Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I'm taking with me when I go.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spices
Of the spices of life,
Of the spices of love,
Of the spices of peace,
Of the spices of my mind,
Life in Africa maters to me lot.
Of Black Cumin,
Of Red Peppercorns,
Of Black Mustard,
Of Cayenne Pepper,
Of White Mustard,
Of Mixed Peppercorns,
Of Mahaleb Cherry,
Of Szechuan pepper,
Almost everybody is with a mobile phone in Africa!
But strong alcohol are consumed daily by the majority unemployed.
In Africa,
My mind sits and writes;
Because, life in Africa matters to me a lot.
Of Coriander, Ground Ginger, Fenugreek, Turmeric and Paprika!
Like the struggles daily in Africa for a survival;
But one day, we will get there.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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De Worthiness of Argument
(A little argument spices up luv
And life now and then)
Widout women,
Dere would be no men.
Widout men,
Dere would be no women.
Widout women and men,
Dere would be no argument.
And widout de spice of argument,
De world would be seasonless and full of zombies.
poem by Gabriel Eshun
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Diversity Spices Communities
simplicity and complexity
embraces in diversity...
diversity spices globally
diversity individuality polarity
diversity spices community...
diversity flavours humanity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Taking You Home
Taking you home - (don henley/stan lynch/stuart brawley)
I had a good life
Before you came
I had my friends and my freedom
I had my name
Still there was sorrow and emptiness
til you made me glad
Oh, in this love I found strength I never knew I had
1st chorus:
And this love
Is like nothing I have ever known
Take my hand, love
Im taking you home
Taking you home
There were days, lonely days
When the world, wouldnt throw me a crumb, no no
But I kept on believing
That this day would come
And this love
Is like nothing I have ever known, no no baby
Take my hand love
Im taking you home
Im taking you, home
Where we can be with the ones who really care
Home, where we can grow together
Keep you in, my heart forever
Instrumental (keyboard)
2nd chorus:
Oh and this love
Is like nothing I have ever known, oh no no baby
Take my hand love
Im taking you home
3rd chorus:
Oh this love
Is like nothing I have ever known, no no baby
Take my hand.
Im taking you home
Im taking you, home
Yes I am, mm, mm, mm, hey baby, hey baby
Taking you home
Short instrumental w/background vocals
Im taking you home baby
Im taking you home.
End
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epiphanias
THE three holy kings with their star's bright ray,--
They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay;
They like to eat and drink away,
They eat and drink, but had rather not pay.
The three holy kings have all come here,
In number not four, but three they appear;
And if a fourth join'd the other three,
Increased by one their number would be.
The first am I,--the fair and the white,
I ought to be seen when the sun shines bright!
But, alas! with all my spices and myrrh,
No girl now likes me,--I please not her.
The next am I,--the brown and the long,
Known well to women, known well to song.
Instead of spices, 'tis gold I bear,
And so I'm welcome everywhere.
The last am I,--the black and small,
And fain would be right merry withal.
I like to eat and to drink full measure,
I eat and drink, and give thanks with pleasure.
The three holy kings are friendly and mild,
They seek the Mother, and seek the Child;
The pious Joseph is sitting by,
The ox and the ass on their litter lie.
We're bringing gold, we're bringing myrrh,
The women incense always prefer;
And if we have wine of a worthy growth,
We three to drink like six are not loth.
As here we see fair lads and lasses,
But not a sign of oxen or asses,
We know that we have gone astray
And so go further on our way.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Armies! !
I am taking to you,
I am writing to you,
I am preaching to you,
I am teacing you;
Armies! !
Flies,
Spies!
But the spices of love and care are needed by you;
So, rise up to the top and stop this war!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Island Fever
Island fever
I think Ive got a touch of island fever
I do believe I feel a bit sauteed
This morning I was just some nonbeliever
Tonight I feel Ive joing a wild crusade
I never thought of life as being breezy
I never thought of time as time to play
I never thought that I could take it easy
But all those feelings changed for me today
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Are finding their way to my brain
Layers and layers of costumes and players
That make my whole life look insane
Palm trees and views I cant believe
Why would I ever want to leave?
I think Ill take my shoes off and go walking
Down beside the caribbean sea.
I like the funny sounds of parrots squawking
I think I hear a hammock calling me.
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
I think Ive got a touch of island fever...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Okon
You are an astute policeman,
But with words flowing out of your mouth like the River Jordan;
So do learn from the Bible Code and,
Keep your life going at all times to satisfy your wants.
You need to do your best at all times and,
Do face the world around you with peace than hatred.
