Keep head cool
He went on hurling abuses
I remained calm with no counter to refuse
I wanted things to defuse
As I felt retaliation of any type at this stage was of no use
What can you do to an angry person?
He might have been infuriated for many reasons
I decided not to offer any comment
At this time it was not right moment
His body was shivering with fear
His pulse rate was more and I could hear
He had no control over his tongue
There was no point to counter or argue
He had some misgivings in mind
I made several attempts to find
Yet he was not coming out clean
I had some others plans to win
I sent him some feelers
With some sweets and flowers
Wishing him a good health and better to tomorrow
Successful carrier with no troubles to blow
He might have analyzed it coolly
Must have also realized it as great folly
Now ball was in his court as he expressed regret
His sincere apology definitely came but very late
"You pour a bucket of water over head"
When faced with anger and unable to read
Grasp the real situation and it's out come
You can then handle the scene as per your term
I remembered this advice as picked form elders
They used to tell me number of times to be good listener
"Never to loose temper under any circumstances"
There is likelihood of success with bright chances
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
What is—
215
What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Thank you a lot
I learnt it from nature
Despite harming so much for sure
"I bow head with respect"
To forgive us all for mad act
I thank almighty for providing precious life
Along with resolve to stay with lots of strife
Always waiting for good to happen
Despite all chances of no success even
I breathe in amidst uncertain moment
Thank nature for providing nice movement
To feel its pulse of its great act
What else can be felt in return as fact?
We can only thank in terms of gesture
That is goodness of human being for sure
We can reciprocate and recognize
If everything is understood as wise
Be calm and quiet while responding
Because that directly reflects and corresponds
Your inner soul action and feeling on face
Face lines are read in all the cases
Eyes go down in recognition
"Words are not sufficient reflection"
"I wish to speak something more"
It just weaves the thoughts and really adore
Such is the meaning of "Thank you"
It must convey feeling and look true
Merely saying "thank you" may look casual
Each time it may be spoken as lines from an individual
Lots of burden is removed when conveyed
The gratitude felt from inside and relayed
The receiver may too felt its impact
To feel real worth and graciousness of act
Thank all when you feel something good is done
Not to you but your friend and heart is won
This is the only gesture that costs nothing
But in return you earn a good will wish for something
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Deaf House Agent
That deaf old man
With his hand to his ear--
His hand to hi head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow. He said, "I can't hear,"
He muttered, "Don't shout,
I can hear very well!"
He mumbled, "I can't catch a word;
I can't follow."
Then Jack with a voice like a Protestant bell
Roared--"Particulars! Farmhouse! At 10 quid a year!"
"I dunno wot place you are talking about."
Said the deaf old man.
Said Jack, "What the Hell!"
But the deaf old man took a pin from his desk, picked
a piece of wool the size of a hen's egg from his ear,
had a good look at it, decided in its favour and re-
placed it in the aforementioned organ.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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You're right—
234
You're right—"the way is narrow"—
And "difficult the Gate"—
And "few there be"—Correct again—
That "enter in—thereat"—
'Tis Costly—So are purples!
'Tis just the price of Breath—
With but the "Discount" of the Grave—
Termed by the Brokers—"Death"!
And after that—there's Heaven—
The Good Man's—"Dividend"—
And Bad Men—"go to Jail"—
I guess—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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Another Acrostic ( In the style of Father William )
"Are you deaf, Father William!" the young man said,
"Did you hear what I told you just now?
"Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head
"Like a blundering, sleepy old cow!
"A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town,
"Is my friend, so I beg to remark:
"Do you think she'd be pleased if a book were sent down
"Entitled 'The Hunt of the Snark?'"
"Pack it up in brown paper!" the old man cried,
"And seal it with olive-and-dove.
"I command you to do it!" he added with pride,
"Nor forget, my good fellow to send her beside
"Easter Greetings, and give her my love."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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My Friend, The Parking Lot Attendant
—he's a dandy
—small moustache
—usually sucking on a cigar
he tends to lean into cars as he
transacts business
first time I met him, he said,
"hey! ya gonna make a
killin'?"
"maybe," I answered.
next meeting it was:
"hey, Ramrod! what's
happening?"
