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Corn Circles
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Nobody knows where they come from
Nobody understands
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
No one knows - are they phony
Or maybe are they real?
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Is somebody playing a trick?
Corn circles
Pixies, witches, hoaxers
Take your pick
Throw a few theories out there
See what sticks!
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Patterns in the gold
Corn circles
Pretty patterns in the gold
Like something out of the future
Or something very old
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiger By The Tail
What a shock it was so surprising
You looked so small and frail
I didnt know what to do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
People said that you must be joking
You let emotions run away with you
I realized a little too late
I bit off more than I could chew
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
At times life can be so enlightening
But it can turn on you
Lately it gets so complicated i
I dont know what the tiger will do
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
Sometimes you grip it right
And sometimes you fail
I grabbed the tiger by the tail
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women's song of the corn
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
How beautiful is the white corn,
I husk it,
I grind it.
Very beautiful, my white corn.
How beautiful is the red corn,
I gather it and make fine meal,
I am glad doing this.
Very beautiful, my red corn.
How beautiful is the black corn,
I give it to my father,
To my mother,
I give it to my child.
Very beautiful, the black corn.
How beautiful is the mottled corn,
Like the sky with little clouds,
I eat it looking at the sky.
Very beautiful, my mottled corn.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fox goes through the corn and does not eat, but brushes it down with his tail.
News to the king, good news for all
'NEWS to the king, good news for all,'
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'News of the battle,' the heralds call,
'We have won the field; we have taken the town;
We have beaten the rebels and crushed them down.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'Who was my bravest?' quoth the king,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Whom shall I honour for this great thing?'
'Threescore were best, where none were worst;
But Walter Wendulph was aye the first.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'What of my husband?' quoth the bride,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Comes he to-morrow; how long will he bide?'
'Put off thy bridegear, busk thee in black;
Walter Wendulph will never come back.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You really get the most out of sweet corn if you pick the corn off the stalk and rush it to a pot of boiling water. The longer you wait, the more sugar you lose. But if you get it in the first half hour, that is the sweetest corn ever.
quote by Sam Donaldson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In addition to contributing to erosion, pollution, food poisoning, and the dead zone, corn requires huge amounts of fossil fuel - it takes a half gallon of fossil fuel to produce a bushel of corn.
quote by Michael Pollan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Slit in the Tail
I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.
My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,
For the little slit in the tail.
poem by Henry Lawson
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John Barley-Corn, My Foe
John Barley-corn, my foe, John,
The song I have to sing
Is not in praise of you, John,
E'en though you are a king.
Your subjects they are legion, John,
I find where'er I go:
They wear your yoke upon their necks,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
By your despotic sway
The people of our country, John,
Are suffering to-day.
You lay the lash upon their backs;
Yet willingly they go
And pay allegiance at the polls,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
You've broken many a heart,
And caused the bitter tear, John,
From many an eye to start,
The widow and the fatherless
From pleasant homes to go,
And lead a life of sin and shame,
John Barley-Corn, my foe.
John Barley-Corn, my foe, John,
May Heaven speed the hour,
When Temperance shall wear the crown
And Rum shall lose its power;
When from the East unto the West
The people all shall know
Their greatest curse has been removed,
John Barley-Corn, my foe!
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Women's harvest song
I am waving a ripe sunflower,
I am scattering sunflower pollen to the four world-quarters.
I am joyful because of my melons,
I am joyful because of my beans,
I am joyful because of my squashes.
The sunflower waves.
So did the corn wave
When the wind blew against it,
So did my white corn bend
When the red lightning descended upon it,
It trembled as the sunflower
When the rain beat down its leaves.
Great is a ripe sunflower,
And great was the sun above my corn-fields.
His fingers lifted up the corn-ears,
His hands fashioned my melons,
And set my beans full in the pods.
Therefore my heart is happy
And I will lay many blue prayer-sticks at the shrine of Ta-wa.
I will give corn to Ta-wa,
Yellow corn, blue corn, black corn.
I wave the sunflower,
The sunflower heavy with pollen.
I wave it, I turn it, I sing,
Because I am happy.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shake A Tail Feather
(o. hayes, v. rice, a. williams)
Producer: chris lor-aldge
Albums: whats love got to do wth it
B-side of the why must we wait until tonight? single
Well I heard about the girl
Youve been dancing with
All over the neighborhood
Tell me why didnt you ask me baby?
Or didnt you think I could?
Well I know that your partner will never step aside
Ive seen you do the jerk all night
Why didnt you ask me baby?
