En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Give Them Cake From The Baker

I've been told,
There is an ethical approach to poetry...
That is both etiquette and acceptable.
And yet...
Those who express this clinical direction,
Seem not to be able to define...
Poetic limitations.
If it does not expose the comforts,
Of either prose or rhyme,
Or addresses a particular interest to reflect...
Emotions scented with a retrospective.

'Give them cake from the baker!
And not just the crust from which to taste.'

~Now...
I have these 'nagging' questions.
Would that be whole wheat flour?
Or all purpose and enriched?
Is the baker qualified with a certificate?
And...
Would the crust be frosted? ~

'Well...
Wouldn't that depend on who critiques?
And who has the ability to influence,
What it is others should or should not 'eat'? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Baker Man

Well here comes a dance that will never be banned now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Yeah, stolen from a story called "The Baker's Man" now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Choo choo choo choo-do choo choo)
It's impossible too sweet to cross the land????
(Patty cake patty cake)
Put your favorite records on and start the show now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Abra-cadabra look at everyone go now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Choo choo choo choo-do choo choo)
Alakazam this dance has got to grow now
(Patty cake patty cake)
Well they tell me that it's optional to use your feet
But now you really don't need them if you keep your beat
Well Arthur Murray's gettin' blurry tryin' to learn that jive
When all the kids from coast to coast are really comin' alive
Well go tell the gang what a time you've had now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
This Friday night we'll start a regular fad now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Choo choo choo choo-do choo choo)
We'll do the Baker 'til it drives us mad now
(Patty cake patty cake)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
(Choo choo choo choo-do choo choo)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Come on and take a lesson now
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Clap your partner's hands
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Not too hard
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
Now slap her in the face
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man)
What a disgrace
(Choo choo choo choo-do choo choo)
(Patty cake patty cake)
(Patty cake patty cake baker's man

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Isn't Traditional

Is it poetry?
Is it a narrative.
Is it part haiku,
With a dose of prose?
Who knows?

Is it what it should be?
And is it possible what should be,
Isn't and has never been.
And those wishing to see it,
Expressed properly as intended...
Have not a clue,
What those initial intentions meant.
Was it created to communicate,
Between elitists who prefered eating cake?
As they delighted in making fun,
Of the ones too socially powerful...
To know what behind their backs was being done?
Who knows?

Or...
Why is it today,
Anyone can say...
To decide to justify,
What etiquette abides?
When one chooses a method,
Using limited words to mention...
What from their own minds,
They describe and 'they' themselves wish to define.

And it is...
Poetry.
And it is...
A narrative.
And it is...
A dose of prose.
With a touch of haiku.
With a doing done as one would choose.

'But it isn't traditional.'

And what are those traditions,
You can say today...
Remains as an influence.
And 'still' exists?
Name just one!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of A Baker - Originally By The Small Faces

Theres wheat in the field
And water in the stream
And salt in the mine
And an aching in me
I can no longer stand and wonder
cos Im driven by this hunger
So Ill jug some water
Bake some flour
Store some salt and wait the hour
While Im thinking of love
Love is thinking for me
And the baker will come
And the baker Ill be
I am depending on my labour
The texture and the flavour

song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ough''A Phonetic Fantasy

The baker-man was kneading dough
And whistling softly, sweet and lough.

Yet ever and anon he'd cough
As though his head were coming ough!

"My word!" said he," but this is rough:
This flour is simply awful stough!"

He punched and thumped it through and through,
As all good bakers dough!

" I'd sooner drive," said he " a plough
Than be a baker anyhough!"

