I did a salad, but I didn't do a garden.
quote by Roberto Burle Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Word Salad
Like veggie salad tossed here and there
Random words mix up good meaning
Spiced up musings everywhere
The taste of which is quite confusing.
So I looked and read classic poetry
Perchance there find some gourmet score
Hoping my diligence gets the recipe
For the word salad I am looking for.
Salads taste nice with a little dressing
And thrown about words may hit some cue
I guess I could never do salad writing
So I stick to rhyme in the poems I do.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Acting in 'Star Wars' I felt like a raisin in a giant fruit salad, and I didn't even know who the cantaloupes were.
quote by Mark Hamill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prince Charles is very relaxed at the table, throwing his salad around willy-nilly. I didn't find him stiff at all.
quote by Madonna Ciccone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petri-dish
Your love is like salad in a salad Petri-dish,
But, bounded in the myth of paradise! !
However, the pivoting labour of your muse acts like flaccid breasts;
And, tomorrow is the opening of your hot meal to the masses,
For, you are very much noted in this village.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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We don't need a melting pot in this country, folks. We need a salad bowl. In a salad bowl, you put in the different things. You want the vegetables - the lettuce, the cucumbers, the onions, the green peppers - to maintain their identity. You appreciate differences.
quote by Jane Elliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Polk Salad Annie
(words & music by tony joe white)
Some of you all never been down south too much...
I gonna tell you a little story, so youll understand where Im talking about
Down there we have a plant that grows out in the woods and the fields,
And it looks something like a turnip green.
Everybody calls it polk salad. now thats polk salad.
Used to know a girl that lived down there and
Shed go out in the evenings to pick a mess of it...
Carry it home and cook it for supper, cause thats about all they had to eat,
But they did all right.
Down in louisiana
Where the alligators grow so mean
Lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame
Polk salad annie
gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang
What a mean, vicious woman
Everyday before suppertime
Shed go down by the truck patch
And pick her a mess of polk salad
And carry it home in a tote sack
Polk salad annie
gators got you granny
Everybody said it was a shame
cause the mama was working on the chain-gang
Whoo, how wretched, dispiteful, straight-razor totin woman,
Lord have mercy.
Sock a little polk salad to him
Yeah, you know what, yeah, yeah
But daddy was a lazy and a no-count
Claimed he had a bad back
All her brothers were fit for
Was stealing watermelons out of my truck
For once polk salad annie
gators got your granny
Everybody said it was a shame
For the mama was working on the chain-gang
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
You sock a little
Hey, hey, hey, yeah, yeah
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Chic a bon, chic a bon, chic a bon bon bon bon
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Sock a little polk salad to him
You know what meets a meal mention
Chinc, chinc, chinc, chin, ling, ling ling
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gethsemane
1914-18
The Garden called Gethsemane
In Picardy it was,
And there the people came to see
The English soldiers pass.
We used to pass -- we used to pass
Or halt, as it might be,
And ship our masks in case of gas
Beyond Gethsemane.
The Garden called Gethsemane,
It held a pretty lass,
But all the time she talked to me
I prayed my cup might pass.
The officer sat on the chair,
The men lay on the grass,
And all the time we halted there
I prayed my cup might pass.
It didn't pass -- it didn't pass --
It didn't pass from me.
I drank it when we met the gas
Beyond Gethsemane.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Didnt Know
Didn't know what you had
Until you lost it
Didn't know what you own
Until you got it
Didn't know of your sins
Until you fought it.
Didn't know what you needed
Until you sought it.
Didn't know your lies
Until someone spoke them
Didn't know of the truth
Until someone wrote them
Didn't remembered your dreams
Until someone awoke them
Didn't know they died
Until someone chocked them.
Didn't know you had guilt
Until you cried
Didn't know you felt sadness
Until you tried to hide
Didn't know you felt shame
Until you lied
Didn't know you believed in GOD
Until you asked him why.
Didn't know you felt sorrow
Until you shed a tear
Didn't know that you were scared
Until I saw your fear
Didn't know that you hated
Until you were near
Didn't know that you were unhappy
Until you looked in a mirror.
