Lingering Supper
In a village-house alone an old couple
Both diabetic yet not with unhappy struggle
But with fond petty quarrels on matters trifle
Rice abandoned wheat prescribed
For them specially to be rolled
Chappatis.yes, chappati-supper for the old
Just the canines and incisors alive
Did she so want not to strive
Yet she contrived to somehow thrive
That glutinous dough balled up into bits
Rolled unwillingly into misshaped bits
Baked, only to come out as crusted biscuits
A hot rasam the gravy
Accompanying was supper ready
Seated to sup, her beloved hubby
Denture fixed properly, hungry tummy craving
Chappati bits smiling
Wide eyed burns winking...
Their intimacy never broke
Paces of life did they soak
In honeyed love; So did that grand-pa
Soak his supper in passion...
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Hello Candice, Are You Sure Of Yourself?
you speak of some bits, bits and bits
of bits buried underneath our hearts and
bones and you want them
to be unraveled bit by bit
that there is always a way, a manner
a process, some means
to an end, to find that light at the end of the tunnel
i am born on a complicated day.
And then i have grown hairs on my head
They too are complications
and my fingers do not have the same lengths
and shapes
That is also another complication
And my feet are not straight
And my face is not proportional
There are angles of deflection
There are lights in me which are refracted
And i may appear so far
And my hands may bend a little
It is because of the difference in our index
I am myself sometimes. I am not myself most of the times.
I ask you then: Are you sure of yourself?
Is that you? If yes, I am telling you
I am not me. I am somebody else.
If No, do not mind me at all.
I am having the tantrums of the poet
A dough with yeast. A grapefruit sour to your lips.
I am irony. I am another riddle.
I like to make myself readable. How many syllables do you
need? Tell me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage Supper
To the man and his wives,
To the woman and her husband,
A white horse of words to lead the way;
But faithful and truth to the world so sweet.
Of the bridegroom and the bride,
Of the flame of fire to lead the way;
But the marriage supper is of the Lamb of love.
Life is like a man sold for his theft,
And do not practice astrology on this issue;
For the marriage supper is ready for you and i.
Of the first and the last,
And a shickle to the home of love;
But try to set set the mother bird free after catching the young.
The marriage supper,
Do not be ruled by your wives!
And do not set a stranger as your King;
For the taste of your many wives may lead you to many problems.
Of a black horse,
But its rider is dishonest and a lair;
And in the great River Euphrates,
I will be ready for your love at this supper.
Clouds of white doves,
Wings of pure love,
Like the doors of heaven!
For i have now seen the glory of the Creator.
At the marriage supper,
The harpers harping with their harps;
With others arrayed in white robes.
Of hands lifted towards heaven at this feast,
Give the little Book to read a line to all;
And at the table of the farmers like,
The farmers farming on their farms.
Of a reed like a measuring rod and,
According to their works on this day;
But honest weights nad measures are needed at the feast.
Of the spirit of life and the sweet of honey,
Like the money paid for this marriage;
But be part of the first resurrection to gain wisdom,
For the marriage supper is for you and i to attend.
Chosen virgins free of bonds,
Wrapped in the tallit of a man to guide you all;
And of the malak standing in the sun to watch us from above,
This marriage supper is for us all to attend.
Rain, grain, train, brain, drain;
Small and great to attend this mariage supper,
But my mind will always write to teach many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Why Don't You Stop
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop...
Getting so offended.
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop...
Your defending arguments.
Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop. Stop!
Why don't you stop. Stop!
Why don't you stop. Stop,
Your defending arguments to dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop! ...It.
Just stop it.
Why don't you stop! ...It.
And quit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Great discomfort arises from too hearty a supper: if you would enjoy a tranquil sleep let your supper be a light one.
Just Folks (Common Faith)
tater fed, cornbread,
chicken rolled in flour.
backyard plowed up,
supper in an hour.
short week, belt tight,
make do with what you got.
invite your neighbors over,
coffee dark and hot.
say a prayer, thank you,
lucky to be alive.
grandkids going crazy,
look over at your wife.
