My view is quite simple. When your dog pees on the carpet, you do not give away your dog. You say, This dog is special. I have to teach him not to pee on the carpet. I feel exactly the same way about men. They need to be taught things.
quote by Jacqueline Bisset
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Ballad of the Carpet Bag
Ho! Darkies, don't you hear dose voters cryin'
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get to de Poll, you must get there flyin';
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel by de road, you must travel by de train,
And the things what you've done you will have to explain,
And the things what you've promised, you must promise 'em again.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must pack up a volume of Coghlan's Figures,
Pack dat carpet bag!
And a lot o' little jokes to amuse those niggers.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must wheedle all de gals with a twinkle of your eye,
You must bob down your head when de eggs begin to fly.
Oh! those eggs what they're saving, and they'll throw 'em by and by.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must get upon a stump, you must practise speakin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must follow Georgie Reid or Alfred Deakin.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must come to de scratch, or you're bound to fail,
For it ain't any time to be sittin' on de rail,
Or de votes that you'll get -- they won't keep you out o' jail.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
And supposin' that you're beat, and you feel like cryin',
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must hustle back to work -- just to keep from dyin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
You must travel second-class when you travel by de train,
For you haven't got a pass on de end of your chain,
While the other fellow's packing for de great campaign.
Pack dat carpet bag!
Hear dem voters callin'!
Pack de clean boiled rag.
For there's grass in the west, and the rain am fallin'.
Pack dat carpet bag!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Special
I been trying for so long
To get you where I stand
Feel like I been climbing all my life
Everybody told me
I'd never ever get this far
I know I can make it if I try
There's the special things that come your way
?I'll be praying? no matter what they say
Special things that somehow come to you
(come to you, you too, to you, do to, be do, you)
Special things come to you
There's no sense in trying to fight it
When I want something so bad
No, it's not as easy as it seems
Simple things are the hardest
Of the things we do for love
And I won't give up cause I'm not just what it means
The special things you dream about
And the special things you're all about
Special things that somehow come to you
And it's the simple things to just believe
And the special things that you want to see
Special things somehow come to you
(come to you, doo doo doo, to you, doo doo doo)
Special things (doo, doo ahh, you doo)
Do do doo, on you, do do doo, to you
Do doo, ahh, do do doo, too
There's the special things that come your way
?I'll be praying? no matter what they say
Special things that somehow come to you
The special things you dream about
And the special things you're all about
Special things that somehow come to you
There's the special things that come your way
?I'll be praying? no matter what they say
Special things that somehow come to you
And it's the simple things to just believe
And the special things that you want to see
Special things somehow come to you
song performed by by Vitamin C
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dress of Snow
“Dress of snow”
In a snow covered coffin
Her remains were laid to rest
Her god created a snow blanket
For one of his best
She lived a life so pure
Always thinking of others
Now a carpet of snow lay
For the mother of mothers
Not walking on a carpet of red
Her carpet was just right for her
A carpet of pure driven snow
Just as pure as her
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Season’s Carpet
I sat on a bench,
and watched the autumn leave fall.
A gentle breeze would shake them loose,
until they drifted to the ground.
Soon there is a carpet of leaves,
red, yellow and brown,
dancing with the wind
inches above the ground.
Another season ending,
as the autumn leave come drift down.
Winter would soon be here,
with another carpet grand.
This one would be a carpet white with snow,
and would stretch right across the land.
Another carpet for another season
would soon be close at hand.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wild Hills
Fly me across the wild hills in autumn,
With soft amber shades, brown, russet and brick,
Peach, copper and bronze all blending together,
A carpet of sadness, in this sight so tragic.
Fly me across the wild hills in winter,
With amethyst shades, puce, purple and grey,
Blue, ebony and pewter, all fusing together,
A carpet of starkness, in this scene of decay.
Fly me across the wild hills in springtime,
With pale emerald shades, sage, olive and lime,
White, yellow and silver, all mingling together,
A carpet of lushness, in this new view sublime.
