When you're writing about people that are not very well off, you seem to see the kitchen sink. So it was a bit of a sort of cosy phrase that got used a bit too much.
quote by Timothy West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I got very cross with the term, kitchen sink. It just meant that you invaded different kinds of houses, where it was very difficult to avoid kitchen sink.
quote by Timothy West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A love poem to a poem
for there’s what you planned to write about,
and what you find yourself
writing about; perhaps
find yourself, while writing about..
and there’s the poem itself; did you
consult it about what
its plans were? and when
it’s got itself written,
gone where it wanted to,
said what it wanted to say,
become what it wanted to become,
do you really know
what it’s finally and really about?
is it telling you more about
you than you knew yourself?
is the poem writing you?
did we, as with the unicorn,
feel the unspoken need for it,
and it became?
in some other world,
did two grains of dust change places?
did a new sort of light
shine on a new sort of place
in some new sort of time?
poems are like cats:
we think we own them;
they allow us certain rights,
but they own us.
this is a love poem
to a poem
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Can Take It With You (When You Go)
Well, I'm gonna have to get a new mailbox
'Cuz all she left me was a hole
And I'm gonna hafta get a new washin' machine
As soon as I get some new clothes
Well, I could close my eyes and run through this house
And never once stub my big toe
It was a man who'd never been left who said
You can't take it with you when you go
Hell, she took everything but the kitchen sink
If I had me a glass Lord, I'd pour me a drink
It's a lesson hard learned but it just goes to show
You can take it with you when you go
Well, I'm sittin' here on this hard floor
Where a big, soft couch used to be
And I'm starin' at a bug on the wall
Where there used to be a TV
Well, I'd kill that sucker in a heartbeat
If I could find me anything to throw
I was so naive to have ever believed
You can't take it with you when you go
Well, she took everything but the kitchen sink
If I had me a glass Lord, I'd pour me a drink
It's a lesson hard learned but it just goes to show
You can take it with you when you go
Well, she took everything but the kitchen sink
If I had me a glass Lord, I'd pour me a drink
It's a lesson hard learned but it just goes to show
You can take it with you when you go
I oughta call somebody but I ain't got a phone
Just goes to show you can take it with you when you go
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I am seriously composing, sometimes a phrase will come into my head, a catch phrase. When I was writing pop songs for a few years, as a career, separate from my folksinging career, I used to write songs for pop singers.
quote by Tom Glazer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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Like a seed
It’s impossible to force
A good piece of writing
It can only come from inspiration
It should flow from the mind
To the fingers and then
Through the keyboard
To the screen
A good piece of writing
Will come of it’s own volition
Without urging, yet with compulsion.
A certain musical phrase you’ve read
A lyrical play of words
That sticks in your mind
Can be the impetus for the lifting
Of the flood gates of inspiration
And once opened, has a compulsive
Addiction, that can be indulged freely
And yet will not be denied
Write down every sentence
or fragment thereof, any phrase
That catches your fancy
and feels good on the tongue
A good piece of writing
Has a sensual quality
That one can almost taste
As it’s written, and can be shared
Wantonly with readers
who choose to indulge
A good piece of writing
is a seed that is planted
In one’s mind, and from which
The words effortlessly grow
It can never be forced
or be pushed to the fore
It will grow from that seed
And will blossom before your eyes
It can grow freely, unfettered
From the most minute idea
But good writing, like a seed
Can never be forced to grow
poem by David Whalen
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At A Certain Point In Your Life
you go around
your room
and then to the kitchen
you look carefully
on each object
that you see
the rexona deodorant,
the knife,
the garlic and the onions
some rice grains
on the sink
you look at them
and they are all messy
you even think
the deodorant's place
is not in the kitchen
there are wrong
placements and you
want them changed
by you
you want something
proper
things in their places
you simply look
at each of them
and they are all alive
talking to you
they know
you do not have the time anymore
and they are so sorry for you
saying
goodbye
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It All Happens Tomorrow in Britain
Poem posted
Saturday
25 October 08.
I respect an old familiar phrase:
'Spring forward ~ and Fall back'
This never ceases to amaze.
I recall it from my younger days,
Now, nothing do I lack.
For like an old sweet melody
Staying forever in memory,
It returns once more to rescue me.
And changing the clocks has to be.
In Britain, the hand of time slips back
At 'two' on Sunday morning.
No need to leave a cosy bed
I change the hand of time ahead
Of turning off the little side light
And tomorrow, my life will be intact
Because I happened to remember
The little recurring phrase...
