We play at paste,
We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practising sands.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Nail-Pierced Hands
Cut and Paste My Love:
As I rise from the
Gutter's darkness-blind
But the strong nail-pierced
Hands grip mine and pull -
Then wash me by Blood
Copy-Paste My Mercy:
As I lean forward
To that gutter again -
See the nail-piercings'
Shadows on my hands
As I reach out to you
By that same flood of love
Paste and Save My Heart:
As we walk each day
Together side by side
Closer to Your glory
Step by step toward Home -
Rooms Built by Nail-Pierced Hands
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Copy & Paste
Of course it was copy and paste like honey and lemon drop.
A gleam of humor coming from skies to my beloved eden.
Assure that stich coming from a different heaven.
Of course it is not copy nor paste like lime and linden tea.
poem by Tansel Bozkurt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quite Clever But Not Unique
With no thought to think,
Those who cut and paste...
Assume a creativity is taking place.
With a re-arrangement done,
As if an innovation from them comes.
Quite clever but not unique,
Is their technique.
With hopes what they do...
Is sought by others with depth to teach.
As they cut, paste and leech.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The bean paste that smells like bean paste is not the best quality.
Putty In Your Hands
Written by j. patton & k. rogers
You say hop and I hop
You say drop and I drop
You say stop and I stop
Anything you say Im not gonna play
Im just like putty
Putty in your hands ah-ah
At the wave of your hand
(putty putty putty putty)
Im your slave to command
(putty putty putty putty)
And I gladly obey
(putty putty putty putty)
Anything you say Im not gonna play
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
You can stretch me till Im ten feet tall
Or mould me down to the size of a rubberball
You can use me, abuse me, but dont refuse me
Without your love I aint nothing at all
They say Im a fool
(putty putty putty putty)
cos you treat me so cool
(putty putty putty putty)
Ands I go on/all this way
(putty putty putty putty)
Anything you say Im not gonna play
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
You can stretch me till Im ten feet tall
Or mould me down to the size of a rubberball
You can use me, abuse me, but dont refuse me
(? ) nothing at all
They say Im a fool
(putty putty putty putty)
cos you treat me so cool
(putty putty putty putty)
Ands I go on this way
(putty putty putty putty)
(? )Im not gonna play
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
Ah-ah
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
Ah-ah
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
Im just like putty, putty in your hands ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah-ah
(ad lib to fade)
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Echo Of The Words
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
but i am ok, i am ok, i am ok.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sweet Man (two poems)
A Sweet Man
Wistfully, our noses pressed against the window
we'd watch the man rolling and kneading,
kneading sweet paste into a long, twisted snake.
His big strong hands worked adeptly
as the smell wafted from the door.
Our mouths watered, our eyes grew big.
Every now and then he'd look up and wink.
Sometimes he'd beckon us to come in
and we'd ask him lots of questions.
'What are those? ' 'What flavour are they? '
'Can we buy one for a penny? '
He'd never answer, he'd just carry on.
On good days, without saying a word,
he'd bag up some scraps and give us all a treat.
'How much, mister? ' We'd ask.
'Get out of it' he'd say and hand us each a bag
with a warning about our teeth
and 'I'll never make a bloody living like this'.
Sweet Man
Kneading and rolling, rolling and kneading
sweet sticky paste beneath hard hands clinging
we watched mesmerized with taste buds tingling,
our pockets empty, no pennies jingling.
Nowadays sweets come in packets, no mess,
just pretty wrappers and advertisements
I miss those days of hunger I confess,
those days of dreams and youthful wonderment.
Twisting and turning the long sausage paste
all cough candy flavoured that in its way
not only showed off his handsome, strong face
but also his softer, fatherly ways
Oh sweet, sweet man do you still knead and roll
You're sweets never so sweet as your sweet soul.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Qualified
I got a beat up piece of paper - It's a message from a king
He says - I got to get you out of here
He say - I got to let you in
'Cos I've been down the darkest road there is - I've seen the other side
I got a licence to go - Straight through your pain
Ain't no big deal - 'Cos I'm qualified - Yeah I'm qualified
Qualified in fear and pain - I'm qualified in lies and shame
I'm qualified with a broken heart
You knock me down - I get back up again
'Cos' I'm qualified
I'm qualified - To get your love
I'm qualified - To know what you're thinking of
I'm qualified - in broken dreams
I can save you from where you've been
'Cos I'm qualified
I'm qualified to make you smile
I'm qualified to save your pain
Qualified to give a real good time
Qualified to make your sun shine
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is qualified? What have I been qualified for in my life? I haven't been qualified to be a mayor. I'm not qualified to be a songwriter. I'm not qualified to be a TV producer. I'm not qualified to be a successful businessman. And so, I don't know what qualified means.
quote by Sonny Bono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Jailers Door
My blood pressure went up today
When the jailer said walk this way
It wasn’t his tone of voice you see
Rather the steel door that closed
Behind me
An impromptu visit it would be
To see a brother of the Cree
Incarcerated for living mischievously
40 ounces and a stolen car
Won’t get you very far
The police in hot pursuit
Didn’t give a hoot
That Victor did not steel the car
He said the ride was all he took
Now that’s enough for the lawman’s hook
He’ll do two year for this silly charge
Because the driver made them chase
Its jail house tooth paste
That subs for paste
I still think this is a real waste
A classic case of
Lawman’s employment security
poem by Nick krakana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut & Paste
you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned
you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree
so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination
you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there
and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom
the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead
you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake
and you look at what you have done
you smile
you are putting life to everything
and finally
you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kicking Roses
Privately we share similar interests.
