Saving mustard seeds in hand, while a watermelon escapes.
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Saving the mustard seeds that are in your hand might cause you to miss out on getting a watermelon.
A Mustard Tree
Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.
Such socially interactive afterthought
and commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate.
A mere agitated mortal into
a person attaining great compassion.
These are mustard tiny seeds
of apparent insignificance.
From which the mighty
mustard tree may grow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Margo Wants The Mustard
I watch her move up and down the beach, well
The fellows drool, but shes out of their reach, and
These are not a part of the scheme, but
Let them hope, and let them dream
So many dreams in the mind of the men, well
Come to life through a good one love
Margo walks in another place, well
Its in their minds, and its on her face
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
Shes only got to smile that way when
It lifts your heart, throws your troubles away, and
When she moves, well Ive got to say
This rhythm method goes a long, long way
Its in the bones, and its in the head
This precious thing has got to be fed, well
I shouldnt say, but it must be said
Its even better when its in your bed
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
(a wop bop a loo mop, a lop bom bom)
[classic es solo]
I cant explain what she motivates, but
Its all around, but its hard to relate
It must be close to heavenly bliss though
How I wish I could follow this and
Splashing out all over the place
Pour it all over the human race, yeh
I may be starting another sin, but
Sit right back, watch the fun begin
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top...
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Ain't Practicing
You can not spit watermelon seeds
Across the street.
Not if you are watching it grow on a vine,
From the confines of someone's backyard.
How can you perfect anything,
If you ain't practicing it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Mustard Seed Develops Exponentially?
Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted introverted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.
Sometimes an apology
is absolutely necessary.
To excuse a moment of extreme stupidity
or faux pas various social misdemeanors.
Even when we may be absolutely innocent
framed misunderstood or sadly guilty as sin.
Such socially interactive afterthought
and kind commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate beautify.
A mere agitated mortal into
a person attaining great compassion.
These are tiny mustard seeds
of apparent insignificance.
From which the mighty
mustard tree may grow.
‘The kingdom of the heavens
is like a mustard grain, ...
and becomes a tree, so that the birds
of heaven come and find lodging...'
poem by Terence George Craddock
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For me, Fellini was like a watermelon. It is there. A watermelon cannot die.
quote by Roberto Benigni
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choices
i prefer smooth peanut butter
to crunchy
mind you
crunchy is all right
but i prefer smooth.
i prefer strawberry jam
to raspberry
mind you
raspberry is tasty
but it's got all those seeds
and i prefer strawberry.
i prefer mustard
to mayonaisse
mind you mayonaisse has it's place
amongst condiments
but is likely to go bad
if left out to long
and poison everyone
so on the whole i prefer mustard.
i prefer cooked meat
to raw meat
for much the same reason
as i prefer mustard to mayonaisse
although it also has to do
with the fact that i don't
like my meat to bleat
or moo or make chicken noises (BAGOCK!)
when i eat
so i tend to avoid the raw
though mind you
the meat that i prefer
may at some time have been raw.
i prefer not to say
why i think so
but i do
and i suppose it's all
just a matter of taste
so if you'd prefer to think so
then crunchy is better
than smooth
even if it does interfere
with the texture of the
peanut butter
and jelly (strawberry) sandwich
which ought to be somewhat
devoid of substance
merely a sticky sweet something
to fill your stomach
put mayonaisse on it
if you like
i'd prefer not to think about it.
poem by Laura Sewell
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When You Touch Me
when you touch me
something in me grows
like a mustard
and then as Jesus once said
the mustard
becomes a tree and i am here
on top of everything
flowering fruiting
blooming ripening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ballade 2
In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
With every roast and mutton dish,
With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
With fresh and with salt-water fish,
Always, never asking, mustard.
I ordered herring, said I'd like
Carp for supper at the bar,
And called for simple boiled pike,
And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
The bus boy brought in with my mussels
As always, never asking, mustard.
I couldn't eat or drink without it.
They add it to the water they
Boil the fish in and-don't doubt it-
The drippings from the roast each day
Are tossed into a mustard vat
In which they're mixed, and then entrusted
To those who bring-they're trained at that-
Always, never asking, mustard.
Prince, it's clear a spice like clove
can drop its guard. It won't be busted.
There's just one thing these people serve:
Always, never asking, mustard.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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I Cannot Be...
i cannot be always the guardian angel
to your stupidity which like a female cow in heat
somehow escapes from the fence when i begin to take my much needed sleep.
when that cat in your hand escapes to eat the moon
i cannot always assume the body of the dog
for in my own weakness i assume the shadow of the mouse
sometimes i let you go and wish that you fall off from that cliff and die for my own
good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Second Night
i like the
wall
of separation
within it
is the silence
that i could
have written
since
i cannot
speak it
i tried
many times to reduce
the color
of silence
into something
like
black here and
white
over there
i want to capture
it in
some letters
like bars
and rectangles
formed
by my hands
i have never
done so
well
i am not good at
capturing
the perfect moment
it escapes
always it escapes
always
it escapes
because it is
free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kims Watermelon Gun
Well kims got the answer with her watermelon gun
And all the celebrities want permission, but she wont give it to them, til they learn how to love... and kims got her watermelon gun, cause its the consciousness of love
And wouldnt it be dumb if all their atrocities were just forgiven
But she wont give that to them, until they learn how to love.
