It's easier to write about Socrates than about a young woman or a cook.
quote by Anton Chekhov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Difficulties with women
It’s difficult to dress a woman
According to her wish,
It’s easier to undress a woman
Against her wish.
It’s difficult to argue with a woman
Because she is always right,
It’s easier to agree with her
Without any fight.
It’s difficult to find the words
A woman would like to hear,
It’s easier to keep silent
If you want to be her dear.
It’s difficult to guess her mood
So that to be understood,
It’s easier to tell her a funny story
And once more to say: sorry.
It’s difficult to explain
How much you miss her
It’s easier to give her a kiss
For her to remember you and miss.
It’s difficult to remember
All woman’s wishes and dates,
It’s easier to make a fete
She could enjoy every day.
It’s difficult to stand
When a woman cries,
It’s easier to listen
When she tells you lies.
It’s difficult to pretend
When you don’t love a woman
It’s easier to play a fool.
To play games without any rule.
There are many difficulties
You can find with women
But I would say without a doubt:
There is always the way out.
Anyone can add much more
To the words I’ve said above
If you have life experience
And know the science of love.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Did You Pass or Fail?
Why is it easier to be arrogant?
Why is it easier to be cruel?
Why is it easier to be evil?
Why is it easier to hurt?
Why is it easier to an asshole?
Why is it easier to victimize?
Why is it easier to abuse?
Why is it easier to use?
Why is it easier to be greedy?
Why is it easier to be selfish?
Why is it easier to be self centered?
Why is it easier to steal?
Why is it easier to manipulate?
Why is it easier to lie?
My thoughts is it is a test to all man kind
Did you pass or fail?
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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See Yourself
Its easier to tell a lie than it is to tell the truth
Its easier to kill a fly than it is to turn it loose
Its easier to criticize somebody else
Than to see yourself
Its easier to give a sigh and be like all the rest
Who stand around and crucify you while you do your best
Its easier to see the books upon the shelf
Than to see yourself
Its easier to hurt someone and make them cry
Than it is to dry their eyes
I got tired of fooling around with other peoples lies
Rather Id find someone thats true
Its easier to say you wont than it is to feel you can
Its easier to drag your feet than it is to be a man
Its easier to look at someone eless wealth
Than to see yourself
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The usual picture of Socrates is of an ugly little plebeian who inspired a handsome young nobleman to write long dialogues on large topics.
quote by Richard Rorty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think every young cook wants to write a book.
quote by Thomas Keller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Servent Cook
mother
Cook
with love...
father
Cook
With taste...
Brother
Cook...
With enjoy...
sister
Cook
Simply fine...
Servent
Cook
A boor...
A woor...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Somme-France 1916, From A 15 Year Olds Perspective
They said welcome to the warzone kid,
Now run along and don't get killed,
War was easier said then done,
With shrapnel flying,
And your best mates dying
War was easier said then done,
We're disadvantaged, The Boche have Hill 60, that very important mound,
I wish i was at home, safe and sound,
War was easier said then done,
The trenches are dirty, cold and wet,
I can't take off my boots, in mud they're set,
War was easier said then done,
You never know if your next breath will be your last,
Use your legs, run and run fast,
War was easier said then done,
I've only been here for about one week,
I'm still alive, so i guess this is a winning streak?
War was easier said then done,
My bayonet is bloody and red,
I'm glad it's him and not me that is dead
War was easier said then done...
poem by Harrison Bishop
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She Left On A Monday
She left on a Monday
She's a siren down the road
In your herringbone overcoat
That you don't expect to get back
And it's an ordinary sky
Today's like any other day
When all of the aeroplanes
Write her name in the clouds
And nothing's wrong
But it's already Sunday
And you know just how Sunday
Was the day that she would come around?
Go to her foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this easier on her
It's all like sinking
You're trying to stay afloat
Like a wind blown paper boat
Over uncharted sea
There's no question why
You're driving to kill some time
Racing the power lines
Back into town
Go to her foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this easier on her
Go to her foolish man
What's the use of having pride if you don't have her?
She'll endure all she can
But you could make this easier on her
Make this easier on her
Make this easier on her
Make this easier on her
song performed by by Bic Runga from Beautiful Collision
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heroes and heroines
A woman cannot write
How a woman looks
As a man does about her.
A man cannot write
How a woman feels
As a woman does about her.
Authors’ heroines and
Authoresses’ heroes
Suffer at their treatments.