Thus spake the baker kneading dough;
But don't let on I told you sough!

poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ma Baker

She was the meanest cat
In old chicago town
She was the meanest cat
She really moved them down
She had no heart at all
No no no heart at all
She was the meanest cat
Oh she was really tough
She left her husband flat
He wasnt tough enough
She took her boys along
cos they were mean and strong
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she taught her four sons
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - to handle their guns
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she never could cry
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - but she knew how to die
They left a trail of crime
Across the u.s.a.
And when one boy was killed
She really made them pay
She had no heart at all
No no no heart at all
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she taught her four sons
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - to handle their guns
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she never could cry
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - but she knew how to die
She met a man she liked
She thought shed stay with him
One day he formed with them
They did away with him
She didnt care at all
Just didnt care at all
- here is a special bulletin.
Ma baker is the fbis most wanted woman.
Her photo is hanging on every post office wall.
If you have any information about this woman,
Please contact the nearest police station...
- dont anybody move! the money or your lives!
One day they robbed a bank
It was their last foray
The cops appeared too soon
They couldnt get away
And all the loot they had
It made them mighty mad
And so they shot it out
Ma baker and her sons
They didnt want to hang
They died with blazing guns
And so the story ends
Of one who left no friends
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she taught her four sons
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - to handle their guns
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she never could cry
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - but she knew how to die
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she taught her four sons
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - to handle their guns
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - she never could cry
Ma ma ma ma - ma baker - but she knew how to die

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Baker

I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,
Calling out, 'Beeay-ko!' (that's the sound he makes)
Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,
Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;
Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;
But I wouldn't be a baker if ...
I couldn't eat the cakes.
Would you?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Few Came to Socialize with the Baker

~There's an 'old' player on the field.
One who has yet been revealed,
As appealing with significance.
But...
Significant this player is.
Significant to 'that' which lives.
Under the current circumstances.
And the benefit to 'whom'...
Those significant looming circumstances,
Come to grow and groom.~

The easiest thing to do...
For those in positions of leadership,
Appointed and likeable too.
Was...
Not to create opposition,
For those elated who appreciated...
A charading done in masquerade.

When favorite cakes are baked to taste...
Those waiting in anticipation,
Can be counted on to celebrate.
But...
When that oven is finally turned off,
And the aroma of baked cakes fade away.
People once patient,
Begin to show a disrespect.
With a desire to twist the leader's neck.
And a stirring of the masses begin to rise!
When the incompetence of the leader...
Catches all by surprise.

What now becomes prioritized,
Is what has happened to the funds?
And why no one accepts responsibility...
For paying bills that has not been done!

~Has the baker taken ill? ~

No one had ever questioned,
The credibility of those 'appointed' to lead.
Or an ability to think.on feet...
To keep a sinking process,
Now believed and seen as getting deep.

Those looks of impressions,
Seem to be consciously addressed.
Those dressed impeccably with images given...
Are lost to define leadership qualities felt to express.

However...
Everyone knew the taste of good cake.
But very few came to socialize with the baker!
Or knew a thing about what the baking of a good cake takes.

They just came prepared to eat.
Feed pretentions and agreed to meet.
Slap a few backs in 'glad-hand' chatting.
Before exiting with pocketed money arrangements.
Then to hop in luxurized cars to leave!

~There's an 'old' player on the field.
One who has yet been revealed,
As appealing with significance.
But...
Significant this player is.
Significant to 'that' which lives.
Under the current circumstances.
And the benefit to 'whom'...
Those significant looming circumstances,
Come to grow and groom...
Is lost.!

And the baker has stated to the candlestick maker...
'Let them try to do this again.
Without paying 'upfront'...
Every cent that is due us,
In unpaid dividends! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Poetry

This poetry is not poetry

This poetry is not poetry as poetry goes

But is as silent as a man in a rollo neck jumper

Almost reading yesterdays news

This poetry is not poetry

As far as poetry goes

It is neither verse

Or poesy prose

This is a debunking of 'The poetry'

Everyone knows

And so they are not amused

This poetry is not poetry

So why poetry?

If not

Prose?

It is as idle as a man picking his nose

Pondering a wonderful muse

Yet some, are not amused

Infact if this poetry is Not poetry

What right have I to use, the word poetry?

It is a lovely panacea for expressing and de stressing

The individual's points of view

And yet if not poetry

Who says Not poetry

And who is qualified to choose?