'there's enough, pass the plates',
talk settles down.
glad to be together,
watch the sun go down.
after supper, pick a tune,
pass the bottle round.
name a song, join in,
dont you love that sound?
kids winding down, sleepy eyes,
all too soon it's time to go.
one more song, everybody,
before you hit the road.
turn out the lights, crawl in bed,
with a twinkle in the eye.
been too long, day is done,
tonight's your lucky night.
curtains blow, nice and slow,
thinking about the years.
dont know about tomorrow,
but tonight it's good to be here!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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My Maggie's Rhymes
My Maggie has such honeyed lips
and such lovely eyes in bed
reality slips my slippery grip
to trip lightly from my head.
Her smile cares not for good repute
as she poses in positions
that bid me stray from virtue's route
to set course for sweet perdition.
Her body is gifted curves and bits
that make her sweetly buxom.
And though Meg's ‘bits' must rhyme with ‘tits',
who guessed buxom Meg's so fucksome?
poem by Red O'Mara
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We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident, bits of a star gone wrong.
quote by Arthur Eddington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghazal 314
You who are not kept anxiously awake for love's sake, sleep on.
In restless search for that river, we hurry along;
you whose heart such anxiety has not disturbed, sleep on.
Love's place is out beyond the many separate sects;
since you love choosing and excluding, sleep on.
Love's dawn cup is our sunrise, his dusk our supper;
you whose longing is for sweets and whose passion is for supper, sleep on.
In search of the philosopher's stone, we are melting like copper;
you whose philosopher's stone is cushion and pillow, sleep on.
I have abandoned hope for my brain and head; you who wish for
a clear head and fresh brain, sleep on.
I have torn speech like a tattered robe and let words go;
you who are still dressed in your clothes, sleep on.
Fragments Picked To Bits
Fragments picked to bits,
Leave bits of fragments picked...
With a wish when witnessed,
Those fragments picked to bits...
Had more potential when left to sit,
Alone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I couldn't care less about who sees my bits... My friends asked how I could do scenes like that and not get excited, but it wasn't like that. My bits looked the size of a cashew nut!
quote by Colin Farrell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Two Old Bachelors
Two old Bachelors were living in one house;
One caught a Muffin, the other caught a Mouse.
Said he who caught the Muffin to him who caught the Mouse,--
'This happens just in time! For we've nothing in the house,
'Save a tiny slice of lemon nd a teaspoonful of honey,
'And what to do for dinner -- since we haven't any money?
'And what can we expect if we haven't any dinner,
'But to loose our teeth and eyelashes and keep on growing thinner?'
Said he who caught the Mouse to him who caught the Muffin,--
'We might cook this little Mouse, if we had only some Stuffin'!
'If we had but Sage andOnion we could do extremely well,
'But how to get that Stuffin' it is difficult to tell'--
Those two old Bachelors ran quickly to the town
And asked for Sage and Onions as they wandered up and down;
They borrowed two large Onions, but no Sage was to be found
In the Shops, or in the Market, or in all the Gardens round.
But some one said, -- 'A hill there is, a little to the north,
'And to its purpledicular top a narrow way leads forth;--
'And there among the rugged rocks abides an ancient Sage,--
'An earnest Man, who reads all day a most perplexing page.
'Climb up, and seize him by the toes! -- all studious as he sits,--
'And pull him down, -- and chop him into endless little bits!
'Then mix him with your Onion, (cut up likewise into Scraps,)--
'When your Stuffin' will be ready -- and very good: perhaps.'
Those two old Bachelors without loss of time
The nearly purpledicular crags at once began to climb;
And at the top, among the rocks, all seated in a nook,
They saw that Sage, a reading of a most enormous book.
