The Indian Corn, or Maiz, proves the most useful Grain in the World; and had it not been for the Fruitfulness of this Species, it would have proved very difficult to have settled some of the Plantations in America.
quote by John Lawson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Ten Little Indians
Ten little indian boys
The first little indian gave squaw pretty feather
(little indian boy)
The second little indian made her an indian dollar
(fighting over a squaw)
Well the third little indian gave her moccasin leather
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The fourth little indian took her riding in his big canoe
(little indian boy)
The fifth little indian took her down the waterfall
(fighting over a squaw)
The sixth little indian taught the squaw how to woo-woo
(little indian boy)
But the squaw didnt like em at all
One little, two little, three little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Four little, five little, six little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Seven little, eight little, nine little indians
(keep us humming were the ten little indians)
Ten little indian boys
The seventh little indian took her over to his teepee
(little indian boy)
The eighth little indian tried to give her a love poem
(fighting over a squaw)
The ninth little indian said youre my kemosabe
(little indian boy)
The squaw didnt like em at all
The tenth little indian said it really didnt matter
(little indian boy)
He acted like himself and he didnt look at her
(fighting over a squaw)
The squaw didnt care if he never did a thing
(little indian boy)
Cause she loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
Loved the tenth indian boy
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corn Circles
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Corn circles
Appearing all over the land
Nobody knows where they come from
Nobody understands
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
Corn circles
Mysterious symbols in the fields
No one knows - are they phony
Or maybe are they real?
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Is somebody playing a trick?
Corn circles
Pixies, witches, hoaxers
Take your pick
Throw a few theories out there
See what sticks!
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
Corn circles
Patterns in the gold
Corn circles
Pretty patterns in the gold
Like something out of the future
Or something very old
Corn circles!
Corn circles!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As the Crow flies
There are certain species in the crow family.
This entirely glossy black bird never sings.
Carrion crow feeds on grain and the house crow is a reputed scavenger.
Fish crow eats fish and all these species live in the handsome and dangerous Man-crow who sings at all but never flies?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Looking at You
I feel abundantly blessed.
God has turned me around,
To enjoy the spreading
Of a radiant light.
I kept behind my back...
And out of sight.
I like this very much.
This does not mean...
Times have gotten less difficult.
It's just that I pretend I don't notice the difficult times.
This works for the kind of mind I'm entrusted with.
One that believes dreams come true.
I don't have to know 'when' the hour they begin!
All I have to know is they do!
And looking at you proves,
This to be no illusion!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Women's song of the corn
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
How beautiful is the white corn,
I husk it,
I grind it.
Very beautiful, my white corn.
How beautiful is the red corn,
I gather it and make fine meal,
I am glad doing this.
Very beautiful, my red corn.
How beautiful is the black corn,
I give it to my father,
To my mother,
I give it to my child.
Very beautiful, the black corn.
How beautiful is the mottled corn,
Like the sky with little clouds,
I eat it looking at the sky.
Very beautiful, my mottled corn.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Difficult Age
Difficult age
Youre just fourteen
And youre not friends with your body
Painfully thin
Look at your skin
Play with yourself for a hobby
How can they love a man who does that to himself?
Difficult age
Turn on the page
Have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Now youre eighteen
Heres all the freedoms you wanted
All the best clothes
A looker who goes
The size of your wage packet flaunted
How can they love a man who does that to himself?
Difficult age
Turn on the page
And have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Hes twenty-nine
Thirty just lurks round the corner
Settled for life
Nice kids and wife
Pull out a plum like jack horner
Difficult age
Turn on the page
Have that wee drink in the meantime
Difficult age
Now thirty-eight
And youre not friends with your body
Wish you were thin
Look at your skin
Wasting yourself for a hobby
How can they love a man who does that to himself?