Fly me across the wild hills in summer,
With magenta bright shades, pink, dark mauve and red,
Lemon, orange and gold all in harmony together,
A carpet of richness, in this panorama spread.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Am The Highway
Pearls that swim the rift of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow I feel
For anything I feel yea
I am not your rolling wheels
I am a highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
Friends and liars
Dont wait for me
Cause Ill get on
All by myself
Put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the sky here
I am not your automn moon
I am the night
The night
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet rag
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightining
I am not your automon
I am the night
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salted With Love
It must be salted,
It must be roated over an open fire!
It must be koshered,
It must be soaked in salt water,
For there is no red carpet in heaven!
But it is only the white carpet of peace and love.
Love your partner everyday,
Ten thousand times ten thousand!
Because Rome was not built in a day,
And we all need to be guided by the laws!
The last great day is between the two evenings,
And without blemish between the two legs;
For the silver trumpet is between the two lips.
Ten years of pain in Satan's room and,
Five years of joy there after;
But the earth is full of water and,
Many are still without water.
It must be salted,
And bewteen the two eyes to show some love;
For the golden tree and the golden box are closer always.
Put the golden tree into the golden box,
And let me teach you more about love;
For the white carpet in the heavens are full of laws,
And we have to live by the rule of law.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Give You This Starting Point
the starting point, of course, for a start
is
of course, the way we usually say
we agree, i will try,
a point, of course, a very small dot,
and then you push the dot, it rolls like
a mat
or this blanket, you spread it, of course,
it runs,
the point, turns into a carpet of your room
and you like the design spread
before you
some Arabic flowers, Bedouins with scimitars
carrying a princess on his arms,
riding on his warrior horse
under the moon
and the stars
and then, of course, it used
just to be a point
for a start, turning into a blanket,
then a carpet,
and what next, you have taken
the magic of it all,
you are riding now on the carpet
and then you fly
above the vast expanse of the
black skies
above the desert
you have become
the Aladin of my mind
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think a new, different kind of bowling should be 'carpet bowling.' It's just like regular bowling, only the lanes are carpet instead of wood. I don't know why we should do this, but my God, we've got to try something
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Highway
Pearls and swine bereft of me
Long and weary my road has been
I was lost in the cities
Alone in the hills
No sorrow or pity for leaving I feel
(chorus)
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
Friends ans liars don't wait for me
I'll get on all by myself
I put millions of miles
Under my heels
And still too close to you
I feel
(chorus)
I am not your rolling wheels
I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride
I am the sky
I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightning
I am not your autumn moon
I am the night
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delusions...
the rebel rat looks upon
from the hole in the ceiling
the cat taking its nap
on the white pillow and the
dog fast asleep on
the maple
carpet
on the roof is the rain
pouring heavily delusional
on cats and dogs and
rats alike....
the carpet and the pillow
passive, never in rage....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Magic Carpet
Some days I wish
I had a magic carpet I could jump on
and fly away to a paradise
somewhere beyond the sun.
Where life is peaceful
and no angry words are heard.
Where everyone is a friend
and there is, no enemies to be found.
Oh, to have a magic carpet
to take me anywhere I wish,
like a deserted Island
of golden sands and blue seas.
7 September 2012
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Forbidden Charms of a Nymphet
Life is irreversible-
It will be staged in a new theatre,
In a different way, with different actors.
But the ultimate happiness
Is to fold its magic carpet
And make the ornament of the present
Match the pattern of the past...
Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
poem by Leone Richardson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Simple Man
A simple man with simple ideas,
that’s what he, thinks of himself,
but others look differently at him.
They say that he has a heart way off the charts,
for all the things that he does.
For the words of comfort that he says,
and the support he brings to all he meets.
He cannot see it though;
to him it is just something
he has always done naturally.
To him there is nothing special,
in all that he does.
Being kind is no special trait;
everyone can do it.
Loving everything and everyone that comes his way,
a lot of people out there can do that too.
So why do people choose him?
He is only human after all,
no more thoughtful than most.
Some even think him as an angel,
he smiles at that, and wishes
that he had a guardian angel of his own,
to give him advice when
he trying to ease someone else’s pain.
However, he is a simple man,
who walks through life,
only doing simple things.
The only time you will see him frown,
is when he wants to help someone,
and finds that he cannot.
It s then he feels he is failing them,
because of something he could not do.
Therefore, if you ever meet this simple man,
cheer him up a little bit.
