Disappointed for M lady Ernestine
The Jackdaws are excitedly
feasting on the cast away
remains of someone’s takeaway.
Discarded by them thoughtlessly.
They’re squabbling vociferously
as they jostle for the best place
and very soon there is no trace
of the feast provided free.
The plastic tray is now quite clean,
then they fly off in search of more
It is as if the food had never been.
But one latecomer lone jackdaw
examines the now empty tray.
Squawks his disgust and flies away.
8-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Old Dog Tray
THE morn of life is past,
And ev'ning comes at last;
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of merry forms I've seen
Upon the village green,
Sporting with my old dog Tray.
Chorus: Old dog Tray's ever faithful; Grief cannot drive him away; He's gentle, he is kind, I'll never, never find A better friend than old dog Tray.
The forms I called my own
Have vanish'd one by one,
The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all pass'd away;
Their happy smiles have flown,
Their gentle voices gone,
I've nothing left but old dog Tray.
Chorus.
When thoughts recall the past,
His eyes are on me cast,
I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say;
Although he cannot speak,
I'll vainly, vainly seek
A better friend than old dog Tray.
Chorus.
poem by Stephen C. Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man alone in his room
He doesn't like to talk
just sits quietly
never smiles or laughs.
Won't join in any of the games,
eats his meals in his room
leaves his tray outside the door.
Next to his bed is a black and white
photograph of a man in uniform.
In a drawer lie medals covered by socks,
bravery hidden away.
He can hear laughter outside his room
as he stares out of his window at a dark cold sky.
When the sun shines he likes to feed the birds,
a squirrel takes food from his outstretched hand.
One day his tray isn't outside the door,
outside a lone squirrel waits.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Love And Really Love
always be ready
with a tray of
forgiveness
like fresh fruits
and flowers on the tray
of hope
serve forgiveness
heartily
and then be happy again
dining on the table
of love
by the window the
sun is always ready with
the rays of
more blessings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sale
Solitude!
Blackout!
I try to pull out of my chest
This sad heart.
To place it in a tray
And make a sale,
Who gives more?
Who gives more?
For this heart full of sweetness,
Solitude and memory?
Total silence
Everybody looks at,
They admire it,
They proclaim it,
It is pure, sincere, it dims our eyes,
It is a diamond… it is not for us,
Everybody moves away,
Alone my heart stays,
In a silver tray,
And
Its solitude! ...
(translated by Nelson Francisco de Andrade)
poem by UMBELINA FROTA Linhares Pimenta Bastos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Your Wishes Will be Granted
'Where's my dog-food?
I've asked a hundred times.
Where's my can of dog-food? '
a woman demanded,
Friday
at the staff and patients' meeting.
Saturday at lunch
in the stainless-steel canteen
where we queued for our food,
with knife and fork alongside,
a tin of dog-food stood on her tray.
At Tara (mental) Hospital 1981
poem by John Garth Raubenheimer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plastic Man
A man lives at the corner of the street,
And his neighbors think hes helpful and hes sweet,
cause he never swears and he always shakes you by the hand,
But no one knows he really is a plastic man.
Hes got plastic heart, plastic teeth and toes,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got plastic knees and a perfect plastic nose.
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got plastic lips that hide his plastic teeth and gums,
And plastic legs that reach up to his plastic bum.
(plastic bum)
Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man dont feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He cant disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
Hes got plastic flowers growing up the walls,
He eats plastic food with a plastic knife and fork,
He likes plastic cups and saucers cause they never break,
And he likes to lick his gravy off a plastic plate.
Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man dont feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He cant disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
Hes got a plastic wife who wears a plastic mac,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
And his children wanna be plastic like their dad,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got a phony smile that makes you think he understands,
But no one ever gets the truth from plastic man (plastic man)
Plastic man (plastic man).
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Food
There's a ghost in my fridge I hear a hum
When I open the door there is no one
No matter how hard I look
There's nothing there except some food long time cooked
Happiness can come in many ways
Mine's a cold beer on the second tray.
For I daren't touch the food you see
Its got hair all over it and growls at me.
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wallflowers
Assimilated comfortability,
Can be yours routinely.
With dependable reliability,
With those alike who seek it.
But none of that is on this tray...
As an activity,
Offered today.
Those who wish to play,
Old geezers peeking easily out of windows...
Determined to dose,
Will not find too many...
Excitedly curling up their toes,
Thrilled.
Snap out of it!
Wallflowers hanging up their lives to age,
Are times that have rapidly moved away.
Get up, get with it and get active...
If you don't want to be among,
Those dismissed as if they haven't lived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bird and I
I once asked a bird
‘Would you swap place with me? ’
“Oh no’, it said, ‘I’m free’
“See my feet are firmly on ground”
“I fly high happy to be sky bound”
“I have an intelligent mind”
“Simple happiness I easily find”
“I too can fly in an airplane”
“Lightly I glide in sun and rain”
“My food is served on tray”
“I chase and catch my prey”
“I live in a big house”
“A small nest I build for my spouse”
“I work till late night”
“I catch the morning light”
“I have knowledge and wisdom”
“I would rather have my freedom”
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Freedom Aint Free, Anymore!
four padded walls,
food on a tray.
no sunlight, no darkness,
bare bulbs, and time crawling by...
