Art
Ordinary items, extraordinary art,
Wooden pegs in a bowl I see, but what,
is that blue, red and yellow part?
A bar of soap, it does look somewhat.......
My hubby guessed a blue towel,
Or a shirt that is red,
Perhaps it was a dish towel,
Or something made of thread
I guess I have to wait once he has read
My query in this poem before he goes to bed.
What you see is what you get,
This is exactly what he said.
'Tell your Hubby, he and I see the same way.
That is exactly what it pretends to be! '
Now I see......
Related quotes
Mrs O’Hara’s Bathtub (Fun Poem 39)
Rub-a-dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara’s bathtub,
a towel gone for a drink,
fell into the tub.
What is the poor lady to dry herself with now?
Oh, dear what can she do,
the robe she thought,
give it a tug,
but it fell into the tub.
Now what was she going to do?
Call for her husband.
A yell, a scream is heard,
as he rushes in like a buffalo herd.
“What is the matter, dear? ” he says,
and then slips up on a bar of soap.
Rub-a -dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara, towel, robe, and hubby all in the tub.
19 April 1979
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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FYI, You are the Apple of my Eye
Dear Hubby
You are the apple of my eye.
Brightest one of all
Stars that shine in my sky.
A friend to shares all secrets
My ups, my downs
My lows, my highs.
Its been only 7 mere years
Just by looking you can guess
All my truths and some lies.
Your perfect suitings
That bright blue shirt
poem by Samima Shah
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0377 Should be, but
I should be writing a poem
about those small wisps of white cloud
moving unusually fast across a blue blue sky
on their way to somewhere else
as if they're late for an appointment.
I should be writing a poem
about the way the breeze is so gentle
that it seems to have a secret plan with the sun
and the new green leaves
to do something quite extraordinary.
I should be writing a poem
about the way that the trailing geranium leaves
are giving out a scent more white than green
more heavenly than any thought.
I should be writing a poem
about the way that the purple and blue and yellow and white flowers
seem to say nothing but beauty.
I should be writing a poem
but all I can do is gaze in amazement
at what I've seen before
and never seen before.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hubby Asks Me
Hubby asks me:
Do you love me
More than your
Poetry?
It's a difficult
Question to
Answer…
You see.
It's like
Asking me
If I love
My bosom
More than
My yoni.
The fact is,
I would feel
Incomplete
Without -
Either of
Them.
Both of them
Complete me
As a woman.
It's the same
For my hubby,
And my poetry.
Both of them -
Consummate me.
I would feel
Incomplete -
If any of them
Leave me,
For I love them
Both, immensely.
(Poem themed on Love)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Cosy Home Chat
I told my hubby,
Please come with me
I get bored …
Waiting for my GP
I can chat with you
While I wait
To become my GP's
Next bait ;)
Hubby told me,
Sorry, I'm busy!
Though I'm working
From home, there are
Deadlines, you see…!
However, my dear
Let me suggest to you
While you wait there
For your GP, how about
Writing some poetry
On your blackberry? !
Bingo! What an idea!
I did just that!
While I waited for my GP,
I wrote this new poetry…
On my handy blackberry!
A light, frothy poesy
On our cosy home chat
Now don't tell me, you
Didn't like that ;)
(Here in UK, NHS waiting times to see a GP can run up to an hour!)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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030810 I'm Alone It's Not Fair
i'm running cold water on my hands
playing with scented soap bubbles
let me wash this dishes instead
while i reminisce days you were here
you're standing on that corner by fridge
with yellow towel drying dishes and glasses
then out of the blue we ran outside
we watched balloons passed by
very colorful once, i wonder if they saw us
from up there with all that billowing noise
my neck got stiff, you went and sit
then somebody scream 'flooding'
yes, water running out of the kitchen
drain clog up with unfinished food
it took us the whole day cleaning
i was poof and you're still smiling
it's very comforting being there
now i'm alone it's not really fair
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Domestic Shades-15
Old age wishes to mellow godly
So our servant-cum-watchman god sent
We utter Ramkrishna, Ramkrishna...
As slow as God's yes
Through the solar, lunar years his yes
Adament illiteracy overwhelming..
To read, write even to remember a phone call
Heedless even to remember the visitors..
Challenged my husband for a Kaalidasa
With a 'slate'Ramkrishna to a teacher
'Ah', 'aah'alphabets in three days be learnt
Poor my hubby but forgot thirty days'Bhaasha'
Off thirty days detained herself the teacher
A good soul but my hubby opines
I can not but disclose RK's shopping menace
A good 'watch man'but my hubby says
I can not but disclose RK's dining-table menace
In our absence polished with coconut oil
Yet true
The village deity VeeraKaruppan
Watchful on our house in our absence
RK is god-sent, godly honest
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Roses Are Red (Jessica)
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Honey is so sweet and so are you darling!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You've made my dreams come true!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have my brown eyes glued on YOU!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I feel like i have known you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are so FINE that you give me the BLUES!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Lord knows that im falling for you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I just want to Rock with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
These lips can't wait to be kissing you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I do anything to claim you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I bow down to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I've never met anyone as HOT as you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
never knew i would meet you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm going to bed would you like to come too!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I rather spend my precious time with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are beautiful as sparkling DIAMOND!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You have me speechless everytime i talk to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
May i have this dance with you (JESSICA)
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have mentioned your name so many time i have lost count!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I dont want no-one if i cant have you. #PERIOD
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I want to give you everlasting Joy, Happiness, and especially LOVE!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm the one who will make your dreams come true
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Chilli is hot and so are you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
JESSICA ITA JAMES WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Roses are red Violets are blue,
THIS POEM WAS MADE FOR YOU.......
poem by Obi Onyenwe
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Azul....
