Kirtles Drapped
In their kirtles drapped in times,
When a boodle carried was kept disguised.
Those of prim and proper grace,
Kept their business away...
From other's faces.
Today,
It is in our eyes.
On display and to no one's surprise.
Like crumbs on fingertips one licks,
From a bag of potato chips one grips.
And when they're finished with that bag,
In the street they toss it quick.
But in their kirtles they would murmur,
Without announcing it one bit.
And today folks like to brag,
About what they have in their grasp.
Few kirtle blurters from the past,
Would never show their valuables or cash.
But times like these have slipped from us fast!
Like crumbs on fingertips one licks,
From a bag of potato chips one grips.
And when they're finished with that bag,
In the street they toss it quick.
And those in kirtles may not show,
What they keep bestowed...
At all!
*Kirtle:
A tunic or coat worn by men,
In the Middle Ages.
Also known as a long gown,
Or dress worn by women.
Perhaps...
To 'protect' their 'treasures'.
Source of info:
Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary.
10th edition.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
One Potato
One potato, two potato
three potato four.
We need some potatoes
to help feed the poor.
Too many hungry babes
are being born today.
When their mother's milk runs dry
they'll have to find a way
to keep their bellies full.
No time for play.
One potato, two potato,
three potato, four.
You say into each life
a little rain must pour?
I say the rain's that's falling
are tears from the eyes
that run down children's faces
from hunger pains and cries
that elude the ears of rich ones
that never ever buys
potatoes for them all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Carcinogenic Potato Chips...by talile ali
me and my dad
we use to walk
about the town when he
should be at work
and me in school
eating potato chips
and drinking soda pops
talking and walking
and walking and talking
i always wondered why
my dad never took me back to the
school house where i ran away
so that i could be with my daddy
now i hear that chips are filled
with alcolids
500 times more carcinogenic than
cigarettes
now i have prostate cancer
and i may pass away
my love is scared to death
it has to be that way
could i blame society
for allowing this to be
carcinogenic potato chips
could be the death of me
how good things are so often
turned into bits of insanity
and all of this and heaven
so to reign on me
Copyright © 2009
poem by Talile Ali
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Meat And Potato Man
meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who i am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what i am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat & Potato Man
Meat and potato man
I like my steak well done, my taters fried
Football games on monday night
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my coffee black
Oltv shows
My women hot and my beer ice cold
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like caviar, sushi bars,
The irs or phony stars
Im a haggard fan
A meat and potato man
I like my fishinholes, lightninbugs
Flatt nscruggs, and my womans love
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I like my wrangler jeans, cowboy boots
Cornbread and beans and country roots
Its just who I am
A meat and potato man
I dont like politics, hypocrites
Folks with poodles dressed like kids
Im a hounddog fan
A meat and potato manyeah, thats what I am,
A meat and potato man
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I First Lost My Impatience
I felt dirty and betrayed,
When I first lost my impatience.
I felt...
Used and so unclean.
I knew I had been stripped,
Of an innocence I would never have again.
To be vicious, cruel and mean...
Was all I saw and knew,
As a child growing up...
To be exposed to seeing these scenes.
People were being cussed out and talked about,
For not sharing their potato chips! Seriously.
I didn't know exactly why,
My impatience had been taken away...
In the manner it was done.
But I grew to understand there was a purpose.
And even if I shared all my chips...
I can always buy another bag. I learned!
Today I have discovered,
I have more patience than I have ever had.
And some who have come to test me...
Are surprised I am not so quick,
To give them a taste of impatience.
I have found a life I am determined to live.
One with a peace of mind...
And freed from 'identified' evil people.
Patience taught me how to observe first,
With my mouth closed and ears open to listen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grateful to Express
They don't know what 'this' is!
'This'...here!
Because they have no idea who I am,
And 'how' I am connected to it!
'They'!
'Them'!
'Those' and/or the others...
Believe creative expression is easy.
That's why they are quick to toss it aside...
And dismiss it as simplistic.
A lazy man's genocide!
They rather adorn something worn...
Or display a thing or two,
To show those thoughtless how well they are doing!
In something quick and pleasing to the eye.
Since being creative is for the 'lazy'.
And they want to be portrayed as 'thee' workers,
Of the Earth!
You know the type...
Every 15minutes,
They're running to get a cup of coffee!
Or stopping by a co-worker's desk...
For a twenty minute chat,
About where they are going for lunch!
To spend at least an hour and 20 minutes.
Those who 'work' HARD ALL DAY LONG!
You know the kind!
The ones who don't have time,
For exercise or hobbies!
And exhausted from a 9 to 5 gig!
And, of course...
What I do 'anyone' can do and...
WHY aren't you in New York City Or LA...
Anyway?
And as I watch their realities wither away and rust...
I thank God for blessing my life with an abundance,
Of 'nothingness' I am grateful to express!
