The cart ruins the road, the woman the man, the water the wine.
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Woman Or Wine
It was the night we dine
And I beheld this sight
Desire I cannot fight
Woman or wine
Allure I wont decline
My fingers ran such smoothness
Heavens, what a goodness!
Woman or wine
I thought I was just fine
Till those smoothness touched my lips
And I clinged to the hips
Woman or wine
It was long past nine
As we stumbbled through the door
All I wanted was more
Woman or wine
Oh sorry state of mine
I was drunk with something sweet
And I know not what it is
Woman or wine
poem by Joseph Eli Atisu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blind Road Ahead and A Hill Too!
An old man older than me
and he pushes a cart with two water barrels
taken from the muddy river
for his small vegetable farm?
'Papa I could have push the cart
as the hill ahead.' I said.
'O my son thanks a lot, but
your dress get this dirt? '
'Never mind I just go for an interview
that's not a white-collar job,
collect the stray dogs for a rehabilitation camp
and it's actually a volunteer, not paid? '
Then the old man mutters; 'Good people get bad jobs sometimes
and bad people get handsome salaries for doing good jobs, it depends? '
And I pushed the cart till the end of the road
Then he said; 'Thank you son and good luck! '
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Honey And Wine
My daddy used to tell me
When I was under his wing
If you want to live a good life
Just remember one thing
Though the world that we live in
Can be so unkind
If you love a good woman
It's all honey and wine
Less I could do
I thought my daddy was wrong
Girl, I was so lonely
And then you came along
You get and said hold me
You get the kissin' was fine
Now I ready for the tastin'
Was the honey and wine
It's all honey and wine now
It's all honey and wine
If you love a good woman, yeah
It's all honey and wine
break
It's all honey and wine now
It's all honey and wine
If you love a good woman, yeah
It's all honey and wine
It's all honey and wine now
It's all honey and wine
It's all honey and wine
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Odd musings of an impatient heart
A shopping cart sits alongside the road
Its taunts me as its stands there alone
Just a piece of metal to passers by
But I see that metal and swallow a sigh
And now I've had more than I can take
Its eating me up and I begin to wish
That I could leave this place for a while
Or maybe forever that would be even better
Maybe I could meet someone who is new
And his words would be only the truth
Not lies compared to the thoughts in his head
But I see this shopping cart stranded alone
Just waiting for someone to come take it home
And i wonder of all the things that could make me sad
How a lone shopping cart had the effect that it had
poem by Kamryn Chew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She still studies in the life-school and never quits!
Whenever the market price goes down of goods
She records in her memory book for the family welfare
And she cooks tasty food even without ingredients in the kitchenette
So you do not want to go for Restaurants searching varities.
She's familiar with her partner's perspiration & tears
And the strange perfume she recognizes?
She knows the rules of the road
Though she never holds a valid license
And your bullock-cart by mistake goes off-road
Suddenly she pulls the reins and stops before it jumps into peril!
'Be careful as the road is slippery' she always reminds you!
She's a Woman and her name is Friend!
* Dedication to the Womenfolk the rare panacea!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I was not great behind the counter. I had a week off without asking for it. Another time, we had a cart go up in flames, and we went out on another cart, which we wrecked by running it into the cart that was on fire.
Shemally
It is flowing into the narrow stream,
But, who sets it freely as a will?
And like the water wine and the sour wine around you;
But, oh woman! ! Why are you now weeping?
To look in,
And like a sponge in the bathroom;
But the soldiers came in! !
And, it was on the first day of the week;
But, Shemally my friend came around to record this incident.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lying Words
Listen to me all you ears,
And like a liberal man and a lovely woman in the bush;
Why do you destroy another with lying words? !
For the liberal woman is now with the handsome man in the city.
A man should be a man and a woman should be a woman too on this issue,
And like wine and oil to sold to you in times of need;
But let the just do justice always.
The romance of romance lies through your hands,
And like the river of water flowing through my mind;
But think twice before you destroy others on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In the ruins of your game
Im stuck in the ruins of your game.
