Nicknames for Aislinn
She was born a bald little lassie
long and thin, truly, ever so pretty
6lbs-8oz if memory serves me well
she was slender and strong as gazelle.
She’d the yellow ochre of barley jaundice.
She lay on my lap; her eyes opened wondrous…
She’d match for grace all the tiny wild cowslips
I'd laugh! “I'd nicknamed her chips”
Because of her yellowing, jaundice—after
finally she came home with her mother
I changed that name to “clothes peg”
As seemed right… even if a little bowleg,
She’d lie in the little red washing-basket.
Just as if it was her Moses basket
Clothes peg stuck; it was only proper!
As we hung her out to quietly jabber…
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A Tisket - A Tasket
A-tisket a-tasket
A brown-and-yellow basket
I send a letter to my mommie
On the way I dropped it
I dropped it, I dropped it
Yes, on the way I dropped it
A little girlie picked it up
And put it in her pocket
She was truckin' on down the avenue
Without a single thing to do
She was peck, peck, peckin' all around
When she spied it on the ground
She took it, she took it
My yellow basket
And if she doesn't bring it back
I think that I will die
A-tisket a-tasket
I lost my yellow basket
And if that girlie don't return it
I don't know what I'll do
(Was it red?) No, no, no, no
(Was it brown?) No, no, no, no
(Was it blue?) No, no, no, no
Just a little yellow basket
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uwaoma
My love-jaundiced eyes
Are intent on the moon
Because I see no celestial curio
Only her wild serene face
Face that rouses my hunger
Desperate and unquenchable
Because she is no real meal
Only an abominable bowl of pork
Pork which Eleazar
Does not even simulate
Because I sense no satisfaction
Only a bait to fire my hunger
Hunger being Alexandrian
Wields a weapon futile
Because I crave no Maria
Only her absorbent tranquility
Tranquility like Stephen's
When wrathful stones soothe me
Because I feel no pain
Only an orgasmic jaundice
Jaundice in my eyes
That squint so into the moon
Because I see no celestial curio
Only her wild serene face.
poem by Oluchukwu Ifechukwu
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Lourdes 2006
Jimmy opened his suitcase in the room
at Lourdes and said Oh no there's molasses
all over the clothes and shoes and I've got
a whole week here and he sat down in a chair
his head in his hands saying What have I done?
What am I going to do for clothes now? you
went over and looked in and sure enough
the molasses were over his clothes and shoes.
What am I going to do? he said and you said
Leave it to me Jim I'll sort it and you went through
the clothes taking out the items untouched
by the molasses and set them aside on the bed
and then carried the suitcase of black sticky items
Into the washroom and there one by one you carefully
washed them through with soap and water until
they were clean and smelt of soap and fresh air
and all the while 94 year old Jim sat in a chair
watching with his eyes watery and jaw hung loose
seeing the black water run down the wide plughole
and once it was done you wrung the clothes out
like your mother used to do when you were a kid
and hung them out on the balcony on the small
clothesline and placed the washed out black shoes
by the outside wall to dry out in the hot afternoon
sun and Jimmy came over and stood on the balcony
with one hand on the rail and the other on his stick
looking over at the Pyrenees in the distance and he
said That was real good of you. I owe you big time
and you stood next to him feeling the hot afternoon
sun on your face and arms and felt good and you
said You owe me nothing Jim I just did what some
good guy would and his watery eyes swept over you
matching the French sky's watery afternoon blue.
poem by Terry Collett
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Pollo Asado
Come on, its a beautiful night for a walk on the beach, wouldnt you say?
Yes, I would say that, I would say that
Let me start of with a basket of chips
Then move on to the pollo asado taco
I would like two pollo asado tacos with one beef chimichanga
On the chimichanga, I would like a side of sour cream
I would like tomatoes and onions on my quesodilla
For dessert I would like the flares -- I would like extra cinnamon
Do you make guacamole?
Yes, I do make guacamole.
Uh, I would like a side of guacamole on my tostitos
I like to dip the tostitos in the guacamole
Can I get a basket, I told you about a basket of chips
I would like a large iced-tea, 2, uh, 2 large iced-teas
Ok, thatll be $16.07
Out of $20? ok, $16.07s your change.
Hi, can I help you?
I would like a basket of chips,
A beef chimichanga with a side of sour cream
I would like some guacamole on my chimichanga
With a quesodilla of tomato, onion, and vegetables
I should like a burrito with beans, beef, and
I would like a carne asado taco
Could you put some hot sauce on that for me?
No, inside the taco, not on the side
Yes, can I have a carne asado taco?
Not a pollo asado, we dont have chicken
Do you have guacamole?
