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Lord of the Flies
Oh Master my Master
Oh where have you been
I wallowed in filth and
I drowned in sin
Oh Master my Master
It's my rotten luck
To swim in the decay
And swallow the muck
Oh Master my Master
I stand in the fires
Surrounded by murderers
Thieves, cheaters, and liars
Oh Master my Master
the earth has turned red
Fluid with blood
Of the recently dead
Oh Master my Master
What's wrong with the world
The blackness unfolds
Like a flag that's unfurled
Oh Master my Master
You ignore my cries
And now I'm quite sure
You're the Lord of the Flies
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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He who pays well is master of another man's purse.
Ladies First
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Pushing in front of the ice cream line.
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first,'
Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.
Climbing on the morning bus
She'd shove right by all of us
And there'd be a tiff or a fight or a fuss
When Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
Pamela Purse screamed, 'Ladies first,'
When we went off on our jungle trip.
Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse
And guzzled our water, every sip.
And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,
Who tied us together and made us all stand
In a long line in front of the King of the land-
A cannibal known as Fry-'Em-Up Dan,
Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand
With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,
As he tried to decide who'd be first in the pan-
From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,
Pamela Purse yelled, 'Ladies first.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Grabby Gabby
Grabby Gabby was a little boy who was talking all the time
One day as he was walking, he saw on the sidewalk a dime
This started him to be grabby
Whenever he saw something shining, he would be grabby
One3 dayas he was walking, he saw a black shining lady's purse
He grabbed it and looked inside and found a lot of money in the purse
Also, he found a driver's license so he knew who the person was who owned the purse
So, he hurried to the ladie's house to return the purse
She was so happy that Grabby Gabby returned to her the purse and money
She gave him a reward of a large amount of money
June 29,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
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Terse Verse
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
In my soul thou so give
And on its worth my life I live
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Love is a morsel of thine treasure
In one ounce is my immense pleasure
Terse little verse, gold from beauties purse
Sing like a muse
and in poetry fuse
my soul into verse from beauties purse
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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An empty purse can't stand alone and a full purse can't bend.
Master
Master went a-hunting,
When the leaves were falling;
We saw him on the bridle path,
We heard him gaily calling.
'Oh master, master, come you back,
For I have dreamed a dream so black!'
A glint of steel from bit and heel,
The chestnut cantered faster;
A red flash seen amid the green,
And so good-bye to master.
Master came from hunting,
Two silent comrades bore him;
His eyes were dim, his face was white,
The mare was led before him.
'Oh, master, master, is it thus
That you have come again to us?'
I held my lady's ice-cold hand,
They bore the hurdle past her;
Why should they go so soft and slow?
It matters not to master.
poem by Arthur Conan Doyle
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I Know What My Master Does
I know where my Master lives.
I need no invitation to visit where He is.
I know where my Master lives.
I know what my Master does.
I witness this on a daily basis.
And not with eyes fixed on skies above.
My Master is available whenever I call.
My Master is everything and to me my all.
My Master has seen me stumble and fall,
To get up off my knees to again walk tall.
And if it wasn't for my Master I'd be left to crawl.
I am aware ot this.
I know where my Master lives.
I need no invitation to visit where He is.
I know where my Master lives.
I know what my Master does.
I witness this on a daily basis.
And not with eyes fixed on skies above.
I know what my Master does,
Can do...
And has done for me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty pockets empty purse
Inside my pockets
the wind..
continues to play
an old game, hide and seek
But then too bored,
not pleased enough
starts searching for
a playmate or a friend
who does he find?
Just take a guess? ?
My purse, thats right!
The wind tries hard to
hook him up
and Mr Purse?
naahh...
Too lazy and too weak..
promises to play
actually starts but
then, just hide away and
sleep.
Sweet dreams, you clever
empty Mr Purse,
Sweet dreams! !
poem by Elena Sandu
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Peace to Turmoil
When I omitted a line to read
I felt I lost the cost to that extent in
A tamil weekly that I then bought
With four annas of my privy purse.
I now buy it for seven rupees
To see across and throw it.
Is it due to the purging of my purse
Or mind running ahead of events?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Master Spoke.
Why is the world here today?
The Master Spoke.
Why are we sinners, like sheep gone astray?
The Master Spoke.
Why all this toil, no comfort of Eden,
Since man didn't obey?
The Master Spoke.
Why work the dust of the ground, from whence we came,
And eat 'By the sweat of our brow? '
The Master Spoke.
Why do we, naturally,
Posess the desire to before,
God, want to worship and adore?
The Master Spoke.
Why is Jesus glorified,
And why, for sinners, did he die?
The Master Spoke.
Why shall God return again,
To take away Isreal, His bride?