'speak no evil, see no evil',
watching every move...
freedom aint free, anymore!
his crime that of words,
and even worse, thoughts...
a failure to follow,
too defiant to kneel...
sitting still as a mountain,
as firm his resolve...
beaten down, in the name of peace...
freedom aint free, anymore!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loaded
Island, Ireland, Holland, band, strand;
And like your water of gall! !
But try to educate mew with your love.
Land, sand, and, bland, brand, rand;
And like the muse of hate that turns your love away from me!
However, the raod of life is not always straight.
Belay, way, away, say, ray, stay, tray, tray;
Walking and still searching for you!
And like the words of joy in the land of peace.
Bray, lay, clay, day, May, pay, fray, gray;
Come and set me free with your love!
For, i am still in the thick forest searching for you.
Hay, nay, may, play, gay, pray, quay, jay;
And like the days of love and the days of care!
But, try to educate me with your sweet muse of love.
Loaded, load, deal, lead, dad;
With many rules and many acts to reach out to you!
But true love is wghat i need to move me on.
Dead, led, lad, add, so doe, Leo;
But, walking around and still searching for you!
For, this dream must surely come true.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Basic training out of the eyes of a trooper
Encamped upon a plain
raw recruits twelve companies strong
run up and down to every fence,
crawl through ash holes
with live bullets buzzing overhead
while instructors with continuous curses
and sarcasm drives them on.
National servicemen called up
like ants in a crowd
loose individuality,
become just numbers,
are barbered with hair cut
prisoner style and length
and dressed in brown overalls
and plastic green helmets.
The food is gut wrenching
and slops into everything else
on a silver tray
and gives everybody stomach flue.
Every platoon has a PTI-corporal
who lets you run,
fall and crawl
the whole day long
and laughs when you bleed.
At times people wonder
from under what rock,
or out of what hole
did that that bugger crawl?
Some inspections
in the middle of the night
leaves cupboards and beds
strewn upon the floor,
although every thing
is just right
and clean and sharp
with punisment following immediately.
It’s a hell of a thing
with buddy pt, running
with poles and truck tires
till one day,
that you are super fit
and laugh at the idiot
with the stripes.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carnival Of Victory
The month of August, carnival for all the year,
When Anna forces the wild democracy move his way,
And showed the nation his power on a single day.
Krishna on Janamashtimi blessed his old son dear;
August 27,2011, lavish, mesmerizes far and near.
The thirteen day fast made all tyrants lay,
Like rotten meat in a garbage tray.
August, revolution, burnt all the liars.
The night guards its dear masses in fine,
Of kingdom’s: honest pearls rebuking rogues few,
Our white empress fled, in western towers safe line,
Back home, August, feasting and dancing on happy dew,
Ready to gulp the corrupts in a single drought,
Sunshine and clean air, delivered by Anna fine!
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cravin' Raven
The raven searches for food to consume.
He flies high and low,
Yet none does he find.
He thinks this is not a very good sign.
Soon, food at last, and this the meatless kind.
He has watched from afar and knows
This food is left each day on the step;
Not in the garden for humans to grow.
Swooping down to inspect this food
The milkman is gone making this a stop.
This is a treat beyond compare.
Everyday, the man makes a drop.
The raven pecks, inspects, and thinks
“The bottle is hard; my beak must not break.”
Maybe here, there, the search goes on!
Frustration and turmoil is all this creates!
More pecking he does, more frustrated he is;
This insaneness makes a bird lose his mind.
“There has to be a way.
What must I do to reach the food that is inside? ”
He pecks all around and discovers the top
The lid on the bottle is paper-like thin.
His beak will go through this fine cover,
And the treasure inside he definitely wins.
Each day he returns with knife, fork and spoon.
Taking part in this feast, a rare delicacy.
“No more searching for food must I do,
Now I can drink to fill my small belly.”
Generously, he invites friends to the feast
They will enjoy this food he is savin’.
I must not be a pig and eat all for myself.
I’ll invite friends to savor this food I’m cravin.’
The man of the house becomes aware of his loss
Loudly proclaiming no more food, and all-out war
To quote a phrase from the poet, Edgar Alan Poe
Nevermore……..Nevermore……….Nevermore!
poem by Diane Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain Rime
Ray ray ray ray ray ray
T- ray t –ray t- ray t- ray
Tray- tray tray- tray tray- tray
T- rain t- rain t- rain t- rain
Train- rain train- rain train- rain
To rain to rain to rain to rain
T- rhine t- rhine t- rhine t- rhine
To rhine to rhine to rhine to rhine
T- rhyme t- rhyme t -rhyme t- rhyme
To rhine to rhyme to rhine to rhyme
Train to rhine to rain to rhyme
Train to rhine to rain to rhyme
poem by Raveendran N.V.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Movement of Bodies
Those of you that have got through the rest, I am going to rapidly
Devote a little time to showing you, those that can master it,
A few ideas about tactics, which must not be confused
With what we call strategy. Tactics is merely
The mechanical movement of bodies, and that is what we mean by it.
