Mum and Dad the world's getting mad
and I am a wild child's proof
of walls sacred turned down
with no writing left to inspect
a jambo jet flee
that fled from me
I woke up as an insect
just to tell you I'm fine
and that quite soon
together will dine
this Kafka weather is really nice
the evening breakfast is instantly served
the food's eatable and at no price
I'm worried you're too easily nerved
so write to me soon
if you need a spoon
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Soon I Will Write You A Nice Poem
if you can wait
sooner than perhaps tomorrow evening
i will write you a nice poem
a simple one
perhaps about the pigeons roosting
in the roof of the house
or perhaps about a spider spinning its own web
of thoughts and fantasies
or perhaps about a child building his snow castles
in the air complete with his own fairytale
or i can write you a food poem
delicious to your tongue
beef steaks
ice cream and salads and desserts
oh you are salivating
you love food
ok, i'll write you some tomorrow
but for now
i got to go and find my own survival kit.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jambo - Hakuna Matata
Jambo, jambo bwana - jambo, jambo bwana, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba.
Jambo, jambo bwana - you are welcome, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba.
Jambo, jambo bwana - take it easy, hakuna matata.
Can you hear the drum beat? hakuna matata.
Can you hear the singing? hakuna matata.
Can you see the dancing? hakuna matata.
If you want romancing. hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - jambo, jambo bwana, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba.
The scent of the sweet chacaranda, its nirwana, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba.
Jambo, jambo bwana - take it easy, hakuna matata.
Can you hear the drum beat? hakuna matata.
Can you hear the singing? hakuna matata.
See them dancing. hakuna matata. and romancing. hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - jambo, jambo bwana, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba.
Jambo, jambo bwana - take it easy, hakuna matata.
Jambo, jambo bwana - have a good time, enjoy the samba...
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Some food
Some food is
Medicine...
Medicine is some food...
Some food is poison...
Some food is Tenson...
Some food is Fear...
Some food is lovely...
Some food is Bland...
Some food is sweety...
Some food is spicy...
Some food is nothing...
Food is not only food
A good eatable medicine...
At only some food...
Some food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Authorship
You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spoonful
By willie dickson
Could be spoonful of diamonds
Could be spoonful of gold
But I want a spoon ot your precious love
To satisfy my soul
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
Could be spoonful of coffee
Could be spoonful of tea
But I want a spoon of your precious love
Thats good enough for me
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
.
Could be a spoonful of water
Searching from the desert sand
But just a spoon of that fortifies
Saved you from another man
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pigeon Poem
The Pigeon is taking food away from her mate today,
or he is taking food away from his mate today.
She is taking food to put on fat for winter time,
or he is taking food from her to dine.
Pigeons are like people cause people are like that.
feeding Pigeons in the park is fine,
old people have the time, to dine with pigeons;
Time i have today:
the time i play away
thinking of (?)
the pigeons as I dine.
I am fine.
She is putting on her fat.
He is just out to dine.
People are like pigeons.
people are like that.
poem by Charles Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Takes A Worried Man
Oh it takes a worried man, sing a worried song
Takes a worried man, come sing a little worried song
Well it takes a worried man to sing a worried song
Im worried now, wont be worried long
I went down to the riverside and I laid me down to sleep
Went down to the riverside, laid me down to sleep, lord
A-well I went down to the riverside, laid me down to sleep
When I woke up there were shackles on both-a my feet
Hit it!
(chorus)
It takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
It takes a worried man (come) to sing a worried song
Yeah, it takes a worried man, yeah, to sing a worried song
Im worried now but I wont be worried long
Worry for me!
(instrumental)
I said, judge (judge) judge, whats a-gonna be my fine?
I said, judge (judge) judge (judge) tell me whats gonna be my fine?
I said, judge (judge) judge (judge) tell me whats gonna be my fine?
He said, twenty-one years (oh) on that old rock island line
Oh well it takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
Takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
Yeah, it takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
Im worried now, but I wont be worried long
Sing it one more time!
It takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
It takes a worried man, to sing a worried song, my lord
It takes a worried man, to sing a worried song
Im worried now, but I wont be worried long
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Theme for World Lit
The instructor said,
Go home and write
A page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—
Then, it will be true.
Write about culture
She said
About heritage
About home
About you.
But who am I?
Is this where I'm supposed to figure it out?
What is my culture?
I am Africa
And oceans I've flown across
I am beaches I've walked on
Mountains I've climbed
And cultures I've spoken to
Then theirs became mine
I learned how to say "en cha Allah"
And "jambo"
And to see the simple things for their pleasures
I wear clothes made in China because virtually everything is
Is that American?
I laugh with my friends like all teenagers do
No matter where in the world they come from
I speak Colorado
We don't have an accent
I read
Because it's intoxicating
I eat French fries, Chinese food, Mexican and Italian
I guess because it's American
I'm lucky enough to live near the mountains
I'm lucky enough
I'm from America or Ireland or France
Or that's what Dad says
I've never been there
My culture is a smoothie
Everything I am turned on high and served in a chilled glass on a beach somewhere
With a little paper umbrella and a straw
This page is mine.
