I was not great behind the counter. I had a week off without asking for it. Another time, we had a cart go up in flames, and we went out on another cart, which we wrecked by running it into the cart that was on fire.
Related quotes
Seldom Asked
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
Or is in need to have details of scenes,
Described by those riding in the cart...
As the horse pulls.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart...
Is seldom asked,
About anything the horse knows and has seen...
On a path that is daily traveled.
Those in the cart,
Seldom repeat the ride.
And few, if any...
Know what it is like to pull their own weight,
And others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ox Cart Man
In October of the year,
he counts potatoes dug from the brown field,
counting the seed, counting
the cellar's portion out,
and bags the rest on the cart's floor.
He packs wool sheared in April, honey
in combs, linen, leather
tanned from deerhide,
and vinegar in a barrel
hoped by hand at the forge's fire.
He walks by his ox's head, ten days
to Portsmouth Market, and sells potatoes,
and the bag that carried potatoes,
flaxseed, birch brooms, maple sugar, goose
feathers, yarn.
When the cart is empty he sells the cart.
When the cart is sold he sells the ox,
harness and yoke, and walks
home, his pockets heavy
with the year's coin for salt and taxes,
and at home by fire's light in November cold
stitches new harness
for next year's ox in the barn,
and carves the yoke, and saws planks
building the cart again.
poem by Donald Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'd like to get four people who do cart wheels very good, and make a cart.
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Odd musings of an impatient heart
A shopping cart sits alongside the road
Its taunts me as its stands there alone
Just a piece of metal to passers by
But I see that metal and swallow a sigh
And now I've had more than I can take
Its eating me up and I begin to wish
That I could leave this place for a while
Or maybe forever that would be even better
Maybe I could meet someone who is new
And his words would be only the truth
Not lies compared to the thoughts in his head
But I see this shopping cart stranded alone
Just waiting for someone to come take it home
And i wonder of all the things that could make me sad
How a lone shopping cart had the effect that it had
poem by Kamryn Chew
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Parking Team
This is where I want to be
Standing in the coldness of winter
Standing in the hotness of summer
Directing traffic
Seeing smiles
Hearing the laughter of children
Seeing the golf cart come by
Full of laughing kids
Seeing the smiles on their faces when the cart comes
That’s what I love about the parking team!
The way I’m able to help everyone brings a smile to my face
I see familiar faces when I drive the golf cart
Those faces, those smiles, those people is what keeps me going
I enjoy every moment on the team
From putting on my vest to calling it a night
I live for those moments
During those times, that’s when I shine
I never let my glow leave
I have fun with parking
Even standing in the rain… it’s fun
This is something that I long to do every week
It’s just for less than four hours
But it’s the best part of my week
I find parking a challenge
You never know what is on its way
It could be a new spot or it could be a new route
Whatever the challenge, I will take it
I will take it and be the best
Nothing and no one will stand in my way
poem by Laura Carie Dalton
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Demigod and a Demi-Monde
She always looks for the status
and re-examined her blueprint lover.
He doesn't like her disdain
and tawdry damsel's illusive world.
They put the cart before the horse,
Still holding the cart load
and deprived unnecessarily.
To the blushing lovers.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unity Or Not
What is one accomplishing,
By chasing behind a horse drawn cart...
That is going uphill.
Yelling, 'Unity! '
All out of breath and sweating.
As the horse glances back every now and then,
Thinking...
~Why is that fool running behind me like that?
Yelling 'Unity? '
My name is Raymond.
And I've got all I can handle.
Unity or not,
He's not getting on here.
I'm pulling this cart.
And it will come to a stop...
IF he tries.
Late comers are not welcomed.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Advice To The Kings And Administrators
The axle of the cart, loaded
with light-weighted peacock feathers
too, may break if the cart is overloaded.
ThirukkuRaL 475
This is the advice
given to the Kings and administrators
to know their strength,
their opponents' strength
and act accordingly.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mallam Carting.
Daft was thought he says called,
For his naivety struggling carting,
For his blindness,
Made more detention,
Note heart of his depth,
In fishing for best,
Games where wrongly for coins,
Mallam cart pushiness for glory,
Note heart for his depth,
Made calmly for detective,
In given and buying of the silence,
Amorous glorious Mallam cart,
Say say say say,
Daft he was called,
Pleading pleadings for purity,
Help confession Mallam cart pusher,
Games where wrongly for coins,
Survival of fitness aloud,
Here there divinely,
Amorous glorious pusher Mallam cart,
Daft thought he says was called,
For his naivety struggling cart,
For his blindness,
made more detention,
Note heart of his depth,
In fishing for best,
Amorous glorious pusher Mallam cart.
poem by Bunmi Orogun Samuel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blind Road Ahead and A Hill Too!
An old man older than me
and he pushes a cart with two water barrels
taken from the muddy river
for his small vegetable farm?
'Papa I could have push the cart
as the hill ahead.' I said.
'O my son thanks a lot, but
your dress get this dirt? '
'Never mind I just go for an interview
that's not a white-collar job,
collect the stray dogs for a rehabilitation camp
and it's actually a volunteer, not paid? '
Then the old man mutters; 'Good people get bad jobs sometimes
and bad people get handsome salaries for doing good jobs, it depends? '
And I pushed the cart till the end of the road
Then he said; 'Thank you son and good luck! '
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Double Down in the Jewel
The kid walked through the doors
thar slid open at his approach
No shopping cart
nothing but a forty-four
magnum in his jeans
He blew away
the myopic clerk
making change
at the ATM
On his way out
he paused for an old lady
pushing her cart
and an undercover cop
blew him away
You can see the bloodstains
on the brick wall outside
and the graffiti mourning him
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Lady Of The Bullock Cart
Now is the time when India is gay
With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs
Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part
In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array,
They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
Here is the temple ready for the rite:
The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms
Lift down the bride. All India's curious art
Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight,
And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
This is her day of days: her splendid hour
When joy is hers, though love is all unknown.
