Related quotes
Green Onion Shampoo
The baby-sitter's nuts! Please listen Mom, it's true!
Last night she washed my hair with Green Onion Shampoo!
Green Onion Shampoo! Green Onion Shampoo!
It smells worse than bad, and when you get through,
Your poor scalp will burn, your eyes will burn too!
Who ever heard of Green Onion Shampoo?
Why did she do that? She has a loose screw!
It's made in Cleveland! This stuff is brand new!
I don't understand! God, what did I do?
To ever deserve Green Onion Shampoo?
Promise to fire her! And trust when I say...
If you rehire her... I must run away!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Glass Onion
I told you about strawberry fields
You know the place where nothing is real
Well here's another place you can go
Where everything flows.
Looking through the bent backed tulips
To see how the other half live
Looking through a glass onion.
I told you about the walrus and me-man
You know that we're as close as can be-man
Well here's another clue for you all
The walrus was paul.
Standing on the cast iron shore-yeah
Lady madonna trying to make ends meet-yeah
Looking through a glass onion.
I told you about the fool on the hill
I tell you man he living there still
Well here's another place you can be
Listen to me.
Fixing a hole in the ocean
Trying to make a dove-tail joint-yeah
Looking through a glass onion.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Monkey & The Onion
See the monkey peel the onion
See the monkey cry
He can feel his tears are flowin
But he dont know why
He continues peeling faster
'til the onion is no more
Now at last his cryins over
But all he had is gone
Whatever for
You and I are always chasing
Wild ambitions and far off dreams
As we run in all directions
Nothings quite the joy it seems
If I tell you that I love you
Dont ask how much
And dont ask why
Have no doubt and ask no questions
Just believe its not a lie
Never take my love for granted
But never put it to the test
Like the monkey and his onion
Too much investigation
You know the rest
You and I are always chasing
Wild ambitions and far off dreams
As we run in all directions
Nothings quite the joy it seems
On that we could be contented
With the good things that weve gained
But in the end were empty handed
Just because we need the world explained
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Onions Onions! Enjoy onions!
Every life is here,
Is like onion
Some are good some are bad,
Some are white,
Some are red,
They are alike when are peeled!
But some are chopped,
Some are cooked,
Some are eaten raw,
Some are rotten
some are planted,
To yield more onions!
Look this world ls full of opinion,
world filled with divine Onion,
no one believes in soul _God Union,
THOSE WHO DARE NOT TO DIVE INTO OCEAN,
EVER sit on shore
and shout IN SUSPICION!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funeral Becomes a Must
Funeral of the Mind
becomes must though should not
Aggregation-and-Aggravation
be in halt.
Funeral of the Heart
becomes must though should not
Affliction-and-Abjection
be in halt.
Funeral becomes a Must!
poem by Roseville Nidea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Natural Artistry
Natural artistry
The onion domes against the sky
by morning light blush rosily.
Before the sun has risen high.
Resplendent in his majesty.
He paints the domes with gleaming gold.
Without finesse but lavishly.
His whole approach is overbold.
I prefer delicacy..
The pastel shades that I could see
before the blazing sun applied
his crude form of artistry
and hid the beauty from my eyes.
With coats of gold he misapplied,
that he believes mistakenly.
Will be pleasing to the eyes
of the vast majority.
Who only value opulence.
I could be wrong he may be right.
But I prefer the evidence
which is provided by my eyes.
Te golden glow the sun supplies
to onion domes is transient.
Although pleasing to most men’s eyes,
an artists eyes are different.
I keep my vigil faithfully
though I confess impatiently.
Tomorrow morning I shall see.
The onion domes bathed in beauty.
Before the sun can brutalise
with crass insensitivity.
The pastel colours dawn applies
to onion domes against the skies.
Thursday,27 May 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Never Mourn At My Funeral
Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death
poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lilacs At My Funeral
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m dead
Lilacs in my coffin
Placed gently by my head
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs when I’m gone
Lilacs to help send me
On my journey home
Lilacs at my funeral
Lilacs for my grave
Lilacs instead of roses
Think of the money you will save
1978
www.dakotaraeaustin.com
poem by Dakota Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night Funeral in Harlem
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Where did they get
Them two fine cars?
Insurance man, he did not pay--
His insurance lapsed the other day--
Yet they got a satin box
for his head to lay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
Who was it sent
That wreath of flowers?
Them flowers came
from that poor boy's friends--
They'll want flowers, too,
When they meet their ends.
Night funeral
in Harlem:
Who preached that
Black boy to his grave?
Old preacher man
Preached that boy away--
Charged Five Dollars
His girl friend had to pay.
