When the millers are making an uproar, do you tie up your sacks.
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Millers Angels
Millers angels in black and white
Welcome everyone in
Children dreaming of wrong and right
Wrapped in grace and in sin
They come out of the blue sky
They come out of the blue
They come out of the blue sky
But you never know where theyre gonna go
Hey romeo
Millers fingers are traveling down the length of her thigh
But millers mind is still wandering
Staring up at the sky
They come out of the blue sky
They come out of the blue
They come out of the blue sky
But you never know where theyre gonna go
Hey romeo
Dont, dont come around here
Millers angels are hovering in between the earth and the sun
In the shadow of gods unwavering love
I am a fortunate son
They come out of the blue sky
They come out of the blue
They come out of the blue sky
But you never know where theyre gonna go
Hey romeo
song performed by by Counting Crows
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To me, it's always a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, 'Hey, can you give me a hand,' you can say, 'Sorry, got these sacks.'
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Graves
Early in the morn, into the ooze
There lay three sacks;
All tied tight with thin cords of polythene.
The sacks were muddy, blood seeped out
Through the fiber of jute.
Around them were pools of blood,
Mingling into the oozy contents,
The men, women and children went
And came by unheeded as nothing happened.
At last men of law came in uniforms
In haste with a hooting ambulance,
And they loaded the stained sacks,
Rushed towards the police station,
And placed them into a room in the basement.
The sacks contained mutilated bodies,
Minced hands and heads, brains and bellies,
Of a sister and two brothers, they were murdered
For no guilt but for being innocent.
No one claimed them their own,
And they buried them as heirless,
Into the remote graveyard of municipality.
No one is to attend their graves
Now they sleep side by side uninterrupted,
When the sun shines their white epitaphs
Shine too with the inscriptions,
‘Unity, Faith and Discipline: ’ the divine principles.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Millers take ay the best Multar with their own Hand.
Millers and bakers do not steal, people bring to them.
Berry Picking
Berry picking back of the island,
Hiked a mile through the woods
Came upon the bright red berries
Glazed purple in the morning sun
We got down on our knees and picked everyone
The October sun shining down
Wild cranberries by the sea is a spectacular sight to see
Time out for lunch, we sat on a log
Surrounded by grasses, reed, and bog
Food tasted delightful out of doors
We savoured every bite
A gray jay in flight decided to join us for awhile
The uninvited guess indulged in the very best
We chatted for awhile of ordinary things
What the weather will bring
Cooking onion rings
Before going back to fill our sacks
The hours flew by
The October sun was fading from the sky
With red stained fingers and bruised knees,
We slung our sacks over our backs
Stumbled our way back
Homeward bound with our bounty in our flour sacks
poem by Verna Ralph
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Millers, tailors, and weavers are not hanged, or the trade would soon be extinct.
Ye breed of the Millers dog, ye lick your lips ere the poke be open.
We're the Millers
Jennifer Aniston, Ed Helms, Emma Roberts, Nick Offerman, Jason Sudeikis, Molly C. Quinn, Will Poulter
from We're the Millers (2013)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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President Mubarak Rocks Egypt
President Mubarak rocks Egypt
with denial of go freedom song
practices power moves to string
an Egyptian protest public along.
Mubarak appoints a vice president
big name while singing should I go
I am in trouble, if I stay this trouble,
protest will double double double.
Mubarak sacks his government.
Mubarak sacks all his ministers.
But why does Mubarak not know?
Egyptian people scream in hate go!
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man's making, , , !
Flowers are
Making
Beauty...
Trees are
Making
Wonder...
Rain are
making
River...
Sun are
Making
Day...
Moon are
Making
Night...
Man are
Making
Many thing's supper
Something's is
Tenson...
Woory...
Hurry. ..
With out love of heart...! ?
Day for day
Man's making...! ?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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my Heart
My heart oh my heart cried in the night solitude.
My heart oh my heart kept yearning very much in.
My heart oh my heart mourned the sadness in the middle of the uproar.
My heart oh my heart lose the warmth.
My heart oh my heart was engaged with the tears.
Heart oh heart could you breathe without the love?
Heart oh heart how did you overflow pain?
Would the heart bury personally the heart wound?
My heart oh my heart ran pursued darkness.
My heart oh my heart persuaded the love in the thoughts.
My heart oh my heart beckoned about the uproar.
My heart oh my heart dripped on the flowers with the tears.
My heart was your heart.
When you will come touched?
When you will smear my heart with warmth?
When you came and enchanted me?
Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A hundred tailors, a hundred millers, and a hundred weavers make three hundred thieves.
Love 4 Fun
So you think you got it all worked out
And what youre searching for
Isnt what you found
Up in this world thats on the run
A lot of hits but only a few
Number ones
Im making love for fun
Are you looking for a holiday
Im making love for fun
Why would you do it any other way
Im making good
On everything I said
So baby just relax
And let me do my thing
Up in my world you better run
Theres only room
For the few who can come
Im making love for fun
Are you looking for a holiday
Im making love for fun
Why would you do it any other way
When you dont have a place to go
When everything feels the same
I can change what you think you know
Making love my way
Im making love for fun
Are you looking for a holiday
Im making love for fun
Why would you do it any other way
Im making love for fun
Are you looking for a holiday
Im making love for fun
Why would you do it any other way
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Town Karnteel
The Town Karnteel--! It's who'll reveal
Its praises jushtifiable?
For who can sing av anything
So lovely and reliable?
Whin Summer, Spring, or Winter lies
From Malin's Head to Tipperary,
There's no such town for interprise
Bechuxt Youghal and Londonderry!
There's not its likes in Ireland--
For twic't the week, be gorries!
They're playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!
Kanteel-- it's there, like any fair,
The purty gurrls is plinty, sure--!
And man-alive! At forty-five
The leg's av me air twinty, sure!
I lave me cares, and hoein' too,
Behint me, as is sinsible,
And it's Karnteel I'm goin' to,
To cilebrate in principle!
For there's the town av all the land!
And twic't the week, be-gorries!
They're playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!
And whilst I feel for owld Karnteel
That I've no phrases glorious,
It stands above the need av love
That boasts in voice uproarious--!
Lave that for Cork, and Dublin too,
And Armagh and Killarney thin--,
And Karnteel won't be troublin' you
Wid any jilous blarney, thin!
For there's the town av all the land
Where twic't the week, be-gorries!
They're playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A hundred bakers, a hundred millers, and a hundred tailors are three hundred thieves.
A hundred tailors, a hundred millers, and a hundred weavers, are three hundred thieves.