SHORT; Silly; History: Yakkity-yak
A yak's a large cow found in Asia,
somewhere it gets cold, not Malaysia,
near Polo's route of silk
(he stopped for yak milk) .
Don't get it? Don't let it faze ya.
(2-10-06)
poem by Bri Edwards
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Surprise in Japan - A sincere apology
our Japanese teacher
starts her lesson bowing to us
and apologises for the war
I was rather surprised this 30's something Japanese teacher apologised for the role Japanese played in the second world war
in the Asia Pacific. All the students in this Japanese school in Ichikawa Japan were from Asia particularly China, Korea, Malaysia and Singapore. Many Japanese never felt sorry about the ruthlessness they unleashed on their neighbours but there are some who knew of the real situations and are ready to apologise when occasions permits it.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Silk
Passionate touches
Chocolate kisses
Silk perfection
My body and soul on fire
My eyes glow incandescence
My mind and body sway and rock
You slip into my world
Breathing heavy and high
Fly
Bold and black connections
Silk and creamy perfections
Still life
Real love
Here we go
Lets ride
Lets dance
Lets play
Silk romance
You are my…
You are my…
You are mines
Worth more than all wealth
Greater than any king
Finally the real thing
Silk love
My skin
Milk chocolate
Your skin
Caramel
And we swirl and blend
How does it feel?
Silk feelings never end
His scent
My fragrance
Honeysuckle and milk
His power, my vulnerability
my push, his stroke, our affection…..silk…perfection.
poem by Danielle Beechum
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All these boundaries - Africa, Asia, Malaysia, America - are set by men. But you don't have to look at boundaries when you are looking at a man - at the character of a man. The question is: What do you stand for? Are you a follower, or are you a leader?
quote by Hakeem Olajuwon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think that by following the route that I have tried to outline, one gets into a much more interesting and productive series of questions than those that result from saying simply that Chinese don't like milk because they don't like milk.
quote by Marvin Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SHORT; Humor: 2 Poems about: A 'Cultured' Sort of Cow
#1
What sort of cow gives cultured WHOLE milk?
I think Princess and cows of her ilk.
She has nary a crawling tick,
she does NOT her calves lick, (babies that is) ,
and, at our state fair she wins ribbons of silk.
#2
What sort of cow gives cultured fat free milk?
I think Princess and other cows of her ilk.
She buys, for her stall, pieces of art,
listens each evening to her Mozart,
and for the annual Dairy Ball……she dresses in SILK!
(Feb.2006)
poem by Bri Edwards
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We didn’t find him
We didn’t find him,
he found us
on a grey rainy
winter afternoon
just before the sun
was setting.
I opened the refrigerator
taking out some milk for tea
for the two of us
and there he was on deck
next to the patio
on the other side
of the large sliding window
greeting with a voice
sounding more like a sheep
than that of a cat.
His green eyes stared at me
and probably the carton of milk
and his black coat shone
like onyx from the rain.
It was clear that he was
miserable, wet, cold
and very hungry
and thinned out
as if his people
had abandoned him
and I took a towel,
talked to him
and picked him up
and carried him in
while rubbing him dry
and he ate as much
as the Persian eats
in three days
and from then
I was like a god to him
and had a follower
who adored me endlessly,
but you never really liked him
although at times
you stroked him
on his head and back.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I want to do feature films. I am flying to Malaysia to be in another feature film. We will be filming that in Malaysia, the Phillipines, and back in California.
quote by Thuy Trang
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gay writings Malaysia/Singapore
gay writing malaysia/singapore
why dont they learn to whine
with some diversity?
gay writing malaysia
is there nothing more to sex
between the same sexes?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Malaysia
M- my beautiful Malaysia, you make me proud.., when all my friends ask me where i live and i said ‘malaysia’, Malaysia is my country!
A- and everytime i talk about you, i feel free..., free to love, free to talk and free to breath.
L- live in you like live in heaven, we free from war and anything like that...
A- and you gave me miracle that i used it to live...
Y-you’re the place my life begins and you’ll be where it ends...
S- so beautiful! , you’re so beautiful....the beauty that will never end.....
I- i will never leave you until the day i die, i swear! ! !
A- and i thankful to be here....
poem by Qistina Zaini
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Gratitude
I found a starving cat in the street:
It cried for food and a place by the fire.
I carried it home, and I strove to meet
The claims of its desire.
And since its desire was a little fish,
A little hay and a little milk,
I gave it cream in a silver dish
And a basket lined with silk.
And when we came to the grateful pause
When it should have fawned on the hand that fed,
It turned to a devil all teeth and claws,
Scratched me and bit me and fled.
To pay for the fish and the milk and the hay
With a purr had been an easy task:
But its hate and my blood were required to pay
For the gifts that it did not ask.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Peggy's The Lady Of The Hall
And will she leave the lowly clowns
For silk and satins gay,
Her woollen aprons and drab gowns
For lady's cold array?