And I agree with your thoughts totally.
Although...
Since I've been told I play the role,
Of the villain so well...
I only speak of kicking roses publicly.
And between you and me...
I have too high of a regard,
For anything that has a delicious beauty.
But will prick quickly if unconsciously picked.
I've learned to satisfy.
With some tough lessons learned.
And a fool?
I am not.
However,
I must admit...
When focused and in 'character',
I can chill anyone to the bone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Peace A Chance
give peace a chance
lets make love
clothe me in white
the colour of peace
paste hope in ur soul
paste love in ur heart
whisper words of love
respect words of freedom
follow ur heart
follow ur dreams
follow ur happiness
give peace a chance make love not war
nothing to kill or die for
give people a chance
to live life in peace
u may say im a dreamer but IM NOT THE ONLY ONE!
poem by Annamaria Stylianidou Or Stylianides
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Romance Point [5]
ROMANCE POINT [5]
esspeecee …11.06.09.
Why browse
Thro’ eyes
Why not open file?
And save as
‘Save as…’
Cut and paste
You can do
But it’s not
Aye: To love.
Copy and paste
Still not
Aye: To love.
Open the file
Fiddle and fondle me
I can’t be hidden file
If saved as
‘Save as…’
Browsing thro’ heart,
Bring me near
To your
Tremulous heart
I’ll be with you too in
Choreographic synchrony.
.
Make a virus check
To prevent goofing
Love is:
Dewy drops of rapture
Get coalesced effortlessly.
When saved
Send the love
To me by
E-mail with correct ID.
I’ll save
It, as save as…
No, save into
My breast silhouette
Where plays cosmetic
Red, blue, green &c
A designer
Canopy of
My Romance Point.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Consistency is the paste jewel that only cheap men cherish.
quote by William Allen White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Talking Sands
The beams were ready to collide
on the bars of hate. The blast
was coming with adjectives.
It was immortality of a street which
was going to survive.
New herons will come to wade
in troubled waters. Pure white. But the
fish had left the shore and gone to hills.
The long necked birds will find the flaming
love of sands.
The stardust was singing, anointed by
sandal paste to count the uncollected
flowers of war which were thrown on
the returning soldiers after the defeat.
There is the news of repealing the pact.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Into Spinning Cut Paste Conversations
Just one soul,
Sincere!
And not into spinning,
Cut paste conversations...
Clipped from over usaged,
With what is expected...
Another wants to hear.
Those with approaches,
Whether coached or surfaced tapped...
Seem to lack originality.
With a rehearsed premeditation attached.
A socialized conditioning,
Overdone and redundant trapped...
Begins with meaningless trite expressions.
With an emptiness that packs...
Every reason to deliver,
A yawn or two that attracts a catnap.
Just one soul,
Sincere!
And not into spinning,
Cut paste conversations.
Clipped from over usaged,
With what is expected...
Another wants to hear,
That would give a person purpose,
And a reason to chat...
With a comprehension to match.
'If I wasn't horny,
I wouldn't be here seeking a mate.'
~If I didn't have preferences,
You would be ideal.~
'Well,
At least we've got 'that' out of the way.
Have a good evening.'
~You too!
And by the way...
Here is my number.
I will be expecting your call.
For some reason,
My preference list just got a bit shorter.
Who knew I'd meet someone like you? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fisherman jim's kids
Fisherman Jim lived on the hill
With his bonnie wife an' his little boys;
'T wuz "Blow, ye winds, as blow ye will -
Naught we reck of your cold and noise!"
For happy and warm were he an' his,
And he dandled his kids upon his knee
To the song of the sea.
Fisherman Jim would sail all day,
But, when come night, upon the sands
His little kids ran from their play,
Callin' to him an' wavin' their hands;
Though the wind was fresh and the sea was high,
He'd hear'em - you bet - above the roar
Of the waves on the shore!
Once Fisherman Jim sailed into the bay
As the sun went down in a cloudy sky,
And never a kid saw he at play,
And he listened in vain for the welcoming cry.
In his little house he learned it all,
And he clinched his hands and he bowed his head -
"The fever!" they said.
'T wuz a pitiful time for Fisherman Jim,
With them darlin's a-dyin' afore his eyes,
A-stretchin' their wee hands out to him
An' a-breakin' his heart with the old-time cries
He had heerd so often upon the sands;
For they thought they wuz helpin' his boat ashore -
Till they spoke no more.
But Fisherman Jim lived on and on,
Castin' his nets an' sailin' the sea;
As a man will live when his heart is gone,
Fisherman Jim lived hopelessly,
Till once in those years they come an' said:
"Old Fisherman Jim is powerful sick -
Go to him, quick!"
Then Fisherman Jim says he to me:
"It's a long, long cruise-you understand -
But over beyont the ragin' sea
I kin see my boys on the shinin' sand
Waitin' to help this ol' hulk ashore,
Just as they used to - ah, mate, you know! -
In the long ago."
No, sir! he wuzn't afeard to die;
For all night long he seemed to see
His little boys of the days gone by,
An' to hear sweet voices forgot by me!
An' just as the mornin' sun come up -
"They're holdin' me by the hands!" he cried,
An' so he died.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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