And share with those from places,
All over the world!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Grips Of Tough Times
In the grips of tough times,
It's hard to hold back...
From gritting on teeth.
It's even more difficult to be real nice...
To someone seeing life,
Sugared and spiced.
In the grips of tough times,
Childish minds can much annoy.
And giving this attention can cause a big riff,
When an immaturity is involved in it.
In the grips of tough times,
It takes a lot to find peace of mind.
But if it means leaving petty scenes,
Don't waste a dime or the time leaving this behind.
In the grips of tough times,
It's hard to hold back...
From gritting on teeth.
It's even more difficult to be real nice...
To someone seeing life,
Sugared and spiced.
In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!
In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!
In the grips of tough times,
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
Don't be seduced to play the fool somebody uses.
No!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If You Want to Keep Your Peace Secured
I've been in one spot for twenty one years.
Mended from several heartbreaks.
And dried my own tears.
I know I've lost my mind...
At least a few times or more.
And the few people I knew had little to say.
Or bothered to knock on my opened door.
And today! TODAY...I get visitors.
Who claim to be my friends.
But I also know this much too well...
Folks only come around,
When they are near a dead end...
With no money to spend!
So I sat listening to 'them' ask...
'How have you been? '
And when I said I was doing great...
I was given from them big fake grins!
And I offered to them my hand and said...
'I'm so glad ya'll came by!
I need a loaf of bread.'
They quickly got up and left!
And that is how I have managed,
To keep my peace of mind.
Especially in a place...
Like this hometown of mine!
I can't wait for that fresh gossip,
To go around a few times!
And...
If you,
Any of you
Want to keep your peace secured...
Tell folks you ain't got a dime!
That will do it!
Unless...
You just happen to be cooking,
Collard greens with fried chicken wings.
Potato salad and yams,
WITH ice tea?
Unexpectedly?
You 'then' have folks,
You can't get rid of fast enough!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Plateau Rising
Modulator toting.
Demodulator coding.
Flashed and minimized...
Decoded modem-ized!
Speeding as we go,
In Information modes!
Horse and buggy days are gone,
But so many still hang on.
With attempts to stop the pace...
To slow down a human race!
Getting out of hand,
But no one group can command!
With computers in control...
Of everything we know!
Up on plateaus!
On plateau rising goals!
Made with two wheels
Then with four.
Fresh air opened buggies,
Now motorized with doors!
Got to let them go...
Those who are too slow!
Those who can't keep up...
Are lost in mud and muck!
Too slow...
Got to let them go!
Those who are not computerized,
Will find they have been victimized!
These are not the days to stop...
To watch those weeping on street blocks!
Chips on shoulders will not feed,
In today's economy!
The world is spinning like a top.
Hold on tight or you will drop!
Take those chips and pop them quick...
In laptops used to message in fits!
Up we go...
On plateaus yet to show!
Plateau rising goals,
In computer minded mode.
Oh. Oh. Oh!
No more horse and buggy 'whoas'!
Modulator toting.
Demodulator coding.
Flashed and minimized...
Decoded modem-ized!
Speeding as we go,
In Information modes!
Oh. Oh. Oh!
No more horse and buggy 'whoas'!
Got to let them go!
Those who are too slow!
Those who are not computerized,
Will find they have been victimized!
These are not the days to stop...
To watch those weeping on street blocks!
Chips on shoulders will not feed,
In today's economy!
The world is spinning like a top.
Hold on tight or you will drop!
Take those chips and pop them quick...
In laptops used to message in fits!
Oh. Oh. Oh!
No more horse and buggy 'whoas'!
Got to let them go...
Those who are too slow!
Those who can't keep up this pace,
Are lost in mud and muck in haste!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sincerely Insincere
People today...
Are so sincerely insincere.
Full with trite expressions
Delivered from a smile,
Slowly lifting from a sneer...
Seconds before an encounter appeared.
People today...
Are quick to say
What they don't mean,
To make it seem
As if what is felt can not be seen...
Or show!
But it does.
And they don't know.
That's why at home alone,
Folks throw dirt.
Where it can hurt the one,
Who has no clue who threw out and 'dished'
What's to come.
To be a part of destruction is fun to some.
Except for those who do not suspect...
The one who grins,
Is the real culprit to regret.
Yet...
People today,
Are so sincerely insincere.
It is hard to address
Through disguises worn...
Just 'who' to tell what time it is,
And 'when' they can go to hell!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scapegoats
Of course they are prepared,
To blame him for their failures.
Although their failings began,
Long before he was born.
Scapegoats are becoming meager.
Very few of them are left.
And those knowing this...
Are scared to death.
They are running out of breath,
With excuses.
Or the defamation of someone's character,
To abuse as accustomed.
Creating conflicts and wars,
Has become passé.
Since it is blatantly obvious...