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A joy is far off
The joy has disappeared and gone far away
The laugh has remained illusion and can’t be found on the way
The enjoyment has remained only in name without any purpose
There is no deliverance in anything and everything I have to assume or suppose
The patch up chance is diminished
The friendship treaty is finished
The peaceful meetings are over
Everything is exposed for the want of cover
I am mentally about to be finished
Everything is just in flames and vanished
There remains nothing but only ashes
It is only memory and no more wishes
It has come to an abrupt end
No happy news can ever be sent
No exchange of good wishes possible
The reunion is nearly impossible
The clouds are about to rain or are over cast
They were moving very fast
They were empty but showed as I full
There prevailed calm and near lull
It may be good sign or very good indication
I was really relieved from suffocation
It was proving difficult to hang on for nothing
There was distrust and everything in it was missing
It is nice to sever the relation if can’t go with trust
All the steps are necessary and comes as first
There has to be clear understanding and is must
It must appear normal and must go on as casual or just
I was always at the receiving end and suffered humiliation
There no sincere efforts from her side for reconciliation
I was pout to harassment for no fault of mine
She never regretted it and always felt fine
Life is two wheels o chariot
One can’t act as an idiot
They will have to move it together
No one should try to sabotage or try to alter
It can’t remain as one side affair
All niceties and decency is considered as fair
It has to be proved all the way along
Nothing should be proved contrary or wrong
It is bound to fail if any one proves to be insincere
It may be considered as treachery and attempt not sincere
It will send shock waves if it comes to tragic end
The relation may end and amount to unbecoming of friend
It doesn’t involve sexual feelings alone but something more
Both vow to stand by in critical time and sincerely adore
They will jointly approach the problem and earnestly explore
Everything will be settled satisfactorily and nothing will remain in store
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Longfellow
Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow,
Sweet and luscious is Longfellow, *
Melodious songs he oft did pour,
And high was his Excelsior.
He shows us in his psalm of life
The folly of our selfish strife;
With Hiawatha we bewail
His suffering in great Indian tale ;
Indian nation was forlorn
Till great spirit planted corn.
poem by James McIntyre
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American Poets: Longfellow
Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow,
Sweet and luscious is Longfellow,
Melodious songs he oft did pour,
And high was his Excelsior.
He shows us in his psalm of life
The folly of our selfish strife;
With Hiawatha we bewail
His suffering in great Indian tale;
Indian nation was forlorn
Till great spirit planted corn.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.
quote by George Carlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eurasia ended up with the most domesticated animal species in part because it's the world's largest land mass and offered the most wild species to begin with.
quote by Jared Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Bird Flies Away From Your Hand
when a bird flies away
from your hand
without taking the little
grain of corn
let it be
for in time it has something
to tell to its nest
and sing on the night
when all the world is asleep
about love so sweet
so pure and yet so sad
because like those that died
love most of the time
is unrequited
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women's harvest song
I am waving a ripe sunflower,
I am scattering sunflower pollen to the four world-quarters.
I am joyful because of my melons,
I am joyful because of my beans,
I am joyful because of my squashes.
The sunflower waves.
So did the corn wave
When the wind blew against it,
So did my white corn bend
When the red lightning descended upon it,
It trembled as the sunflower
When the rain beat down its leaves.
Great is a ripe sunflower,
And great was the sun above my corn-fields.
His fingers lifted up the corn-ears,
His hands fashioned my melons,
And set my beans full in the pods.
Therefore my heart is happy
And I will lay many blue prayer-sticks at the shrine of Ta-wa.
I will give corn to Ta-wa,
Yellow corn, blue corn, black corn.
I wave the sunflower,
The sunflower heavy with pollen.
I wave it, I turn it, I sing,
Because I am happy.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's so difficult...
What's so difficult,
About the word,
No.
What's so difficult,
About our,
Relationship.
What's so difficult,
About,
Us.
What's so difficult,
About the words,
Stay away.
What's so difficult,
About,
Don't talk to me.
What's so difficult...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Think Back, O Indian!
O Indian, O Indian!
Why not you think awhile?
How came your freedom?
How came this soil?
How came your brothers?
Why do you toil?
What’s your heritage?
What’s your love?
What’s your advantage?
Just think it now.
O Indian, O Indian!
Why don’t you muse awhile?
What makes up India?
What are its states?
