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Rake It In
I am here again
Tied up in your torture frame
Printed paper, guilty to blame
The story stays the same
Dry me out
Run me down
Burn me out
And rake it in, you rake it in
Rake it in, you rake it in, yeah
A slave upon your plate
I am your dreams, yeah your life and your bait
Selfish schemes, I proceed, you await
You my indefinite hate
Do you know what my chopping blocks for?
Do you know what my hanging braids for?
Do you know what my chamber maids for?
Can you guess what i, what I have in store for you?
song performed by by Imogen Heap
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Rules
If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do:
You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.
And you must sew my holey socks,
And soothe my troubled mind,
And develop the knack for scratching my back,
And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.
And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk... and be still when I talk,
And -- hey -- where are you going?
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shovel And Tongs
The Poker proposed to the shovel
That they should be man and wife,
'I think,' said he, 'that we could agree
As we journey along through life.'
The Shovel blushed as she answered,
'I thank you kindly, Mister,
But my promise belongs to the faithful Tongs,
So I only can be your sister.'
And when the couple were married
The Stove gave the Shovel away;
And it seemed too bad that the Poker, poor lad,
Was the Tongs' best man on that day.
But the Poker soon after was wedded
To the hearth broom, slender and slick;
And 'twas whispered about Mrs. Tongs was put out
Because he found comfort so quick.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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September Snakes
September Snake, so sluggish, so sad,
Is this the best summer you ever had?
Slithering and biting and “Fanging around“,
Sneaking up on folks with narry a sound.
You go to your hideout to catch a few ZZZZs
Or hang by your tail from the leaf-barren trees
And no one will bother you, no one comes near,
Not wild boar nor possum nor rabbit nor deer.
And if in your dreams you once think of me,
I hope you’ll remember that I set you free,
And if in the spring when your venom is strong
If you see me I know you won’t do me wrong.
‘Cause September Snake, I’ll be rested too
Just waiting for the chance to meet up with you,
And I’ll take off your tail with my shovel and rake,
And have you for breakfast, either fried or baked!
poem by Mbongo Zoobistatoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock Away
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place where it will stay.
Oooow!
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it to a place,
Where you know it will stay!
Take it off your constant meter.
Make your heated sweat,
Even sweeter.
Give it up to the gripper,
Quicker.
Slicker.
Live your life lived that much richer.
And...
Pound, pound that rock away!
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
Get a pick and shovel pieces of it...
To a place,
Where...
It will stay.
You will not feel free,
Until that beast has been ceased.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
Stay on it.
Pray on it.
Don't give up,
'Til you own it.
p-p-p Pound, pound that rock away.
Don't let it get to you another day,
Oh!
tick-tick-tick,
Get a pick...
And shovel pieces of it,
To a place,
Where...
It will stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Isn’t Winter
It isn’t winter that brings out
the brazing energy in me,
but the summer sun, the summer rain
the fresh earth that I wallow in
with fingers, with spade, with pickaxe
and rake scalloping the earth
in lines like a huge shell
in the womb of which is buried
the treasured seeds,
that will soon be sprouting
some into vegetables,
some into pretty flowers
giving back life and tranquillity.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seaweed Shovelling Song
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Green weed, red weed, still alive and dead weed
Lying in a pile on the shore
Brown weed, pink weed, smelly kind of stink weed
Who on earth could ask for more!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling man
Dry weed, wet weed, aint-been-troubled-yet weed
Glinting in the morning sun
Thin weed, thick weed, slimy kind of slick weed
Every bucket weighs a ton!
This is my seaweed shovelling song
Ive been shovelling all day long
Ive got got my seaweed shovel in hand
Because Im a seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling
Seaweed shovelling man!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grass
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work--
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Real Meaning Of Christmas
Christmas brings lights that lighten every alley.
Christmas fills the void of each heart's saddened valley.
Christmas brings Santa with surprising gifts of toys.
Christmas brings laughter to mainly girls and boys.
Christmas brings carols sung by mellifluous voices.
Christmas brings fantasies that suit many choices.
Christmas adds glamour to the choicest street's splendour.
Christmas emits fun with its rare yuletide colour.
Christmas makes sad faces to beam with unfeigned smiles.
Christmas brings seasonal joy travelling several miles.
Christmas brings hope to the annually despondent.
Christmas brings Christ, ever in our hearts resident.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (9 December 2018)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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0018 Man Raking Leaves (re Jim Morrison lyric)
The sound of wooden rake scratching concrete.
walk nearer - rustle of dry leaves.