Those who start them,
Aren't on the battlefields.
Or on the receiving end...
When a love one dies.
And others who are innocent,
Pass away!
Scapegoats are becoming meager,
Folks!
Everyday distractions are introduced to confuse.
One day it's about racism!
The next day...
The singing of 'Kum Bah Ya' by a group somewhere,
Makes headlines on the evening news!
'Isn't that an African-American Spiritual? '
Sssshhh...
They are on a 'high' right now!
Doing the best to blend voices.
Not the color of skin.
Leave them alone!
Let them sway to the melody.
It soon will end.
Scapegoats are doing their best,
To find a way to correct their mess.
And the concern of terrorists affecting their way of life...
Doesn't make sense!
Especially if the quality of it,
Has been initiated by homegrown conditions!
Increasing with a decadence within this density.
Note:
Definition of 'scapegoat' as defined by Merriam Webster's
Collegiate Dictionary (10th Edition)
'...a goat upon whose head are 'symbolically' placed
the sins of the people after which he is sent into the wilderness,
in the biblical ceremony for Yom Kippur.'
Yom Kippur (Day of atonement)
In Judaism, the most sacred holy day,
falling on the 10th day of the Jewish month of Tishri.
(usually late September or early October) . It is a day of fasting
and prayer for forgiveness for sins committed during the year.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dry Day
Life as you know will end someday
Since every single day is never the same
Yesterday was a dark age following in today
What a surprise because today was a dry day
You got nothing to do but get wasted
Listen to me brother, don't get me arrested
We gotta break free from this stupid law
What a surprise because today was a dry day
All along as the clock ticked by I waited
It seemed as if the time was all destined
A moment of space without you I stay
What a surprise because today was dry day
Grieving low all past long when I'm high
Help me grace, love will relieve the pain
Let us explore the world as the drunk one said
What a surprise because today was dry day
As past enfolds into this mystery today
I look behind back in those days
Suck glorious moments filled us held today
What a surprise because today was dry day
poem by Siddharth Shah
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The 'Potato' Poem
I love potatoes chopped up into chunky chips.
I love spicy potato wedges, served up with dips.
I love potato slices which have been fried in a pan:
Of sautéed potatoes, I am the world's biggest fan.
I love potatoes which have been pummelled and bashed
With butter and milk to make a real light, fluffy mash.
Jacket potatoes, I find a bit dry, but with a nice filling
Such as chilli, to give them a try, I am more willing.
With breakfast, I love hash browns or potato cakes,
And I love potatoes mixed up with leeks in a bake.
Crispy, golden potatoes, served up with Sunday roast
Are among the kinds of potato which I love the most.
Mixed in soups and casseroles, I love potatoes diced.
On top on minced beef hotpot, I love potatoes sliced.
Fluffy potato stuffed inside a crispy potato croquette
Is also rather nice, and, for me, it is another safe bet.
I love potatoes cut into crisps: the slices, wafer thin,
And, as a starter, I simply love loaded potato skins:
I do adore a delicious dish of Bombay potato curry:
For me, it is a taste which I won't forget in a hurry.
I like potatoes diced up with creamy mayonnaise,
Served up with salad on really hot summer days.
But I don't like potatoes which have been boiled:
From potatoes, cooked this way, in horror, I recoil.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Too Much To Lose
Pardon me if Im leaving in a hurry
Cant you see
Theres too much to loose for me to stay around
Ive plaid your game obeyed your rules
The best that I know how
Gonna get out while the game dont get me down
Its been a long long day and now its gone gone
I wont see you again before dawn
Theres too much to loose for me to stay around
So Ill just cash in the chips and leave this town
Pardon me if I dont turn back or even say goodbye
I surely have enjoyed your cup of tea
Got no more time to gamble on a thing that aint too sure
And the dust-cloud on the edge on town is me
If you ever feel that you should want to get in touch somehow
Forget it - thats all in yesterday.
Forgiving is to lovers as trusting is to fools
And of losing there is nothing I can say
Its been a long long day and now its gone gone
I wont see you again before dawn
Theres too much to loose for me to stay around
So Ill just cash in the chips and leave this town
Its been a long long day and now its gone gone
I wont see you again before dawn
Theres too much to loose for me to stay around
So Ill just cash in the chips and leave this town
Well Ill just cash in the chips and leave this town
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swagger
With a walk of pride,
And heads held high.
Displaying a confidence seen and undenied.
Some come to think of this still as arrogance.
Anyone appearing dignified and proud,
With an identity that speaks out loud...
And arrogance is applied to this stride that clouds,
Today's definition
Swagger is what that is called today.
In my day...
In times that seem so far away.
To act as if one was a foolish clown...
Was one who was down to Earth.
And had been taught this was acceptable,
With a teaching of this from one's birth.
Being a fool was preferred behavior.