'Spring forward ~ and Fall back'
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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A Sinking Soul
sink
sink
sink
sink
my
soul
to
sleep
at
the
bottom
of
the
dream
find
your
self
know
your
self
sink
sink
sink
m y
soul
why
are
you
so
silen t?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The aged poet. For Kealan if
When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart
he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’
and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry
and so he did and so he did
and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub
and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet
and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub
they came and listened
at his door and at his window
and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence
and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Planning to write is not writing. Outlining, researching, talking to people about what you're doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.
quote by E.L. Doctorow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dog Power
Dog Power
Abandoned she was and hungry so I took her home. she was scared and hid under
the kitchen sink. I put water and food out and went to bed. She ate it all.
In the morning she came out and made it clear she wanted to go out. Well she did
her business and came back in. When she was two years old she grabbed a packet
of cigarettes from the table and tore it up. So I stopped smoking. People had
implored me to stop, no awhile, she did the trick. I never liked having visitors in
the evening but was too polite to say so. Well. She fixed that to. The only thing she
hated was having a bath. After having one she pretended I didn’t exist until
neighbour told her how nice she looked. She didn’t like female dogs, male dogs
she made short shrift of. She woke me up in the morning and if I sat still too long
writing she took me for walk. She had trained me so well that the day she died
I felt quite helpless and didn’t know what to do the following day.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Gator On The Lawn
Well I run through the kitchen looked in the paper
Said, oh God almighty, mama, there it says a gator, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Well you dropped your groceries in the kitchen sink
Went to work and made the bathroom stink, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Get with it mike!
Well I jumped out of bed run across the street
Asked my neighbor said, wheres my meat?
I had a red raw steak cant find it anywhere
He looked at me and said, what the hell do I care? come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Yeah I run in the kitchen looked in the paper
Said, oh God almighty, mama, there it says a gator, come on, come on
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Well every other day I got a gator on my lawn
Every other day I got a gator on my lawn
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirsty Cars
Those steep, tiring hills going home, I had been in town
bought a new kitchen sink, the second one in forty years,
nothing lasts, that’s how traders make their ill gotten
gains.
My car was exhausted trailing smoke, to lighten
its burden I alighted walked in front as it followed me
slowly.
On a flat stretch it teasingly overtook and drove
in front of me and down a track into a deep ravine where
feral donkeys live and run unlicensed garages I wasn’t in
the mood to play “follow the leader, ” so I walked home
past wayside bars where cars guzzled Brazilian cane fuel
and flashed their indicators,
I ignored this depravity and hasted away. Midnight, when my car pulled up outside, it had lost the kitchen sink and was splattered in manure
of the long eared members of the horse family.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think finally good writing gets out there, and people like it, and bad writing doesn't. Well, no. Bad writing does get out there 'cause some people like it.
quote by Robert B. Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With All The Reading and Writing I Do
With all the reading and writing I do
With all the work of the mind and heart
There comes a time
It can be any time
There comes a time
When the Poem must enter-
The Poem?
The deeper feeling-
The Music of the soul-
What I most need to say inside
The Writing which somehow surpasses all the other
In its inner intensity in its deepest feeling –
I write a poem now
All my heart mind soul
Go into every word and phrase.
The Poem? The Poem?
For which I write to live
And which through writing
I most live in Writing-
The Poem that this is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Now the writing in the head, I definitely do every day, thinking about how I want to phrase something or how I'd like to rephrase something I've already written.
quote by Stanley Crouch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0008 A Woman's World
She was artistic as a student,
sweet-natured, imaginative, not
overly ambitious; a good catch
for him, the fellow student with
the drive, the ambition, the great
family connections.
They married young; she did
what so many girl art students
have done: gave him all her
intelligent support, bore and raised
his children; and in the few brief moments
that she was granted for herself, took out
her student paintbox, and while the kettle boiled,
sat at the kitchen table, and beyond the view of washing-up
part painted that familiar view –
a jug of garden flowers on the kitchen window-sill..
and when he left her for
another strong woman who, however,
sculpted the cutting-edge new abstract thing
she brought up his children by herself
and when they left the nest, and she, now older,
had more time to give to paint,
she returned - as so many artists do –
to that motif, for them an eternal reminder
of that moment when the exalted mind
sees, beyond the kitchen sink,
a glimpse of that great heavenly view
beyond the garden flowers, where
she could walk into that paradise
that eternally awaits
the sweet-tempered heart..
and year by year, the modest
jug of flowers on the window-sill
became herself
and she
became that heavenly view
until the jug of flowers burst into glory
and she did what only ikon painters, praying, do
and gold and silver joined the rainbow paint
to point the way to an eternity
where kitchen sink’s now holy path;
that is more now than now
and she became,
the painting is,
a jug of Eden's flowers on a kitchen window-sill
and with all heaven in its sight
poem by Michael Shepherd
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