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I do a lot of running and hiking, and I also collect stamps - space stamps and Olympics stamps.
quote by Sally Ride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faye the eye of the Storm Part 4
I used to take her out once a month for her food stamps.She didn't even appreciate what I did for her. Thanks to me she didn't lose the food stamps because I told the social worker. She really needed her food stamps live on. written 8/17/08 Posted 11/9/08
poem by Susie Sunshine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tramped
we all hear the
sounds of the stamps
of your children
traveling on foot
from the wombs
of their mothers
they are all gone now.
we shall kiss the lips
of the flowers
of the umbilical cords
that set them free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A foot soldier
When I was hurt & lost someone dear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the going got tough with nothing to gear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the faith felt small & doubts really bigger
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the sky was dark & nothing seemed near
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the wounds were hurting with no immediate cure
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the hopes were grim & nothing was clear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When storms came hard striking some fear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
I fought & fought & I fought till the victory was sure
Yes, I could do it because I am a foot soldier
poem by Ameya Deshpande
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Left Foot, Right Foot
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot,
eyes fixed straight ahead....
drawn by the spectre
of our own greed;
use it up, throw it out,
use it up, throw it out....
hardened and lifeless,
eaten from within
by the maggots of ego...
deaf to the cries
of our own children,
blinded by the 'God'
of cyber technology...
strip the fields,
cut down the forests...
mine the mountains,
we pee in our own
drinking water, and
walk away....
leaving nuclear tracks
in the womb of time.
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot...
marching blindly to hell
with drool on our chins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Electric Eel Song
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Take out you’ foot
From the black river water
Haul out you’ hand
Out the slow river water
Stay ‘pon the bank
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Shadow ‘pon the bottom
Is the eel in the river
Something like you’ hand
Is the eel in the river
Swimming like you’ foot
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Foot after foot
Though the black river water
She can’t touch the bottom
Out the slow river water
Shirt like umbrella
In the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Cutlass shape
Is the eel in the river
Black blade or brown
Is the eel in the river
Dozing so quiet
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Slap of a tail
Through the black river water
Shiver like ague
Out the slow river water
As if she take cramp
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
No blood, just a thrill
Is the eel in the river
Lightning bold
Is the eel in the river
And she Drown now, she chilly
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
poem by Slade Hopkinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O What A Noise Of Word-Hooves!
Behind the backdropp of
frozen silence of faces-
O what a noise of
the stamps of word-hooves!
I and the I within me
sitting face to face
in undying uproars-
O what a noise of
the stamps of word-hooves!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ineptness
Carry a big stick,
To threaten from a distance.
Send me pictures of it...
To upset me quick,
With visions I'll be hit with it!
But you'll be wrong wrong.
And I'll be long gone!
Foot power...
Zip.
I like buttered biscuits,
Baked and fresh.
Heated from the oven,
And tasting their best!
You can bring that big stick,
To threaten me with it.
But when I've eaten buttered biscuits,
I'm prepared to split.
Humming a song...
With,
Foot power...zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Ineptness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spam & Eggs?
Middle class are now social dregs
Using food stamps instead of cash
Give up steak for spam & eggs
Soon may forage dumpster trash
ROTMS
Huffington Post
10/22/2010
“Lillie Gonzales does whatever it takes to provide for three ravenous sons who live under her roof. She grows her own vegetables at home on Kauai, runs her own small business and like a record 42 million other Americans, she relies on food stamps.
With more than 1 in 8 Americans now on food stamps, participation in the program has jumped about 70 percent from 26 million in May 2007, while the nation's unemployment rate rose from 4.3 percent to 9.2 percent through September of this year.
'We've seen a huge increase in participation due to the economic downturn, ' said Jean Daniel, a spokeswoman for the USDA's Food and Nutrition Service. 'That's the way this program was designed.'
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Foot On The Path
You say, come over baby, come talk to me
Then you drive me so crazy
I cant hardly see
If this keeps goin on
I might just leave and not come back
I got one foot in your doorway
I got one foot on the path
Well you beg me to stay
Then you order me to go
All this up and down
Is wear and tear on my soul
Im wonderin if our future
Is gonna look just like our past
I got one foot in your doorway
I got one foot on the path
Now I love you, baby
Dont get me wrong
But this heart of mine
May not be that strong
You got me on your line
Reel me in or throw me back
I got one foot in your doorway
I got on foot on the path
Youd best thing about it, baby
But dont take too long
If we cant get it right
Ill just be movin on
I cant wait forever
For us to get this thing on track
I got one foot in your doorway, baby
I got on foot on the path
song performed by by Kenny Wayne Shepherd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Take It! ! !
How do we get signal with your phone?
'Well sir, you must go outside. Stand on your head. Grab the phone with your foot. Bring it down to your head, and start dialing with your other (foot) s toes.'
Oh is that all?
And how much do you want for it?
'30$'
Really why so cheap?
'Well sir so we can sell you malfunctioning products, in mass quantities.'
I'll take it and another.