"very little," I told
him.
next time I had my girlfriend with me
and he just
grinned.
next time I was
alone.
"hey," he asked, "where's the young
chick?"
"I left her at home...."
"Bullshit! I'll bet she dumped
you!"
and the next time
he really leaned into the car:
"what's a guy like you doing driving a
BMW! I'll bet you inherited your
money, you didn't get this car with your
brains!"
"how'd you guess?" I
answered.
that was some weeks ago.
I haven't seen him lately.
feIlow like that, chances are he just moved on
to better
things.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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The Ghost Machine
Wittgenstein took a sip from his tea.
"You're wrong Descartes, I can tell you,
because body and mind are one".
"Wittgenstein is right", seconded Ryle.
He looked very angry
and shook his head as he continued:
"In claiming that your thoughts are separated
from your body you created a dogma
of the ghost in the machine."
"Gentlemen", Descartes said, "relax.
Where were you when I talked about these things?
You were not even born then".
"Wait a minute", said Bohm. "You're all wrong."
"What? " snapped out Ryle.
"You heard it correctly. You're all wrong", insisted Bohm.
"You have to explain", Wittgenstein said.
Descartes looked to be perplexed.
"Well", explained Bohm,
"since everything in the universe is information,
the existence of matter is nothing but a myth.
The universe is an enormous thought, a giant computer.
It is the machine, which is the ghost."
poem by Paul Hartal
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Jonah and the Grampus
I'll tell you the story of Jonah,
A really remarkable tale;
A peaceful and humdrum existence he had
Until one day he went for a sail.
The weather were grand when they started,
But later at turn of the tide
The wind started blowing, the water got rough,
And Jonah felt funny inside.
When the ship started pitching and tossing
He tried hard his feelings to smother,
At last he just leant his head over the side
And one thing seemed to bring up another.
When the sailors saw what he were doing
It gave them a bit of a jar;
They didn't mind trippers enjoying theirselves,
But thowt this 'ere were going too far.
Said one "Is there nowt you can think on
To stop you from feelin' so bad?"
And Jonah said "Aye, lift me over the side
And chuck me in, there's a good lad."
The sailor were not one to argue,
He said "Happen you know what's best."
Then he picked Jonah up by the seat of his pants
And chucked him in, as per request.
A Grampus came up at that moment,
And seeing the old man hard set,
It swam to his side and it opened its mouth
And said "Come in lad, out of the wet."
Its manner were kindly and pleading,
As if to say R.S.V.P.
Said Jonah "I've eaten a kipper or two,
But I never thowt one would eat me."
The inside of Grampus surprised him,
'Twere the first time he'd been behind scenes;
He found 'commodation quite ample for one
But it smelled like a tin of sardines.
Then over the sea they went cruising,
And Jonah were filled with delight;
With his eye to the blow-'ole in t'Grampus's head
He watched ships that passed in the night.
"I'm tired of watching," said Jonah,
"I'll rest for a minute or so."
"I'm afraid as you wont find your bed very soft,"
Said the Grampus, "I've got a hard roe."
At that moment up came a whale boat,
Said Jonah, "What's this 'ere we've struck?"
"They're after my blubber," the Grampus replied,
"You'd better 'old tight while I duck."
The water came in through the spy-'ole
And hit Jonah's face a real slosher,
He said, "Shut your blow-'ole!" and Grampus replied
"I can't lad, it needs a new washer."
Jonah tried 'ard to bail out the water,
But found all his efforts in vain,
For as fast as he emptied the slops out through the gills
They came in through the blow 'ole again.
When at finish they came to the surface
Jonah took a look out and he saw
They were stuck on a bit of a sandbank that lay
One rod, pole or perch from the shore.
Said the Grampus, "We're in shallow water,
I've brought you as far as I may;
If you sit on the blow 'ole on top of my head
I'll spout you the rest of the way."
So Jonah obeyed these instructions,
And the Grampus his lungs did expand,
Then blew out a fountain that lifted Jo' up
And carried him safely to land.
There was tears in their eyes when they parted
And each blew a kiss, a real big 'un,
Then the Grampus went off with a swish of it's tail
And Jonah walked back home to Wigan.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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The Contented Man
"How good God is to me," he said;
"For have I not a mansion tall,
With trees and lawns of velvet tread,
And happy helpers at my call?
