The Saintly Sin
There was a man dressed shabbily
in church in the same old pew.
He sat there piously and pretended to pray
but knew what he would do.
He waited patiently for the collection plate
to pass him in the pew.
He made the effort to stop the plate
and this is what he'd do.
He'd place a penny in the plate
and take two quarters out.
And as he left he'd smiled a lot
and you would hear him shout
Hallelujah Lord.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
Heartburn Stew
I threw my woman power in a pot of stew
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single word did I hear from him,
So I tried the stew on my dog
But he wouldnt even eat it.
I put my light heart on a matching silver plate
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single footstep was heard near the door
So I ate the plate myself
And got a heartburn.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I toasted my pride and covered it with apple jam
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single sign of a stir or a breeze
So I soaked the bread in my milk
And I gave it to the birds.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I watched the clock ticking, ticking away to my past,
Eight years old, birthday and raindrops.
Not a single line from my dad or my mom
So I laid the cake on my cat
But she wouldnt even touch it.
Heartburn, heartburn stew,
Heartburn, heartburn blues.
What do I want with a heartburn, I ask you,
Dont try to give me the word.
cause I ask a clever question
And I get a silly answer.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heartburn Stew
I threw my woman power in a pot of stew
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single word did I hear from him,
So I tried the stew on my dog
But he wouldnt even eat it.
I put my light heart on a matching silver plate
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single footstep was heard near the door
So I ate the plate myself
And got a heartburn.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I toasted my pride and covered it with apple jam
And waited for my love to come.
But not a single sign of a stir or a breeze
So I soaked the bread in my milk
And I gave it to the birds.
Heartburn, heartburn plate,
Heartburn, heartburn cake.
I watched the clock ticking, ticking away to my past,
Eight years old, birthday and raindrops.
Not a single line from my dad or my mom
So I laid the cake on my cat
But she wouldnt even touch it.
Heartburn, heartburn stew,
Heartburn, heartburn blues.
What do I want with a heartburn, I ask you,
Dont try to give me the word.
cause I ask a clever question
And I get a silly answer.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Wives Of A Mandarin
Lawful wife.
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that’s served is nests of the swallows.
Since the birth of time, the legal spouse
Is respected by her mandarin-husband.
Concubine
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served – duck: fat and heavy;
Should a mandarin be deprived of children -
Concubine is needed for a mandarin.
Maid
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served - preserves and marmalade.
Why the two of you are in his house?
Every night a new woman he desires.
Mandarin
There is no more wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that’s served is hot red pepper.
Silence! O you: bunch of silly blabbers,
Dare you laughing at the poor old mandarin.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire-men
I feel something
Something is rushing straight to me
Not the runner, nor the falling rock-climber
But a round flying object－ yes, a football
I have no enough time to run away, I’ll be hit
But it stops－ thanks to the iron net before me
I, angrily, try to see from the holes of net
About six men, wearing blue clothes of football
Printed with Congshan Fire Brigade
They are practicing shooting
By shooting a small metal plate
Tied tightly on the net
Every time when they kick the ball, they shout
Two words－ but I cannot hear them clearly
One by one, when they hit the target
They cheer, and again kick, hit and shout
As the triumph over the mountain-fire
Caused by a cigarette butt last year
Year in year out, they fight against fire
Honorably, even when they play football
The courage, the braveness, the fire
Flying with the ball, hitting the plate
Yes they win! Finally I hear what they shout
As what is written on that plate: NO SOMKING
poem by Kavin Fang
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Buttered Peas With Crushed Red Pepper
Don't take the peas up off my plate.
That irritates.
Don't even think about sneaking them.
They are there for me to eat.
And I want every pea,
Left for me to satiate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Fix your eyes in another place.
Back your nose up off my plate.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Fix your eyes in another place.
No other buttered bean or pea taste better.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
And don't your think about sneaking a pea!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gone Is the Whoopie Goosed From You
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Tingled were sensations,
A few dollars had amused.
Now you're quite upset.
Regrets are now your pets.
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Morning and noon too,
You feel you've been screwed.
And nobody's there...
To give a damn or care!
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have avoided becoming stale by putting a little water on the plate, lying on the plate, and having myself refreshed in a toaster oven for 23 minutes once every month.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Breakfast
Look, the golden plate is ready set
On the round table for breakfast.
