When a woman is hungry, she says, ""Roast something for the children that they may eat.""
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When a woman is hungry, she says, ""Roast something for the children that they might eat.""
Gettin Hungry
I wake up in the mornin just to work all through the day
That sun can get so hot that you can sweat your strength away
And ooooohhhhhhhh come the night time
Gettin hungry
Hungry for my kind o woman
Im gettin hungry
Soon I gotta find me a woman
Im gettin hungry
Searchin for a pretty girl
But I still get up in the mornin
Though its so hard all day long
If it werent for the love of a woman
I dont think Id continue on
And oooohhhhh come the night time
Gettin hungry
Hungry for my kind o woman
Im gettin hungry
Soon I gotta find me a woman
Im gettin hungry
Searchin for a pretty girl
Im gettin hungry
Hungry for my kind of woman
Hungry
Hungry for my kind o woman
Im gettin hungry
Soon I gotta find me a woman
Im gettin hungry
Searchin for a pretty girl
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pan Of Sorrows
I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.
Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every Hungry Woman
Yeah --- sad eyed woman
Boogie til the break of dawn
Yeah --- long a-bout the break of day --- yeah
Oh--- your man has up and gone---
You got 13 lovely children
No proud father knocking at your door
Yeah--- but every hungry woman
Has been in your place before
Yeah --- the doctor keep [or kept] calling
Woah -- found youd fall-en
[alternate lyrics: found you bawlin]
Yeah -- you backed him in the corner
Oh --- youre doing what you wanna
You got 14 lovely children
No proud father knocking at your door
Yeah--- but every hungry woman
Has been in your place before
*** guitar solo ***
You got 15 lovely children
No proud father knocking at your door
Yeah--- but every hungry woman
Has been in your place before
Yeah --- the doctor keep [or kept] calling
Woah -- found youd fall-en
[alternate lyrics: found you bawlin]
Yeah -- you backed him in the corner
Oh --- youre doing what you wanna
You got 16 lovely children
No proud father knocking at your door
Yeah--- but every hungry woman
Has been in your place before
Oh-- yeah
Sad eyed woman
Ohhhh
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band, music by Gregg Allman (1969)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Many Children? (Holiness)
how many children
are hungry this morning?
how many children
without a home?
how many children
with only one parent?
how many children
.....with none?
how many children
faced with no future?
how many children
thrown to the side?
how many children....
and how many know?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)
i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,
it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people
inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses
she says
these are all for her children
and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren
what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due
to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible
but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see
perhaps
forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed
and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all
her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren
...and then justice shall reign
but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy
>>>ii
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
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Pounding
pounding, pounding nails,
pounding heartbeats, pounding feet.
pounding voices, pounding anger,
pounding need, pounding greed.
hungry, hungry eyes,
hungry souls, hungry holes.
hungry children, hungry countries,
hungry hands, hungry man.
throbbing, throbbing blood,
throbbing dreams, throbbing schemes.
throbbing ideas, throbbing hatred,
throbbing inside, throbbing cant hide.
touching, touching hearts,
touching true, touching you.
touching forbidden, touching daring,
touching color, touching wonder.
pounding, pounding nails...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lucille
In a bar in toledo across from the depot
On a barstool she took off her ring
I thought Id get closer
So I walked on over
I sat down and asked her name
When the drink finally hit her
She said Im no quitter
But I finally quit living on dreams
Im hungry for laughter
And here ever after
Im after whatever the other life brings
In the mirror I saw him
I closely watch him
I thought how he looked out of place
He came to the woman
Who sat their beside me
He had a strange look on his face
The big hands are callous
He looked like a mountain
For a minute I thought I was dead
But he started shaking
His big heart was breaking
He turned to the woman and said
You picked the fine time to leave me, lucille
Four hungry children and a crop in the field
Ive had some bad time
Live thru some sad times
But this time your hurtin wouldnt heal
After he left us, I ordered more whiskey
I thought how he made him look small
From lights of the bar room to a rented hotel room
We walked without talking at all
She was a beauty, but when she came to me
She must have thought I lost my mind
I couldnt hold her, the words that he told her
Kept coming back time after time.
