Whining For Swine
A dumping noticed that should offend noses.
Doesn't.
A celebration occurs.
And people are seen rushing,
To receive innoculations.
Demonstrations arise,
To be cured from perceived ills.
A testing has yet produced desired affects.
Although lines swell of those whining for swine!
Pining and whining for a dose hyped in their minds.
And in long lines to become protected,
After injected as expected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
It Is Not An Inconvenience
What is it that you need,
I have not yet to give...
Or bestowed upon your desired wants.
The passion you receive,
Comes from the best side of me.
And if I have not been at your beck and call,
To service a whim...
That is when you seem to begin,
Displaying to no end those things impossible.
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But there is whining that sickens when it starts.
You appear to be unhappy with those blessings you've got.
And I get repulsed quick,
By demands made of greedy people.
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But there is whining that sickens when it starts.
You appear to be unhappy with those blessings you've got.
And I get repulsed quick,
By demands made of greedy people.
What is it that you need,
I have not yet to give...
Or bestowed upon your desired wants.
Are you pushing me to flaunt my agitation?
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But don't explore or solicit,
My tolerance you believe needs testing...
For it to be identified and acknowledged.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Fuss It to Be Cut Up
Some just can't let it be!
With a letting go.
They want to beat it to then leave it.
Come back,
To again...
Service it with lip.
As if 'whatever' it is...
Exists in their minds,
Breathes...
As if it lives.
They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People aren't grateful to receive a gift.
Or appreciate it without examining the value of it.
They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.
Whining without restraint!
They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.
Complaining and showing no shame.
They cuss it to be cut up.
They fuss it to be cut up.
Some just can't let it be!
With a letting go.
They want to beat it to then leave it.
Come back,
To again...
Service it with lip.
As if 'whatever' it is...
Exists in their minds,
Breathes...
As if it lives.
They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.
Whining without restraint!
They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.
Complaining and showing no shame.
They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.
They cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
They fuss it to be cut up.
People are cold.
Whining without restraint.
And complaining having no shame.
They...
Cuss it to be cut up.
People are bold.
Fussing with a cutting up.
People are cold.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fly
I was sitting up in my bed,
When a little fly flew round my head.
Whenever the fly was in flight,
His buzz sounded just like a Microlight.
He buzzed really close to my left ear,
And I didn't like him being that near.
The fly, I found, really annoying:
With my patience, he was toying.
I was trying to read a poetry book,
But, my attention from it, he soon took,
On the words, I couldn't concentrate;
His constant whining made me really irate.
Very soon, I snuggled back down:
The fly's whining, I was keen to drown.
I put my head back under the cover:
Of flying insects, I am not a big lover.
But I could still hear the fly's whining;
Through my window, the sun was shining.
The whining sound was really high pitched;
The idea of more sleep, I very soon ditched.
Maybe he liked the warmth of my skin;
He seemed to like me, but I didn't like him.
I got out of bed, and I opened the door,
And, thankfully, I didn't see him anymore.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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To Whine Or Not To Whine?
to whine or not to whine?
but first ask,
is there someone there
listening there?
is there someone?
someone?
who knows what
whining is
who knows
someone who
understands
that there is nothing
wrong with
whining?
is there? can his listening
change your world
for the better?
can your whining
do something good
for this, well,
rotten world?
then whine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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all your whining, dear,
all your whining, dear, can not,
can not make a kite.
haiku by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
A Pigeon
I've picked up your name from the floor
and held it for long on the palm of my hand
watching it gently peck its lines
until there remained nothing not a single crumb
and your name well fed slept for a while
in lines of death in lines of life
in lines of the head and lines of the heart
in intricate patterns that sealed me for too long
there was a lullaby I wanted to sing
but I was not able to open my mouth
for fear you'll wake up and disappear
and I promised myself I would never dropp you again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Poet Became His Own Poetry
A POET BECAME HIS OWN POETRY
A poet became his own poetry
And all he could be
Was lines and lines and lines
Inside and outside
Lines and more lines
Off- rhymes
Finding a phrase
A metaphor
Hearing listening
To sounds
His own mind made.
A poet became his own poetry
And went into the long sleep
Of being only what he wrote.