Night funeral
In Harlem:
When it was all over
And the lid shut on his head
and the organ had done played
and the last prayers been said
and six pallbearers
Carried him out for dead
And off down Lenox Avenue
That long black hearse done sped,
The street light
At his corner
Shined just like a tear--
That boy that they was mournin'
Was so dear, so dear
To them folks that brought the flowers,
To that girl who paid the preacher man--
It was all their tears that made
That poor boy's
Funeral grand.
Night funeral
In Harlem.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Applauding A Boo
Vegetables on the chopping board
Inaugurate a television recital..
I chop chop
Recital going on
The lady joins me harmoniously
Chopping, chopping, chopping
Chopping the brinjal, raga
Potato, tala, onion, lyric
Her vocal chords strain to wriggle
The accompaniments, onion shed laughing tears
Dissonant, discordant, cacophony
Screaches to countless decibels
I'm chopping lady's finger
My finger weeps red
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Funeral Song
I remember
Like it was almost yesterday
His funeral
Because it took place
Many years ago
And the memories
Of his funeral still
Fresh on my mind even today
I am not being senical at all
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funeral by funeral, theory advances.
quote by Paul Samuelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
His Funeral Is Mine
He is just a young man,
With little knowledge of his own future.
Little did he know,
His funeral was coming in days time.
Years have passed him by,
And little did I know,
I fell in love with him,
He fell in love with me.
Little did we both know,
Too little.
I figured out from his unhappiness,
His marriage was the day of his funeral.
I know the right thing to do is to stay away from him,
But he's too charming,
He has me locked in his magic spell,
His funeral has become mine.
As I fall asleep each night,
I remember the minutes in his presence,
As I know he is spending the night
With his wife..
poem by Petra Tawfik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I had a thought on your funeral...
Eighty years of life
on this Earth
Was it worth?
I had a thought on your funeral.
Eighty years ago in heaven
when you were just the soul
and wanted to forever become
a part of this whole
You urged God to grant you a life
And promised
you would this time achieve your goal
But did you keep your promise at all?
I had a thought on your funeral.
The aim of your taking birth was
Service, contribution and asceticism
You instead chose
Hoarding, platitude and hedonism
God prescribed
Love, joy and compassion
On your life you inscribed
Jealousy, gloom and repression
I had a thought on your funeral.
Childhood’s dawn wiped out in dependence
Lust devoured on the morning of adolescence
Youth’s noon you squandered
due to fear and apprehension
Dusk of old age got totaled in
egotism, vanity and pretension
I had a thought on your funeral.
I asked myself
Was I any different from you?
Was I keeping my own promise to God?
The response from within came in negative
My heart did not give the nod
Seeing you sleeping in God’s lap
with a performance that was dismal
Your funeral appeared to me
as God’s signal
And I realized I had a chance to change
before I reached my own burial.
I had a thought on your funeral.
(30.08.2011; New Delhi; India)
poem by Anshul Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Problem With Living Too Long
A godlier man, there never lived -
My dear old Uncle Fred,
And throngs should fill the funeral home
When word comes that he's dead.
For the numbers at the funeral home
Are a measure of one's worth;
The sum of all the lives one's touched
While here upon the earth.
But few will visit the funeral home
When my Uncle passes on,
For he's lived so long that those he's touched
Are already dead and gone.
Dem Bones!
My Husband's Grandmother,
who had reached the grand old age of 98 years,
died one 23rd of December,
and as her funeral couldn't be organised
until the 6th of January, the following year,
her Son asked the Funeral Director,
to explain what was happening to his Mother
over the Christmas period.
The Funeral Director in his severe black suit,
with a face even more severe,
placed a hand on the Son's shoulder, and said,
'Don't you worry, Mr Taylor,
we have a Skeleton Staff in over Christmas'.
This is a true story, but we found it to be so hilarious.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral Of Hearts
Love's the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
She was the sun
Shining upon
The tomb of your hopes and dreams so frail
He was the moon
Painting you
With it's glow so vulnerable and pale
Love's the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
She was the wind, carrying in
All the troubles and fears you for years tried to forget
He was the fire, restless and wild
And you were like a moth to that flame
The heretic seal beyond divine
a prayer to a god who's deaf and blind
The last rites for souls on fire
Three little words and a question -why?
Love's the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Funeral Of Hearts
Loves the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
She was the sun
Shining upon
The tomb of your hopes and dreams so frail
He was the moon
Painting you
With its glow so vulnerable and pale
Loves the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
She was the wind, carrying in
All the troubles and fears here for years tried to forget
He was the fire, restless and wild
And you were like a moth to that flame
The heretic seal beyond divine
Pray to God whos deaf and blind
The last nights the souls on fire
Three little words and a question why
Loves the funeral of hearts
And an ode for cruelty
When angels cry blood
On flowers of evil in bloom
The funeral of hearts
And a plea for mercy
When love is a gun
Separating me from you
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!