A poor caterer's advertisement
She writes on her apron with a colored chalk.
Dear Customer,
I provide you tasty food at all to buy few oxygen for my weak lungs.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sonnet: The Patient God
The food they eat is poison to my gut;
It looks so appetizing and tasty;
They need that food to grow up smartly but
I have to live with my food-allergy!
Their flowers’ smell does cause a wheeze in me;
Perfumes do hurt my nose and lungs also;
Nevertheless, my daughters look pretty;
Young girls just love to wear such flowers, Oh!
Many a thing that others do does hurt;
The sins we do offend Almighty God;
Erasing grace, it fills the soul like dirt;
Estranged from God, we could receive His rod.
The Son of God who suffered on the cross,
Still loves to have us all, without a loss!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tiny Angel
.Tiny Angel,
Fragile and weak,
Spun from silken chalk.
Tiny Angel,
Fierce and strong,
Spun from silken chalk.
My fallen Tiny Angel
Fragile and weak,
Gave me strength and hope.
Spun from silken chalk.
My fallen Tiny Angel,
Strong and brave,
Spun from silken chalk.
My sleeping Tiny Angel,
Spun from silken chalk,
No longer fragile and weak,
Flies.......
poem by Christina Jayne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Firms need to ensure that their ability to provide effective customer service keeps pace with their growth. If you're marketing your firm to new customers, you better be able to provide them service when they do business with you.
quote by Arthur Levitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
FREEDOM- [new edit]
once a Gnat came down from the top
to drink of what remained in the cup
kid for having fun, just blocked her way
and the Gnat saw her, future is gray
saw herself in trap, so she left the food
though the tasting of, food was pretty good
top a hand and left, and right and down glass
thirsty and madly, she remembered her last
flight, and hopefully was looking for a hole
that through it she, could again reach home
beat the cup wall so, many times with head
finally she knocked down, and then she bled...
food was so tasty, dear was life of her
but the FREEDOM, was what she wished there
poem by Mohamad Rasoul Mohamadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the customer is doing as well as he understands it. Then you build what he needs and you educate him to the fact that he needs it.
quote by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Tasty food, plenty of food, food in the right time - and peace at mealtimes.
Woo Food
Eat to eat
Snake and
Frog...
Eat...
It is tasty...!
It is healthy...?
Snake food
Is frog...
Human food
Is snake
Or frog...!
What is this...?
Woo tasty food...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There Is A Time When Tired And Weak
THERE IS A TIME WHEN TIRED AND WEAK
There is a time when tired and weak
An old man can barely think
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To remind himself
That he still has a mind-
There is a time when tired and weak
An old man can barely speak
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To prove to himself
That he still is alive-
There is a time when tired and weak
And old man can barely dream
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To make himself believe
He still has time
There will be a time when tired and weak
An old man will be unable to read-
He will not write a few small lines
He will sit and wait
For the end of his life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dear j
my dear J
Dear Mr J
To dear J,
To Dear J
Dearest sweetest J J
Dear J
Mr Dear J
t
MR. J.A Dear,
Please can you send someone around immediately from your company 'Nifty Pipes and Shiny Taps'
There is a blockage in my.... sorry can't find the right word
Hope you don' t mind me, NOT calling you Dear?
Hardly know you? What? was you're surname dear?
Well thought I better slide it in somewhere you know
Any way yours not [sincerely] or [Faithfully]
Yours most irately customer ref: 143267 lettr QUI
L. M. LEMON
P.S I have friends whose name begins with J I address these people
who I don; t know that well as Dear, hope you don; t mind, ? I think they do, I hardly know them infact from now on I think Dear will be replaced by, 'Not so Dear' JJ? Please let me know your thoughts
they are of [not so] great value to me, you see I am doing a survey on the use of 'dear' AND PLEASE UNBLOCK MY PIPES SOON! ! ! dear!
[not] Yours LEANORA LEMON
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Piece of Chalk (Children's Poem)
Chalk is happiest when the teachers come to him
Because he can chat about all sorts of subjects
Such as astronomy, geography, science and art
Chalk knows whatever you want to know
Chalk doesn’t like to do just one thing
When he is called on by the teacher
And he needs to follow the teacher’s orders
So Chalk hits the students chatting in class
To give them a big shock and stop their talking
Chalk hopes the seed of wisdom grows in students’ minds
And they can improve their studying a lot
If students want to learn about everything from Chalk
Even though every moment he becomes thinner and smaller
At the cost of his life
He still enjoys his work
I need food,
I need food,
I need food,
That is so tasty and not wasty,
Like cool breeze and essence so sweet,
Like Witch-craft that wither's away to the Wilderness of Hate's and Crow's like THORNS,
Iam like a type call's no Hype and beef's ain't worth a man,
Food that is given like Dos-to shoot,
I need food that will hold this soul so cool.
poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Wind Breeze
I am the Southern Breeze;
bearer of the Wisteria;
The North Wind
from where the ice blows.
I am the lover's caress
on sandy beach,
The Wind-Mill Corn Grinder
and the Water Wheel;
I am invisible
yet everywhere
I blow all over
this globe.
.
I've billowed your sails
propelled your ships
carried you
to far lands;
opened to you
new worlds.
True, too,
I have blown your houses down
tornadoed the things you love.
I am too
the wind of Bad Luck
and Ill Fate.
I am the wind in your lungs.
I carry the oxygen you breathe
first life's halting blush
and likely the last to leave
your body's chest.
Now my clear air
is grey
smoky
smoke-stacked
and my once proud
life of this planet
is near extinct.
Sixty miles;
just an hour's drive
of me and my oxygen
are your only shield;
against the void of outer space;
the cosmic rays,
the deadly magnetic fields
meteors and asteroids
all crash down were it
not for me;
the sun's infrared rays
would burn if I did not block.
for you and provide a cloak.
Indeed,
I am the life you breathe
from birth's first
to death's last.
You've felt me
on your face
riding the plains,
while walking the meadows;
remember I am
the Invisible Sea
you sail
and your final
Destiny.
I am the wind;
your oxygen.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oooo...Oooo-Oooo Wee Ow-ouch!
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!
'More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!
She says I'm on a pacifier.
Unreliable with too many needs.
She says I'm heat under the sheets...
But she's the one who buys the food we eat.
She says I'm not dependable at all.
And by herself she does the best she can alone,
To make all ends meet!
When bill collectors call.
And,
She's more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.
More dominant and not the weak one?
More dominant and not the weak one?
Submissive when she comes to the bed.
Prepared to get her needs met!
And I am ever ready.
I've lost my job and the kids are fed.
I do the best I can...
But I'm not making the bread.
And my ego's thinly spread.
When the work I've done is meager.
And the words I hear from her...
Are wrestling in my head.
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
And if I leave my family...
I'll lose my life instead.
'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.
quote by Emil Brunner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's almost seems as though there's a battle going on between the public and all the fast-food establishments, and, believe me, I think it's very tasty food.
quote by Regis Philbin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pager companies are very much looking to provide new services to help them regain some of their customer base.
quote by David Rose
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My tiny alert alarm clock
I spent few pennies to buy her from the nearest garage sale.
Anyway she wake me up in time and send me to struggle to get few oxygen for my patchy lungs.
I am so sorry my dear that I have promised you to buy a can of rust remover (WD-40) for your birth day from my next salary,
That I'll do definitely.
The auspicious day will come one day and you cannot wake me up again anymore,
Then you can have the utmost rest forever!
To my loving brother and best friend 'Lalith' who taught me to read and write and lot of things about the fading life...........et cetera.,
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!