06.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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If you can't think of what to write, tough luck; write anyway. If you can think of lots more when you've finished the three pages, don't write it; it'll be that much easier to get going next day.
quote by Philip Pullman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kitchen
The bosom of her virginity is all about this story,
And of a woman portrayed upon the walls of hope;
But like the horsemen riding upon their horses,
The kitchen is where you do cook your food.
I am not an African woman and,
I am not your African wife!
But the kitchen is there for you to cook,
So do not wrap up your nakedness in the wings of my mind.
Blow the ram's horn to understand this poem,
And take a walk along the coast of love to understand my mind;
For i am in the deep steep of love with a pupil of sin,
And she is not an African woman.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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It Was Easier To Hurt Him
(jerry ragavoy / bert russell)
I should have told him
That I needed him
When I had the chance
And now hes left me
And its all over
Goodbye romance
I should have told him then
Over and over again
That I love him
But, it was easier to hurt him, ooh
It was easier to hurt him, ooh
It was easier to hurt him
Thats what I thought
Was being so smart
The way I cheated him
And mistreated him
How could I forget?
I was so sure that he
Would always trust in me
Oh, that Id take a bet, no, no, no
Hed never say goodbye
But here all alone am i
He is gone now, ahh, cause
It was easier to hurt him
What could I do?
(it was) easier to hurt him
I should have known better
Thats what I thought
Was being so smart, oh, oh
It was easier to hurt him
I need him so bad
(it was) easier to hurt him
What did I do?
(it was) easier to hurt him
I should have known better
(it was) easier to hurt him
I need him so bad
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angry Young Woman
Angry young woman on sunrise strip,
Walking away to the new world.
She left her man, she left her children,
cause she knows she has only one life to live.
Angry young woman with her background on her forehead,
Three children and two abortions.
Played a little piano ten years ago.
And some typing from the college where she met her husband.
Angry young woman in the dark of the night,
Hears her children crying for dinner,
Hears her man shouting for his shirt
And thinks of the first sundays they spent in the park.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
(angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket)
(angry young woman, angry young woman)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angry Young Woman
Angry young woman on sunrise strip,
Walking away to the new world.
She left her man, she left her children,
cause she knows she has only one life to live.
Angry young woman with her background on her forehead,
Three children and two abortions.
Played a little piano ten years ago.
And some typing from the college where she met her husband.
Angry young woman in the dark of the night,
Hears her children crying for dinner,
Hears her man shouting for his shirt
And thinks of the first sundays they spent in the park.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
Angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket
And when you turn the corner youll see the new world.
(angry young woman, angry young woman,
Theres no way back, so just keep walking.
Leave your past in your raincoat pocket)
(angry young woman, angry young woman)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sucker
for a poem
to be itchy
it must be
a flea,
Socrates
proposed gnats
those hurting
biting gnats
when i first read it
in the dialogues
courtesy of Plato
i felt
this cow in me
coward,
cow-pea, cowed
in a
barn
milked like
a woman
i dread that
feeling
but it is
real
that i begin
to moooo
nonetheless
i cannot help
but just be back
into a
man without
use to
anyone
in my own chosen
freedom
there is Socrates
with all his dignity
intact
who did not get to be
old enough
to really
befriend death
i too propose
gnats, and fleas
and
lice
suckers of wisdom
from the
head of this
universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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About My Poems
I agree, O heart, that my ghazals are not easy to take in.
When they hear my works, experienced poets
tell meI should write something easier.
I have to write difficult, otherwise it is difficult to write.
poem by Mirza Ghalib
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And I think that being able to make people laugh and write a book that's funny makes the information go down a lot easier and it makes it a lot more fun to read, easier to understand, and often stronger. So there's all kinds of advantages to it.
quote by Al Franken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't have to stick with these recipes. They're guides. As I say, they're a way in. Have fun with them. It's an easier way to cook in a busy life, once you get the hang of it.
quote by Sally Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Story Behind The Fire This Morning
before the house was razed by fire
the old man visited the house and cried
telling me about a young man who promised
that if he ever loves another woman
the house shall be burned
to strip it of its meaning
at 6: 30 today early morning the firemen
called it a day. The house is gone
The old man gone. The young man gone.
i like to write the story behind all these
misfortune
but i am afraid that some parts of it
may not be true
or that if true, it may not be fair at all,
or that it be totally unjust
so that there is no use
writing it anymore
The old woman died a year ago
She floated in air
suffered vertigo
she gave up finally
the young man to the world
heard the promise of the old man
who could not do anything
when the house
got burned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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