And kims got her watermelon gun, cause its the consciousness of love. she wont give it to them, she wont give it to them...
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mean Mr. Mustard
Mean mister mustard sleeps in the park
Shaves in the dark trying to save paper
Sleeps in a hole in the road
Saving up to buy some clothes
Keeps a ten-bob note up his nose
Such a mean old man
Such a mean old man
His sister pam works in a shop
She never stops, she's a go-getter
Takes him out to look at the queen
Only place that he's ever been
Always shouts out something obscene
Such a dirty old man
Dirty old man
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We were saving, saving, saving then going to France and blowing the money eating. She was a nurse and had never experienced fine dining but she loved it, too. Our mates thought it absurd.
quote by Heston Blumenthal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mustard 'And' Pudding?
Climbing out the crib,
To take care of personal business...
Is taught.
And becomes a necessity.
A work ethic.
A game daily sought to play,
As a way of life to survive.
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard.
It would be nice to have a team-mate,
To relay strategies.
But when one is taught to win,
Only those accustomed to hitting homeruns...
Get the attention.
Time is rarely given,
To those boasting of what they've done.
Action is the key to unlock doors these days.
'What do you mean by...
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard? '
Show me your attempts of a wish to succeed.
I don't want to 'hear' about your expectations.
The proof is in the pudding.
'Mustard 'and' pudding?
Ugh!
I can see why you live alone.
That's a little too eccentric for me.'
You are not the one I am soliciting.
'Trust me...
I don't know which one of us is happier.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Empty minds filled with pride
Empty minds filled with pride
Naked to a suit
Blown without a cause
See their body's falling
In a blood scared land of fear
Hear them call, hear them calling
Who's the master of my fate?
And why do I wait…
And why do I want…
And why do I wait...
And why do I want to die…
Oh bring me a white flag
To wash the blood from my face
And bring me a virgin
Of saving grace
And let love be the price
I said let love be the price
Oh let love be the price for peace…
But their body's keep-on-falling
Like seeds to the ground
But those seeds will never sow
Those seeds will never grow
Life it's what you make it
So don't go breaking
Your dreams of love
Your dreams of love (humming here!)
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Clinging To A Saving Hand
Sing Me A Song Of Praise And Glory
Help This Wandering Child To Understand
That When I Close My Eyes In Sleep Eternal
I'll Be Clinging To A Saving Hand
I Want You To Sing To Me About The Rock Of Ages
And Sing About Eternity So Sweet
So That When I Take My Last Breath Of Life
I'll Awaken At My Saviour's Feet
I Want You To Tell Me About Paul And Matthew
And Sing About My Dear Saviour's Birth
And Tell About His Trials And Tribulations
While He Walked Upon His Heathen Earth
Come On And Sing Me A Song Of Praise And Glory
Help This Wandering Child To Understand
That When I Close My Eyes In Sleep Eternal
I'll Be Clinging To A Saving Hand
I'll Be Clinging To A Saving Hand
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes from You Light Up My Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gone To Seed
“If you plant honesty, you’ll reap trust”
Aye, the seeds of doubt have been planted,
But such doubts are a must,
If wisdom’s to be granted…..
Seeds of valor, seeds of passion,
Seeds of equanimity;
Seeds that suit every fashion,
Of learning and acuity.
Leaders who sow such seeds of doubt,
Are welcome and accounted,
Than those who’d love to flaunt,
Are ones that are so vaunted.
Where honesty is a truthful story,
Tests one’s heart and mind;
Now enough’s been said of this allegory,
Dear readers: this truth you can find!
Copyright © SC
10th July 2007
Mumbai.
poem by Subroto Chatterjee
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Saving Grace
Without direction I walk the night
I was alone in a single beam of light
One glance and you changed my blues
To a prism of light
A thousand hues
Now I must climb to the rainbows arc
Who knows I might find a halo for your heart
Whenever I'm lost for words
And my whole world is falling apart
You are my saving grace
You are the light of a love everlasting
I find hiding place
In your arms
My one and only
Saving grace
My saving grace
I fought the world with a restless heart
Kept my emotions locked away in the dark
Then you came to build me up
When this world could only tear me apart
You are my saving grace
You are the light of a love everlasting
And I find hiding place in your arms
My one and only
Saving grace
For the rest of your life
You can count on me
To never let you down
When you whisper to me
You give me strength to believe that I can hold on
Somehow
You are my saving grace
You are the light of a love everlasting
I find a hiding place
In your arms
My one and only
Saving grace
You are my light and my love everlasting
And I find a hiding place
In your arms
My one and only
Saving grace
My saving grace....
My saving grace
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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