You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.
There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.
We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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You're The One For Me, Fatty
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one i really, really love
And i will stay
Promise you'll say
If i'm in your way
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one i really, really love
And i will stay
Promise you'll say
If i'm ever in your ...
A-hey
All over battersea
Some hope; and some despair
All over battersea
Some hope; and some despair
Oh ...
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one i really, really love
And i will stay
Promise you'll say
If i'm in your way
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one i really, really love
And i will stay
Promise you'll say
If i'm ever in your ...
A-hey
All over battersea
Some hope; and some despair
All over battersea
Some hope; and some despair
Oh, oh ...
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one i really, really love
And i will stay
Promise you'll say
If i'm ever in your way
A-hey
You're the one for me, fatty
You're the one for me, a-hey-hey
A-hey
A-hey
A-hey
A-he-he-he-hey
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Bad-Habit Past
Nothing blocks evil effect of fatty food
ate last night's dinner at work; voilà, a
big headache that stops my brain and
fills my mind with mist, thick and grey
I can't operate, clear thinking recedes
life turns into a faint mirage, all I know
is discomfort, pressure and pain - let
this be a lesson: no more fatty foods
that render me almost comatose and
cloud my thoughts until only one idea
remains: death seems to be the only
release - all for sausage and cheese
No more, I shall only feast on salads
and green vegetables - I refuse to be
a prisoner of my bad-habit past, new
routines will bring back my joy in life
2 August 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The correlative to loving our neighbors as ourselves is hating ourselves as we hate our neighbors.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is through this mysterious power that we too have our being, and we therefore yield to our neighbors, even to our animal neighbors, the same right as ourselves to inhabit this vast land.
quote by Sitting Bull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even in these times, there are still neighbors that will turn their backs on neighbors.
quote by Wynton Marsalis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Dark Shadows.
the pepper pot
towards the nun
on her right.
The salt follows
once more given
a gentle shove.
To understand
another’s need
without them asking,
an elderly nun
had said.
A nun is reading
from a high desk
in the refectory.
Some book on Cromwell,
a life, back whenever when.
She sips her soup,
the French soup spoon
held in her right hand.
The nun on her left
passes the water jug.
Offers to pour.
Sister Felicity nods
and smiles.
The nun pours
a liberal amount
then puts down the jug.
Opposite an elderly nun
dribbles soup,
her shaky hand
missing the target.
Nan did that.
How can one forget?
She remembers
her grandmother’s
slow decline;
the slippery slope
down to the side ward
in the dank hospital.
Onion soup. Too hot.
She blows to cool.
Sunlight reaches down
through high windows.
Worlds explode
in dark shadows.
poem by Terry Collett
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