Patches The Great
BEHOLD
AND BOW!
The greatness
of her majesty
Patches The Cat
She has terrorized couches
only to sharpen her claws
and conquered basements
when her litter box
was over populated
All have fell
under the charm
of her soft white fur
No one can resist the
enticing feel
And in the event
one should resist
a roaring demand
she will squeal
O Patches!
How you rule this kingdom
through your hedonism
You never lift a paw
You give command
by just laying around
Your bowl
should never be empty
and always be filled
with the best flavors in town
But if you should find
your bowl to be empty
(a tragic event)
O! The wrath
on our dinner plates
you will bestow
I am not her master
you see
I am her humble servant
O how I take pride
in the service
of serving
Patches The Great
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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Related quotes
Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It is quite possible we may have formed entirely erroneous ideas of what we actually see. The greenish gray patches may not be seas at all, nor the ruddy continents, solid land. Neither may the obscuring patches be clouds of vapor.
quote by Edward E. Barnard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Explorations: XXVI
I stand
At your door-step
With an empty bowl
I can't ask you
Why I'm made
To stand there
I can't ask you
Why my bowl
Is empty;
The bowl
The emptiness
And I
Are all your design
Are your creation!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Three Corn Patches
(words & music by leiber - stoller)
I said three corn patches about four cotton fields away
I said three corn patches about four cotton fields away
Lives the prettiest girl in the whole darn u.s.a.
I said a
Shes got big brown eyes and long black wavy hair, mmm
Shes got big brown eyes and long black wavy hair
Shes so beautiful, people it dont seem fair
Well Ive been to chicago, been to new orleans
Yes, Ive been to chicago, been to new orleans
But Id rather see my baby workin in her old blue jeans
I said three corn patches
About four cotton fields away
I said three corn patches
About four cotton fields away
Lives the prettiest girl in the whole darn u.s.a.
I said a
She keeps a big bull dog out in the yard all night
She keeps a big bull dog out in the yard all night
And it barks like a bear oh, but he dont bite
Yeah,
I said three corn patches
About four cotton fields away
I said three corn patches
About four cotton fields away
Lives the prettiest girl in the whole darn u.s.a.
I said a
Gimme three, gimme four
I said three, well four
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away The Bowl
Our grateful hearts with temperance burn,
Away, away the bowl,
From dram shops all, our steps we turn,
Away, away the bowl;
Farewell to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the wine-cup's boasted charms,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
See how that staggering drunkard reels!
Away, away the bowl;
Alas, the misery he reveals,
Away, away the bowl;
His children grieve, his wife's in tears!
How sad his once bright home appears!
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
We drink no more, nor buy nor sell,
Away, away the bowl!
The grog-shop's offers we repel,
Away, away the bowl.
United in a temperance band,
We 're joined in heart, we 're joined in hand,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
poem by John Pierpont
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Reveries of an Imaginary Landscape No.12 - Morning with Water
White mist
hiding the brownish patches of trees
looking upward the canopy scrumptious, vivacious
The air
cold at first
fresh, invigorating
Cool red earth
pitted and smooth, damp and vibrant
silky red flowers and burgeoning patches of green and blue
The sun
blasting, rippling through the canopy
bright dancing shadows on the red, red earth
Running water
clear, warm, from a steamy spring
shiny droplets dripping
poem by Timothy Marshal Nichols
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Three Men of Gotham
SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Seamen Three
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Phyllis's Age
How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
Stiff in brocard, and pinch'd in stays,
Her patches, paint, and jewels on;
All day let envy view her face;
And Phyllis is but twenty-one.
Paint, patches, jewels laid aside,
At night astronomers agree,
The evening has the day belied;
And Phyllis is some forty-three.
poem by Matthew Prior
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An Inky Octopus Gripping Evil
evil never sleeps
evil owns the night
evil owns the day
evil walks day proud
owning many properties
wall street stock options
evil owns the night
owns secrets in the night
owns secrets sold by night
in many purchased places
evil has its patch
evil has many patches
an evil patch for every trade
evil buries innocence with a spade
an evil patch may be but
a few fought over city blocks
syndicated global patches
are octopus evil tentacles
some evil patches
are bigger spread
than many countries
evil marries drugs
makes mega money
addicts inject honey
drug withdrawal cold turkey
evil error terminates abruptly
poem by Terence George Craddock
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That Porcelain Bowl
my heart delights
to see an empty porcelain bowl
on the table
i wish i'd be one
empty and can still be filled
someday you may fill me
again
like a fish
soup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Overload Sugar Rush
Candy coated apples
Chocolate ice cream with just a bit of sprinkles
Tangy mike and Ike
Skittle flavored milkshakes with cherries on top
Gingerbread cookies with a strike of milk
Watery lemonade
Cupcakes of wonder
Twisted vines of vanilla extract
Banana cream pie with whip cream on top
Just the perfect life full of innocence
Sour patches running through the veins of angel cake
Dry gumdrops running the chocolate wafers
A Fein for the extra sugar planted down the roots which she dare not goes
The black roses that stood from the berry rush
Just a strawberry ruining the veins of innocence
The black licorice is was just so irresistible wanting to try it
But too afraid for it gives you addiction to the darkness
The rotten sweetness of a teenage girl
A strawberry to a blackberry
Consideration and a fan of sweet suicide
Vitamin pills that scream “eat me I’m death! ! ! ”
Tempting to do it, she asks for a peck of beauty to awaken
No savior from the ugliness of the sour patches
She cries watery fruit punch that gives diabetes
She shall never have candy coated apples again they all say
But she smiles hours later because she realizes
She isn’t the only one who lost her sweetness
Because she looks at me as a role model
Because I myself have sour patches too
And we all who have lost our sweetness to the evil sour patches
Shall stand together holding hands fighting it as one
We will shoot those sour patches with fireballs of sweetness
And we shall laugh as they fall
Don’t shed a tear girl
Because we are sour patches hoping to become sweet again
And candy coated apples we shall be someday! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Marie Jones
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Facing The Frost
People, around me, are confidently striding,
While I worry about slipping and sliding.