Of camels loaded with spices,
Come ans spice up my love with the sweet muse of life;
Like the caravan of Ishmaylites on a desert road.
Okon, how is life over there in Nigeria?
And do take rest in the afternoon!
For, i am now walking better in the wilderness of life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Preparing Dinner
I watch the pot on the stove
Water is overspilling
The rice is cooking
With bubbles galore
I smother chicken in sauce
Sauce that is made up of green pepper, black pepper and onions
Accompanied with that is the All in one spice.
Watch out for the toilet paper
The spices start talking
The chicken gets fried
The smell of breyani echoes through the house
I chop the potatoes as well as the carrots
I open up McCain veggies
And distribute it with the food
I put more spices in and the McCain veggies
Gets assimilated into the food
The pot is filled with colours
The steam fills the house
The brown chicken starts talking to the yellow potatoes
So does the carrots
The rice is strained
It rises to the core
I use tastic rice
Because it is the best out of them all
I set the table with plates
And it is ready to be filled
One by one they get dished out
First the rice (centered) and then the potatoes and chicken
Ice cream is served as desert
Coca-Cola is poured into glasses
The sweet taste bubbles in my mouth
The hot food burns my mouth
While the cold drink soothes its pain
I smother tomatoes and onions with vinegar
And serve them next to the food
The sauce gives the tongue extra kick
And goes down with a good drink
poem by Lee John Siebritz
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I do the cooking at home. Where we eat no more than 100 grams of meat a day and have 'tons' of fresh vegetables. I prepare the vegetables with a wide range of herbs, spices and such. We also keep on hand lots of fruit, yogurt and great breads.
quote by Graham Kerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every woman is a beauty.
Beauty comes from fame.
It can come from name.
Wealth, health, and youth
Also play their game.
Throne, crown, brown
Will enhance your frame.
Culture, nature and posture
Bring it up to shine.
Talents and smartness
Add to one’s beauty.
Countenance, profile,
Shape and curves, too.
Walks, speech and voice
Are the spices for beauty.
Honesty is her jewels.
Modesty is her pearls.
Women missing all
Altogether, are very rare.
That is why all women
Get their shares of men’s care.
04.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Senses co reflect
If you have no nose for jasmine,
No ear for rhyme and no tongue for
Spices, you’ll have no eye for woman.
21.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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the 100 year old wine
fruits and spices explode
over her tongue
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Genuine polemics approach a book as lovingly as a cannibal spices a baby.
quote by Walter Benjamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Asakusa Samba Festival
the temple bell spices
up our steps
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Cup Of Tea
That fusion of spices
Lemon grass, what I know as mchaichai
And ginger.
Makes me travel,
To a land far away
Across mountains and seas.
To a land
Where the soil is brown,
Like milk chocolate,
And the beaches white.
Where the people smile not frown.
Stretched out savannah
With animals of all colour,
And a mountain that peaks over Africa
Topped with glittering glaciers.
But as those spices
Bubble in my teacup,
I don't see tourist attractions
Instead I sit
At a crooked wooden table
With my knees to the side,
Glancing at a grassy roundabout
That you made oval,
In a kitchen
Still undone,
With eyes barely open
After being, shocked awake.
And I hear the birds
Whistling wisdom.
I hear voices,
As one looks for their schoolbag,
Another runs to brush their teeth,
Papa starts his motorcycle
A woman enters to sell bananas
Mama walks through the garden
Plating this,
Pulling that,
As I sit sipping tea
With lemongrass and ginger
Until the tea is gone.
Then it all fades.
The voices and the chaos.
The roundabout which's oval.
The kitchen undone.
I return to my longing
To be back
In a land,
That I call home.
poem by Mariam de Haan
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The food in such places is so tasteless because the members associate spices and garlic with just the sort of people they're trying to keep out.
quote by Calvin Trillin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Welcome The Rain That Comes In The Month Of August
equate the month of august with agony, it simply sounds like that
does not jibe well with sorrow or sadness, sounds too underestimating
and it goes well with the rain that comes surprisingly today
on this hot month, on this arid soil, on this acrid atmosphere
between us, this silence, inside us the rambling thoughts of
alienation, around us is the smell of spices of separation those that
when sliced like onions when peeled by our trembling fingers make us cry,
out there our eyes look at different directions and our hands are taking
the forms of mutual dislike like some roots spreading down the deep recesses
of this earth, preferring to be anonymous in this undescribable boredom
i like the rain, the sound of dripping, the slowness of life, dripping from my
hands like raindrops, like things gradually wasting themselves reaching my
toes, numb to my nails, wanting to be buried to the ground and simply
be forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You cook vegetable soup
You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.
There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.
We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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