A Basket of Lemons- Senryo! ! ! ! !
Basket of lemons
At my door... ironical,
Who knew had sore throat...
No visitng card
pondered, was attached...
As I quitely sat,
making lemonade
with a dash of honey
to soften sourness...
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
When Life Gives You Lemons
When Life Gives You Lemons
Shopping for a lemon and honey
For money can actually buy
At a Chinatown grocery store
The lemon acidity diminish phlegm
The honey to replenish sweetness lost
In conjunction with Chamomile Green Tea
To soothe my throat from this stupid lingering cough
When Life Gives You Lemons
I throw the lemons right back
For my lashing is the acidity squirted at malicious people
Their juice from the lemon is very weak
For the acid is deflected right back
Honey, I've got a lot more sweetness should malicious people throw acid at me
Yet attempt to destroy my sunshine as my uplifting spirit continues to be envied
Have a shot of Limoncello!
If life deals you lemons, why not go kill someone with the lemons (maybe by shoving them down his throat)
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lemon Or Orange Fruit?
Your highlights and shadows strong,
As always, you do no wrong!
Lemons? It could be,
Oranges? It can also be,
What I see is what it will be,
A basket of yellow citrus fruit,
I don't mean to be rude,
Please, Lemons or orange fruit?
I want to make lemonade out of the lemons that were dealt to me.
quote by Baron Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. I have several stands around here.
quote by James Brady
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I was sitting with Trade in the shade,
drinking passionfruit lemonade,
said he lemons on ice
is my only true vice
said I mine's getting laid by the maid.
quote by by Herbert Nehrlich (January 2010)
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There are really only two plays: Romeo and Juliet, and put the darn ball in the basket.
quote by Abe Lemons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I believe that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade... And try to find somebody whose life has given them vodka, and have a party.
Happy Summer
Her branches reach across the yard
tall and proud from season's gone by
dangling the jewels of summer
bringing forth ripe, tart
beautifully yellow' d lemons
picked, they are, in morning's wee hours
as not to be drenched in afternoon's southern humidity
Each lemon is tenderly placed in the crate
they spring forth a mouthwatering, fresh perfume
they ooze sweetest oil from their pores
dimples cover the richness of their peels
summer is all about lemons
about fresh, homemade, full of pulp,
thirst quenching, pucker up lemonade.
Happy Summer!
Copyright @ 08/21/2010
poem by Diana Newsome
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We are living in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made from real lemons...
quote by Alfred E. Newman
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We are living in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made from real lemons.
quote by Alfred Newman
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The Definition Of Love
Love is finding your thoughts on another,
It asks how much not why,
The extent if fixed yet reasons change,
It is manual and not automatic
Long i grew in great ignorance,
Westlife attached meaning and i believed,
Love is making her the 'queen of my heart'
I stopped, pondered and then declined,
True love is when she accepts,
To be the slave of your heart
Love is not being there for her,
Love is being there with her,
It is not what you do,
Love is how you do it
Love is beyond compasion
Love is not about what you feel,
Love is what you do with your feelings,
Its not an affection only,
What matters is the expression
Love is not making her your everything,
Love is just making her something,
Love becomes a state when,
You dont need everything because of something,
Love is love and this is love
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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I Thank You For The Little Things
thank you my love for the little things
though how little how can i forget?
the way you remind me to comb my hair
when i begin to forget in so doing
to point to me where my glasses are
my pen which is just hanging in my collar
the taste of the fried chicken that i have almost forgotten
thank for those little conversations
on the lazy afternoon
thank you for the glass of cold lemonade
when my throat begins to sore
thank you for the notes
of a day's reminder on top of my bed
when i have overslept
thank you for being with me
for all these years
thank you my love
for sticking with me
when i have none anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A malignant sore throat is a danger; a malignant throat not sore is worse.
Ah, If You Knew
Ah, if you knew how soon and late
My eyes long for a sight of you
Sometimes in passing by my gate
You'd linger until fall of dew,
If you but knew!
Ah, if you knew how sick and sore
My life flags for the want of you,
Straightway you'd enter at the door
And clasp my hand between your two,
If you but knew!
Ah, if you knew how lost and lone
I watch and weep and wait for you,
You'd press my heart close to your own
Till love had healed me through and through,
If you but knew!
poem by Mathilde Blind
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If You But Knew
Ah, if you knew how soon and late
My eyes long for a sight of you,
Sometimes in passing by my gate
You'd linger until fall of dew,
If you but knew!
Ah, if you knew how sick and sore
My life flags for the want of you,
Straightway you'd enter at the door
And clasp my hand between your two,
If you but knew!
Ah, if you knew how lost and lone
I watch and weep and wait for you,
You'd press my heart close to your own
Till love had healed me through and through,
If you but knew!
poem by Mathilde Blind
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We live in a world where lemonade is made from aritificial flavoring and furniture polish is made from real lemons
Alfred E. Neuman in The Half-Wit and Wisdom of Alfred E. Neuman (MAD magazine)
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Wild Honey Pie
Pixies - wild honey pie
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Honey pie, honey pie
Honey pie, honey pie
Honey pie, honey pie
Honey pie, honey pie
Honey pie, honey pie
Honey pie, honey pie, honey pie, honey piieehoooeyeah
(john lennon/paul mccartney)
song performed by by Pixies
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A Religious Closet
He pondered about the Lord
Setting him up
as a template
that lies and cries
was not the very idea of life
He had in mind for himself
He pondered about the Lord
How about golden spoons
and rich tycoons
As a matter of fact
what about the abstract
Sadly bitter sweet lovers they were
just for a short while
He knew
He was deep in conflict
With his religious beliefs
The candlelight
lit the night
as he pondered to the Lord
He consoled himself
while he was idle
by reading the bible
knowing fully well
He was a religious closet
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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