With beauty is my life abrim,
With tranquil hours and dreams apart;
You wonder that I yield to Him
That best of prayers, a grateful heart?"
"How good God is to me," he said;
"For look! though gone is all my wealth,
How sweet it is to earn one's bread
With brawny arms and brimming health.
Oh, now I know the joy of strife!
To sleep so sound, to wake so fit.
Ah yes, how glorious is life!
I thank Him for each day of it."
"How good God is to me," he said;
"Though health and wealth are gone, it's true;
Things might be worse, I might be dead,
And here I'm living, laughing too.
Serene beneath the evening sky
I wait, and every man's my friend;
God's most contented man am I . . .
He keeps me smiling to the End."
poem by Robert William Service
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Limitations
"Who are these blokes with bulging brows
I see all o'er the shop?"
The layman asked. "Them's scientists,"
Replied the courteous cop.
"They are the country's biggest brains;
There's nothing they don't know
The ways of stars, the eight of suns,
And why the winds do blow."
"Then think you they could cure this cold
That leaves me leaden-eyed?"
"Well - no; they ain't quite up to that,"
The constable replied.
"But they could take a man apart
And sew him up again
As good as new; they know how trees
Grow from a tiny grain.
And they can harness wireless waves
And make hem do their will,
Or split an atom bang in two,
Or cleave a mighty hill."
"But could they make this north wind change
A point to east or west?"
"Well, no," the cop replied; "not yet.
That's far too stiff a test,
"But they can cause electric eyes
To shut and open doors,
Or answer telephones, or guide
A great ship from the shores.
Their ‘ographies' and ‘ologies'
And wonders that they plan,
To shove ahead this human race
Do fair amaze a man.
Why they'll have television soon,
Or so I've heard or read."
"And will that make man happier?"
The simple layman said.
"Tho' most amazing, as you say,
The things they do and know,
They cannot make the rain to fall
Or cause the breeze to blow.
They cannot build one blade of grass,
Or read a flapper's mind;
That collar stud I dropped this morn
I'll swear they could not find!... "
"Move on, there!" cried the constable
These ain't things for a joke.
Upon my word, I never see
So iggnerint a bloke!"
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Us Two
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.
"Let's go together," says Pooh.
"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.
("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what it is," said Pooh.
"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.
"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what they are," said Pooh.
"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.
"That's right," said Pooh to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."
So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,
"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. "That's how it is," says Pooh.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Counter to counter
"What did you do as father to us"?
We have almost come off age and trust
You are saying "No" to all our demands
This has been your permanent stand
I just looked at their outburst
Both children talked about bond or trust
It took me by total surprise
Were my children asking more as price?
How would you feel when they question about their existence?
How were they brought on this as earth and to sight it as single instance?
I shall not blame them either for they were unaware of facts
How was I come up to this stage by laborious acts?
I felt bad and insult by that outrageous query
It made me feel bad and felt so much sorry
How can they suddenly come to such conclusion?
Why is the future course for them with full of confusion?
As every child wants to enjoy his time
Parents find it as burden to satisfy sometimes
They have no clue as to how parents may meet their requirements
What will be their next move to pass of that moment?
There is generation gap and conceptually wide differences
They take half hearted decisions and contain full of misses
If such lapses are pointed out to them, they may get easily offended
"You are out of date" they may argue and favor the role is to be naturally defended
In our time, I too felt the same as parents we pointing out
We had no one to correct our action and talk about
Sometimes father and mother both may be illiterate
There was no comparison at that time to equate
But one quality from them was quiet reassuring
Their move was with precision and to the point measuring
They may predict what can prove wrong in coming days
May be they had third sense to smell and push the ways
We all are outdated today
Science has come off long way
Daily we find new concept and inventions
Counter to counter measures and preventions
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My Future
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."
"A lawyer," said Father, "would please me,
For then he could draw up my will."
"A doctor," said Mother, "would ease me;
Maybe he could give me a pill."
Said Father: "Lt's make him a curate,
A Bishop in gaiters to be."
Said Mother: "I couldn't endure it
To have Willie preaching to me."