No lets double that.
Nah, I want a dozen.
Oh can you wrap them each in a little pink bow?
'May I ask who you're getting them for? '
My lawyers, so I can sue your ass.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jimoh
Stick to my roots and let me take you home,
For i am Jimoh from Caracas in Venezuala!
And like the Red Box and the Black box in your room.
My bog yard of love will comfort you,
So be calm with your mind and follow me;
For my sweet home is all that you need to see.
Red, yellow and green!
Toe to toe and foot to foot;
And with the best of the best to bless my muse,
For this serious pleasure is all about your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black Monkey
My Babbles has a nasty knack
Of keeping monkeys on her back.
A great big black one comes and swings
Right on her sash or pinny strings.
It is a horrid thing and wild
And makes her such a naughty child.
She comes and stands beside my chair
With almost an offended air
And says:--"Oh, Father, why can't I?"
And stamps her foot and starts to cry--
I look at Mother in dismay...
What little girl is this, to-day?
She throws about her nicest toys
And makes a truly dreadful noise
Till Mother rises from her place
With quite a Sunday churchy face
And Babbles silently is led
Into the dark and her own bed.
Never a kiss or one Goodnight,
Never a glimpse of candle light.
Oh, how the monkey simply flies!
Oh, how poor Babbles calls and cries,
Runs from the room with might and main,
"Father dear, I am good again."
When she is sitting on my knee
Snuggled quite close and kissing me,
Babbles and I, we think the same--
Why, that the monkey never came
Only a terrible dream maybe...
What did she have for evening tea?
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To England
There are no postage stamps that send letters
back to England three centuries ago,
no postage stamps that make letters
travel back until the grave hasn't been dug yet,
and John Donne stands looking out the window,
it is just beginning to rain this April morning,
and the birds are falling into the trees
like chess pieces into an unplayed game,
and John Donne sees the postman coming up the street,
the postman walks very carefully because his cane
is made of glass.
poem by Richard Brautigan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dancing the invisible line
Some like to sit on fences, admire the view in safety;
some are born hurdlers; .
draw a line, and some minds shrink back;
others can’t wait to compete, first over wins…
poets, said the sage, should always
walk on the edge of madness…
ah, remember when you were a child,
walking down the path one foot within,
one foot beyond?
‘a line of poetry’…every line, a line,
one foot beyond, one foot within –
prose, verse; rhymed, unrhymed;
metered, unmetered; actual, fantasy;
elevated, jokey; personal, impersonal;
tragic, comic; a road taken, or not taken..
oh, so many lines
that others painted on the road –
dance down that road,
one foot beyond, one foot within..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giorno dei Morti
Along the avenue of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks and surplices
Of linen, go the chanting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers. . .
And all along the path to the cemetery
The round dark heads of men crowd silently,
And black-scarved faces of womenfolk, wistfully
Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.
And at the foot of a grave a father stands
With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands;
And at the foot of a grave a mother kneels
With pale shut face, nor either hears nor feels
The coming of the chanting choristers
Between the avenue of cypresses,
The silence of the many villagers,
The candle-flames beside the surplices.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Service of all the Dead
Between the avenues of cypresses,
All in their scarlet cloaks, and surplices
Of linen, go the chaunting choristers,
The priests in gold and black, the villagers.
And all along the path to the cemetery
The round, dark heads of men crowd silently
And black-scarved faces of women-folk, wistfully
Watch at the banner of death, and the mystery.
And at the foot of a grave a father stands
With sunken head, and forgotten, folded hands;
And at the foot of a grave a woman kneels
With pale shut face, and neither hears not feels
The coming of the chaunting choristers
Between the avenues of cypresses,
The silence of the many villagers,
The candle-flames beside the surplices.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking
Take your left foot,
Bend the knee.
Move the foot forward.
Place it down.
Then do the same thing,
Wth the right foot.
'Suppose I started with my right foot?
Would that make a difference? '
Try it and see which makes you feel comfortable.
'I like this.'
Now...
Don't be frightened.
But next week,
'We' are going to attempt to do this...
From a standing position.
One moment.
Do you have a question.
~Yes.
Is it possible you can slow down a little.
I am taking notes and you are going too fast.~
No problem.
'What are you calling this? '
~Right.
What is this called? ~
Walking.
~Do you mind spelling that? ~
W-a-l-k-i-n-g.
Walking.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Experience the Meaning that Is Felt
People are not born to be...
Thoughtless.
Uncompassionate.
Inco nsiderate.
Cynical, sarcastic, ruthless and cold.
There are just too many folks,
Who are willing to teach these lessons...
At a reasonable price one gets to pay.
And it seems that those who learn their lessons well,
Know just what to say at that appropriate time.
One foot with toes stepped on...
Does not make the other foot,
Available...
To experience the meaning that is felt!
And those who get it,
Usually get what is coming to them...good!
Those who prefer their coffee,
With cream and sugar...
Will know the difference,
When it comes to them served...black!
And unapologetic if the taste of it is too strong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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