Satiety
Macaroons and frosted cupcakes blush
under the shining-eyed approval
of the child in the shirred sundress.
The breath of the waiting queue is hushed
by a tension-melting spectacle,
as she is swept off her tip-toes
by the debonair gingerbread men.
The relieved mother nods, smiling.
This should be the denouement:
The patisserie assistant slips
the treat into a white paper bag
and a prompt conclusion allows
bemused onlookers to share a brief
afterglow of benevolence.
Except that, the patisserie
assistant is dallying
and the child is spellbound by
a new wave of possibilities.
The little golden men display
a spectrum of white iced expressions
and carnival coloured buttons.
The child's pointing finger hovers;
she is fulfilled by the moment.
The patisserie assistant kneels
beside the glass cabinet
where the men live at child-eye level.
She is complicit and condoning.
She drops below the adult plane.
Above them, the customers simmer.
The shapes and colours of sugar
are important to a child;
the piquancy of ginger less so.
A choice! -pink, blue, green buttons,
uncertain brow and a squiggled mouth.
The gingerbread man looks offended.
The next customers, finally served,
are understandably rankled.
The patisserie assistant
owes them at least forty-five seconds.
Their faces are cool. An echo
of the gingerbread man's mute rebuke
is resounding in their fluent eyes.
Later, she wraps the white plastic tray
of remaining men in clear plastic.
She reflects on the way the chef
haphazardly buttoned and iced.
If he'd spent an eternity
and all his artistic talent,
they still couldn't be more beguiling.
poem by Diane Hine
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Related quotes
Then I usually leave the choice of the second assistant director and any other assistant directors to the first assistant director, who will choose because he or she is responsible for the conduct and the efficiency of the second assistant directors.
quote by John Frankenheimer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Colours.
She ponders, by the window,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
engulfing her whimsically
in a paintwork
of jejune rainbows.
Beguiled, you stumble
into her air of intrigue whereupon
you find that behind those
sugar-spun curls and
fairy peach complexion,
she has no eyes.
Blindness! An intangible web
of colours; where longing
meets beauty. She may be blind
but she is not ignorant.
And she touches, inquiringly,
the colours; Orange, subtle sunshine,
scratching, longingly, at the surface of
her blank white paper.
Pink, candyflossicecream
dripdrip dripping-
Pink, onto a neon-coloured world.
She silently uncovers
dark green moss, over
a solid black wall.
Black, stepping out so boldly,
so prominently, but hardly
ever noticed: is she too different
from white?
There she sits, daintily
by the window smudged
with noisy fingerprints,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
she cannot see.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
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Innocent Child
In the eyes of an innocent child, you see all, you know all.
In the eyes of an innocent child, you know why the sky is blue and the
leaves fall.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is no peace and there is no
war.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only peaceful co-existance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only here and now and
nothing in the distance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, there are the colours of the rainbow,
black and white.
In the eyes of an innocent child, Grey areas are not right.
We look at things in grey, black and white, but not like a rainbow.
Some say we even look through rose coloured glasses.
It would be nice if we could look at the world through the eyes of an
innocent child.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Dr. Luther's Assistant
Everything seems so tranquil
Home movies with no subtitles
Don't you wish you knew what they were sayin'
When the film keeps playin', playin' ?
Oh, he's doctor luther's assistant
He'll close in when he seems so distant
Doctor luther's assistant
He'll get on top of you when you lower your resistance
Some say he is just a lackey
Changing words while the ink is still tacky
He's absolutely indispensable
He keeps the other boys in suspense
Oh, he's doctor luther's assistant
He'll close in when he seems so distant
Doctor luther's assistant
He'll get on top of you when you lower your resistance
Luther is locked in a broken-down cinema
Watches his wife with his video camera
Sees his best boy makin' her grin
Out of the kitchen, she's gone with the wind
Oh, doctor luther's assistant
He'll close in, when he seems so distant
Doctor luther's assistant
He'll get on top of you when you lower your resistance
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was assistant in Edmonton with Wayne as captain, and Kevin Lowe was the other assistant.
quote by Mark Messier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Pea
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the black child;
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the coloured child;
But the black child is aware of the coloured and the white!
And this poem is to bring forth the message of love to all amnkind,
Because we were all made by the Creator!
Just as it is written,
So is the seed of the Medes;
And like Sodom and Gomorrah!
For i saw people queuing for pig meat and,
Like the sins of our past.
Of the people and by the people,
Read your Bible and pray everyday;
For many are still not ready to learn.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Once Bitten (a trigee poem)
Somewhat unfortunately.........She toiled because of
the perfidious patisserie's....sugary dastardliness for those
sweet-toothed customers........with cavitied teeth
who were sorely suffering......with needles and drills at the surgery
due to over-indulgence, .......ironically thinking,
of cakes and pastries, ........that they kept her in bread and butter
were an ever-inflating problem...and earned her a crust.
poem by Diane Hine
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Plastic
You got a plastic name and a plastic heart
You can play the game or you'll never start
I'm talkin' to you
You got a plastic house and a plastic fence
Gotta look around or you'll lose your friends
Am I gettin' through?