I remember everthing clear as day.
You told me it would be a fun game.
Fun for you mabey.
It was sheer hell for me.
In the ruins of what you did.
I'm left in an everlasting pain.
It was left within the wake of what you did.
Im left within ruins.
Im in a shell of my self.
Im angry really bloody angry.
It all knaws away at me.
Eating its way through me.
Am I a bad person?
Was it my fault?
Is the unaswered questions.
In the ruins of what happened to me.
In the ruins of what you did.
Its left me me fucked up in the head.
Im a really fucked up person now.
It all in ruins.
Im a mess.
Im a bad person.
You left me in the ruins of your abuse.
Left me to pick up the peices.
You just luaghed at me all the time.
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Your Instrument Lord
(9/25/12)
I am but an instrument in thy hands
How I am to be used - I may not understand.
You are my doctor and the surgeon in my life
You will cut out the bad, and make things right.
You are the blood that gives me life
And thru you - I'll see paradise.
I became like a wanderer lost in the desert
With nothing in sight.
But you became my guiding light.
You became my water and my food
And strengthened me every step of the way
And showed me how to pray.
I was like an empty pitcher of wine
Till you filled me up with your light divine.
Now I pour out like the wine on that wedding day
Where you turned water into wine
And your words pour out of me in verse and rhyme.
These words can not be mine for I have not
the knowledge - nor the skill, but I am
Your instrument, my words your will.
Lead me LORD on this road that you have chosen
Let this be '' MY TAPESTRY" that you have woven.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
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Old Dirt Road
Aint no people on old dirt road,
No more weather on the old dirt road.
Its better than a mudslide, mama, when the dry spell come, yeah,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, old dirt road.
Aint no diffrence on old dirt road,
Tarred and feathered on the old dirt road.
Trying to shovel smoke with a pitchfork in the wind, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Breezing thru the deadwood on a hot summer day,
I saw a lazybonin out in the hay.
I said, ah, hey, mister human, can ya rainmaker too?
He said, I guess its okay, you know the only thing we need is water,
Cool, clear water , (water) water, (water).
Aint no people on old dirt road,
No more weather on the old dirt road.
Its better than a mudslide, mama, when the morning come, yeah,
Oh - oh - oh - oh - old dirt road.
Ah!
Mm, good night.
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
So long,
So long,
Bye, bye,
Bye,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on keeping on,
Keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on,
Keep on, keep on, keep on.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dublin Roads
WHEN you were a lad that lacked a trade,
Oh, many's the thing you'd see on the way
From Kill-o'-the-Grange to Ballybrack,
And from Cabinteely down into Bray,
When you walked these roads the whole of a day.
High walls there would be to the left and right,
With ivies growing across the top,
And a briary ditch on the other side,
And a place where a quiet goat might crop,
And a wayside bench where a man could stop.
A hen that had found a thing in her sleep,
One would think, the way she went craw-craw-cree,
You would hear as you sat on the bench was there,
And a cock that thought he crew mightily,
And all the stir of the world would be
A cart that went creaking along the road,
And another cart that kept coming a-near;
A man breaking stones; for bits of the day
One stroke and another would come to you clear,
And then no more from that stone-breaker.
And his day went by as the clouds went by,
As hammer in hand he sat alone,
Breaking the mendings of the road;
The dazzles up from the stones were thrown
When, after the rain, the sun down-shone.
And you'd leave him there, that stone-breaker,
And you'd wonder who came to see what was done
By him in a day, or a month, or a week:
He broke a stone and another one,
And you left him there and you travelled on.
A quiet road! You would get to know
The briars and stones along by the way;
A dozen times you'd see last year's nest;
A peacock's cry, a pigeon astray
Would be marks enough to set on a day;
Or the basket-carriers you would meet
A man and a woman they were a pair!
The woman going beside his heel:
A straight-walking man with a streak of him bare,
And eyes that would give you a crafty stare.