This, the beginning of a Japanese haiku
or maybe a Japanese film -
dry sound first, then rake, then leaves, then man -
that evokes autumn
too near the heart
to need a title
the sound stops. silence. man leans on rake.
then match strikes, there's almost yes an echo
from the dry leaves not yet fallen from the trees
in the forest all around.
then the first tickle in the nostrils
of burning leaves which
the two-year old scrunching through the trees
hand in hand with older sister
will remember all his life
like the silence between
two lines of a haiku or
the silence of the moment when the seasons turn.
and who can say
what the golden-orange-yellow-brown trees
slowly stripping in a rustle as of silken nightgown
to the tune of, more a whisper than a breeze -
what the trees feel
as the incense of their, their, burning leaves
steals like a last caress
for each such faithful
lover?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Crazies
(chorus)
i am hungry
i am hungry
give me something
i am hungry
feed me
give me something
street crazy
(Repeat chorus with a cacophany of insane, incoherent sounds, includinggrowling, humming and coughing)
i am nobody, i am nobody, i am nobody
(Repeat chorus in a cacophany of insane, incoherent sounds, including growling, humming and coughing)
yes, they're cropping up now with alarming frequency
these little group eyes
wasted people standing around
those who've been kicked ass backwards
hard out of our society
as we try for the better,
for the higher in man
they may as well be apes, you know
trying to comprehend the way of death
(Repeat chorus in a cacophany of insane, incoherent sounds, includinggrowling, humming and coughing)
shovel it up the street, shovel it up the street, shovel it up the street
and it gets me down
and it gets me down
this is the vision i see
street crazy
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rake At The Gates Of Hell
Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds,
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight
Yigh!
I wish that they could walk forever,
On the earth, alone, unfettered
Til they pray for consolation,
Til they beg for sweet damnation
Then I'll come and bring them water,
Bring them hope, bring them laughter
Raise their hopes so sad and sunken
Slash them up as they lie there drunken
Push them down into the foul mud
Til they choke up on their own blood
Drag them out before their last breath
To take away the mercy of death
Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight
Yigh!
Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the Gates of Hell tonight
Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Months
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy damns.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hand with posies.
Hot july brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm september brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasents,
Then to gather nuts is pleasent.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
poem by Sara Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Broom, the Shovel, the Poker and the Tongs
The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
and they each sang a song, Ding-a-dong, Ding-a-dong,
Before they went back in the dark.
Mr Poker he sate quite upright in the coach,
Mr Tongs made a clatter and clash,
Miss Shovel was dressed all in black (with a brooch),
Mrs Broom was in blue (with a sash).
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
And they all sang a song!
'O Shovely so lovely!' the Poker he sang,
'You have perfectly conquered my heart!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong! If you're pleased with my song,
I will feed you with cold apple tart!
When you scrape up the coals with a delicate sound,
You enrapture my life with delight!
Your nose is so shiny! your head is so round!
And your shape is so slender and bright!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
Ain't you pleased with my song?'
'Alas! Mrs Broom!' sighed the Tongs in his song,
'O is it because I'm so thin,
And my legs are so long - Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
That you don't care about me a pin?
Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,
Ah! why don't you heed my complaint!
Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,
Because you are covered with paint!
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
You are certainly wrong!'
Mrs Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,
'What nonsense you're singing today!'
Said the Shovel, 'I'll certainly hit you a bang!'
Said the Broom, 'And I'll sweep you away!'
So the Coachman drove homeward as fast as he could,
Perceiving their anger with pain;
But they put on the kettle, and little by little,
They all became happy again.
Ding-a-dong! Ding-a-dong!
There's an end of my song!
poem by Edward Lear
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The Wood Handled Shovel
I take its smooth wood in my hands
to turn the earth as spring returns.
I make straight furrows in my garden
Like those before me worked the land.
This was Dad's shovel years ago
And in my father's callused hands
it coaxed our plot to yield us fruit
as good as any farmer's stand.
Outside of faded photographs
So few of father's things remain
His house torn down, his stuff dispersed.
his kingdom shrunken to a grave.
Of all the things that I possess
this little shovel made of wood
is my link to Him I loved
and to a time when life was good.
J.M.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Pulled Out My Shovel (Quatrain)
I Pulled Out My Shovel (Quatrain)
I pulled out my shovel
And dug a little hole
I dug even deeper
Trying to kill a mole
The digging was easy
The hole grew more and more
Then I thought to myself
I should have used my bore
I dug into the den
But the mole wasn't there
It was almost as if
It vanished in mid air
Then I saw a tunnel
It veered off to the right
So I thought to myself
I'd dig into the night
So I kept on digging
Until it petered out
Then I grew quite angry
So I had to shout
I never found that mole
But I did dig a hole
And filled it with a pole
Then formed a grassy knoll
Edwin Tanguma (10/4/2011)
poem by Edwin Tanguma
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U-Brought
sunrise brings sunset
night brings day
life brings death
and you my dear
you bring love and happiness
poem by J.r. Poteau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fate or Destiny
Fate or Destiny
Is it fate or destiny that brings your smile for me to see?
Is it fate or destiny that brings us together as we hold hands?
Is it fate or destiny that brings our hearts as a union as one?
Is it fate or destiny that brings our stormy seas to rest upon the shore?
Is it fate or destiny that builds a lasting relationship, never to fall?
Is it fate or destiny that brings us close beyond the horizon of a sunny day?
poem by Sharon Kubeck
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It brings people together. It brings the races together. It brings religions together.
quote by Billy Higgins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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