Just To Claim Something Done
Hope without faith,
Is much like doing charity work...
And being served pancakes,
Without butter or syrup.
What is a bowl of cereal without milk?
Is the eating of icecream with a fork beneficial?
To whom is a going through the motions,
That important?
To say to satisfy a need the best way one can,
Is to admit...
One will settle for anything just to claim something done.
But to prove what?
And to who or whom would wonder why?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Pancakes and With Baked Salmon
I do have this 'thing'
For my own homemade pancakes.
And with baked salmon!
What a treat to eat.
You are not going to get any that I make!
But here is the recipe.
You can do it just like me.
First beat an egg in a mixing bowl,
Add a tablespoon of baking powder.
A third teaspoon of salt
A full teaspoon of sugar.
And about a third cup of vegetable oil.
Beat that all together.
Now you want to add the flour.
About a cup...maybe more...
If you're serving more than two people.
I choose to use evaporated milk.
At least a cup.
Whip all this stuff up.
Heat that frying pan or griddle.
Medium to hot.
Add some olive oil if you got it.
Vegetable oil will do.
With a slice of butter added too!
OH! I almost forgot the salmon!
I use salmon steaks.
Preheat the oven 350 degrees.
After rinsing the salmon...
Rub with apple vinegar.
Salt and pepper if you please.
Lay on tin foil since this is what I use.
Add butter and a bit of oil!
Enclosed that salmon within the foil.
Baked twenty minutes.
That's all it takes!
ENJOY!
Use syrup on the pancakes.
Perhaps a little Vadalia Onion Dressing,
On the salmon.
And if you don't like this...
You definitely will love,
My brown sugar/mustard roasted chicken.
But I'm not sharing that right now!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Up Inside My Head
I want to love you,
Like...
Corn on the cobb just dripping with butter.
I do.
I want to love you,
Like...
A slice of pound cake and icecream.
But...
I'm feeling like I'm floating in a boat,
Without a rudder.
And...
I'm wanting to scream,
Help me.
Help.
And I'm wanting to scream...
Help me.
And I'm wanting to scream...
Help me.
Help.
And I'm wanting to scream...
Help me.
I want to love you,
Like...
Saugage, eggs and pancakes.
With powered sugar mixed with cinnamon.
I want to love you,
Like...
The maple syrup I pour to spread.
But...
I don't want you that close to be next to me,
Inside my head.
No!
I want to love you,
But...
I don't want you that close to be next to me,
Up inside my head.
No!
I want to love you,
But...
I don't want you that close,
Squeezing next to me...
And,
Up inside my head.
No!
Up inside my head.
No!
Up inside my head.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Faith And Hope And Charity
Hope is forever dreaming
Faith is forever pure
While charity weighs up its lot
So its life it can endure.
Hope is forever youthful
Faith has no greying hair
While charity is ageless
So it is forever there.
For faith and hope and charity
Are of each of us a part
The measures there between them
Are what balances our heart.
poem by David Keig
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Icecream
Why is icecream called icecream?
Instead of what it is?
Milk that is creamed,
With added sugar and flavoring...
To taste delicious after it is set to chill,
At a certain temperature.
Wouldn't it be easier to sell and order?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's a Soup Spoon
I see a spoon.
I have a bowl of icecream.
It's a soup spoon.
My icecream melts!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Settle Down My Boy
Settle down, an eat your peas and gravy, my boy
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Stop wasting all your time with running around the town
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Knuckle down and find a job and take some responsibility
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
The futures something you should be thinking about
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Look around for a wife to start a family, my boy
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Listen toy our father and hell tell you the same as me
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Your words would go in one ear and out the other side
Dont say my head was empty and I had things to hide
And you better put something away for your old age
So settle down, settle down my boy settle down
Settle down, settle down my boy settle down uh huh huh
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0258 While the enamel holds
I've just made a passable loaf:
the mixing bowl could almost
be called a Thanksgiving Bowl -
maybe, could start a fashion:
it's made, not of catering-trade steel
which spins nicely on the worktop
nor of plastic, but
of enamel, made about 1929 I guess,
by Kockums of Sweden, size 28 cms
it's clearly stamped -
Kockum's whose proud claim is that
'it lasts a lifetime' - if
you're fortunate enough to be able
to test it thus...