Give me a pocket full of roses

Or a misty morning cloud

Are you amused?

clammy wynette aka Yvette m smith

march 09

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who stands with me?

True poets write in meter.
Not because they think it’s neater
but because the flow is sweeter
When their words are read aloud
as they perform before the crowd.
Their poems pass the acid test.

Prose writers do not choose to rhyme.
They see it as a waste of time.
Although their word choice is sublime.
Without meter it is prose,
not poetry as they suppose.
Their definition I contest.

Poetic prose it’s plain to see.
Can not be classed as poetry.
I can accept you disagree.
I know I have a biased view
I think I am entitled to
Decide which one I like the best.

I choose meter every time
Preferably with lines that rhyme.
I find such poetry sublime.
Though I enjoy well written prose.
Each to his own I must suppose
So write the way that suits you best.

I am old fashioned I admit
and not one whit ashamed of it.
I do not find rules inhibit.
Free expression of my views
They merely mean I have to choose
the words that will express them best

Free form, free verse, poetic prose.
Are methods other writers chose
as being fit for their purpose.
To rebel against fixed form.
Which was regarded as the norm.
Just to be different from the rest.

But fashions change and now free form
Must be regarded as the norm.
I see no reason to conform.
I choose to write my poetry
In the old way that pleases me.
A lonely voice raised in protest.

The wheel of fate will slowly turn
Metered poetry will return
and well deserved plaudits earn.
I hope I live to see the day.
when classic poets can display.
That fixed forms can outshine the rest.

Monday,06 December 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the Breadline

In the baked dough of flour, water and yeast
they were chatting merrily while baking.
The robust baker listens; ' flour said' I was in a big field
and then after the crop they took me to a mill and they grind.
Water laughed and said' I don't know where I have come from? '.
Yeast said 'I was a fungus dear; not only in the bakery
in the brewery too a good demand for us.
I heard that they make bread, cake and so many varieties out of us.
Our price goes high everyday and a poor cannot afford.'
History says; Marie.Antoinette said to the poor
'if you cannot eat bread then why don't you try cake? '
And the following day they invaded the fortress Bastile.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Poetry Has Become Prose

MY POETRY HAS BECOME PROSE

My Poetry has become Prose
I have lost my music
Nothing sings in me;
I have lost my richness of meaning
Nothing in me is not linear, flat and clear.
I have lost my poetry
And have become a writer of Prose
In pseudo Poetic Form-
There is in me no Line
That says more than itself-
I am Prose now not Poetry
And yet still secretly hoping
My inner irony will
In contradicting me
Save me.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There to Rhyme

He's a corporate leecher.
Disguised as a preacher.
There to rhyme with poetic lines...
To define a satisfied ego!
Aging an outdated purpose.
As he masks his flight to recite,
Prose of those poor and burdened.
Upon the irreplaceable wings of a true giant,
He seeks to feed a dimishing spotlight.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Totally Biased

I do not often write free form
to me it is not poetry.
Freely admit my prejudice
I think it’s just a passing phase
Although I can appreciate
poetic and well written prose
This does not make it poetry
When I consult my dictionary
it makes it very clear to me.
All writing must be one of those
It can’t be both at he same time.
Prose poetry cannot exist
an obvious oxymoron
Though modern writer still insist
that what they write is poetry
.It may be really beautiful
and well presented on the page
but definitely not poetry.
Why can they not be satisfied
with their well written thoughts in prose.
Why do they call it poetry
a dandelions not a rose.
Its meter defines poetry
it doesn’t even need to rhyme.
Even free verse had its rules
but writers seem to think today
There are no rules anything goes.
I nail my colours to the mast
Not afraid to let my bias show.

31-Jan-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two schools of thought.

.

The lady chose to take offence
Although I said she wrote fine prose
She may not know the difference
between poetry and prose

She thought that she wrote poetry
But what she wrote was free form prose.
I offered no apology
It was not my fault that she chose.

Not to learn the basic rules
defining prose and poetry
Two very different writing schools
in which to show your artistry.