Can you make me some guacamole?
I have guacamole
Ok, on my burrito I would like the muchaco beef and the shredded pork
And some more cheese, please
Ok, thatll be $22...
Uh, oh yes, I would like two lemonades and one medium iced-tea
Ok, thatll be $20.07
Out of $22? ok, $1.52s your change
Thanks a lot -- your food will be up -- here, let me get your drinks
Hi, can I help you? yes, I would like a basket of chips
I would like a beef chimi...
Umm, what is, what is the, what is the, what is the pollo asado?
Thats the chicken
Ok, what is the carne asado?
Thats the beef
Ok, let me get two carne asado tacos...
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All That I Have Left
The Apostle Paul recommended women should
not seek beauty in hairstyles, ornaments, jewellery
and expensive clothes, true beauty lies in character;
I say: Thank you, the hairstyle is easily done due to
the thin feathers on my head, as for the clothes
I have to wear something, the clothes I have is ugly
enough - I cannot find pretty clothes in my size - and
now I find none that fits, neither pretty or ugly; at least
Paul said clothing is required, my only option is to mail-
order a burka as the clothes in our Western shops
Are an unqualified flop - for me at least, I comply with
the requirements for looking ugly; working on character
is all that I have left - Paul, you did not recommend
anything, you simply stated the state of affairs!
1 Timothy 3: 9 & 10
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I Am Wonderful
Take a basket...
Fill it with who...
You think you are...
Mix it up good...
Be frank...
Now pull something...
Out of the basket...
It does not matter...
Whats in the basket...
Its your chatter...
That the basket holds...
It's you...
Not who...but...
You are a good person...
You are a bad person...
Mainly a good person...
That is who you are...
By far...you...
Are a wonderful star...
A real human-being...
Who can smile...
Who cares...
Damn what others think...
You are you...
In the pink...
whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Change The Locks
I changed the lock on my front door
So you cant see me anymore
And you cant come inside my house
And you cant lie down on my couch
I changed the lock on my front door
I changed the number on my phone
So you cant call me up at home
And you cant say those things to me
That make me fall down on my knees
I changed the nunmber on my phone
Cause I changed the kind of car I drive
So you cant see me when I go by
And you cant chase me up the street
And you cant knock me off of my feet
I changed the kind of car I drive
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
So you cant find me anywhere
You cant spot me in a crowd
And you cant call my name out loud
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train
So you cant find me ever again
And you cant trace my path
And you cant hear me laugh
And honey Im laughing all the time
I changed the name of this town
So you cant follow me down
And you cant touch me like before
And you cant make me want you more
I changed the name of this town
I changed the lock on my front door
I changed the number on my phone
I changed the kind of car I drive
I changed the kind of clothes I wear
I changed the tracks underneath the train
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
I changed the name of this town
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clothes Have No Memories (for Doreen)
Your most prized dress
must confess
that it
cannot
remember
the swell of your breast
the rise & fall of your breathing.
Clothes have no memory.
It is Winter now and your summer
frock has totally forgot
the sheer sunny shockingness of being
(underneath it all)
absolutely knickerless.
Kisses like butterflies
alight high (high)
on your inner thigh (thigh) !
Clothes have no memory.
Your bra
unhooked & unhinged
cannot really recall
the thrill of it all
as my hands caresss
create your breasts.
Clothes have no memory.
Clothes have no memory
...but I do.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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In forming a judgment, lay your hearts void of foretaken opinions; else, whatsoever is done or said, will be measured by a wrong rule; like them who have jaundice, to whom everything appears yellow.
quote by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh My Gosh!
Oh my gosh!
Here we are...
Washing,
Clothes.
Oh my gosh!
Here we are...
Nose to nose.
And,
Washing clothes.
Folding the sheets we laid on.
Together you and I...
After a wetness sweated us,
In a rocking that followed with sleep.
To awaken after we slept.
Welcomed by a dawning Sun...
To greet us in the morning,
With a glowing on our faces...
Shown to be done.
And OH my gosh!
Here we are,
Washing clothes.
Nose to nose and folding sheets.
Something tells me,
A togetherness is certain.
Something else tells me...
You will have me ironing the curtains,
If I don't put my foot down...
To speak up to say,
This 'sweetness' I may display today...
Is a rarity witnessed,
You will one day see...
Is not part of my personality.
Like you,
I will not be left impressed.
Just because we had another night...
Of unexpected delicious sex!
'Honey...
I can't believe we've been together,
For more than twenty years! '
I know. I know!
I'll iron those curtains,
When I get back home...
Okay?
'Anything for you, dear.