Glitters reflecting tinges of my blood
In tune with the table of mud
With the green medow streaking to fret.
Listen, worshiping Aurora at dawwn daily
Comes to me that golden plate by priority.
The green paddy rooted in deep water
Fans soothingly with its ricy flavour.
Feel, it makes golden plate more catchy.
I cook the rice to petalsoft
Adding ghee and jaggery enough to taste.
I resolve with my prayers in bundle
To offer the made rice i.e 'pongal'
To the above deity of splendid light.
On the muddy table, over the glisten
Placed a plantain leaf, served on
The pongal.I then whisper'my sun,
Enlightened by the plate of your glisten'!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Dinner In The House....
a plate falls from the table
hits the tiled floor and breaks into pieces
a woman is caught in utter surprise
and breaks into a hysterical
line but soon
realizes that this is nothing but an
accident of its
kind
about an ordinary plate
on the dining table
she regains her poise
keeps her composure and
retains her
feminine reservation,
'it is just a plate',
(it is not
a relationship)
i assure the guests of the house
and then all begins again
upon a witty conversation,
an exchange of
state-of-affairs
some on a cheek to cheek basis
a tee-a-tee
a peek-a-boo
a little laughter here and
another one dashing
over there
the children are out of the house
playing
some men are smoking
to the moon
it is not just a plate,
there is more to this
breaking
it is a symbol of something greater than those
broken pieces
if they only know
someone is talking to oneself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Too Much Food
You can say that Im one curly fry in the box of the regular
Messing with the flavor oh the flavor that you savor
Saving me for last but you better not eat me at all
Living in a fast food bag making friends with the ketchup and salt
People say that Im crazy for not moving on to better things
Instead Im sitting around trash talking with the onion rings
But its much too soon to leave this easy life
Pass me the spoon. pass the analytical knife
Cause your about to get cut and get cut down
Its all about the wordplay all about the sound in the tone of my voice
You gotta let me make my choice alone before my food gets cold
Better shut up or get shot down. it s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
Believe it or not I super sized my sights on the surprise in the cereal box
My stomachs smaller than my eyes
So I went to see the doctor and he said turn your head and then cough
I didnt listen to what he said instead I couldnt wait to get off
He said I can have this but I cant have that
That I should keep wishing I was living the life of a cat because
I aint the one whose gonna be missing the feast
Just like you aint the one who seems to be calming the beast
Now your about to get cut and get cut down
Its all about the wordplay all about the sound in the tone of my voice
You gotta let me make my choice alone before my food gets cold
Better shut up or get shot down. it s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
Well if you are what you eat in my case Ill be sweet so come and get some
Im so over it.
Now your about to get cut and get cut down
It s all about the know how all just a matter of taste
Stop telling me the way I gotta play. too much food on my plate.
(get up and get some)
Theres too much food on my plate
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cup Of Wonder
May I make my fond excuses
For the lateness of the hour,
But we accept your invitation, and we bring you beltanes flower.
For the may day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
Will heed the song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
Question all as to their ways,
And learn the secrets that they hold.
Walk the lines of natures palm
Crossed with silver and with gold.
Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Join in black decembers sadness,
Lie in augusts welcome corn.
Stir the cup thats ever-filling
With the blood of all thats born.