Or perhaps I should say: by them.
Strategy, to be quite frank, you will have no hand in.
It is done by those up above, and it merely refers to,
The larger movements over which we have no control.
But tactics are also important, together or single.
You must never forget that, suddenly, in an engagement,
You may find yourself alone.
This brown clay model is a characteristic terrain
Of a simple and typical kind. Its general character
Should be taken in at a glance, and its general character
You can, see at a glance it is somewhat hilly by nature,
With a fair amount of typical vegetation
Disposed at certain parts.
Here at the top of the tray, which we might call the northwards,
Is a wooded headland, with a crown of bushy-topped trees on;
And proceeding downwards or south we take in at a glance
A variety of gorges and knolls and plateaus and basins and saddles,
Somewhat symmetrically put, for easy identification.
And here is our point of attack.
But remember of course it will not be a tray you will fight on,
Nor always by daylight. After a hot day, think of the night
Cooling the desert down, and you still moving over it:
Past a ruined tank or a gun, perhaps, or a dead friend,
In the midst of war, at peace. It might quite well be that.
It isn't always a tray.
And even this tray is different to what I had thought.
These models are somehow never always the same: for a reason
I do not know how to explain quite. Just as I do not know
Why there is always someone at this particular lesson
Who always starts crying. Now will you kindly
Empty those blinking eyes?
I thank you. I have no wish to seem impatient.
I know it is all very hard, but you would not like,
To take a simple example, to take for example,
This place we have thought of here, you would not like
To find yourself face to face with it, and you not knowing
What there might be inside?
Very well then: suppose this is what you must capture.
It will not be easy, not being very exposed,
Secluded away like it is, and somewhat protected
By a typical formation of what appear to be bushes,
So that you cannot see, as to what is concealed inside,
As to whether it is friend or foe.
And so, a strong feint will be necessary in this, connection.
It will not be a tray, remember. It may be a desert stretch
With nothing in sight, to speak of. I have no wish to be inconsiderate,
But I see there are two of you now, commencing to snivel.
I do not know where such emotional privates can come from.
Try to behave like men.
I thank you. I was saying: a thoughtful deception
Is always somewhat essential in such a case. You can see
That if only the attacker can capture such an emplacement
The rest of the terrain is his: a key-position, and calling
For the most resourceful manoeuvres. But that is what tactics is.
Or I should say rather: are.
Let us begin then and appreciate the situation.
I am thinking especially of the point we have been considering,
Though in a sense everything in the whole of the terrain,
Must be appreciated. I do not know what I have said
To upset so many of you. I know it is a difficult lesson.
Yesterday a man was sick,
But I have never known as many as five in a single intake,
Unable to cope with this lesson. I think you had better
Fall out, all five, and sit at the back of the room,
Being careful not to talk. The rest will close up.
Perhaps it was me saying 'a dead friend', earlier on?
Well, some of us live.
And I never know why, whenever we get to tactics,
Men either laugh or cry, though neither is strictly called for.
But perhaps I have started too early with a difficult task?
We will start again, further north, with a simpler problem.
Are you ready? Is everyone paying attention?
Very well then. Here are two hills.
poem by Henry Reed
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Those Ingrates.....
as guests the welcome is made
after the roasted chicken and
the rice, come the fruits on
a silver tray and the cups of
red wine,
the conversations link from past
to present,
laughter decorates the veranda of
the house
glasses clink and the sound of
happy sipping pleases all
ears
music is played, and a bed is
offered for the night's sleep
they left two days after and it
was perfect free accommodation
and entertainment for them all
they said when you come to their
place, just make a call,
and indeed on that sunny month of
May where you want to make merry
you come to their place and make
a call,
their cellphones are off, or that
they cannot be reached, or that
the lines are busy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Saturday Clothes
I feel a blue cause I cant sew
Theres still a lot of things that I should know
Anyone can guess
I dont know how to press
My saturday clothes
Everyones goin home
I feel a little sad to watch them leave
But Ill be cool because I dont believe
The happy times are gone
I can still put on
My saturday clothes
Every warm body knows
Ive got to tell you
That was a swell time
So now Ill take the butts away
And put the glasses on the tray
Ill see you all next saturday
I feel a little off because theyre gone
And if my gal were here Id still be on
But in a week or two
Theres lots of things to do
In my saturday clothes
Everyones gone home
Ive got to tell you
That was a swell time
So now Ill take the butts away
And put the glasses on the tray
Ill see you all next saturday
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lone Wild Goose
Alone, the wild goose refuses food and drink,
his calls searching for the flock.
Who feels compassion for that single shadow
vanishing in a thousand distant clouds?
You watch, even as it flies from sight,
its plaintive calls cutting through you.
The noisy crows ignore it:
the bickering, squabbling multitudes.