0333 Hungry for Romance
Mills and Boon, Mills and Boon,
ravish me - but not too soon...
Boon and Mills, Boon and Mills,
steam my specs with bedtime thrills...
(M&B - publishers of bodice-ripper romance, with strict rules for their writers)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Deep Ocean and Vast Universe!
Romance in real life is story of Mills & Boon;
Never leaves the hearts of lovers so soon!
Modern life short of romance is mechanical
Controlled by time makes all mad for love!
Love lost in young and middle ages is bad
As it makes all long for love very old, a pity!
Enjoying life to the full is a boon and satisfaction
Very few lucky ones get in life to the envy of all!
Nature has destined all to love and live well;
But man of mind not knowing by instinct ever
Browses books after books like Mills & Boon
To endeaour like a mission to the Moon last!
Pleasure is vast as Universe and deep as ocean!
If you struggle for Moon how will you measure all?
poem by Ramesh T A
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It is my boon.
I eat less; I sleep less.
Yet I am tireless.
It is my boon.
I lust for, at sixty,
Women sixteen to sixty.
It is my boon.
I have the woman
Half my age in flirtation.
It is my boon.
I send the woman
In her teen to orgasm.
It is my boon.
So I want no heaven
As I lived through heaven.
It is my boon.
21.07.2000, Paralakhemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Inspector Mills
Inspector mills Id like to tell you bout a girl I saw
At a party just the other night in beverly hills
Inspector mills I hope you find her and it dont take long
Watch my feelings for her growing strong in a war of wills
Inspector mills
I cant attempt to point you in her direction
I didnt see her walking out of the door
If I had taken my time shed be standing here still
Inspector mills
I recall once in my life I felt this way before
But I let her go and closed the door, walk away
Inspector mills I cant attempt to show the hurt in me
And just how much I need the company; search the valleys and the hills
You gotta find her mr. mills
I cant attempt to point you in her direction
I was blinded by the look in her eyes
If I had taken my time shed be sitting here still
Inspector mills
Oo, someday soon I might be in love with her
Inspector mills I guess youve taken quite a look around
Guess Ive heard the word from underground, shes gone for good
Inspector mills is it any crime for a fool like me
Try to use your time cause I wanna see; you just send me the bill
Inspector mills, inspector mills
I cant attempt to point you in her direction
I didnt see her walking out of the door
If I had taken my time shed be lying here still
Inspector mills, inspector
I cant attempt to point you in her direction
I was blinded by the look in her eyes
If I had just followed through then I wouldnt be calling you
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streamlined or Not
Stands still
the mill.
It cannot grind
with the water
flowing slow or fast
that is past.
Yet tomorrow
old mills
destined to grind
and abrade.
Streamlined,
the future
often thrills.
And past mills,
unborn yet,
may rise
to pulverize
and grind
with future winds
blowing from
the mind.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Campaign Song
Boom boom boom
Boon boon boon
Bane bane bane
Your campaign song
Is too loud, bane
I am riding on boon
Good and fine days
Ignorant of intended ways
Boom your campaign song
It was too loud, bane
I barely could manage
To hear your message
I voted for the other candidate
Your Boom song was too loud
It was good in our ears in June
But you sang it till December
That even kids should remember
I choose otherwise, voted you out
Is Campaign song bane or boon?
poem by Benjamin Paa Willie
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No!
Then they are bunch of Mzee,
But now, they have piece into sleaze.
They believe we are
Distopped by curaco
That is narcotic us
No!
You the baboon
The baboon
Who feeds in boon
Who misuses his boon
And bomb the boon
They believe they can Build something no nothin'
Rude rain of pain
No!
Not under the sun.
They are jocular,
But speak in oracular
They are living in humid
And they they left the small fry in arid.
No!
Will shall fight with the breath
Because they are arch enemy to us
But show in angel in face.
poem by Ejalonibu Abraham
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I'm Off to The Library Again
There she is again
Putting books back
In the right section
All nice and neat.
Then she turns
And smiles at me.
'Hi, found what your
Looking for? '
I think to myself,
Yes she's standing
Right in front of me.
But I bottle out,
And decide to play it cool,
'No, have you any new
Football books in? '
Bet she thinks ı'm
A right saddo now?
Sounded about ten years old.
But to my delight she tells
Me she's a football fan too,
And we chat for ages stood
In front of the football annuals.
Then an old lady pushes in
And wants to know where the
Mills and Boon books are,
So off she goes looking
For romance and passion.
I wait until she's at the desk
She looks at me and smiles
When she's stamping my books,
She's left her mark on me that's for sure.
I tell her to have a nice day,
And she replies and you,
And tells me to enjoy my books,
I wonder what time the library
Opens in the morning?
poem by Kevin Halls
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Lines on Thamesford
Delivered at Masonic concert, Thamesford-Grand Master
Col. Moffat in the chair.
The middle branch of Thames doth flow
O'er pebble bed, and it doth glow
And sparkle like silver in the sun,
As it through pasture lands doth run.
In dam is ample water stored,
To drive flour mills in Thamesford ;
Besides the power of the stream,
Saw mills and flax are drove by steam.
Our mind it doth with pleasure fill,
To see fine brick church on each hill.
And that substantial one of stone
Owned by congregation of St. John.
poem by James McIntyre
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A joy ride on mobike...! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Arms around your waist,
And hairflying in the air,
That first joyride on mobike
On Delhi roads sealed our fate.
