Questing Relish
zealous young xenophiles
wail violent utterances
tasked surreptious rail
qualms permit ornaments
nibbling mice livid
kilo joule increments
harped geese fly
every delicate caress
bourne aloft
poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wail! , Wail! ! , Wail! ! ! for HAITI.
Wail, ! Wail, ! ! Wail for HAITI! ! ! ! ! !
Wail for the sight is Gory,
Wail for the deaths of these Infants
Wail for the deaths of these women, ; young, and Old
Wail for the loss of the productive workforce of this Nation
Wail for the Calamity that came within few seconds to claim thousands of lives.
Wail for the loss of generations of this Land called Haiti
Wail for the Unconsolable mothers, and fathers for the loss of their loved ones
Wail, if you have tears in your tear glands,
Wail, if you have heart that is meek
May the Almighty console us all, for the sights of the dead in the rubbles too frightening to look.
poem by Segun Rasaki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Increments
In increments it must now come.
What's being done...
Should not overwhelm.
It should not succumb,
Or overcome with its might.
Nor should it frighten.
But deliver enlightenment.
A dose of that at a time is needed.
And not too much to feed the untreated.
In increments it must now come.
Impatience might cause havoc!
And a running away of those too stunned.
Appear before a few...
Let them give previews.
Let them first astonish those in disbelief!
Let their appetites build and increase.
Let their curiosities begin to tease.
Before the descending of our ships they see!
But...
In increments.
'Your Highness...
Would you care for more tea? '
Yes,
Please!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kudos
Don't you feel a mess,
When you don't get those kudos?
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
And don't you feel a wreck,
When those kudos don't come through?
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
Then you find a life,
Watching mice eating cheese.
Sitting in your kitchen nibbling rice and beans.
While looking out a window hopscotching over dreams.
And there's no kudos.
No kudos.
Have you ever 'tripped',
When you didn't get those kudos?
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
Did you get upset,
In a mood with no kudos.
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
And then you chased the mice,
With a broom you swung.
Knocking over lamps and feeling dumb.
And then the doorbell rings,
And a neighbor is there...
With noodles.
Meatballs and noodles.
Don't you feel a mess,
When you don't get those kudos?
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
And don't you feel a wreck,
When those kudos don't come through?
Kudos.
Those expected kudos.
Kudos.
Then you find a life,
Watching mice eating cheese.
Sitting in your kitchen nibbling rice and beans.
While looking out a window hopscotching over dreams.
And there's no kudos.
No kudos.
And then you chased the mice,
With a broom you swung.
Knocking over lamps and feeling dumb.
And then the doorbell rings,
And a neighbor is there...
With noodles.
Meatballs and noodles.
And then the doorbell rings,
And a neighbor is there...
With noodles.
Meatballs and noodles.
But no kudos.
Sitting in your kitchen nibbling rice and beans.
While looking out a window hopscotching over dreams.
And there's no kudos.
But now you've got some noodles.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sugar And Spice And Fourteen Blind Mice
Sugar and Spice and fourteen blind mice
sat in a room way up in the barn.
the name of the cat was Sugar and Spice
fourteen blind mice, they were spinning a yarn.
As you can picture, the odds were unfair,
though none of the mice had been overly wise
a mad starving hunter to sit there and stare
planning the strategy of a surprise.
How can a cat catch so many at once?
Only with claws and a growling old gut
cats do not utilise swords, spears and guns
this one just sat on her soft furry butt.
The night was soon over and all things were the same
all the mice had been snoozing, unaware of the foe
in the cold of the morning now the cat sought to aim
its formidable powers like a young feline pro.
But a god now took mercy and he told all the mice
that united you stand and divided you fall,
so they jumped on the cat, and they squeezed like a vise
and the end of the frenzy wasn't pretty at all.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Violent Side
Here comes the night
Here comes the anger
Hidden so deep inside
No one can see
Behind these eyes
There walks a stranger
Wandering through the dark
Following me.
Control the violent side
Control the violent side
Control the violent side
Control the violent side.
Electric light
Shining on your block
Sayin to everyone
The power is on
While your alarm
Set up for safety
Keeps out invaders who come
But still cant control.
Control the violent side
Control the violent side
Control the violent side
Control the violent side.
Got to fight to control the violent side
Every day and night
Ive got to fight to control it.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty doesn't need ornaments. Softness can't bear the weight of ornaments.
quote by Munshi Premchand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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061011B feathered parade
rush of air from the beach
is most wanted heat relief
oh! i open my car windows
to clear my lungs upon gasp
i slowed down to almost stop
something happening in front
geese with goose-lings on march
they own the road like monarch
two geese stop letting young ones
cross first; that really amaze me
took longer; they're taking pictures
i already have one from golf course
poem by Manonton Dalan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lament For Adonis
Cytherea, thy dainty Adonis is dying!