my mother used it to make cakes
- I can hear the scratch of sugar, butter, flour, right now;
sometimes the smell of lemon or vanilla too. And
for her, too, gratitude, I guess,
while she used it, hands and thoughts,
although she could not put it to
the Kockum's test...But the silvery marks
of the fork, or whisk, or careful knife that
left little for me to lick,
disappeared from its strong enamel
and now I use it to make bread
wondering how many of
the current users could verify
to Kockum's management
their proud claim
for it was only late in life that
my mother told me that this bowl
this small 28 cm bowl
was my first baby bath
so as I use it with these mixed emotions
mixed together in this mixing bowl
receptacle of love on love
and thanksgiving
I note with some reflection
that recently, one slight chip
in its circular bowl has appeared
due perhaps to carelessness, not in
the preparing but the washing-up...
and think I'd rather think
(you see - the baby turned out intellectual)
my life were rounded by my failures in my care
than the life of an enamel bowl
however guaranteed
perhaps we'll go together...
dust to dust, flour to flour,
flowers falling to nourish
the seeds of flowers to come
I must remember to ask
my executors to write Kockum's
and confirm their not so often
substantiated claim
poem by Michael Shepherd
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My Idea Of Bliss
Explained to my colleague my idea of bliss, giving
up meat, finding the taste revolting, eating butter
on rye crackerbread and drinking milk powder in
coffee - she frowned and told me this would be
fattening, I would grow as round as the earth
Yet before doing this I ate the right food on my
husband's safe food list and had to watch my
widening girth; now I don't fear the enemy in
butter and milk, as long as I have no hunger
pains to plague me all day, no headaches
No allergy symptoms at play, I am content to
leave the meat on my plate, if turning into a
vegetarian is the next step in healing from
aches and pains, I shall rejoice, eating
creatures with higher consciousness
Just seems so wrong - I'm holding thumbs
this healing goes on…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Faith, Hope And Charity
Within the dark gloomy night
three ladies with lanterns await
to guide us along the path
and lead us safely home.
The ladies are simply called
Faith, Hope and Charity.
Faith
is our faith we hold
as a bond so dear
that the good Lord
will guide us away
from the evil that we hear.
Hope
is that new beginning
that rises with the morning sun
that our day will be
filled with abundance
of joy, laughter and love
from dawn to dusk.
Charity
is for the helping hand
that we sometimes need,
but we also give
along our way home.
The hand we out stretch
to someone who has fallen along the way.
They are three sisters of mercy
that are always around,
the ones that show us the way
when we have fallen on rocky ground.
The three saviours in our life,
Faith, Hope and Charity.
3 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Sweety Butter Milk
Take butter
Milk...
200 ml
Added sugar
40 mg
Take shake
With butter milk
Shake with shake...
Twenty times
Added ice tube's...
Enjoy too drink...
It is hot summer
Sweety butter milk...
With cool...cool...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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These three
Faith; hope; and loving-kindness;
these three surpass all worldly understanding:
all these await in human nature
as inclinations that are natural;
to be awakened by the grace
that ever waits within us:
as these arise, faith takes the precedence;
then follows, hope; itself precedes
the love, the charity, the loving-kindness;
yet if alas, disorder, dissolution intervene,
first, love is lost; then hope;
and last of all goes faith;
yet, when these come into their perfection,
greatest of all these, is love;
hope and faith are then the charity
which love may shower on the world around
circle on circle as the gentle rain from heaven.
*
[leaning on the writings of Josef Pieper]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Butter.
Butter
Butter, like love,
seems common enough
yet has so many imitators.
I held a brick of it, heavy and cool,
and glimpsed what seemed like skin
beneath a corner of its wrap;
the decolletage revealed
a most attractive fat!
And most refined.
Not milk, not cream,
not even creme de la creme.
It was a delicacy which assured me
that bliss follows agitation,
that even pasture daisies
through the alchemy of four stomachs
may grace a king's table.
We have a yellow bowl near the toaster
where summer's butter grows
soft and sentimental.
We love it better for its weeping,
its nostalgia for buckets and churns
and deep stone wells,
for the press of a wooden butter mold
shaped like a swollen heart.
poem by Connie Wanek
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The Bridge Of Hope
Beyond the bridge of hope
lies the land of charity
and with a little faith
one day I may get there.
Where everything is equal
and shared equally the same.
Faith leads as we venture
on across the bridge of hope
and into the arms of charity.
Each day we may struggle
to keep our lives afloat
as we venture closer
to the bridge of hope.