I let it come out of me
Is it true?
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
All Things Considered
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin just fine
Woke up this morning to the sound of you slammin' the door
I got served a piece of paper for breakfast that said
You don't live here no more
And the dog won't let me pet him, he just lays around
And growls at my feet
And the paper boy forgot me again
I should have stayed in bed asleep
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
Well my car broke down again right before it ran out of gas
Yeah my boss is still ringing in my head
One more time and your out on your... yeah
Well I can't wait till that five o'clock whistle blows
So I can sit in traffic all day
And end up going home alone
All things considered I'm doin just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
song performed by by Yankee Grey, music by Tim Hunt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Am At Home With Kafka
.
I AM AT HOME WITH KAFKA
I am at home with Kafka -
I know his soul
I read it as mine own so many years ago-
His father as my father
And his face as my grandmother's,
Lean and white and long
With its own deep beautiful sadness-
Anxiety is mine-
And fear is mine-
And parable is mine-
And yet
His genius is his and not mine
He is Kafka
And I am only one of many readers-
I am at home with Kafka
I know his soul
But I am not Kafka-
Kafka is a genius of mankind
And I am a little man writing forgettable lines
Still alive
Many long years after the age
The holy genius went to his grave unrecognized.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cravin' Raven
The raven searches for food to consume.
He flies high and low,
Yet none does he find.
He thinks this is not a very good sign.
Soon, food at last, and this the meatless kind.
He has watched from afar and knows
This food is left each day on the step;
Not in the garden for humans to grow.
Swooping down to inspect this food
The milkman is gone making this a stop.
This is a treat beyond compare.
Everyday, the man makes a drop.
The raven pecks, inspects, and thinks
“The bottle is hard; my beak must not break.”
Maybe here, there, the search goes on!
Frustration and turmoil is all this creates!
More pecking he does, more frustrated he is;
This insaneness makes a bird lose his mind.
“There has to be a way.
What must I do to reach the food that is inside? ”
He pecks all around and discovers the top
The lid on the bottle is paper-like thin.
His beak will go through this fine cover,
And the treasure inside he definitely wins.
Each day he returns with knife, fork and spoon.
Taking part in this feast, a rare delicacy.
“No more searching for food must I do,
Now I can drink to fill my small belly.”
Generously, he invites friends to the feast
They will enjoy this food he is savin’.
I must not be a pig and eat all for myself.
I’ll invite friends to savor this food I’m cravin.’
The man of the house becomes aware of his loss
Loudly proclaiming no more food, and all-out war
To quote a phrase from the poet, Edgar Alan Poe
Nevermore……..Nevermore……….Nevermore!
poem by Diane Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bananas To The Beat
Chorus:
I go bananas
Bananas to the beat
Le le lee
I mono wayso jambo pe janga poje
Onte myo sobo jo maame jauo peijosau
Kokonipi jao sobo jambo, jambo pomi peso
(chorus)
Kokonipi ous tonko jado jo mousi nindu pou
O seeke ambo pelai kokonipi nai
Kokonipi ous, stono ambou
(chorus)
Eo-o show me ambo jambo, jaambo jomo jo eethu eat
(chorus)
Wojo bomo eso I jo pande beo bou
Sobo I jo postiau do peeta
(chorus)
Mo le le o posi jambo mo le le kompie
Bo le le, bo le le
(chorus)
I go banaanas, wo jo sombi jedo
Bananas to the beat, kwanto be pe io
To the beat
To the beat, cos lobo lobo le jo
To the beat
Bananas to the beat, e jo sambi ebo jo ame
Bananas to the beat
Bananas to the beat, wa pe o sio beo pe tojovlo peo
Bananas to the beat (3x)
Bananas to the beat, hugi oso pai
Bananas to the beat (3x)
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bananas To The Beat
Chorus:
I go bananas
Bananas to the beat
Le le lee
I mono wayso jambo pe janga poje
Onte myo sobo jo maame jauo peijosau
Kokonipi jao sobo jambo, jambo pomi peso
(chorus)
Kokonipi ous tonko jado jo mousi nindu pou
O seeke ambo pelai kokonipi nai
Kokonipi ous, stono ambou
(chorus)
Eo-o show me ambo jambo, jaambo jomo jo eethu eat
(chorus)
Wojo bomo eso I jo pande beo bou
Sobo I jo postiau do peeta
(chorus)
Mo le le o posi jambo mo le le kompie
Bo le le, bo le le
(chorus)
I go banaanas, wo jo sombi jedo
Bananas to the beat, kwanto be pe io
To the beat
To the beat, cos lobo lobo le jo
To the beat
Bananas to the beat, e jo sambi ebo jo ame
Bananas to the beat
Bananas to the beat, wa pe o sio beo pe tojovlo peo
Bananas to the beat (3x)
Bananas to the beat, hugi oso pai
Bananas to the beat (3x)
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Christmas Parties
I’ve been to three
Christmas parties this year.