The so called experts can’t agree
and coined the term poetic prose.
Though writing cannot possible
be classed as poetry and prose.

If it’s not metered it is prose
no matter how poetical.
But you’re entitled to compose.
Fine prose and call it poetry.

Though I suggest respectfully
you should be proud of writing prose.
As some do most successfully.
But it was poetry I chose

Thursday,11 March 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prose-Poetry

Once prose and poetry existed side by side
Two styles of literature, each with its bound
Jealously guarded by the literati
Lest prose masquerades as poetry.

The First World War smashed all fetters,
Soldiers wrote heart-rending poetic letters
To sweethearts, friends, fathers and mothers.
Newspapers published their anguish and horrors

The literati classed them as prose
And turned up their nose
At such a new trend of mongrelised poetry;
But the public gave it name and identity
Prose-poetry began to gain respectability.

Prose-poetry is a contradiction in terms,
An oxymoron; a paradox of many forms.
When well written, words flow as though in rhyme
Thought and syntax together dance with rhythm.

Some pen few lines haphazardly,
String words together arbitrarily,
Flit between thoughts randomly,
Structure their poems casually.

They want us to see them as thinkers
In fact, they are just wearing blinkers.
If only they could see their folly
They’d stop abusing prose-poetry.

poem by Isam Hussain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While Addressing An Acceptable Etiquette

Those who consciously take steps,
To affect the progress of others...
With a hopeful diminishing of an influence,
Do not openly express regret.
Or the nights they spend tossing,
In a sleeplessness...
Haunted by the evil visions,
Of their own incompetence exquisitely dressed....
For effective impressions.

But then...
When invitations to attend social events come in,
They arrive fashionably late...
Hoping to share their pretensions,
With others of the same mindset...
Who too embellish behind fixed smiles,
Attached to masks...
Scented with alcoholic beverages on their breaths,
While addressing an acceptable etiquette.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Difficult To Relate To This Concept

It takes know-how with specifics,
To create a delicious cake.
And only those experienced,
Know what it takes.

First a mixture of ingredients is needed,
With a whipping up of batter,
Allowing the cake to bake for taste.
Ultimately satisfying the anticipation.

However there are those impatient and can not wait,
Who find it difficult to relate to this concept.
And they are the ones who refuse to comprehend...
That the oven has to be heated,
BEFORE the cake goes in.

'So...
Why are all the people protesting outside? '

They are the ones who have decided,
The baker should be replaced.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have a dream

I want to write real poetry
But I’m not sure how I should start
I need someone who can teach me
the basics of poetic art.

I do not know if it should rhyme
and meter is a mystery.
I have the will I have the time.
I somebody will please help me.

I have the urge I have to write
I really want to get it right
What makes it poetry or prose?
there is a difference I suppose.

I know there’s different schools of thought
an ongoing controversy.
I’m simply looking for support
to help me with my poetry.

I have the basic writing tools
a pad a pencil and P.C.
I need to learn the basic rules
which turn prose into poetry.

I am willing to study hard
and heed advice that’s offered me.
By any older wiser bard
who’s skilled at writing poetry.

26-Apr-08

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thousands of eyes

Poetry or prose is a writing.
In prose contents get focus
And in poetry, taste of words.
Prose sounding poetry is sweeter.

We see thousands of stars at night
And only one sun in a day - prose.
The night has thousands of eyes
And the day, only one in sky. - poetry
01.08.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Emphasis - Does Prose Satisfy?

Do rhyme and structure strangle sense,
Or emphasize emotions which
Eclectic rhythms render rich?
Stress reinforces verse, intense
Pleasure may be felt, with scents
Recalled from seasons past. Why stitch
On prose per prose that joy, its switch
So seldom magic supplements.
Excessive style is sterile, whence
Some seem to say that those who ditch
A long tradition feel the itch
To sense in rhyme mime or pretence.
It could be this misrepresents
So much which should be shared, keyed pitch.
Facts dry may well define a rose,
Yet can its scent pour through poor prose?

poem by Jonathan Robin
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