It is in putting it into the oven that the loaf is made crooked.
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A Picture Of Greed
on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread
on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread
a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread
then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth
the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loaves put awry into the oven come out crooked.
A Crooked Smile (song)
With your deep brown eyes
and your crooked smile
you swept me away for
quite a while when you smiled
a crooked smile
Then you came and
asked for a chance
but all I said was
How bout a dance
and then you smiled
A crooked smile
(Chorus)
Now your gone
and I'm missing you
and my broken Heart
wont be in two
when you smile
a crooked smile
Years have passed
and tears have too
but all I know
is I love you
and your smile
your crooked smile
Yesterday when you
got off the plane
you ran to my side
cuz I stood at your gate
and then you smiled
a croooked smile
You pulled me close
and said hello
but I could see
you were being mellow
til you smiled
a crooked smile
(Chorus)
now your here
and I'm loving you
and my broken heart
won't be in two
when you smile
a crooked smile
Moments passed
and memories made
And I know there ain't a better day
then when you smile
a crooked smile
Oh when you smile
my heart goes wild
poem by Jasmine Thompson
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Compromise used to mean that half a loaf was better than no bread. Among modern statesmen it really seems to mean that half a loaf; is better than a whole loaf.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“great Souls Live In Crooked Bodies”
Judge not, measure not,
The greatness of a soul;
By how one looks outside
By how one speaks or acts
By home where they reside
Instead observe how you react
Should you feel shame for them
or pity should arise,
It’s that your mind is closed,
Heart wearing a disguise
Crooked faces, crooked smiles
Fool those like you and me
Crooked limbs on crooked forms
Create ill will, poorly we then see
We must offer love to one another,
For that crooked man you scorn
As God would have it is your brother
Heaven-Sent and Earth-Born
poem by Ray Lucero
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Copy Copycat...
do not ever think that
putting your head in the oven
does magic
to the blandness of your poetry.
copycat.
move on,
our business is originality.
try other devices.
authenticity is the key.
be good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crooked
Crooked.
There is nothing straight about it.
There is nothing in the eyes,
Or the face that projects...
An honesty that's been sewned,
For an expected harvest
That reaps up rot instead of respect.
Crooked.
Like snakes with coiled tails.
Thieves bewitched like these,
Should not be speaking to appease...
With such ease.
Crooked are the hoodwinkers' comments.
And what they have done...
Should land everyone of them in jail!
Tastefully displayed...
And yet crooked are the beasts that lead.
Living in shells and crawling to prevail,
Like escargot when 'cooked'...
Are nothing more than scavenger low life snails!
Feeding on and releasing junk,
Are the crooked!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cat People
See these eyes so green
I can stare for a thousand years
Colder than the moon
Feel my blood enraged
It's just the fear of losing you
Don't you know my name
Well, you been so long
And i've been putting out fire
With gasoline
See these eyes so red
Red like jungle burning bright
Those who feel me near
Pull the blinds and change their minds
It's been so long
Still this pulsing night
A plague i call a heartbeat
Just be still with me
But it wouldn't believe what i've been thru
You've been so long
Well it's been so long
And i've been putting out the fire with gasoline
Putting out the fire
With gasoline
See these tears so blue
An ageless heart that can never mend
Tears can never dry
A judgement made can never bend
See these eyes so green
I can stare for a thousand years
Just be still with me
You wouldn't believe what i've been thru
Well you've been so long
It's been so long
And i've been putting out fire with gasoline
Putting out fire with gasoline
Putting out fire
We've been putting out fire
Well it's been so long so long so long
Yes it's been so long so long so long
I've been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
And putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Yeah yeah putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Yeah putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
Putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
It's been so long
Been so long so long so long
I've been putting out fire
Been so long so long so long
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have avoided becoming stale by putting a little water on the plate, lying on the plate, and having myself refreshed in a toaster oven for 23 minutes once every month.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A cake is a very good test of an oven: if it browns too much on one side and not on the other, it's not your fault - you need to have your oven checked.
quote by Delia Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Oven Liet
Where the flesh goes,
The mind follows.
The body is weak.
Why she left me alone.
How she got sick.
And no one calls the phone.
Never had to cook with her around
Now I found a light in the most unexpected place
The oven.
I sit in the dark tonight
In the kitchen
With only the oven light
While I try to mend.
And I brood like a chicken with her eggs
My seat feels like it's hatching
My bottom is burning
My soul squirming like a worm
Or a snake.
Yellow.
The color of companionship.
Cowardly, fearful, impertinent.