But the may day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
Will heed this song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Points
Counting points every day
To try and keep my weight at bay
Low cal this low fat that
Its all to keep me from getting fat
Meer morsels appear upon my plate
Were once was full my mighty plate
Green stuff coming out my ears
I should have buckteeth and rabbit ears
The weight is dropping really slow
I have such a long way to go
Rabbit food and plate so bare
About my weight I really care
Four months down the line
Lost loads of weight and feeling fine
No more grumbling about the food
That balanced diet done me good
Chellaston
06 04 2010
poem by Jim O'Donnell
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The Wait of Water - (Villanelle)
a shift in the tectonic plate
early morning siren screeches
across the ocean people wait
awakened to this twist of fate
tsunami warning, clear the beaches
a shift in the tectonic plate
minute by minute news updat
listen to the experts speeches
across the ocean people wait
all trying to anticipate
how far this devastation reaches
a shift in the tectonic plate
don’t live in a complacent state
lessons Mother Nature teaches
across the ocean people wait
as the local pastor preaches
although his prayers come too late
a shift in the tectonic plate
across the ocean people wait
poem by Charlie Parant
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And that's how you shit on assholes
All is nothing
Unless sold
by the pound
If it has a price
Then kill
steal,
manipulate,
seduce,
it off
another plate
When 'Dog eats dog'
You'll find me
in the kitty litter
leaving what
you'll find
on my plate
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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Honey Biscuits And Gravy
My wife and I sat down one day
to honey biscuits and gravy
and when the last of it was on my plate
what did she say to me
She said, 'my dear devoted husband
husband of many years
would you give the last of that breakfast treat
oh would you please, my dear? '
I said, 'my wife, my darling wife
wife of many years
of biscuits and gravy I cannot part'
so with my fork I began to start
But before I could reach the plate
I was stopped by my hungry mate
She said, 'I'll give you silver and gold
all the fortunes yet untold
if you'll give what's on your plate
the still standing honey biscuit and gravy'
I said, 'my dear, darling wife
wife of many a day
nothing short of a great earthquake
can make me part with my plate'
And then she grew desperate
a horrid fiend intemperate, she said
'You'll be the sole head of the estate
for that last serving of biscuits and gravy! '
I said, 'dear, devoted wife
wife of many a day
you don't know that with what you give
so willingly away'
She said, 'a small price, a small price
I eagerly will pay
for that last remaining morsel
left standing on your plate'
So I did the deed, I confess
and now I must say
my wife's head tasted just as good
as honey biscuits and gravy
poem by Kevin Howell
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The duel
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!)
Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink!
The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate
Appeared to know as sure as fate
There was going to be a terrible spat.
(I wasn't there; I simply state
What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)
The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!"
And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"
The air was littered, an hour or so,
With bits of gingham and calico,
While the old Dutch clock in the chimney place
Up with its hands before its face,
For it always dreaded a family row!
(Now mind: I'm only telling you
What the old Dutch clock declares is true!)
The Chinese plate looked very blue,
And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!"
But the gingham dog and the calico cat
Wallowed this way and tumbled that,
Employing every tooth and claw
In the awfullest way you ever saw -
And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew!
(Don't fancy I exaggerate -
I got my news from the Chinese plate!)
Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
But the truth about the cat and pup
Is this: they ate each other up!
Now what do you really think of that!
(The old Dutch clock it told me so,
And that is how I came to know.)
poem by Eugene Field
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Hallelujah Chorus
Written by georg friedrich hndel
Lead vocals by styx
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
For the lord God omnipotent reigneth
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
For the lord God omnipotent reigneth
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
King of kings and lord of lords
King of kings and lord of lords
And he shall reign forever and ever
Forever and ever
Hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
Hallelujah
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pray
Pray! Pray! Pray!
Never allow sloth to delay
Your strides in divine way
Human life is a short time play
Hurry! Before the angels flay
On that imminent dooms day! ! !
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! !
For His mystic body; it was a bad day
Nailed on cross the Lord did lay
Blood dropp by dropp oozing from his bleed
Cleansing the sins of human misdeeds
The saddest day it was He died
But booned to mankind as Good Friday
The day we remember how did Lord
He himself became a prey
For our forbidden ways
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Climbing The Hill
Stand still
With your hand climb the hill
If you use a spoon
You won't finish soon
Don't dream
Because you might no see the steam
If you do so don't cry
When you find the plate clean and dry
Eat more food
To reach you adulthood
Be careful they might think you are rude
Take a look
So that they may let you off the hook
If a rock of a hill sticks on your neck,
Drinking water is the trick
If it's too hot on your chest
No one can check
Just resist
Until your delicious hill gets flat
Wishing to get another plate.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Hallelujah
I heard there was a secret chord
That david played to pleased the lord
But you dont really care for music do you
It goes like this, the fourth the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing, hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
Well I dont even know the name
But if I did, well really, whats it to you
Theres a blaze of light in every word
It doesnt matter which you heard
The holy or the broken, hallelujah
Hallelujah...
I did my best, it wasnt much
I couldnt feel so I learned to touch
Ive told the truth, I didnt come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
Ill stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my lips, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Well, maybe theres a God above
But all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And its no complaint you hear tonight
Its not some pilgrim whos seen the light
Its a cold and broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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