It has not dawned upon her childish heart.
But human triumph, in a temporal power,
Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
Ah, Little Lady! What will be your fate?
So long, so long, the outward-reaching years:
So brief the joy of this elusive part;
So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait:
So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears-
O Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Librarian
She put her 'check out books at down-stairs counter' sign and headed for the graduate stacks to do her -re-shelving.
The book cart rolled along punctuating her thoughts about him. Brian, she was sure would be there in the stacks, at his little desk against the wall pretending to be buried in his books and she would come in and pretend to be shelving her books and she would pretend to notice him casually.
It would be awkward but the awkwardness of it was exciting for her. Thirty-two and not married but idling for something to happen in her life she was ripe for something to happen and the desulatory weaving pushing the cart did not conceal from even her where her true destination was. She was headed straight toward him, her twenty-five year old Robert Redford look-alike virgin.
To be continued.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walke to Digress
In front of entrance
We berjejal queue up
Going to peron
Awaiting cart come
Each and everyone orderlyly
Awaiting cart come
Ushering to target town
Each
Us also that black waiting' train
Come from west
Going to east
When cart come
With the its black smokestack
voice of iron Wheel fiddle
By rel is steel sticking out length
Forwards we stand up
I develop; builded from long fantacy
When that smooth radius his arms
Sticking out handckerchief
Vanishing sweat in my face
We will immediately leave taking
When cart whistle sound boisterous
Parting sign immediately come
Ushered by a white smoke of in between the steel wheel
What start to rotate, moving
Bringing wagon to target town
Menggapai Expectation
My Hand wave from window
From wagon which start fast quickly
My heart is solid, as stuffed up
In this town is we have to leave taking
Going to land of promise
Chance determined
Especial
Prasetya,7.5.2008
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picture of Confidence
In Bermuda
shorts on a cold morning
he wheeled his shopping cart,
a little recklessly,
up to the side
door of the cafe',
pulled out a stainless
steel, covered mug
and splashed the steaming, old
coffee into the gutter,
then came in for a refill.
Long, straight hair shining,
a smile lit his face
as if all of us
warm, secure people
should envy him.
He came out of nowhere,
got his coffee,
and was gone
with the cart,
humming into the cold
morning air.
Water Butt
Rainfall! Please do not stop your function in the off-seasons
As she catches rainwater to her rusty barrel for her living.
The half of her life without a partner she pussyfoot with the old tire cart
Along the thorn avenues; Not the flower roads.
Yes still she is beautiful & fertile
And there should be a windfall.
If a soft heart soul could join her in a drought
And push the cart well with the offspring?
* [ A dumb voter writes on his ballot; Warmongers! Please do not pollute the serene sky and let the rain falls on its freer style.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Week
Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run,
But he should have gone there last week.
He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun,
But of turkey of duck saw never a one,
For he should have been there last week,
They said,
There were flocks of 'em there last week.
He wended his way to a waterfall,
And he should have gone there last week.
He carried a camera, legs and all,
But the day was hot and the stream was small,
For he should have gone there last week,
They said,
They drowned a man there last week.
He went for a drive, and he made a start,
Which should have been made last week,
For the old horse died of a broken heart;
So he footed it home and he dragged the cart --
But the horse was all right last week,
They said,
He trotted a match last week.
So he asked all the bushies who came from afar
To visit the town last week
If the'd dine with him, and they said "Hurrah!"
But there wasn't a drop in the whisky jar --
You should have been here last week,
He said,
I drank it all up last week!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rubber Morals
Quickly checking what company hes in
Absorbing values like a chameleon
His rhythm and his method have got out of line
When you sit on a fence you get a sore behind
Must not upset the apple cart
Hell choose your views today
Having some kinda conflict
Seems to get right in his way
Chorus
Whoa...rubber morals
Whoa...rubber morals
Whoa...rubber morals, plasticine ideals
See how this one feels
The men in st. peters will not agree to a slipping
On his conscience like he slips on a johnnie
Hes a part time socialist and a part time tycoon
Flags of convenience fly in his cocoon
Must not upset the apple cart
Preserve the status quo
His heart felt convictions
Left a long time ago
A sign over his bed will testify
Is there nothing in his life from which hed live or die
A pale shade of grey lines a vacant head
With our condom-nation you are blessed
Must not upset the apple cart
Hell choose your views today
Having some kinda conflict
Seems to get right in his way
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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India Dreams
India dreams
Unlike never before.
She is sandwiched between
A glory lost and a gory imminent for future.
A painter comes with a fresh brush and a great vision!
But there is no canvas to paint.
The politician speaks aloud till he sweats
And a crowd listens to him in all dismay.
Commoners may soon perish
As the rulers are ever to write their fate.
The motor man cursed rambler
Roams on the road to nowhere.
The laid spirits of Gandhi and Gulzarilal
Cannot rise from the ashes fossil-ed by time.
The trumpets are heard
While the hunger laden flock of men pulls the cart
The cart named democracy!
Indians glorify the machinery Once more;
India dreams once for all
Of a life that can tread on still.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How can you put out a fire set on a cart-load of firewood with only a cup of water.