Two were terrible
and one was great.
One had kids running around
and screaming in your face,
scoffing the food
that was meant for all.
The second party,
well that was a blast.
If the weather hadn’t
really turned cold,
we could have partied
all night long.
Now the third one,
which we paid more money
on than the other two.
When we went for our food
an hour and a half late
we were told to use up
the scraps that were left.
The scraps were cold
and tough as old boots.
The vegetables seemed
like they came out of the freezer.
We had to pay through the nose
for that treat.
I think next year
the Christmas parties
they can all stuff,
just like the cold stuffening
that was served up to us.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just Another One Of Those Poem Thingies...
Well as you can tell,
This is just another one of those poem thingies.
But I ask you,
'What is poetry? I mean,
Do people just write words in wierd orders.'
Well, poetry is an expression,
An opinion, well I guess it could be,
Anything,
From a very 'sensitive' piece of writing
To an essay that you wrote three years ago.
The definition that you find in a dictionary
Has nothing to do with poetry.
It is just a summary,
No an assumsion of what those fools writing the dictionaries
Think it is.
Poetry is whatever you want it to be.
So next time some person who thinks that they're too cool,
And that your so stupid because you like poetry,
Weather it's writing it or just reading it,
Tell them that they write it too,
Weather or not they consider it to be poetry,
It's their opinion and anything,
Can be poetry.
I have a love for poetry,
That can not be described.
I know,
That sounds obsesive.
But I really do love poetry.
I feel like I can say anything and,
It doesn't have to be serious,
I mean it can,
But it is not required.
Nothing is required of you when you write poetry.
It is relaxing,
A chance to step aside from life,
Even if it's just for a few minutes.
I do it for my own enjoyment an relaxation.
Why do you?
poem by Maddy Macleod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Simple Pleasure
When the dinner was ready, when I was five,
We sat on the mat in the Hall, half awake,
Varieties of food prepared, served and fed,
The daddies were at the center to watch,
We couldn't laugh and chat while eating,
We shouldn't spill the food on the ground,
We have had unwritten rules,
That has to be strictly obeyed,
Men and the children are in the first list,
Then the women of the house eat and taste,
What they cook, there is a pleasure,
In serving the food to the people we love,
Spoon after spoon, ladle after ladle,
Our love is measured many times,
Many thousand times in our dining halls,
Sometimes we feed our grown up children,
Out of the same bowl, for which,
The women of the houses are mocked,
Simple pleasures such as these,
In life make the living meaningful.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rain again
No raining again and again
As you have made friendship with pain
Be firm and don't complain
Even if it rains. More and goes to drain
If it rains more then will be down pour
Result in sweet relations and not sore
Poets need to pray for not going away
But stay near and find the way
What even if you suffer!
What even if you differ!
What if you are not able to alter!
But alas! You are capable to cater
Poet dreamed of nice weather wonder
For getting ideas mixed with cloud’s thunder
Wait for good response from the reader
As he is known as poet or sender
He may be obsessed with more response
But always worried with comment clause
Readers may differ or praise his talent
But always welcome with nice comments
That is gesture for good
Nice stuff as energy and food
What else you need as rain
It is altogether nice for your complete gain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Barbecue
When summer evenings are nice and hot,
The thing to do is find a spot,
Where a barbecue can be set up,
So everyone can come and sup,
Relax with a bottle, and sit for a spell,
Which would be really nice and would end the day well,
And enjoy the light hearted, cheerful chatter,
With friends, who to you, truly matter.
Right!
The table's set, the flares are lit,
The music should be a real hit
The friends have arrived, the drink if flowing,
Laughter starts, the barbecue's glowing,
The cooking has started, the aroma's divine,
Everyone is getting along fine,
When!
The barbecue begins to smoke,
The chef, who's coughing begins to choke,
The chops are burnt the spare ribs too,
Everyone's looking very blue,
Conversation has now come to a halt,
What has happened, who's at fault,
There's thick smoke spiralling into the air,
It's now giving everyone a scare,
People are suddenly beginning to panic,
Good heavens, they are going manic,
What can be done, the food is no more,
The wine has been spilt all over the floor,
Everyone is utterly desolated,
For the poor old barbecue has disintegrated,
On top of that, it has started to rain,
It is really driving the guests insane,
The garden's looking a real shambles,
It really is just one of those gambles,
That the weather will go and change her mind,
But it's left such devastation behind.
The hostess takes a deep breath and swallows her pride,
Waves everyone goodbye, takes it all in her stride,
Clears up all the mess, and calls it a day,
But will book another date and just hope and pray,
That the weather forecast might treat them well, so
With friends once again, they can dine alfresco.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!