Sell not the bear's skin before you have caught him.
Related quotes
Don't sell the bear's skin before you have caught him.
Don't sell the skin till you've caught the bear.
Don't sell the bear-skin before you have killed the bear.
Don't sell the skin till you have caught the fox.
Don't sell the bearskin before you have caught the bear.
Let us first catch the bear and then sell its skin.
Never sell the bear's skin before one has killed the beast.
quote by Jean de La Fontaine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dont sell the skin, until you have shot the bear.
Sell My Soul
Lets begin, I am ready, lets begin
Sell my soul to him
Shed my skin, I just wanna shed my skin
I dont wanna sell my soul to him
Mechanize, city bursts and farmers die
They cry
Sleep face down in a goods train heading south in the rain
In this world I often think you understand me
In these words I often think youd recognise me
cos I just wanna swim with the fish in the sea
And I want faith to heal so that I can be clean
Americas great now
If you dont talk back
You hide your face
Crawl in rubble and smile and scorn
At that snail-paced creature
Going up and down walls
Celebrate, I just want to celebrate
Im not going to sell my soul to him
When you look right in
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's no such thing as 'hard sell' and 'soft sell.' There's only 'smart sell' and 'stupid sell.'
quote by Leo Burnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bat
His awful skin
stretched out by some tradesman
is like my skin, here between my fingers,
a kind of webbing, a kind of frog.
Surely when first born my face was this tiny
and before I was born surely I could fly.
Not well, mind you, only a veil of skin
from my arms to my waist.
I flew at night, too. Not to be seen
for if I were I'd be taken down.
In August perhaps as the trees rose to the stars
I have flown from leaf to leaf in the thick dark.
If you had caught me with your flashlight
you would have seen a pink corpse with wings,
out, out, from her mother's belly, all furry
and hoarse skimming over the houses, the armies.
That's why the dogs of your house sniff me.
They know I'm something to be caught
somewhere in the cemetery hanging upside down
like a misshapen udder.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Used Car Sales People
With the gift of the gab they would talk their way out of hell
These used car sales people they know how to sell
On their selling ability their jobs are at stake
The more cars they do sell the more commission they do make
On any deals they clinch they have never lost
And your trust on such people can come at a cost
The more cars they sell the more money they get paid
A hard job to succeed in the used car trade,
Shy and sensitive used car sales people one might say are rare
To sell one a car no effort they do spare
They have to sell cars or their boss them will fire
And other used car yard owners as car sales people them will not hire
The more cars they sell the greater is their pay
So to sell you a car they try every which way.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sell Me A Coat
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bear and the Hare
The bear is always bare. I have never seen a bear who was not bare. Or does he or she wear a coat of hair? Where does he or she go to buy a coat of hair so that he or she won't be a bare bear? Coats cost money. Bare bears have no money.
But bears eat honey. Even bare bears eat honey. And this bear had a honey who wanted a coat of hair. So when she said to her honey, 'Honey, I want a coat of hair, but I have no money.', her honey replied, 'Honey, I have no money to buy a coat of hair. But I do have honey. Maybe I can sell my honey for money.' So he sold his honey for money so that his honey could have some money to buy a coat of hair and not be a bare bear.
This bear had a friend who was a hare. This hare has hair. Is he bare? He is not a bare bear but a hare and hares have hair. But he is a funny bunny and likes a sunny spot even when it is hot because he like to have fun in the sun. But this funny bunny could not find a sunny spot to go to have fun in the sun until one day a fair came to town.
The bear and hare of course went to the fair. What a pair! The fair was quite far so the bare bear and the hare with the hair decided to ride the street car. To ride the street car, they had to pay a fare. I say that was quite an affair - to see the bare bear and the hair paying for their fare. The bare bear had no pockets in which to carry any fare. The funny bunny had no honey to sell to get some money to pay the fare so that he could go to the fair. The fare cost ten cents. But that makes no sense. It isn't fair to make a bear who is bare and has no pockets to hold a fare or a funny bunny who has no honey to get money to pay a fare to go to the fair.
Subsequently, the bare bear barely got on the street car after the funny bunny hopped on, the bare bear and the hair were there sitting in chairs riding in the street car to the fair without paying any fare. Along the way they saw a mare. They did not care about the mare. They wanted to get to the fair. Have you every seen a bare bear sitting in a chair? I once saw a bare bear sitting in a chair at a fair but he wasn't bare.
To get into the fair the bare bear and the hair had to pay another fare. And still the bare bear had no money to pay any fare to get into the fair. And the funny bunny had no money to pay any fare to get into the fair. So what did they do? How did they get into the fair? As I said, I saw the bare bear sitting in a chair at the fair but he wasn't bare.
Tell me if this is a poem. Thanks.
poem by Ben Gieske
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cyberspace
To live in Cyberspace amongst the wireless whizzung binary
Puts a mask upon our face and affords us anonymity
Its amazing how the jargon travels at the speed of light
So we shouldn't press the send button until constructed right
Some people cyber bully, some people cyber brag
Some people cyber buy and sell, and some just cyber shag
The magic of the net keeps us 'caught up' and collected
It's criss crosses the globe, ensuring loved ones stay connected
Is it safe to live here and frolic in the mesh?
I'd say it's good for humans but it isn't skin and flesh!
Even FaceTime apps and Skype don't have the same appeal
You can't give hugs in cyberspace, there's just no touchy feel!
I like the world it's opened up, It more than has a place
But let's not get so caught up we forget our open space.
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Boots...
the boots of modern America,
are made of black skin, Native American skin,
poor white trash skin, migrant worker skin,
unemployed skin, homeless skin,
prisoner poverty street skin....
who will they walk on next?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Picture Of Papa Bear And Baby Bear
our weakness
is to see a Madonna in
every creature
a mama bear
and a baby bear
the skin of the earth
is cold
and melting
the sun that watches all
these
can manipulate warmth
and then
exploit
the heels of Achilles
are exposed
how many of us
shall die without
noticing it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The hot hot sun
The hot hot sun
bakes
my skin skin skin
irksome infants
make
a din din din
could get under
my skin skin skin.
No
take a breath
a deep belly breath
let your diaphragm do the work
vorsprung durch inhallation
the oxygen bubbles into my blood
the heat touches my
bones
my mind absorbs those mutual benefits
slows, calms, immersed a gentle euphoria
and the warmth of the breeze embraces
I feel the joy joy joy
of the sun sun sun
on my skin skin skin
on this hot hot day!
poem by Robin Pratt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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