I stare into the oven
Light.
poem by Eon Ezkiel
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Nationality
I have grown past hate and bitterness,
I see the world as one;
But though I can no longer hate,
My son is still my son.
All men at God's round table sit,
and all men must be fed;
But this loaf in my hand,
This loaf is my son's bread.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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The Stand-Ins
In the dream
the swastika is neon
and flashes like a strobe light
into my eyes, all colors,
all vibrations
and I see the killer in him
and he turns on an oven,
an oven, an oven, an oven,
and on a pie plate he sticks
in my Yellow Star
and then
then when it is ready for serving—
this dream goes off into the wings
and on stage The Cross appears,
with Jesus sticking to it
and He is breathing
and breathing
and He is breathing
and breathing
and then He speaks,
a kind of whisper,
and says . . .
This is the start.
This is the end.
This is a light.
This is a start.
I woke.
I did not know the hour,
an hour of night like thick scum
but I considered the dreams,
the two: Swastika, Crucifix,
and said: Oh well,
it doesn't belong to me,
if a cigar can be a cigar
then a dream can be a dream.
Right?
Right?
And went back to sleep
and another start.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Get Your Biscuits In The Oven And Your Buns In The Bed
(Kinky Friedman)
You uppity women I don't understand
Why you gotta go and try to act like a man,
But before you make your weekly visit to the shrink
You'd better occupy the kitchen, liberate the sink.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Early every morning you're out on the street
Passing out pamphlets to everyone you meet.
You gave up your Maiden Form for Lent
And now the front of your dress has an air scoop vent.
Every single brakeman that's ever come along
Had a little woman always tellin' him that he's wrong.
Eve said to Adam, ?Here's an apple you horse?
And Delilah defoliated Samson's moss.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Mean-hearted harpies are breaking all the laws
Tearing up their girdles and a-burning up their bras,
Now the air is dirty and the sex is clean
And your coffee makes my hair turn green.
So damn emancipated in your mind and your body,
Gonna have to cancel all your lessons in karate.
If you can't love a male chauvinist
You'd better cross me off your shopping list.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Single Loaf Of Bread
A SINGLE LOAF OF BREAD
All these poems
And all this life
And all this endless writing
Do not buy
A single loaf of bread.
Measured by money
I mean minus forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Boys and Girls Come out to Play
Boys and girls come out to play,
The moon does shine as bright as day;
Come with a hoop, and come with a call,
Come with a good will or not at all.
Loose your supper, and loose your sleep,
Come to your playfellows in the street;
Up the ladder and down the wall.
A halfpenny loaf will serve us all.
But when the loaf is gone, what will you do?
Those who would eat must work -- 'tis true.
poem by Anonymous English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Your Biscuits In The Oven & Your Buns In The Bed
(kinky friedman)
You uppity women I dont understand
Why you gotta go and try to act like a man,
But before you make your weekly visit to the shrink
Youd better occupy the kitchen, liberate the sink.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Early every morning youre out on the street
Passing out pamphlets to everyone you meet.
You gave up your maiden form for lent
And now the front of your dress has an air scoop vent.
Every single brakeman thats ever come along
Had a little woman always tellin him that hes wrong.
Eve said to adam, heres an apple you horse
And delilah defoliated samsons moss.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Mean-hearted harpies are breaking all the laws
Tearing up their girdles and a-burning up their bras,
Now the air is dirty and the sex is clean
And your coffee makes my hair turn green.
So damn emancipated in your mind and your body,
Gonna have to cancel all your lessons in karate.
If you cant love a male chauvinist
Youd better cross me off your shopping list.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Charge Of The Bread Brigade
Half a loaf, half a loaf,
Half a loaf? Urn-hum?
Down through the vale of gloom
Slouched the ten million,
Onward th' 'ungry blokes,
Crackin' their smutty jokes!
We'll send 'em mouchin' 'ome,
Damn the ten million!
There goes the night brigade,
They got no steady trade,
Several old so'jers know
Monty has blunder'd.
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to buy the pie,
Slouching and mouching,
Lousy ten million!
Plenty to right of 'em,
Plenty to left of 'em,
Yes, wot is left of 'em,
Damn the ten million.
Stormed at by press and all,
How shall we dress 'em all?
Glooming and mouching!
See 'em go slouching there,
With cowed and crouching air
Dundering dullards!
How the whole nation shook
While Milord Beaverbrook
Fed 'em with hogwash!
poem by Ezra Pound
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When the light is crooked, the shadow is crooked.