I would have shown you how to do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Do it right
Ahhhh!
Twist it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby
Here we go loop de loop
Shake it up baby
Here we go loop de la
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well, you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well, you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
All right
Ahhhh!
Twist it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby
Here we go loop de loop
And we shake it up baby
Here we go loop de la
All right now
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
So you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
You bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Well can I see you bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather?
Well bend over and let me see you shake a tail feather
Do it
Shake it
Shake it
Shake it baby do the twist
Come on baby oh come on
Ohhhh come on
Ahhh
Ahhh
Twist it
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Nothing Is Permanent
Some friends have left; some more are leaving too;
To greener pastures, grass, more succulent;
I wonder when comes turn to me, to you;
And if it comes, I'm sure, we won't relent.
'Tis sad that people never realize,
That all Indians are brothers and sisters;
And yet they cheat them by the game of dice;
Tho' honesty in this world sure matters.
'Ask not what your country has done for you;
Ask what you have done for it”-it is said;
The reverse saying with time becomes true;
For life is short before each one is dead.
If head is right, the tail will wag but slight;
If tail is right, the head can't show its might.
poem by John Celes
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Prayer for Lightning
My corn is green with red tassels,
I am praying to the lightning to ripen my corn,
I am praying to the thunder which carries the lightning.
Corn is sweet where lightning has fallen.
I pray to the six-coloured clouds.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Squirrel
When I see you were climbing a tree
I was really ashamed of myself
as sitting in an office the whole day
like a plump-pudding.
What a marvelous bushy tail you got; and what happened
to the man's tail?
How beautiful the man's primitive stage of evolution
or civilization; simple, crude and fundamental.
Then his name was Monkey only
no surnames at all.
Now we are facing the Apocalypse
and the burlesque human are in antics and real canibals.
The tail is very important nowadays.
At least we can proceed to a jungle
and live peacefully with the help of our tail
jumping from a tree to another tree
for our survival.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Path Through The Corn
WAVY and bright in the summer air,
Like a pleasant sea when the wind blows fair,
And its roughest breath has scarcely curled
The green highway to a distant world,--
Soft whispers passing from shore to shore,
As from hearts content, yet desiring more--
Who feels forlorn,
Wandering thus down the path through the corn?
A short space since, and the dead leaves lay
Mouldering under the hedgerow gray,
Nor hum of insect, nor voice of bird,
O'er the desolate field was ever heard;
Only at eve the pallid snow
Blushed rose-red in the red sun-glow;
Till, one blest morn,
Shot up into life the young green corn.
Small and feeble, slender and pale,
It bent its head to the winter gale,
Hearkened the wren's soft note of cheer,
Hardly believing spring was near:
Saw chestnuts bud out and campions blow,
And daisies mimic the vanished snow
Where it was born,
On either side of the path through the corn.
The corn, the corn, the beautiful corn,
Rising wonderful, morn by morn:
First, scarce as high as a fairy's wand,
Then, just in reach of a child's wee hand;
Then growing, growing, tall, brave, and strong:
With the voice of new harvests in its song;
While in fond scorn
The lark out-carols the whispering corn.
A strange, sweet path, formed day by day,
How, when, and wherefore, we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us, why we go;
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree;
Yet, who's forlorn?--
He who watered the furrows can ripen the corn.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Lizard Thoughts On Another Night When I’m Alone
the lizard licks its tail
in a playful mood remembering
the younger days of its
short life,
IT is playing with light
wishing that there will be fire on the ceiling
too eager to please itself
upon itself
which by the way is our way of defining
what narcissism is all
about,
the lizard bit its own tail and
eat it
not worrying though because it can grow
another tail
in the manner of
auto-regeneration
which we humans do not have
really the ability to do
i watch it closely
like the cover page of the poems
of Gratian
till now, i cannot really figure out
whether
envy has seeded its discord
inside my
heart
or i am just hungry myself
and wish i had a tail
for me to eat
for supper....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gecko Named Curly Tail
Looking down on the ground
Curly Tail the gecko waits
without a sound.
I say "Hello honey-how are you?
Where are your kids this afternoon?
Then when I leave the door
Curly Tail's offspring
is scampering once more.
Curly Tail waits for me
on the black mat—
It's like he knows where I am at.
He knows when I leave to go far,
he knows when I get out of my car.
Thanks Curly Tail for waiting for me-
see you later by the tree.
Written by Christina Sunrise on July 4,2012
www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't cut off the monkey's tail before it is dead.