Many children, and little bread, is a painful pleasure.
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Your pocket
Keep your pocket untouched
As the Wiseman said
You are the only one to touch
To earn and maintain your bread
You cannot leave it untouched
Since though bread rhymes with bed
You can have it attached
And even your back pocket occasionally
Many times by a credit card penetrated
And as bread once had raisins for poor children to smile, bread and cards and pockets are also nowanights,
pleasure and delight.
Men are most fortified
When approximately forty-five
Children smile, today, through pockets children cry
poem by Chrysostomos Tsiailis
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Painful Solitude
Painful rejection
Your silence speaks volumes
Solitary dove flies alone,
Looking for a place to belong,
She is lost, heart full of pain
Will she ever be able to sing again?
Painful illness
My body agony
My mind endures
Painful isolation
Painful solitude
Painful loneliness
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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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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Once Children Are Rifting
Once children are rifting
Mom tries to mend
She mends and mends and mends
Until she is powerless, it’s out of her hand
Once children are rifting
She still stands brave
For imaginative path
Uncontrolled it rift away
She dips into tears helpless
Once children are rifting
She pours tears immobilized
Asking God `` Set My Children Together``
Emotional and agonizing she converse
There are my children intelligent or disobedient
Still there are my children.Oh God!
Once children are rifting
It’s very unbearable and painful affair
For a mom to familiarity the moment
Still she stands next to them to mend till her
sky-scraping strength fade``Deceased``
poem by Ezna Stephna
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Children Are Rifting!
Once children are rifting
Mom tries to mend
She mends and mends and mends
Until she is powerless, it's out of her hand
Once children are rifting
She still stands brave
For imaginative path
Uncontrolled it rift away
She dips into tears helpless
Once children are rifting
She pours tears immobilized
Asking God …. `` Set My Children Together``
Emotional and agonizing she converse…
There are my children …… intelligent or disobedient
Still there are my children.Oh God!
Once children are rifting
It's very unbearable and painful affair
For a mom to familiarity the moment
Still she stands next to them to mend till her
sky-scraping strength fade..........``Deceased``
(26th August 2011)
poem by Ezna Stephna
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Bread is wiser
Butter is richer than bread
But can’t replace bread.
But butter is better with bread
For which is not sad the bread.
Wives are not wiser than bread.
05.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Memories
My forgetfulness as good as my memories
So I always forget to keep memories away
They crowd in rushing when I am alone
But when I am among crowd they fly away.
I take every time firm resolution to forget you
But my memories as weak as my forgetfulness
So I keep continue to remember your sweet face
But I forget, you are the cause of my sadness
Sadness can give you pleasure as happiness
I am very pleasant in that of my sweet sadness
My life is a pleasure like that of slow dying
Still I drink poison in your memories and living
Forgetting in this life is as painful as dying
So I remember you all time though it is painful.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Children Of God
We are all children, all children of God
We are all kindred to angels though flawed
We are all breathing the breath of our God
With singing and shouting his works to applaud
Come little children, the master once said
He led us to pastures with golden gifts spread
We children partook of his wine and his bread
His body and blood to sure saving grace led
We children must be, must be born again
Nor will of the flesh nor yet will of men
Can open the floodgates of spirit's fair glen
Where love dwells forever, amen and amen.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Feathers on head
The one who sings on God does so for one’s bread.
The one who spells gospel does so for one’s bread.
The one who serves God does so for one’s bread.
You give them bread and keep them on your head.
16.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Opposite displeasure
Success gives pleasure.
Conquest gives pleasure.
Revenge gives pleasure.
Hunting gives pleasure.
Coveting gives pleasure.
Mind; every pleasure
Gives equal and opposite
Displeasure to others.
