The only truly anonymous donor is the guy who knocks up your daughter.
quote by Lenny Bruce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Anonymous Ghurl
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her mother
'I'll be me and no one else
I'll never be another'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her dad
'The things that you have done to me
They make me feel so sad'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to God
'How can I belive in you
You are such a fraud'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her friend
'I don't want to go on any more
I want it all to end'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to no one
'I can't go on anymore
As she pulled the trigger of the gun'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to me
'Leave your body far behind
And you too can be free'
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Knock on a Door
Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.
poem by Hannah Shier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The cheapest is advice
Donor is happier than the receiver;
Cheaper than water anywhere
Is advice, free of cost, unasked.
In its balance sheet, there is no loss.
Always is gain, the ego of donor.
04.12.2001, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing To You and Nothing To Me
Your name is not on my birth certifict.
So dont claim to be my mom
You are nothing to me
All you are is my sperm donor's wife
That means nothing to me
Do you understand what I am saying
Stop telling people I am your daughter
Because I am not
You will NEVER EVER be my mom!
To my face you are so ever nice
But behind my back you thrive knife into my back
So you hate me?
Ha thats funny!
Because last night you said 'I Love You'
Why must you lie to me
And then yell and cuss when I do the same
I will not lie when I say
I hate you
You are nothing to me!
Nothing! !
Dont call me your daughter
I am nothing to you
But your husband's mistake! !
poem by Makayla Straight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talisman
The studs worn by her are more fortunate
Than their donor, with their sanctity
To touch her. What sensation can they feel?
The donor can feel but is barred to touch.
No matter.
It is a talisman,
for her he has given.
23.05.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Giving is pleasure.
The donor is happier than the recipient
As his hands place above the recipient’s..
Donor’s ego and recipient’s hands are full.
The giver remembers longer though.
23.03.2001
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Dance Moves
When I see you pull
those dance moves
it knocks me out
When the music
is screamin'
it knocks me out
You know I gotta smile
It makes me so happy
It makes me so happy
it knocks me out
I can't see anyone else
when those
dance moves
knocks me out
poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't You Sign Anonymous
Don't you sign anonymous,
To notes that you drop.
Don't you sign anonymous,
To get my head all heated up until it pops!
Be with me upfront and prepared.
Don't start a scavenger hunt to dare.
And please don't leave me grieving,
To be stunned as you run.
Don't scurry as you hurry...
To inflict me with dirt!
Knowing what it is that will get to me and hurt.
Don't you sign anonymous,
Be real and confront me.
Don't you sign anonymous,
To rile, torment and test me.
Don't you sign anonymous to throw in an 'if'!
IF I don't apologize,
You would be broken like a vase...
But away you'd fly.
Don't you sign anonymous,
Be real and confront me.
Don't you sign anonymous,
To rile, torment and test me.
Don't you sign anonymous to throw in an 'if'!
IF I don't apologize,
You would be broken like a vase...
But away you'd fly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opportunity
Opportunity, it is said,
knocks but once.
Opportunity, sometimes
knocks a few times.
The gospel truth is,
Opportunity's frequency is erratic.
Opportunity is a windfall,
in true truth a one-off affair.
This explicitly explains why
To the wise the plausible option,
is to grab the first opportunity.
Striking when iron is hot
Sparing oneself the guilt
Of not grasping an opportunity,
When it itself, presents.
Opportunity to the fool,
knocks when requested.
It is there to be clasped,
when really required.
No doubt missed opportunity,
is the facet of a fool.
Be wise, act rationally
Be guided by the reasoning
The time- tested saying
‘opportunity, knocks but once'.
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Man Rain
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Knocks and fumbles and knocks again:
His long-nailed fingers slip and strain:
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Knocks all night but knocks in vain.
Old Man Rain.
Old Man Rain at the windowpane
Reels and shambles along the lane:
His old gray whiskers drip and drain:
Old Man Rain with fuddled brain
Reels and staggers like one insane.
Old Man Rain.
Old Man Rain is back again,
With old Mis' Wind at the windowpane,
Dancing there with her tattered train:
Her old shawl flaps as she whirls again
In the wildman dance and is torn in twain.
Old Mis' Wind and Old Man Rain.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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The Songs of Summer
The songs of summer are over and past!
The swallow's forsaken the dripping eaves;
Ruined and black 'mid the sodden leaves
The nests are rudely swung in the blast:
And ever the wind like a soul in pain
Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.
The songs of summer are over and past!