No one can know how
Reading these lines now
The poet and the poetry live
without themselves.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver Lining (A Tribute To Geometry)
Sent a note home to my mom
Expecting it to be a bomb
But my mom hates my teacher
And her whining
And the fact that I don’t care
Is silver lining
I have failed
And there’s no catching up
So I’ve decided I’ve had enough
And if you care then that’s just tough
The phone is ringing for my mom
Expecting it to be a bomb
But my mom hates my teacher
And her whining
And the fact that I don’t care
Is silver lining
I have failed
To the extreme
Passing this class
Is beyond my dreams
No motivation when there’s no catching up
And if you care well then that’s just tough
Sent a note home with me
Expecting me to drown in misery
But I hate her and her whining
And the fact that I don’t care
Is silver lining
I have failed
And I don’t care
She’s raining Hell
It’s so unfair
I am sick of her
And her whining
The fact that I don’t care
Is silver lining
I have failed
Beyond repair
This class is Hell
And I don’t care
I’m sick of her
And her whining
And the fact that I don’t care
Is the silver lining
poem by Jake Warren
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Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solidarity In Lines
unemployment lines
lines of books
Lines of cocaine
Food stamp lines
Theater lines
Grocery store
car wash
school children
Soup kitchen
club
abortion clinic
Delicatessen
traffic lines
crosswalks
Traffic Jam
Lines on a map
Jules gets home and un-loads his rucksack
Gods laziness
Because of the machines and computers we will all end up lonely human beings
poem by Jerome Moore
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I Hear My Own Poems Rushing In Me
I HEAR MY OWN POEM RUSHING IN ME
I hear my own poem rushing in me
Despite my sadness and my despair
It tells me I am still alive-
I hear it rushing in me now
As these lines wonder too,
What will be next?
And if I will end it right?
And whether or not it is a true poem?
A rushing in me now-
Like words written and forgotten
So many times
Not so long ago-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Between The Lines
Verse 1:
Ive been searching
Ive been thinking
Ive been searching so long
What I am looking for
Ive been hearing love will hit you
But everybodys wrong
Cause I just happen to notice
That certain look in your eye
Chorus:
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
But now I really do
Verse 2:
Nothing major ever happened
But its the greatest feeling Ive ever had
Strong emotions all have left me
Just a tenderness inside my heart
Just happened to notice a knowing smile
Chorus
(now I really do)
Just happened, I noticed
That certain look in your eyes
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need, didnt need no neon
To notice baby
I never before, never before
I knew it, I knew it
Bridge:
Started dreamin about you baby
Now I know just what Im feeling
Can it be you are my baby?
Never gonna let you go
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
Never gonna-never gonna let you go
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need no neon signs
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need, didnt need, didnt need no neon
(notice baby)
(read between, read between the lines)
I didnt need no neon signs
I knew it, I knew it
(read between, read between the lines)
Between the lines
(read between, read between the lines)
Im reading between the lines....
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let's Get Real About Concepts
It is not supply and demand!
It's about selectivity and choice.
When one can afford to make demands,
And has influence over others...
With a perception they can feed a need,
Their choices selected become the priority.
And usually those standing in lines whining,
Are the least to have their priorities demanded.
Let's get real about concepts of greed and selfishness.
Those who are able to feed their greed and are selfish,
Could care less about those...
From whom they have stolen the goods.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
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Plenty Of Shared Lip Service
Those unfamiliar with leadership,
Should not be expected
To understand it.
There are more accustomed,
To being followers.
And it can be annoying,
To hear them whining.
Bickering amongst themselves,
In footsteps from behind.
One who leads,
Hardly sleeps or properly eats.
Thinking of the whole as one entity,
And not several pieces to see pleased.
One who leads,
Had to learn to listen.
And those who have no idea what this means
Often pass judgement,
With a seeking to do it.
At every given opportunity.
Those unfamiliar with leadership,
Should not be expected.
To understand it.
What 'can' be expected from those unaware,
Is plenty of shared lip service.
And a volunteering of their mocked despair.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Dont Think Jesus Died For This!
wars, wars, and rumors of wars...
1 in 5 children go to bed hungry.
people still cringe at the color of skin,
and religious people crucify
anyone who thinks different.
unemployment lines not moving,
soup lines getting longer.
shutting down the battered women's shelter,
funding cut off....
food stamps dont pay light bills,
and lovers face discrimination.
the clothes you got at Goodwill,
made in an Asian sweat shop....
dumping oil in the oceans,
the price of gas rising...
and vacant houses arent for vacant people.
everyone talking, nobody listening....
somehow i dont think Jesus died for this!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Time Lines
i have said nothing for time wont allow me.
time lines... time lines... time lines, what i felt for you has turned to confusion.
as time lines up our times together worry overshadows my 'influenced' judgement.
time lines..
our future perfectly sealed for i filled my heart with your promises.
time outlined your feelings for me..
times we spent together seem so far away like the times of the early bud.
our love has lost its will to florish like juliets rose.
time has outlined my affection for you.
time lines.. time lines..
the memories we once cherished together, the lines that have been put between us by time have destroyed the love once shared by you and me.
time has been thought to mend broken hearts ALAS, it has made matters worse.
time lines me and you. time lined our fate through spectatr critiques.
we possess souls joint together by time, YET its time that divides us.
time took its tole on our love.
is this forbidden love? that time has outlined
time lines my emotions of love for you..
time lines my emtions.
time lines.... time lines
poem by Njube Nangamso
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The consequences of things are not always proportionate to the apparent magnitude of those events that have produced them. Thus the American Revolution, from which little was expected, produced much; but the French Revolution, from which much was expected, produced little.
quote by Charles Caleb Colton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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