In a way we act as sadists
04.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bread & Blood
(graham russell)
Im not afraid of losing you or saying good-bye
If someone needs you more than me, I will understand why
Id never stand between someone whos holding your heart
But I cant let a superstition tear us apart
Who has the right to speak fire from above
If heaven is away from you, that is the place I will give up
For falling in love cant be taking these lips from the cup
Dont fill her mind with bread and blood
Dont confuse strength with pride and mud
I have a faith in love thats thicker than all bread and blood
Im not afraid to face the truth of what I believe
If love was never meant to choose, it could never succeed
And we may always stand alone in everyones sight
And be the judge unto ourselves between wrong and right
Who puts a price on eternitys sin
Who throws the first stone shall search for perfection again
For you are the reason that pleasure was taken from the pain
Dont fill her mind with bread and blood
Dont confuse strength with pride and mud
I have a faith in love thats thicker than all bread and blood
I wont see you cry, should it make you cry
Dont fill her mind with bread and blood
Dont confuse strength with pride and mud
I have a faith in love thats thicker than all bread and blood
Dont fill her mind with bread and blood
Dont confuse strength with pride and mud
I have a faith in love thats thicker than all bread and blood
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum
Welcome to the Colosseum
Where pain is pleasure and it is our pleasure to be of service
Lay back on the rack
The waxing poetics are hot and the iced humor is very dry
The fence sitter splinters are sharp but the elitist tongues are sharper
There are many painful pleasures which abound
We guarantee your total satisfaction
Or we'll give you fifty lashes of your back for free
For no one ever enters with a smile
Who doesn't leave here with a grimace
(2007)
poem by Ted Sheridan
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031310 Life Is Struggle
across the street is harris teeter
where i buy groceries and painkiller
they have a card that gives discount
it helps, it surely saves a little amount
bread that is about to expire is 50%
for wines, spirits and fish not a cent
at twilight when i don't like to cook
i settle with bread and vegetable soup
sit with my friends, listen to their stories
watch them race their grocery carts
to their waiting cars at parking lot
where their children doing homework
life is so hectic, a struggle
how parents do the juggle
time of work and children
happening at same scene
it is tiring close to depression
it is love, determination to go on
poem by Manonton Dalan
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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
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Pleasure Is The Bait
Excitement gives pleasure;
Exploration gives pleasure;
Sexual love gives pleasure.
Pleasures are momentary.
Pleasure can peak the happiness
Or cause the valley of sorrow.
Pleasure is the bait one's after
Not minding the after-effects.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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If it's very painful for you to criticize your friends - you're safe in doing it. But if you take the slightest pleasure in it, that's the time to hold your tongue.
quote by Alice Duer Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nuremberg, U.S.A.
In this time and place, where "Bread and Circuses" has
become "Bread and Atrocities," to say 'I love you' is
like saying the latest propaganda phrase...'defoliation'...
'low yield blast'.
If bombing children is preserving peace, then
my fucking you is a war-crime.
poem by Bill Knott
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Our Grandchildren
my grandchildren are children of my children,
sounds quite Biblical,
grandchildren are my children once emoved,
neither born nor reared under our roof
the status clear but the state of mind,
unwilling to grow apart is painful and smarting,
each time we see them, a growing warmth,
shining reflections, thrills of yesteryear
crowding the senses, choked with emotion,
we are drowned with sympathies of surrender
symphonies of hugs and embracing,
to kiss and to hold these children of our children
this affinity is like no other, special and particular
reserved only for them, a set, set aside, as we
incessantly seek to find resemblances and like,
about these children of our loins and womb,
remind us of when you were growing up,
their laughter and cheer fills our universe
their pain and fear clouds our horizons,
juat ask and we would give them the skies and galaxies
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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We the shy children
We are shy children
Why wish us ill then
When we sing our songs for pleasure?
We are God’s children
Who pays the bill then
while we play amongst the heather?
Whilst we’re still children
Will He explain then
What it is that we should treasure?
If it’s not love then,
Or heav’n above, when
we receive the farewell sermon,
will we remain then
singing and playing
amongst the decaying heather?
poem by Sailing to windward
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