And will she leave the wild hedge rose,
The redbreast and the wren,
And will she leave her Sunday beaus
And milk shed in the glen?
And will she leave her kind friends all
To be the Lady of the Hall?
The cowslips bowed their golden drops,
The white thorn white as sheets;
The lamb agen the old ewe stops,
The wren and robin tweets.
And Peggy took her milk pails still,
And sang her evening song,
To milk her cows on Cowslip Hill
For half the summer long.
But silk and satins rich and rare
Are doomed for Peggy still to wear.
But when the May had turned to haws,
The hedge rose swelled to hips,
Peggy was missed without a cause,
And left us in eclipse.
The shepherd in the hovel milks,
Where builds the little wren,
And Peggy's gone, all clad in silks--
Far from the happy glen,
From dog-rose, woodbine, clover, all
To be the Lady of the Hall.
poem by John Clare
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Pint of Thoughts
I found a sour pint of milk,
Flashing and smiling like an act of money.
Five hundred tubes of milk, sweeter,
I purchased from the provider of happiness.
They were thoughts, greater thinkers make,
Like those philosophical creams always pondered.
I found the sour pint of milk,
And used it for thinking purposes,
Drinking it whole, for nobody,
For the first time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Practicing Loneliness
it is the i in we
that has attached like epoxy,
indistinguishable like
pinch of salt to water
sugar to milk and
xanor to beer
tonight i will be alone
sitting on a chair facing the outline of the hills
light fading out
until what i see is only the flickering stars
above a sea of darkness
i will feel the chill of the cold night
a silk of mist hovering over my skin
it is the i, away from you and the we dissolving finally
decanting the i,
purifying the i in me
soon, i must learn this trick
of being one with me
in the darkness, in the cold,
i keep myself warm.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cleopatra the Queen of Beauty
Cleopatra the queen of beauty
had the softest of skin,
Enticing Anthony
into a lovers spin
Alas a rash suddenly
covered her slinky body
A physician cried
‘Oh my God the only cure is a bath of milk
To bring your skin
back to the feel of silk
A servant set off
on a fast camel train
With milk galore his trip
was not in vain
The bath was prepared,
“Your majesty I have your milk
did you want it pasteurised? ”
“No up to my chin will do”
poem by Ken e Hall
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As soon as the news of the Cabot voyages reached the King of Portugal he arranged to send an expedition of discovery to the far north-west, perhaps to find a northern sea route to Eastern Asia.
quote by Harry Johnston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silk Road
Farghana valley
the splendour of a mythical dream.
The fabled silk route
snaked its way through here,
bringing new cultures, silk and jade,
and no drones filled the night sky with fear.
In this valley of ancient dreams
beautiful horses made the landscape enchanting.
Civilizations come and go; yes, religions too.
They will claim to have the key to the ultimate truth.
Our time also will be cosmic dust in history of man,
but the valley of Farghana shall endure.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66
If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, take the highway that's the best
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
It winds from Chicago to LA
More than two thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri
And Oklahoma City looks mi-ighty pretty
You'll see Amarillo
Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona
Don't forget Winona
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino
Won't you get hip to this timely tip
When you make that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Won't you get hip to this ti-imely tip
When you make a-that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not the first
I stopped being guilty
Of the thefts of thoughts and quotes
When I had found them
Equally stolen ones.
I stopped being guilty
Of molesting that nymphet
When I had found myself
Not the first culprit.
06.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Pigeon
The dreams are not merely dreams,
Though they are often considered the fantasies,
And futile vain imaginings of the mind;
Yet they portend the stuff for the future.
I dreamt once, I was on the route shingled long,
All alone with grimness I walked,
No one accompanied to share my pang,
It was almost dark, the time of sunset;
All of sudden I heard a voice, urging me to stop,
I stopped and turned behind;
And saw a damsel simply clad,
Though she was bare feet, yet from head to toe,
An incarnation of simplicity and elegance.
She stopped beside me and had a pause,
And in silence stared at me,
Then she brought out a white pigeon,
That she had kept covered under her shawl,
And handing it to me went back,
With out a word spoken.
Many years later I happened to meet the same elegance,
And she became my life partner;
In her company I journeyed the remaining part,
Of the route shingled long but with the soft pigeon of love.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Mother
Mother gave me my first taste of sweet milk
While I snuggled helpless and voracious
Amongst two large breasts that were soft as silk:
A comfort zone where I heard loquacious
Chatter on a daily basis, foreign
But always a soothing tone for my ears
My meal was always interrupted when
Mom would pull me off still hungry and steer
Me around facing over her shoulder
And begin patting my back tenderly
Until strange noises began to occur
That emanated from both ends of me.
Is it any wonder why I love her?
This source of life I know as my mother.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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