Ah, what shall we do?
O Nymphs, let it echo, the voice of your crying,
The greenwood through!
O Forest-maidens, smite on the breast,
Rend ye the delicate-woven vest!
Let the wail ring wild and high:
'Ah for Adonis!' cry.
O Sappho, how canst thou chant the bliss
Of Kypris — after such day as this?
'Oh Adonis, thou leavest me — woe for my lot!
And Eros, my servant, availeth me not!'
So wails Cytherea, grief-distraught.
'Who shall console me for thee? There is none —
Not Ares my god-lover, passionate one
Who sware in his jealousy forth to hale
Hephaestus my spouse from his palace, if he
Dared but to lift his eyes unto me.
Not he can console me, Adonis, for thee!'
Wail for Adonis, wail!
Three blind mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run!
They all run after the farmer's wife,
And she cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did ever you see such a thing in your life
As three blind mice!
poem by Beatrix Potter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Mice Who Hoped
Six mice stared out their door.
The Cat was crouching there.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
“The Dog will come and scare it away! ”
But one mouse ran out, gave up.
In the jaws of Cat he died.
Five mice stared out their door.
Still the feline purred.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
”The Dog will be here soon! ”
But one mouse could wait no more.
In the jaws of Cat she died.
Four mice stared out their door.
The Cat was waiting for them, too.
“Have… hope…” one said.
But one mouse snapped and darted out.
And soon, in jaws of Cat, was dead.
Three mice stared out their door.
The Cat sat ready, claws extended.
“Have… h-hope…” one said.
But one mouse squealed and started –
The one who’d spoken held her down.
“Have hope! ”
For hours more the three mice sat.
The watched, trembling, the mighty Cat.
But still: “Have hope! ” they cried.
Then came the Dog.
The Cat scurried away to hide.
The mice were free at last.
poem by Sophia White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A statement: children who watch violent TV programmes tend to be more violent when they grow up. But did the TV cause the violence, or do violent children preferentially enjoy watching violent programmes? Very likely both are true. Commercial defenders of TV violence argue that anyone can distinguish between television and reality. But Saturday morning children’s programmes now average 25 acts of violence per hour. At the very least this desensitizes young children to aggression and random cruelty. And if impressionable adults can have false memories implanted in their brains, what are we implanting in our children when we expose them to some 100,000 acts of violence before they graduate from elementary school?
Carl Sagan in The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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Caress Me, Baby!
Caress me, baby!
Make it sweet.
Make it feel good...
Enough for me to want to eat.
And...
Caress me, baby!
Hold me tight.
Make me feel...
Satisfied and alright,
At night.
Ah-ah...
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah-ah,
Ah-ah!
Caress me, baby!
Caress me, baby!
Let's squeeze as we sit...
Feeling it.
Without teasing,
Or resisting one bit!
Let's kiss our lips...
As we droan with desire.
Moaning on in bliss!
Caress me, baby!
Make it sweet.
Let's reminisce this...
Each time we meet.
Ah-ah...
Ah ah ah ah ah ah.
Ah-ah,
Ah-ah!
Caress me, baby!
Caress me, baby!
'Close your grill...
It's time to sizzle.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ch'ing P'ing Tiao
Clouds bring back to mind her dress, the flowers her face.
Winds of spring caress the rail where sparkling dew-drops cluster.
If you cannot see her by the jewelled mountain top,
Maybe on the moonlit Jasper Terrance you will meet her.
Order is manifestly maintained in the universe... governed by the sovereign will of God.
quote by James Prescott Joule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is/Not
Love is not a profession
genteel or otherwise
sex is not dentistry
the slick filling of aches and cavities
you are not my doctor
you are not my cure,
nobody has that
power, you are merely a fellow/traveller
Give up this medical concern,
buttoned, attentive,
permit yourself anger
and permit me mine
which needs neither
your approval nor your suprise
which does not need to be made legal
which is not against a disease
but agaist you,
which does not need to be understood
or washed or cauterized,
which needs instead
to be said and said.
Permit me the present tense.
poem by Margaret Atwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bag Of Mice
I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.
poem by Nick Flynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the markets of Maibong
I searched so much
for ornaments of raw gold
in the markets of Maibong,
Gold is only in name
You are lovelier than gold
without ornaments
The goldsmith could not make
a single piece of ornament
to your measure
What kind of goldsmith is he
without ornaments
You are lovelier than gold
The door of the moon in the sky
was open
Secretly I peeped
Orange moon
People say
The moon is lovely
The moon is only in name
You are lovelier than the moon.
Translated by Ajit Barua
poem by Prem Narayan Nath
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After the knowledge of, and obedience to, the will of God, the next aim must be to know something of His attributes of wisdom, power, and goodness as evidenced by His handiwork.
quote by James Prescott Joule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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