In cycles where dysfunctions were revered.
Many times I was told I wasn't a bag of chips.
But easily spotted as a dim-witted dip!
To display one's intelligence...
Was for some an embarrassment.
Today...
Those 'dips' done by the ones with wit,
Appear to have a lot of emulated swagger.
With a hip-hop that raps and rocks!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Got to Notice...
You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.
You've got to watch.Your back.
And every little step you take.
You can not stop.To drop...
A point of view someone will take,
And hate...you!
You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.
You can not smile. Or nod. Or say hello,
'Have a good day! '
You may regret.Someone you've met.
Then get upset.
When they just turn, and walk away!
That's how it is today.
You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.
You've got to watch.Your back.
And every little step you take.
You can not stop.To drop...
A point of view someone will take,
And hate with such rage....displayed.
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.
Don't stop. Don't stop!
Pat your feet to the beat...
Repeat!
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.
You've got to notice...
Something's wrong about these times.
You've got to notice...
People clearly out of their minds.
You've got to watch.Your back.
And every little step you take.
You can not stop.To drop...
A point of view someone will take,
And hate...you!
You can not smile. Or nod. Or say hello,
'Have a good day! '
You'll be hated anyway...
Today.
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Each and every day.
Today...
People are in a rage.
Today...
People are quick to rage.
And getting crazier...
Every day.
Don't stop. Don't stop!
Pat your feet to the beat...
Repeat!
Snap or pop your fingers,
As you hip hop down the streets.
Today!
People display such a craze!
And it seems to be 'okay',
This way!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Potato
My love is a potato
Crude with piggy black eyes
Slit in the side and soiled by sod
My love is the rough handled skin
That follows the relentless storm
The tempestous waves
That raged and rent its first soft form
My love is a potato
The first and almost last known outcast
In a jungle school
His head was wedged like a spud
Mounted on a sinew of neck and bristle
His face sunken into flesh
His eyes two dark slits of piggy black lust
That lit up like a fool
I left him standing at the gate, after school!
My love is a potato after the mash and the kill
And the spill of the innocent milk of the martyr
The final slab of the butter
My love is a potato
Not quite a heart
Battered down
And worn
But after the storm
A sweetness and softening
And love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Declining Forgiveness
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
With embellished insecurities...
Of memories flourished now gone.
Their mentalities are witnessed to be diminishing quick.
And within themselves,
They can not admit...
These times lived today,
Will not continue to permit...
An attention given,
To such stubbornly held sickness...
They have become riddled and sit with!
We must help those whose lives,
Are stuck in an unchanged past.
It is difficult for them to accept,
The times now out of their grasp.
The challenges ahead requires a collective focus,
That has to exist!
To be drained emotionally by someone misfit...
Detaches an empathy!
With a declining forgiveness,
Decaying with it!
And a healing affect,
Will for all go neglected
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Girl with the Croissant.
You watch the way the girl
Pulls apart the croissant with
Her slim fingers and licks each
Finger in turn sucking on each
With the passion of one making
Love and yet as she pulls it apart
There is that slowness oh that
Deliberate tearing open as if she
Were now opening herself for her
Latest lover as her fingers pull and
Her eyes gaze and her tongue licks
The corners of her soft mouth to
Catch escaping crumbs as if they
Were the juices of her lover’s sperm
Then she turns her head and sees
Your stare and you just wishing you
Was the croissant in her fingers there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Webster's American Spellings
One spelling was English established.
Webster's Dictionary spells it incorrect?
Noah Webster in the early 19th century...
busily composed comprehensive dictionaries.
Numerous unrelated dictionaries added
Webster's name to share prestige established.
Oh bother Webster's first dictionary
‘A Compendious Dictionary of the English Language'
aired first appeared in 1806 was hexed?
With American spellings it was freely littered?
Spelling honor not honour center not centre.
Webster's program not programme spread what?
Two decades of his spelling confusions expanded?
An ‘American Dictionary of the English Language'
in 1828 lead in 1841 to his edition revised expanded?
In two volumes a 2nd Edition ‘Corrected Enlarged'?
Webster's vocabulary 1st edition with corrections
improvements plus five thousand additional words?
But acid test Webster's endeavors were poorly received?
Specific criticisms typographic unattractiveness included?
Webster's type face was bad choice too small hard to read?
Why write non-use of capital letters only 'God' capitalized?
Why because goal was to save space to fit in obscure words?
Why dictionary excessive use of citations which offended?
Why decision deliberate
misspellings as legitimate
sanctified word variants?
Culturally conservative Federalists
intensely detested Webster innovations
Webster Dictionary denounced?
Webster's Dictionary
too radical complaint
bordering on vulgar?
Webster's fierce foes
Jefferson Madison
Republicans attacked?
Labeled Webster mad
for writing Compendious
Dictionary 1806 published?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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