Woe's me for a music sweeter than theirs--
The quick, light bound of a step on the stairs,
The greeting of lovers too sweet to last:
And ever the wind like a soul in pain
Knocks and knocks at the window-pane.
poem by Mathilde Blind
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Knocks Door
One knock
just say my name
Two knocks
you should clear your ears
Three knocks
open the door!
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The night has left the stranger in the heart
who knocks and knocks but never lets in
I don't know if the dawn will find his home
the beam to write a message upon his door
'please come in or come no more'
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It ain't about if he knocks a guy out. It's about how he knocks a guy out. It's the style, the improvisation.
Song: XI
Mother, mother, do you not hear?
Mother, they come; there is news to tell!
– Give me your hands, my daughter dear:
'Tis but a ship that saileth well.
Mother dear, have a care, give heed!
–They go, my daughter, away they speed.
Mother, the danger is sore, alas!
– Child, my child, it will quickly pass.
Mother, mother, She draweth near!
– It is down in the harbour, daughter dear.
Mother, mother, She opens the door!
– Child, they go, to return no more.
Mother, She enters! I am afraid!
– Child, they now have the anchor weighed.
Mother, I hear Her speaking low.
– Child, my child, it is they that go.
Mother, She makes the stars go dark!
– Child, 'tis the sails of a shadowy bark.
Mother, She knocks at the casement still!
– Child, maybe it is fastened ill. . . .
Mother, mother, my sight grows dim. . . .
– Child, they sail for the open sea.
On every hand I can hear but Him. . . .
– O child, what is it, and who is He?
poem by Maurice Polydore-Marie-Bernard Maeterlinck
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knocks Me Off My Feet
I see us in the park
Strolling the summer days of imaginings in my head
And words from our hearts
Told only to the wind felt even without being said
I dont want to bore you with my trouble
But theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Theres supmtin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Knocks me off my feet
I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you
I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you
More and more
We lay beneath the stars
Under a lovers tree thats seen through the eyes of my mind
I reach out for the part
Of me that lives in you that only our two hearts can find
But I dont want to bore you with my trouble
But theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Theres sumptin bout your love
That makes me weak and
Knocks me off my feet
Knocks me off my feet
3*(I dont want to bore you with it
Oh but I love you, I love you, I love you)
Darling I dont...
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetmother In Rags At The Doors Of Ikea
My daughter lives in there.
There's no way I could stay:
Look at what I'm wearing,
Even though I gave my daughter.
You see all my sin.
No way could I fit in.
But still,
I have given daughter,
So stand aside!
I will not be denied
A little look inside
What I've given daughter.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Borders
To say that she came into me,
from another world, is not true.
Nothing comes into the universe
and nothing leaves it.
My mother—I mean my daughter did not
enter me. She began to exist
inside me—she appeared within me.
And my mother did not enter me.
When she lay down, to pray, on me,
she was always ferociously courteous,
fastidious with Puritan fastidiousness,
but the barrier of my skin failed, the barrier of my
body fell, the barrier of my spirit.
She aroused and magnetized my skin, I wanted
ardently to please her, I would say to her
what she wanted to hear, as if I were hers.
I served her willingly, and then
became very much like her, fiercely
out for myself.
When my daughter was in me, I felt I had
a soul in me. But it was born with her.
But when she cried, one night, such pure crying,
I said I will take care of you, I will
put you first. I will not ever
have a daughter the way she had me,
I will not ever swim in you
the way my mother swam in me and I
felt myself swum in. I will never know anyone
again the way I knew my mother,
the gates of the human fallen.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Sharon Olds
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Why Can't That Be Me
Why can't that be me, the daughter
you come home to
Loving me all the time, and saying I miss you
Why can't that be me, the daughter you call everyday
The daughter that you miss so much, that she takes your breath away
Why can't that be me, the daughter that makes you cry
The one that touches your soul, everytime she says goodbye
Why can't that be us, daughter to father
Without you in my life, everyday it gets harder
poem by Jasmine Dugas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mothers And Their Daughters
they struck him down hard early in life
he slaps me around plenty
i cannot leave
my daughter never cries
to feed my daughter
i will take on the whole lot of you
the young men howl
i am a mother in time of famine
my daughter dying at my breast
my husband wants a son
my first child a love child a daughter
a wedding to make it right
a family joke to keep me honest
they have a one child policy here
he took my first child my daughter
sold her to the americans
as a child they mutilated me
for fear i might become the woman i am
they will never get to my daughter
I am told to hate my burqa
it keeps my secret from him
my daughter will wear the burqa
poem by Paul Bamberger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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