You know that! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Purple Heather
(Intro not in English)
Oh the summer time is gone
And the leaves are sweetly turning
And the wild mountain thyme
Blooms across the purple heather
Will you go, lassie. go
If you will not go with me
I will never find another
To pick wild mountain thyme
All along the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go
Lassie, go
I will build my love a tower
by the cool crystal waters
And I'll cling to her forever
Like the ivy to the heather
Will you go, lassie, go
*And we'll go together
To pick wild mountain thyme
All along the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go
Lassie, go
(Not in English)
Will you go, lassie, go
(*Repeat)
And we'll all go together
Tp pull wild mountain thyme
All across the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go
Lassie, go
Lassie, go
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behold, the fool saith, Put not all thine eggs in the one basket, -- which is but a manner of saying, Scatter your money and your attention, but the wise man saith, Put all your eggs in the one basket and -- watch that basket.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Putting all the eggs in one basket
Every time I leave
Mother always reminds me
This: do not put all your eggs
In one basket,
Because when I fall
All the eggs will break and I will be left with
Nothing.
Even a nincompoop understands that.
Oh mama! I do not have those many eggs
And she does not have any basket,
We sure both, have nothing to lose.
Thanks for the reminder, anyway.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inharmonious Harmony
Watch two women washing clothes;
One woman makes dry clothes wet
The other makes wet clothes dry
They seem to work against each other,
But their work is a perfect harmony
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Basket Dance
Dance!
Dance!
The priest is yellow with sunflower meal,
He is yellow with corn-meal,
He is yellow as the sun.
Dance!
Dance!
His little bells are ringing,
The bells tinkle like sunlight,
The sun is rising.
Dance!
Dance!
Perhaps I will throw you a basket,
Perhaps I will throw you my heart.
Lift the baskets, dancing,
Lower the baskets, dancing,
We have raised fruits,
Now we dance.
Our shadows are long,
The sunlight is bright between our shadows.
Do you want my basket?
Catch it!
Catch it!
But you cannot catch me,
I am more difficult.
poem by Amy Lowell
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She Walks In Meadows
She walks the stretch of meadow land
To pick the blooms so fair and wild
Arrayed in basket by her hand
A touch so gentle and so mild
Inside her basket lies my heart
Snared in her eyes, bound in her smile
Devoid of all will to depart
But stay for many more a mile
And there to be merry as lark
To sing in never-ending rhymes
From early morning until dark
Blithesome and carefree at all times.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Noumenon
a thing-in-itself:
a wicker basket is a wicker basket
you cannot place love there, perhaps just plain fruits and
flowers
and perhaps even nothing
because a wicker basket is a wicker basket
nothing more nothing less
in the same manner, i am what i am
and you are what you are
what we feel for each other
or perhaps what i feel you alone
or only
is what i only feel
nothing more and nothing less
if i go somehow inventing that you shall love me
how absurd can this be!
for you are what you are and i am what i am
nothing more and nothing less
and so thanks, i am what i am and i will always be what i am
and you are you, and you do not know me,
and if i bleed, it is i who bleed only or
alone
and i have no right to let you know because you are what you are
and you shall never love me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Road Incident....
a red easy ride is parked
along the graveled road beside a
cemented fence
it is one hot afternoon
a little girl carries on her head
a bunch of ripe bananas
following mother carrying a basket of
clothes
a man wearing a shirt with green row stripes
runs toward the market rushing
it is beginning to rain on this hot afternoon
after a while, the road is flooded
a little boy runs across the road against
an over speeding truck
and then what we hear is a mother
screaming for help
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Berries! ! ! ! !
Mulberries
On a visit to granny in the Doon valley
It was March, the old tree full of Mulberries.
Red, purple teasing from far, ran with cane basket.
Picked one, ate some while the birds created a racket.
Strawberries
Strawberri es in white boxes, one atop other
The hawker sat on his knees, said go no further.
I protest too expensive, not for the masses.
Rich eat raw, make a tart or with cream in glasses.
Wild Berries
On way back from school at noon, attack wild berries.
Are for free and so yummy, home a lot we carry.
We laugh and shriek as our skirts get stuck in thorns,
Satiated, come back home, with berries, skirt torn
Written in ancient japanese form Sitigotyo
06.04.09
Mamta Agarwal
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Mauve Basket
Purple like a tulip in a spring field. Swaying calmly with the wind, under a violet sky, beckoning you to come closer, and closer. A Mauve Basket coming closer and closer.
Then a hand picks the plum flower, covering the tulip with warmth, and whispering it's secrets to it.
The flower looks back at it's past home, a wild violet field, waiting to get placed in the purple pocket, but instead finds a new home, in the Mauve Basket.
poem by Vindya Pon
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