Coming down from the hills they'd have ferns to sell,
Going up from the strand they'd have cockles in stock:
Sand in their baskets from the sea,
Or clay that was stripped from a hillside rock
A pair that had often stood in the dock!
Or a man that played on a tin-whistle:
He looked as he'd taken a scarecrow's rig;
Playing and playing as though his mind
Could do nothing else but go to a jig,
And no one around him, little or big.
And you'd meet no man else until you came
Where you could look down upon the sedge,
And watch the Dargle water flow,
And men smoke pipes on the bridge's ledge,
While a robin sang by the haws in a hedge.
Or no bird sang, and the bird-catchers
Would have talk enough for a battle gained,
When they came from the field and stood by the bridge,
Taking shelter beside it while it rained,
While the bird new-caught huddled and strained
In this cage or that, a linnet or finch,
And the points it had were declared and surmised:
And this one's tail was spread out, and there
Two little half-moons, the marks that were prized;
And you looked well on the bird assized.
Then men would go by with a rick of hay
Piled on a cart; with them you would be
Walking beside the piled-up load:
It would seem as it left the horses free,
They went with such stride and so heartily-
And so you'll go back along the road.
poem by Padraic Colum
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wine and Water
Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle in a egg-cup big as a pail,
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and fish he took was Whale,
But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,
"I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink
As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,
The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink,
And Noah he cocked his eye and said, "It looks like rain, I think,
The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod,
Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,
And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod,
For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God,
And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wine and Water
Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle in a egg-cup big as a pail,
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and fish he took was Whale,
But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,
"I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
The cataract of the cliff of heaven fell blinding off the brink
As if it would wash the stars away as suds go down a sink,
The seven heavens came roaring down for the throats of hell to drink,
And Noah he cocked his eye and said, "It looks like rain, I think,
The water has drowned the Matterhorn as deep as a Mendip mine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine."
But Noah he sinned, and we have sinned; on tipsy feet we trod,
Till a great big black teetotaller was sent to us for a rod,
And you can't get wine at a P.S.A., or chapel, or Eisteddfod,
For the Curse of Water has come again because of the wrath of God,
And water is on the Bishop's board and the Higher Thinker's shrine,
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Cider Song
To J.S.M.
The wine they drink in Paradise
They make in Haute Lorraine;
God brought it burning from the sod
To be a sign and signal rod
That they that drink the blood of God
Shall never thirst again.
The wine they praise in Paradise
They make in Ponterey,
The purple wine of Paradise,
But we have better at the price;
It's wine they praise in Paradise,
It's cider that they pray.
The wine they want in Paradise
They find in Plodder's End,
The apple wine of Herford,
Of Hafod Hill and Herford,
Where woods went down to Herford,
And there I had a friend.
The soft feet of the blessed go
In the soft western vales,
The road of the silent saints accord,
The road from heaven to Herford,
Where the apple wood of Herford
Goes all the way to Wales.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Misty Water Woman
I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness
My sailing boat, crafted of redwood, is swift,
My flute is carved out of jasper.
With water a stain is removed from the silk,
With wine – the worries and heartache.
And if you’re the owner of swift little boat,
The wine and a beautiful woman…
What else can you ask for? In every respect,
To heavenly gods you are equal.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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Woman and wine
For peace
Or conflict
Either
Woman
Or wine
Neither
Woman
Nor wine
Either
Nothing
Or transformed
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Goin' Down The Road Feeling Bad
Goin' Down the Road Feelin' Bad
-------------------------------
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
I don't want to be treated this a away.
Goin' where the climate suits my clothes.
Goin' where the climate suits my clothes.
Goin' where the climate suits my clothes.
I don't want to be treated this a away.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
I don't want to be treated this a away.
Goin' where the water tastes like wine.
Goin' where the water tastes like wine.
Goin' where the water tastes like wine.
I don't want to be treated this a away.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
Goin' down the road feelin' bad.
I don't want to be treated this a away
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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