You got a plastic girl in a plastic bed
And she's in your house made of gingerbread
And you're in there too
Got a plastic smile on a plastic face
But it's underneath that you can't erase
But what can you do-do-do?
[CHORUS:]
Say Love-it's not that hard after all
(tell me what I want
song performed by by Alanis Morissette from Alanis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lily-white Child
lily white child
hallow to thy fair
the twinklin bliss of thy eye
and beatific expression of thy face
to thy sublime innocent
in d spectrum of thy beauty
Ooh lily-white child
thy aesthetic opulency
like nebula of stars
in the terrain of rainbow
lily white child
smile like of heaven wide
sapphire teeth of angel
hallow to thy halo pure
lily white child
pure like distilled water.
poem by Samuel Francis Leumas
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Eyes of a child
Eyes of a child
Such gems in stones
Staring you close
Still as blue sky
They don't lie
Their sun is shining
While you are crying
Eyes of a child
Day or night
I got no light
Free as a child
I can be wild
Eyes of a child
Let them go, into the snow
Without your grace
There's a lot more to know
Just glance over their face
It's the eye of a child
Free and wild
Child don't think too much
Ain't no worry as such
Joy driven life they live
Half-a-soul they give
It's the eyes of a child
Free and wild
Save me child
Save me child
Set me free and wild
Eyes of my child
poem by Siddharth Shah
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Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
The beauty of a mother is her act
To treat her child without compare
To list none of whatsoever is best
For her child is the gem of her life
Then the beauty of mother reflects
From the eyes of her child in return
To respect, love, and care for her
When age and time set them apart
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Waning Cynical
Saturdays at the patisserie,
I sometimes burn my arms, wrists or hands,
balancing hot pie trays and dodging chefs.
New scars overlie old, pink on brown on white.
I'm middle-aged Icarus with singed bat-wings,
in the slow burn of everyday life.
I plan on drowning in dementia,
I enjoy a good melodrama.
poem by Diane Hine
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Gender determination
‘Is this a man or a woman? ’
asked a child the other,
pointing to a nude picture.
‘How can I, no dress? ’
answered the other child.
‘Is this a male or a female? ’
asked an adult the other,
pointing to a clothed child.
‘How can I, it’s dressed.”
Answered the other adult.
Child decides by clothes.
Adult confirms without cloth
01.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Mother
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is conceived nine months in the womb
the child that is cradled at daytime,
night time until dawn?
How can a mother forget her child?
How can a mother forget her child
the child who after the flow of months
has learned to stand and run?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child whose mouth imitates her mother`s tongue,
the child who after a year or two can say,
'Mama, I love you'?
How can a mother forget her child,
the child who is so dear in her own heart and mind,
the child that reveals the mystery of creation,
the beauty of growth and human interaction.
the infinity of our own universe
within its finite linear time?
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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My Wild-Eyed Child
My wide-eyed child
So sweet are you
Innocent and pure
Untouched by the filth of man
A Baby's Breath for you
My wild-eyed child
With eyes so bright they shine
Open to the world
Open to the universe
A Red Carnation for you
My sleepy-eyed child
Close your little eyes
Drift off to rest
Sleep soundly and well
A White Poppy for you
poem by Autumn Winds
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Be a child-parent-adult
To the child, it is a day.
To the parent, it is a night.
To the adult both are inclusive.
The child lives in fantasy.
The parent lives in fallacy.
It is the adult that lives,
Where he is put, in ecstasy.
The child admires things.
The parent criticizes them.
The adult realizes them.
The child appreciates.
The parent deprecates.
The adult rationalizes.
The poet is the child in man.
The priest is the parent in man.
The logician is the adult in man.
Live a child to be youthful.
Live a parent to be awesome.
Live an adult to be credible.
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Broken child
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has seen more than his young eyes should.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who would run away from it all if he could.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has been ravished by the likes of you and I.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child with to much pride to cry.
I see the face off a broken child.
a child who fights off anyone who cares.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wishes his mother was there.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wont let his hardships keep him down.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who refuses to give up and reveal a frown.
poem by Joshua Reid
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Runaway Child
Runaway Child, don’t have to take it anymore
Runaway Child, just walk out of that door
Runaway Child, no more chances to take
Runaway Child, it’s your choice to make
Runaway Child, aren’t you sick and tired of the pain
Runaway Child, here there’s nothing to gain
Runaway Child, you get treated like dirt
Runaway Child, get away from the hurt
Runaway Child, here it’s no use
Runaway Child, get away from the abuse
Runaway Child, you don’t have 9 lives
Runaway Child, take that step or dive
Runaway Child, why are you still there
Runaway Child, how much pain can you bear
Runaway Child, you don’t have to say goodbye
Runaway Child, say goodbye, when they DIE!
poem by Patrick Harris
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Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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