Personally I would like to be like him
and all that he does possess,
but my head is buried in the sand,
too much of the time,
to do all the things he does.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leisure
(andy partridge)
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
As you see,
Science once again robs us of our jobs.
Theyve put a micro-chip in my place,
I hide behind screen of aggression nowadays,
Its just a way of saving some face.
So now Im permanently drunk,
Like the rest of the race with,
Leisure.
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
I spend all day,
And all my allowance on t.v. games.
Amusement heaven at the flick of a switch.
Instead of a lathe I busy my fingers nowadays,
By scoring goals with the gentlest twitch.
Ive forgotten how to use my legs to invade the pitch.
Leisure
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
They had retired me fore I left school,
(just saw no point in the standing in line)
So I spend lots of time lounging at home,
(why not come in cos the carpet is fine)
What a waste of breath it is,
Searching for the jobs that dont exist.
So now Im permanently drunk,
Like the rest of the race with,
Leisure.
If you think Im clowning,
I assure you that Im drowning here in,
Leisure
They taught me how to work,
But they cant teach me how to shirk correctly.
Lazybones, looking through the sun
Howd you ever expect to find your days work ...?
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Win, Winnable!
I tis the same size and,
It will fit in well;
Win, winnable!
And for the official records;
But, i am now walking on the red carpet.
Holiday on the ice!
Movement lies in anture;
Part, partnership!
On the red carpet,
Like B-Man and G-Woman!
With November blues;
But, drinking the black tea.
Black magic!
Healing,
But, maybe you missed the flight.
G-Man and B-Woman!
You are in love and,
That is why you are behaving that way;
And like the red light seen around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Insidious
Oh, but for all of their guile
Creeping from every direction
Cunning in their: Over The Rainbow...
Duplicitious in dubious selection;
Privacy 'twas splintered near ClearField
In days of a decade or so...
Insidious physical ailments-a Montgomery specialty
Only the carpet forensically knows...
The walls are clearly not hard of hearing...
Their power cuts in by three...
The air 'tis tainted from carpet fumes emitted...
The food and drink 'tis unfit for thee...
Oh, how the cold wind continues to blow
'Tis coming for a Cabel of: Birds Of A Feather...
Overwhelmed by all things now made clear...
Forcast for the group: Nothing but stormy weather...
poem by Theodora Onken
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Ever Decreasing Circles
I'm staring at the carpet, trying to pick out a pattern in my mind.
Ideas float about with no resting place.
I need to think, to start building something positive in my life.
Which road to take, such indecision, spinning my brain in
ever decreasing circles.
I must stop. I must decide what my next move will be.
And so,
I am staring at the carpet, trying to pick out a pattern in my mind.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Falling Out
Im falling out of grace with the world
They say Ive lost my midas touch what turned to gold now turns to rust
Im falling out of line with all the stars
That flood my dreams with their guitars and magazines
Face down this carpet tastes like coffee grounds ground into my face now
And every angles covered with just another
Im falling out of style with the current way things are
The things that make conforming hard
Im falling out of control and you just cant stop me now
Ill fight as long as time allows
Face down this carpet tastes like coffee grounds ground into my face now
And every angles covered with just another band-aid
Im out here way beyond
A shadow of a doubt
And I know Im never falling out
Of favor with you
Im out here way beyond
A shadow of a doubt
And I know Im never falling out
Of favor with you
I wont think twice or even three times
About taking a gamble with you
Cause with my life you have been so kind
I take all my comfort from you
Face down this carpet tastes like coffee grounds ground into my face now
And every angles covered with just another band-aid
Im out here way beyond
A shadow of a doubt
And I know Im never falling out
Of favor with you
Im out here way beyond
A shadow of a doubt
And I know Im never falling out
Of favor with you
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carpet Of Blue
Looking out from the headland
across a blue carpet of sea,
I observe a huge scene at firsthand
so real, that it fascinates me.
The power of the waves as they thunder,
rising and falling with ease,
How the mind fills with wonder,
at visions such as these.
From the headland I’m looking out
across sea, like a carpet of blue.
At firsthand observing a scene without doubt
fascinates, it’s so real to view.
The thundering waves, Oh such power,
with ease they rise and fall,
Wonder fills the mind, and so endower
it, with visions that enthral.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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