Why me, a sinner, justified?
The Master Spoke.
Why will there be Revelations, wars,
And roomers of wars,
Nearing the End Times?
The Master Spoke.
Why is God an eternal Being,
But the world shall be no more?
The Master Spoke.
Why is it, that when a man speaks,
His words blow away
As kernals of grain,
And yet, when God speaks, his Word is as rock,
Forever to remain?
The Master Spoke -
'Heaven and Earth shall pass away,
But my words shall never pass away.'
Why do these things occur,
And as it were,
The penalty of sin man did not have to pay?
The Master Spoke -
'For God so loved the world,
That he gave his only Son,
That whoever believes in him
Shall not perish,
But have the gift of eternal life.
Why?
The Master Spoke.
'Go now! Help the needy,
And the weak!
Save hearts that are broken! '
Hurry, now!
The Master has Spoken.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Ferry Me Across The Water
‘Ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘If you've a penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
‘I have a penny in my purse,
And my eyes are blue;
So ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue,
And for the penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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To follow the path, look to the master, follow the master, walk with the master, see through the master, become the master.
Am I a master
I am the master, master of art
have painted true pictures,
of rising sun, mountain, sea
through jungles flowing rivers,
shining stars, birds, cloudy sky,
can paint anything and everything.
insects, lions, bear and deer.
just like the living things.
I am the master, master of art,
can make my own paint and brush
Alas! but cannot create raw material
of any of paint, brush or canvas.
Oh! can not paint these seven
which are made only in heaven:
smell, touch, look, hear and taste,
emotions, thought and breathe.
No, I am not the master, master of art
can paint uncountable things yet not.
Not possible to paint love and laugh
I have to go again and again to learn
to the supreme master, who painted
the universe, stars, moon and sun
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Sonnet: Master-servant Relationship
Where Master cares for servant’s welfare too
And treats him like a fellow-man at least,
And twain help each other to grow and woo,
The Master can never become a beast.
Where servant earns his master’s goodwill first,
By doing duty, uttering no word,
The Master cannot ever turn his worst,
Nor any time from hilt remove his sword!
Thus, master, servant is inseparable;
One thinks about the other all the time;
And love is born strong like in a fable,
With other’s help, each makes his life sublime.
Think of the other’s needs much more than self,
And never work for worldly acclaim/pelf.
7-26-2002
poem by John Celes
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The Duck that Stays so Still
daily food for me
right in front of me
come rain or shine
oh master
for your love
i would die for you
anytime, this passion
in me that
runs high as the mountains
my loving master
such a friend to me
yes, i would die
for my master
the duck stays so still
for the knife to go into him one day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Patch-Up
His dog was home Alone
He didn't even have a Bone
He layed there, with big sad Eye's
Waiting for his master and his Lie's
His master Staggered In
Really stinking of Gin
Began to tell his Dog
He's late because of the Fog
Now the Dog began to Grin
He knew lying was a Sin
He looked at his Master
And saw a Big Disaster
The night was clear as a Bell
No fog for miles, as he could Tell
So his master did Lie
I guess this would be Good-Bye
The dog packed his Bags
And got all his Tags
Snook out the back Door
Didn't want to see his master Anymore
That Dog did the best that he Can
And the Master was a real bad Man
So that dog took off, for the better Life
And with that bad Man he would have no more Strife
Two years later the Dog Reappeared
He was expecting the worst, he Feared
But that bad man had cleaned up his Act
And had a wife now, as a matter of Fact
Now that Dog had a big Smile
And waiting in the back all the While
Was the dogs new 'wife' and 'Pup'
Yes, there all together now, a Great Patch-Up
P.S. And they all had a Merry Christmas, and lived happily ever after.....
poem by David Darbyshire
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12 Midnight
Now the master sleeps
Leaving you some of his poems
Now it is midnight
Now the master has to sleep
Take care yourselves
Take care of his poems
They are now yours,
All his disciples
The master sleeps.
Now, see, how the master breathes
Listen to the rhythm of his sighs
Some poems are coming out from
His nostrils some poems are coming out
From his mouth and ears
The master poet is asleep
Even in dreams he weaves some images
Dreamy, surreal, ephemeral, his sleep
Has rhyme & rhythm, he is a soul breathing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unlikely, Unbecoming
envious of the dog
the buffalo begins to behave like one
when the master comes
it waggles its legs and dances like a puppy
the master is angry
'this is unbecoming of you! '
the master about this is not happy
and whips the buffalo away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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War master
Does killing make you satisfied?
War Master
Does killing make you happy?
War Master
If one dies why do you have to make more die?
War Master
Why do you not answer me?
War Master
poem by Devin Weseen
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