'You earnest Sage!' aloud they cried, 'your book you've read enough in!--
'We wish to chop you into bits to mix you into Stuffin'!'--
But that old Sage looked calmly up, and with his awful book,
At those two Bachelors' bald heads a certain aim he took;--
and over crag and precipice they rolled promiscuous down,--
At once they rolled, and never stopped in lane or field or town,--
And when they reached their house, they found (besides their want
of Stuffin',)
The Mouse had fled; -- and, previously, had eaten up the Muffin.
They left their home in silence by the once convivial door.
And from that hour those Bachelors were never heard of more.
poem by Edward Lear
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Supper is taken
One’s supper is mere bread
That he takes at home.
The other’s is rich pudding
That he gets at home.
Both return home for supper;
Both sleep with their wives.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Where will i find you again?
Where will I find you again?
The world is too vast,
Too crowded,
Distances too wide
And we stand
Separated by time.
In this invisible
Haze called life,
I found you,
As a lock
Finds its long lost key.
You unlocked
What lay hidden,
Long forgotten
A few bits
Disintegrated
Lost to time.
But with you
I picked those bits
Disintegrated
Bits lost to time
And built a whole new city
Hidden from them all.
One fine day
The lock no longer fitted the key
And as much
I tried
You just locked up
Yourself too tight.
Hiding from me
all that sunshine
Its lovely thoughts
Which would melt me
Within me
Time and again
And my city
Devoid the sunshine
Lay deserted.
Where will I ever find you again?
Will I ever find you again?
poem by Anjali Kakati
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On an Occasion of National Mourning
It is admittedly difficult for a whole
Nation to mourn and be seen to do so, but
It can be done, the silvery platitudes
Were waiting in their silos for just such
An emergent occasion, cards of sympathy
From heads of state were long ago prepared
For launching and are bounced around the world
From satellites at near the speed of light,
The divine services are telecast
From the home towns, children are interviewed
And say politely, gravely, how sorry they are,
And in a week or so the thing is done,
The sea gives up its bits and pieces and
The investigating board pinpoints the cause
By inspecting bits and pieces, nothing of the sort
Can ever happen again, the prescribed course
Of tragedy is run through omen to amen
As in a play, the nation rises again
Reborn of grief and ready to seek the stars;
Remembering the shuttle, forgetting the loom.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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Shoe-Size
Please, try to tell me your shoe-size next time;
For there is something in the soup!
Cop, coop!
Lop, loop!
Desert, dessert!
Super, supper!
Upper, supper;
Upon the muse of love and of the muse of peace! !
But, this is all about your shoe-size.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Weird Science
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces and
Magic from the hand
Were makin
(weird science)
Things Ive never seen before
Behind bolted doors
Talent and imagination
(weird science)
Not what teacher said to do
Makin dreams come true
Living tissue, warm flesh
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
Chorus
(bits of) my creation--is it real?
Its my creation--i do not know
No hesitation--no heart of gold
Just flesh and blood--i do not know
From my heart and from my hand
Why dont people understand
My intentions . . . . oooh, weird . . . .
Weird science!!
(weird science)
Magic and technology
Voodoo dolls and chants
Electricity
Were makin
(weird science)
Fantasy and microchips
Shooting from the hip
Something different
Were makin
(weird science)
Pictures from a magazine
Diagrams and charts
Mending broken hearts (and makin)
(weird science)
Something like a recipe
Bits and pieces . . . .
Bits and pieces . . . .
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Supper
They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
round him, who like a sage resolved his fate,
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,
leaving and passing by them like a stranger.
The loneliness of old comes over him
which helped mature him for his deepest acts;
now will he once again walk through the olive grove,
and those who love him still will flee before his sight.
To this last supper he has summoned them,
and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)
their hands draw back from reaching for the loaves
upon his word: they fly across to him;
they flutter, frightened, round the supper table
searching for an escape. But he is present
everywhere like an all-pervading twilight-hour.
[On seeing Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper", Milan 1904.]
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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The amount of information that can be stored by the ultimate laptop, 10 to the 31st bits, is much higher than the 10 to the 10th bits stored on current laptops.
quote by Seth Lloyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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