A lot can happen over coffee,
The best in town you will find,
As we walked hand in hand
Through a plush hotel lobby.
As we sat, you said say yes now,
What, we have just met, I protest.
I know for sure, it’s destined
Please just don’t ask me how.
Love at first sight,
I laughed out loud,
Happens in Mills and Boon,
As we slipped out at night.
I said yes the very next day
Still fills me with disbelief.
Like a hero of romantic movies
You were charming in so many ways.
Now the mobike is gone,
And we travel side by side,
In a luxury air conditioned car.
To town, to work every morn.
In silence we drive, preoccupied
Hands on lap, hair in place, I see
A couple on a speeding bike,
And think of that first joyride…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Abel Melveny
I bought every kind of machine that's known --
Grinders, shellers, planters, mowers,
Mills and rakes and ploughs and threshers --
And all of them stood in the rain and sun,
Getting rusted, warped and battered,
For I had no sheds to store them in,
And no use for most of them.
And toward the last, when I thought it over,
There by my window, growing clearer
About myself, as my pulse slowed down,
And looked at one of the mills I bought --
Which I didn't have the slightest need of,
As things turned out, and I never ran --
A fine machine, once brightly varnished,
And eager to do its work,
Now with its paint washed off --
I saw myself as a good machine
That Life had never used.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Desert Of Mills
The close horizon became from the desert of mills,
The bronze dunes worked hard in the storm of sand.
This absolutely became the edge of the world,
To signal a light for never land crept on this flower
Causing signatures of splendour, petals opening.
Parallel lines forked in different ways,
In the middle of actresses and actors,
Touch taunted the mistresses of the desert-wind.
Staring into the scene of distant echoes,
A proposition suggested food and drink
For the nomad of the scene, a real way of knowing.
The mills turned according to dust and weather,
Feeding the metallic men with their monster.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Am
i am, become...
i worked your steel mills,
i walked the i-beams of your scrapers.
i dug deep in your coal mines,
i plowed your fields, picked your crops...
i picked your cotton, milked your cows,
worked your furniture factories,
in your cotton mills...
built your tracks, rode your trains,
popped your trucks, poured your concrete...
my sweat and blood, the foundation,
the nails in the wall!
i an America, the common,
and the magnificent...
i am the pulse, the breath, the beat.
i am the lover, the fighter, the dreamer...
i am the father, and the mother...
i am the sinner and the holy.
i am the truth, at all costs.
i am the man behind the wheel,
the dream behind the man...
the faith behind the dream...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Everything that's old is new, and everything that's new is old.
quote by Stephanie Mills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghana Mourns!
Breaking News:
An acute cardiac arrest,
President 'John Evans Atta Mills is dead'!
And, Ghana mourns.
It occurred on Tuesday the 24th of July 2012,
Yes, in the afternoon hours;
And, Ghana mourns for President Mills.
Ghana ia situated on the West Coast Of Africa!
And for the first time, a sitting President dies;
Bringing the nation now into deep sorrow.
The death occurred at the '37 Military Hospital',
After being taken ill;
Yes, the sudden untimely death of the President of the Republic of Ghana! !
Ghana mourns!
For a President dies while in office;
And, he was 68 years old.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The principal cause of war is war itself.
quote by C. Wright Mills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here They Trysted, And Here They Strayed
Here they trysted, here they strayed,
In the leafage dewy and boon,
Many a man and many a maid,
And the morn was merry June.
'Death is fleet, Life is sweet,'
Sang the blackbird in the may;
And the hour with flying feet,
While they dreamed, was yesterday.
Many a maid and many a man
Found the leafage close and boon;
Many a destiny began -
O, the morn was merry June!
Dead and gone, dead and gone,
(Hark the blackbird in the may!),
Life and Death went hurrying on,
Cheek on cheek--and where were they?
Dust on dust engendering dust
In the leafage fresh and boon,
Man and maid fulfil their trust -
Still the morn turns merry June.
Mother Life, Father Death
(O, the blackbird in the may!),
Each the other's breath for breath,
Fleet the times of the world away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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It don't mean a thing If it ain't got that swing.
quote by Irving Mills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I believe entertainers should know what's going on and do their own banking.
quote by Stephanie Mills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Felicity
A squalid, hideous town, where streams run black
With vomit of a hundred roaring mills,-
Hither occasion calls me; and ev'n here,
All in the sable reek that wantonly
Defames the sunlight and deflowers the morn,
One may at least surmise the sky still blue.
Ev'n here, the myriad slaves of the machine
Deem life a boon; and here, in days far sped,
I overheard a kind-eyed girl relate
To her companions, how a favouring chance
By some few shillings weekly had increased
The earnings of her household, and she said:
'So now we are happy, having all we wished,'-
Felicity indeed! though more it lay
In wanting little than in winning all.
Felicity indeed! Across the years
To me her tones come back, rebuking; me,
Spreader of toils to snare the wandering Joy
No guile may capture and no force surprise-
Only by them that never wooed her, won.
O curst with wide desires and spacious dreams,
Too cunningly do ye accumulate
Appliances and means of happiness,
E'er to be happy! Lavish hosts, ye make
Elaborate preparation to receive
A shy and simple guest, who, warned of all
The ceremony and circumstance wherewith
Ye mean to entertain her, will not come.
poem by William Watson
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