Said Father: ""Let him be a poet;
So often he's gathering wool."
Said Mother with temper: "Oh stow it!
You know it, a poet's a fool."
Said Farther: "Your son is a duffer,
A stupid and mischievous elf."
Said Mother, who's rather a huffer:
"That's right - he takes after yourself."
Controlling parental emotion
They turned to me, seeking a cue,
And sudden conceived the bright notion
To ask what I wanted to do.
Said I: "my ambition is modest:
A clown in a circus I'd be,
And turn somersaults in the sawdust
With audience laughing at me."
. . . Poor parents! they're dead and decaying,
But I am a clown as you see;
And though in no circus I'm playing,
How people are laughing at me!
poem by Robert William Service
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Sue In The Stew
In my "Stew" my "Stew of Goo" I will have control over you.
Yes, I will control you with my evil spell,
I will control this doll with named Mel.
I will say things that are not NICE,
you see I took your Power and I control the Dice!
Everything is "neat" in this "Game of Deceit"
This Game where I control everything.
Yes, I took your power that you willfully gave to me,
that was Deal, don't you see? ? ?
Don't tell me you want your Power intact,
You chose me as your mother! !
So I can talk behind your back! !
Now, now, you say "Why would I do that? "
You had to find yourself and get back on track...
See how would you ever know who you really are.
"Why, you think you came into this world complete like Sarah Star? ? ? "
You needed my "Evil" ways to make you strong,
you can thank ME when I am long gone...
Now, now you realize it wasn't about ME,
why it was all about YOU,
Yes you finding You—"YOU in the Stew"
Written By Suzae Chevalier in 2006 & 2010
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Our Love
Just "us" and "we"
For we are one
Not "you" and "me"
Or we are done
There for always
Every moment
Good and bad days
That's our intent
As we embark
On this journey
Out of the dark
Where we can see
And live each day
Giving it all
I pray we stay
And do not fall
So hold on tight
And don't let go
We'll make it right
Our love will grow
poem by Paul H Nelson
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A Poetry Reading At West Point
I read to the entire plebe class,
in two batches. Twice the hall filled
with bodies dressed alike, each toting
a copy of my book. What would my
shrink say, if I had one, about
such a dream, if it were a dream?
Question and answer time.
"Sir," a cadet yelled from the balcony,
and gave his name and rank, and then,
closing his parentheses, yelled
"Sir" again. "Why do your poems give
me a headache when I try
to understand them?" he asked. "Do
you want that?" I have a gift for
gentle jokes to defuse tension,
but this was not the time to use it.
"I try to write as well as I can
what it feels like to be human,"
I started, picking my way care-
fully, for he and I were, after
all, pained by the same dumb longings.
"I try to say what I don't know
how to say, but of course I can't
get much of it down at all."
By now I was sweating bullets.
"I don't want my poems to be hard,
unless the truth is, if there is
a truth." Silence hung in the hall
like a heavy fabric. My own
head ached. "Sir," he yelled. "Thank you. Sir."
Anonymous submission.
poem by William Matthews
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Where all your teeth?
"Grandpa, where all your teeth have done"
I was taken a back for query taken
She was my grand daughter asking where about
Of teeth that had fallen or faced route
I regained some confidence
Took to courage and faced
All her questions
And started to speak with clear mention
May be they are all shunted out
I told with clear voice for their fall out
"They were shaking and causing me pain"
So I did away with their whole chain
"Your eyes too look so big in glass"
Why do I find it enlarged with typical class?
I had kept ready made answer
She was not convinced but did not push further
"Your vision gets blurred"
"So new sets of glasses are offered"
I tried to make it look simple
She kept quiet and did not put me in trouble
Grandpa, you are kind and generous
Everybody respects as you seem to be famous
I was little bit elated with her innocence
She was altogether perfect in her brilliance
I could see happiness rush on my face
The children were around for all such grace
I have complete control over my utterances
As I take no exception to any occasion for such chances
Children are eager to know about our past
How did we spend our youth and last?
What was the situation at that time?
And so on for their eagerness sometimes
You may be trapped for your ignorance
If you slip your tongue even at once
They may quote you with same sentence
Such is the child's mind with unique presence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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