You picked the fine time to leave me, lucille
Four hungry children and a crop in the field
Ive had some bad time
Live thru some sad times
But this time your hurtin wouldnt heal
You picked the fine time to leave me, lucille
Four hungry children and a crop in the field
Ive had some bad time
Live thru some sad times
But this time your hurtin wouldnt heal
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A patient woman can roast an ox with a lantern.
If There's A God In Heaven (What's He Waiting For?)
Torn from their families
Mothers go hungry
To feed their children
But children go hungry
There's so many big men
They're out making millions
When poverty's profits
Just blame the childrenIf there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for
If He can't hear the children
Then he must see the war
But it seems to me
That he leads his lambs
To the slaughter house
And not the promised landDying for causes
They don't understand
We've been taking their futures
Right out of their hands
They need the handouts
To hold back the tears
There's so many crying
But so few that hearIf there's a God in heaven
Well, what's he waiting forIf there's a God in heaven
What's he waiting for
poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
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Olivia
The head of the woman is the man and,
The head of the man is the Creator;
But, children are always trained by the woman.
Eight threads and five knots,
Of the 613 laws given to mankind;
But the woman should be ready to teach the children.
Olivia! The numerical value of 'Achad' equals to thirteen,
And it is the secret code of Yahweh to guide you on;
For the duty of the woman is to train the child.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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We're All God's Children
Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
On the same planet in the same plan
A feminist woman and a he man
We're all playin' the magic hand
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Oh, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all black and white
We're all precious in his sight
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we all be
One big happy family...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hats Off to the Woman, Who…
Hats off to the woman, who bears children
With labor-pains, completing family;
Hats off to the woman, who rears the young,
Making her babies suckle at her breasts;
Hats off to the woman, who tends to both
Husband, children, others with care and love;
Hats off to the woman, who does all things
For others’ sake, selflessly all her life;
Hats off to the woman, who keeps the home,
And raises her children in forbearance;
Hats off to the woman, who labors hard
And burns the midnight-oil for family;
Hats off to the woman, who contributes
Fiscally by working in a work-place;
Hats off to the woman, who patiently
Toils, to keep the harmony of her home;
Hats of to the woman, who can also
Extend tender, loving care to old-aged;
Hats off to the woman, who has God first
In life, and sacrifices for the rest;
Hats off to the woman, who can smile
To all, despite her grief, anguish and strife in heart;
Hats off to the woman, who turns the home
A virtual Paradise on earth all life;
Hats off to the woman, who loves to slog,
And toils to raise her family with love;
Hats off to the woman, who’s an angel
To all, by being a good example.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Harlem Woman
Written by orbison/melson
The woman is out on her own.
Walking the streets, sad and alone.
Yes she sells herself for nickles and dimes.
These are hard times for a harlem woman.
Harlem woman.
Yes you work at night.i have held you tight.
But youre not aware of how much I care.
No you cant see your babys been hungry and cold.
So long nights through, go on and do what you must do,
I love you.i love you harlem woman.
Harlem woman.
Sometimes I cry, but Ill get by till your mine alone.
So carry on to other arms,tender but strong.
Till you belong to me
Harlem woman hang on.
Ill take you away.
Someday Ill set you free to be with only me.
Till then Ill know,...
Lord knows, Ill know
They can buy the body
But not the soul of my harlem woman
Harlem woman, harlem woman
Hang on
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Epitome Of Dignity
An epitome of dignity,
An african woman,
A virtous woman,
She has shown her self to be,
She fears God,
And teaches her children right,
She worketh willing,
That her children die not for lack,
She has girded her loins,
With strenght and hardwork,
That her childrenmight be also known,
An african woman,
A virtous woman,
My mother.
Dedicated to Deborah Benson and Priscillia Dagogo george
poem by Ingibo Benson
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You ARE A Woman :)
You are a woman,
A strong woman,
A grown woman,
One who WON'T give me what I want just cause I want it woman.
He needs you woman,
A loving woman,
Non-trusting woman,
One who knows the difference between right and wrong woman.
I found a woman,
You're one of em,
So many love em,
You just need to see the places you can be woman.
Hear me woman,
Don't fear me woman,
You're near me woman,
We all face strife, gotta change yo life woman.
See me woman,
No fake or frontin,
Can't be me woman,
For I am a man and you need to be a WOMAN!
['Enpowering women since the age of -9 months :) ']
poem by Tamell Bailey
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