Didn't know who you truly were
Until your ways you sewed
Didn't know that you were evil
Until the truth was showed
Didn't know you did this before
Until I saw all of your woe
Didn't know who you really were
Though I wished then I did know.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Down South
Let me take you down south
Hear it from the dover's mouth
The rhythm will make you want to move your body
I had it once and never ever forgot it
Feel the rhythm of rhapsody
Your body moves in raw ecstasy
Explosive eruption beyond compare
Take my advice don't think twice
Let me take you way down south
Step back cuz the funk is here and
The base is kickin' straight to your ear man
Because it's like that so don't talk back
And if you do then you're gonna get the back slap
Down south that's an enigma
But to you it's a stupid dumb stigma
That's right it's outta sight
Let me tell you 'bout my baby
She loves me don't mean maybe
She knows what I think and I don't have to say it
I love her so I don't have to play it
We sit and drink in the sun
I raise my glass and say she's the one
Cool breeze light squeeze life
Take my advice don't think twice
Let me take you way down south
Step back I'm about to get hectic
Chalk it up as another dialectic
Hard like a jam
Smooth like a ballad
Call it what you want but I call it sound salad
A salad grown in the garden of Eden
Seekin' out pleasures like my boys in Sweden
That's right the grooves tight like
Sit back just relax
song performed by by 311 from Unity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Optimistic Cucumber
Once upon a time
There lived a cheerful cucumber
In a lovely vegetable garden.
Optimistic and happy in its green dress,
The cucumber was born toothless;
Yet it made a firm decision to resist
The learned advice to visit a dentist.
In the garden the days quickly trickled
And on an early summer morning
The cucumber timidly asked
Its gentle neighbor and kin,
A yellow and plump pumpkin:
"Excuse me, but don't you think,
That you are a little fat? "
"Oh, I don't mind to be like that
After all I am not an adipose cat.
And besides, as a humble pumpkin
I would be embarrassed truly
Not to be as I am, corpulently brave
And unflinchingly yours, roly-poly."
Then suddenly a jolly July breeze
Blew through the morning garden
And the gardener stepped in warbling.
He praised his good luck
And surveyed several vegetables
Ripened with sun shine to pluck.
And thus before the clock
Struck a forenoon ten, unbiased,
The wholesome cucumber ended up
In a glorious Greek salad for breakfast.
Still, just before being eaten like that,
It turned to the pumpkin and said:
"Remember this beautiful garden
With its comely butterflies unfurled
And never-ever lose your faith
In the goodness of the world."
poem by Paul Hartal
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Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden, The
do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
There's a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesn't lie.
He doesn't wait for love to hold on to
He doesn't lie. he doesn't wait...
Johnny's in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden
The Garden
By: Adam M. Snow
The garden blooms to your delight;
to and from this very night.
When you are but one;
this garden blooms until you're done.
Keep that in mind but out of sight;
this garden is full of roses so white.
Open up and let shine the sun;
for Springtime has only begun.
Show off your garden so bright;
for there is no need to fight.
Now go on, no need to run;
when you're in your garden my son.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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My plants
My plants
are eaten
by all kinds of vermin.
There are golden beetles
that reaps
the leaves of the beans,
brown buzzing beetles turning in the air
around the tomatoes,
snails that can’t wait
and demolish the leaves
of beans, spinach
and tomatoes.
Indian miners
that feast in their beaks
as if every thing belongs to them.
Even poison that I spread out
doesn’t help a bit
and plants from Mrs. Roberts
that should keep such things in check
grows rampant
and after rains
there are weeds
everywhere,
as if my garden
was prepared only for them.
Even one of the taps breaks
causing water to spray without end
and I have trouble
to bind it down
and have to go to Builders
to get a new one
and this garden man gets fed up
and wants to pull
all of the vegetables out
one by one
and put something else
like flowers into that ground,
until my darling says:
“thank you for the beans,
spinach, carrots and tomatoes
that you placed in the bowls,
can I get a bit of parsley
to put in the salad? ”
poem by Gert Strydom
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Chicken and Other Foods
She is coming home tonight, been away for two days.
Bought her, what she likes… a well roasted chicken.
On the farm where I was brought up, old hens that
didn’t lay eggs as before had heads chopped off and
ended up in the pot. Incredible tough meat had to boil
it for hours. Never liked the smell in a chicken coop,
I think concentration camps must have stunk like that
too many bodies in small rooms and no escape.
The coop’s capo wasn’t safe either, when it didn’t
perform as before, off with its head. When she enjoys
her roasted chicken with lemon sauce I will eat a burger,
since it doesn’t look remotely like a dead animal and as
I have never seen a dead cow, only milked them every
morning at five, it will taste ok with Italian salad.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Maybe
Maybe i did it,
Maybe i didn't;
Maybe you did it,
Maybe you didn't;
Maybe he did it,
Maybe he didn't;
Maybe she did it,
Maybe she didn't;
Maybe they did it,
Maybe they didn't;
Maybe we did it,
Maybe we didn't;
And like a raiser of naked Sheep!
But behold, a basket full of summer fruits lay next to you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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