What are its rivers?
Who are your mates?
Whose blood in you flows?
Who are your neighbors?
Why fight with brothers?
Just think it now.
O Indian, O Indian!
Why not you brood awhile?
What are your dangers?
What integrates?
What are your misgivings?
How do you solve?
Where’s your heart now?
Where is your soul?
Where’s your peace of mind?
Just think it now.
poem by John Celes
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An Inspiration
However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes
With fluttering flags and prancing nags
And echoing roll of drums.
Still truth proclaims this motto,
In letters of living light, -
No Question is ever settled,
Until it is settled right.
Though the heel of the strong oppressor
May grind the weak to dust,
And the voices of fame with one acclaim
May call him great and just,
Let those who applaud take warning,
And keep this motto in sight, -
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
Let those who have failed take courage;
Tho' the enemy seems to have won,
Tho' his ranks are strong, if he be in the wrong
The battle is not yet done;
For, as sure as the morning follows
The darkest hour of the night,
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
O man bowed down with labor!
O woman, young, yet old!
O heart oppressed in the toiler's breast
And crushed by the power of gold!
Keep on with your weary battle
Against triumphant might;
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Settle The Question Right
However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes,
With flaunting flags and neighing nags
And echoing roll of drums;
Still truth proclaims this motto
In letters of living light,
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
Though the heel of the strong oppressor
May grind the weak in the dust,
And the voices of fame with one acclaim
May call him great and just;
Let those who applaud take warning
And keep this motto in sight,
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
Let those who have failed take courage,
Though the enemy seem to have won;
If he be in the wrong, though his ranks are strong,
The battle is not yet done.
For sure as the morning follows
The darkest hour of night,
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
O men, bowed down with labour,
O women, young yet old,
O heart, oppressed in the toiler’s breast
And crushed by the power of gold,
Keep on with your weary battle
Against triumphant might;
No question is ever settled
Until it is settled right.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My Succotash Is So Bad
My succotash is so bad!
It's the best you'll ever have.
My suc-co-co-co-co-co-co-co tash,
Is bad!
My succotash is so bad!
It's the best you'll ever have.
My suc-co-co-co-co-co-co-co tash,
Is bad!
Take a sauce pan.
And oil it with olive oil.
Not too much.
Add a half cup of water.
With some garlic to taste.
About a tablespoon of brown sugar.
~That's the key ingredient,
For my succotash tastin' so good! ~
Then...
A dash or two of salt and pepper.
I like the heat of cayenne!
How about you?
Simmer this with onion.
I like Vadalias.
Slice a couple of 'garden' tomatos.
Just one green pepper!
Cover this for about ten minutes.
I like my seasonings to get acquainted.
Now...
Take between three and five ears of corn.
Strip the kernels off the cob.
Add them to the mix.
Lower the heat a bit.
You will know when this is ready.
Trust me.
My succotash is so bad!
It's the best you'll ever have.
My suc-co-co-co-co-co-co-co tash,
Is bad!
My succotash is so bad!
It's the best you'll ever have.
My suc-co-co-co-co-co-co-co tash,
Is bad!
My suc-co-co-co-co-co-co-co tash,
Is bad!
Enjoy!
~...we gather together to ask,
the Lord's blessing...~
Note:
A *Narraganset Indian recipe.
Introduced around 1751.
It was then called msickquatash
and was a mixture of lima or shell beans
with green corn cooked together 'originally'.
*American Indian people of Rhode Island
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A true Of universal
Some budy
Told
I am india...N...
S ome budy told...
Some time i am indian...
On school
Prayer time time told
I am indian...
But...
I did not feel
Indian...
India is
my birth place
ok...
But...
I am not a indian...
Why...?
I am...
I did not write hindhi...
I am Live in tamil nadu state
My mother also speak in tamil...
Sourindings peopls all are
Speak tamil...
So...
I am not a indian...
It is very poor word for me...
I am tamilan...
It is ok...
For me...
But...
This think also
Not good...
I am a one of world city zen...
That always unversel true...
Thats i want...
Thats i love and like...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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