10 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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Chocolate Milk, Chocolate Syrup, Chocolate Cup
chocolate milk, chocolate syrup, chocolate cup
when im putting in chocolate syrup i put too much
i wish i had a chocolate pup in a chocolate cup
in a chocolate world!
but that would be alot to eat
for just one little girl!
if chocolate was a talent
Id be the chocolate master!
chocolate storms and tornadoes are natural chocolate disasters!
there would be chocolate houses and chocolate apartments and chocolate hotels for rent!
People eating chocolate all day without paying a single cent!
All their money would be in chocolate banks w chocolate robbers
Chocolate dinners like chocolate spaghetti and chocolate covered lobsters!
Chocolate chocolate chocolate BOOO!
(and no vanilla)
Drew
poem by Drew Bailey Golden
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The Composition Of An Atmosphere
Is the importance of being aware with a consciousness,
To share with those afraid and scared to death of it...
Beneficial?
These questions and more can be observed and explored,
Just taking a casual walk around one's environment.
What is important to some and not to others,
Can be debated in prolonged arguments.
But what exists and obviously sits as seen...
Many will claim not to notice it at all.
While others seek escapes from it,
To claim to have no interest if not entertained.
Although what effects the entire environment...
The majority will see no connection as it affects,
The composition of an atmosphere and its entirety!
Is the importance of being aware with a consciousness,
To share with those afraid and scared to death of it...
Beneficial?
Well...
That depends on what side of the street,
One has a preference and chooses to walk on.
'Why should I care about what's going on over there?
I'm not getting paid to do it.
And if I do...
I 'may' attempt to get others involved.
That would be my civic duty to then express my concerns.
I am focused on that which is specific and exclusive,
To the enhancement of my own interests.
Which I 'hope' I am making apparent.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Do You Know The Muffin Man?
Do You Know the Muffin Man
who visits every morn
who nothing does as nothing can
while ripening the corn?
wafting smells of syrup dreams
he teases on the breeze
but all is not just how it seems
beneath, we feel diss-ease.
The Muffin Man will steal the souls
of children by the score.
If they don't drain their cereal bowls,
he'll squeeze them to the core.
Don't let him fool you with his smile
his carefree happy dance,
if e'er you see him, run a mile
he only needs one chance
He preys upon the people who
would waste their breakfast fare,
so lick the bowl when you are through
or of the Muffin Man...beware.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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I Served
I served the man with pocket-money,
Out of a slender fund - the accumulated savings.
My parts and wholes of volumes of work
Ganged up on me, and I fed others with facts.
I had an intention, and a law, for the saying
That was mine, flowing forwards with height.
The tsunami of blessings smothered me
With heartache, as the books so read were beneficial.
I served the profession well, of reading I was first,
In this well of knowing was my prize,
For I became a knowledge in fairness.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Happy hoot of a good day
Tomorrow is almost here,
gonna wait for it
and just relax for today.
Can you feel it,
tomorrow morning,
everything will be fun.
Going to go shopping for,
banana's, milk and orange juice.
Going to go buy something,
just for me to enjoy.
Pizza, oreo cookies, pancakes
and even a small bowl of pho soup.
Yum Yum!
I love tomorrow and shopping day.
poem by Jackie Anderson
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I Take the Fork
I take the fork,
And select what I choose to eat.
I sample the vegetables...
To then sip on juice or spring water.
I slice the meat with a knife.
I taste for seasoning.
To see if it pleases.
It does...
And I repeat.
I take the fork,
And select what I choose to eat.
I sample the vegetables...
To then sip on juice or spring water.
I slice the meat with a knife.
I taste for seasoning.
To see if it pleases.
It does...
And I repeat.
I might have dessert,
With coffee.
I use a spoon,
If icecream is served.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Football
I take the snap from the center, fake to the right, fade back...
I've got protection. I've got a receiver open downfield...
What the hell is this? This isn't a football, it's a shoe, a man's
brown leather oxford. A cousin to a football maybe, the same
skin, but not the same, a thing made for the earth, not the air.
I realize that this is a world where anything is possible and I
understand, also, that one often has to make do with what one
has. I have eaten pancakes, for instance, with that clear corn
syrup on them because there was no maple syrup and they
weren't very good. Well, anyway, this is different. (My man
downfield is waving his arms.) One has certain responsibilities,
one has to make choices. This isn't right and I'm not going
to throw it.
poem by Louis Jenkins
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