Where it is clear, my confidence grows,
But where it is icy, my pace, again, slows.
People are walking, looking fairly relaxed;
While I walk, head down, watching my tracks.
I approach an icy patch, and pull a funny face,
As, once again, I find I have to slow my pace.
I see some children on their way to school;
With walking on ice, they seem pretty cool.
From the looks on their faces, it is very clear,
That, unlike me, they do not hold any fear.
Where I am able, I walk along on the grass,
So that icy patches, on the pavement, I pass.
At times, I have no choice, but to face the ice;
With the threat of potential injury, I now dice.
My face is a picture of concern and worry;
With the ice around, I feel unable to hurry.
My journey to work seems to take forever.
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of this weather.
It is a cold and sunny morn, but by midday,
Some patches of ice have begun to melt away.
The top temperature today is only four degrees;
It’s been forecast that tonight it will, again, freeze.
Upon the frozen ground, where shadows fall,
The frost appears not to have melted at all.
The shady side of the street is still ice white,
While the sunny side, is now clear and bright.
Come afternoon, some patches of ice are still there;
Shrouded in shadow; untouched by the sun’s glare
The day grows older and night time draws near;
The time when Jack Frost, once again, will appear.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Tabula Rasa.
Rondel Prime.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
Although I try my muse insists.
I take my pen and start to write.
I quickly find to my delight
My muse is ready to assist.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
An empty page a welcome sight
To a poetic formalist
Or even to a modernist.
To anyone compelled to write.
A pristine page of purest white.
A challenge that I can't resist.
Sunday,14 October 2012.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Chronicles Of A Day Stranded In Nature Part 5 Resist Even Out Here
Resist... resist with all my strength
Sometimes i find it hard to resist
I find myself thinking thoughts not be thought
It seems that to not think in this way makes my mind twist
This battle has been fought
Many times before
Yet the thoughts that are there to abhor
Not to surrender to... they're pleasurable O
As i grind my toes inside my shoe
And steady my jaw I resist the urge
And thoughts of the other... I wish to purge
These thoughts of any candidate for my wife
The one with which i spend my life
I must resist even when I rest
And I cannot let my guard down even after a hard test
They plague and pervade my mind
Though I like these thoughts... I still must find
Some peace from them, because for me they
Often are evil... how fey
Resist...resist... with all my mind
poem by David Knox
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Disciplined
like a disciplined cat
he sits on the chair
on a motionless scale
staring at an empty
breakfast table
an empty cup
an empty bowl
on those empty hours
she expects him to say
meow
but he didn't
in an hour he left and
tells the wind about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Psalm 145
Your greatness is unsearchable O Lord
I will praise your name forever
I will sing of all your wonderous works
Of Calvary, my soul to deliver
I will declare your greatness Lord
To my sisters and my brothers
And we shall know your majesty
From one generation to another
You rule and reign within my heart
And I now call you Father
Your tender mercies flood my soul
And your love goes on forever
And of your Kingdom there's no end
You rule in glorious majesty
You come down from heaven to walk with men
You came down from heaven to set men free
To the weak and the humble God draws near
And He hears the broken heart
He binds the wounds and casts out fear
And from His children He shall not depart
poem by Frank McEleny
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On A Blurred Vision
on a foggy hillside
there are white patches
from far
they look like
mushrooms
then i hear the
sound of thunder
suddenly they all
fly away
oh, the white herons
again!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mystery
Now I am all
One bowl of kisses,
Such as the tall
Slim votaresses
Of Egypt filled
For a God's excesses.
I lift to you
My bowl of kisses,
And through the temple's
Blue recesses
Cry out to you
In wild caresses.
And to my lips'
Bright crimson rim
The passion slips,
And down my slim
White body drips
The shining hymn.
And still before
The altar I
Exult the bowl
Brimful, and cry
To you to stoop
And drink, Most High.
Oh drink me up
That I may be
Within your cup
Like a Mystery,
Like wine that is still
In ecstasy.
Glimmering still
In ecstasy,
Commingled wines
Of you and me
In One fulfill,...
The Mystery.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Event Of My Death
Event of my Death
As I Iay in the dawn of the hours waiting for my body to rest
I wonder what I will do in the event of my death….
In the event of my death most just think heaven or hell
No not me it doesn’t stop there…
In the event of my death my spirit will leave my body
My spirit will truly start living
In the event of my death I case my location,
Thinking about what led up to this…
In the event of my death I will visit all my loved ones…
My first visit will be to my king..
I will watch over him making him feel secure..
In the event of my death I will make my presence known
I will make them feel me in the heart and their surroundings…
In the event of my death I will travel…
I will hover over all the pyramids in Egypt,
I will explore all the places I’ve never been..
In the event of my death I will talk with my creator..
I will know all the answers…
Most of all In the Event of my death I will meet with my brother..
My brother and I will be together again…
In the Event of My death I will realize I’m really not dead..
In the Event of My death I will know that my spirit lives on..
I will know what living is all about…
In the Event of My death I will be immortal
I will be goddess a In the Event of My death...
I will be what I was born to be....
I will be free
I will be free of insecurities, free of poverty,
free of calamity, free of a broken heart,
Free of depression, free of negativity,
Free of racism, free of prejudice
I will be free In the Event of my Death
I will be all the things I was born to be...
I will be powerful, I will be beautiful, and I will be limitless
I will be a Goddess in the Event of my death...
Now what will you be....
Author: Templar Thomas
poem by Templar Thomas
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