Shades of blue confronts the
man in blue, so blue, but not
electric blue, the blue in faded jeans
saddening blue, the blue in marble,
glossy, but sadder still, the faint
blue of a heavy sky, laden with rain
some restraints, falling suppressed,
the blue in that deserted lagoon,
those blue Spanish eyes gone,
the navy blue without an address,
the blue lips, lesser in oxygen
content,
the bluebird perched upon a twig,
kingfisher blue without a fish,
a blue heart, pastel blue shirt
torn blue, blues, blue bruises....
the puerto azul....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Father's Day.
These are three little rhymes made up in 1998 fror home made 'Father's Day' cards that the kids and I made for their dad.
I'm wishing for my father,
(Who ain't really that bad) ,
All he could ever want today,
So Happy Dad's day Dad.
Today I want to party,
Today I want to play,
But today I'm gonna be good,
Because it's Father's Day.
Dearest darling hubby,
I wish you all the best,
And when you come to bed tonight,
I'll rid you of your vest.
Dearest darling hubby,
That's all I've got to say,
So I'll go and wish to you,
A Happy Father's Day.
Father's Day 1998.
poem by Lizzy Tomlinson
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Hubby's Train
Hubby snores, a midnight train,
Left arm is giving me pain,
Eyes wide open, energy drain,
Can't fall asleep, I speak plain.
Fried chicken's to be blame,
High salt, High oil, the same.
In part I have to claim
I do feel a little shame,
Resistance futile, lame
Can't sleep, my hubby's train.
Cravings came, hard to resist.
We live to eat, what a twist.
Love of food so persist,
No use, give up resist.
Copyright Philo Yan September 10,2012
The king is extraordinary.
Honour is made for human functions.
A monarch is not extraordinary;
The ordinary people make him so.
Unless he is made extraordinary
He could not rule the ordinary ones.
The extraordinary must respect
The demand of the honour bestowed
On him by the ordinary people,
And must act to be extraordinary.
Masters must honour the headmaster,
Who must respect the demand of honour
Expected of him by other masters,
Failing which he will lose his status.
26.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hubby
Hubby is someone
With whom you can
Talk about everything.
Yeah, almost everything
Except the other men
In your life ;)
(Poem themed on Mischief)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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My Blue Poem
Writing my blue poem
With my pink pen...
Mellow blue,
Sweet Aster sugar blue,
Sad sighing blue,
Mid-night sky blue
Blues singing, crying blue...
'Lady Day' blue
Soon smiling blue,
Because I am thinking of you,
Writing my blue poem
With a pink pen
Thinking of you
(11: 36-11: 37 p.m.
Oct.15,1998)
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Bad Poem
A bad poem is like a bad dog
'Bad boy go and sit in the corner'
They often begin in the early hours
On a yellow post it
After a night of restless turning
You may describe yourself
As ' a skewered 'FISH'
This poem is not your chosen dish
It may arrive without a 'fanfare' or a fuss
On a plane or train or bus
Frantically you scribble down
Every nuance, every frown
The bad poem is not easily distracted
But in recital it is badly acted!
It is the bad egg
The sin of poor timing
A bouffant without a bounce
A muse that needs continual 'priming'
Neither good or bad or sad or.....
Melancholy or blue
It is that fatal flaw
Of being human
It resonates in all that's true
That perfect part of being you!
yvette m smith may 2009
poem by Yvette Smith
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A New Flag is Declared
A new Flag is Declared
In the dusk of the night,
Under the watchful eyes of the guards and the guns.
Ill write a poem,
On your shirt.
A multihued shirt,
Coming from the torture chamber.
A shirt of cotton and blood.
A shirt of torment, torture and anguish.
Ill write a poem
On the midst of the night
In the milieu of red.
A poem,
A single word poem.
People will make it a flag,
Raised, full staff,
Written on it a poem,
A single word poem.
On the daybreak of Iran,
In the milieu of blue
The earth is given birth
To a new flag;
Written on it:
Freedom, a single word poem.
poem by Cyrus Mahan
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Blue Me
Blue me, blue me
Blue is the color
That fits best on me
Im blue
Just as blue as can be
Blue me, blue me
I cry
And I die
I lie awake at night
And I question why
Must it be
I can never be free
Blue me, blue me
My heart is heavy
But its empty inside
No one to love me
Or to lay down beside
Im blue
The queen of sorrow
Wears royal blue
My luck aint changin
Is it ever goin to
Im blue, oh Im blue
Why must I wear this robe of blue misery
Blue me, blue me
Ooh
This sad old feeling
Is breakin me down
No satisfaction with these blues hangin round
Lord, Im blue
Oh, Im so blue
Why cant I shake it tell me where will this end
When will I get out of this blue rut Im in
Oh, Im blue
Looks like the blues just took a liking to me
Blue me, blue me
Blue me, blue me
Blue is the color that fits best on me
Ooooh, Im blue
Im just as blue as can be
Blue me,
Blue me
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Morning!
On the days
He wakes up
Earlier than me,
I get a morning kiss
On my right cheek.
Without opening
My eyes I know,
Who it is from :)
It is my hubby
Wishing me…
Good Morning!
The Poem with the Picture is Here:
www.boloji.com/index.cfm? md=Content&sd=Poem&PoemID=10964
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Madurai To Nellai By Bus
So much excitement over a bus ride
Had experiences though in my teens
Long after now from northern side
Madurai to Nellai southward on wheels
Colourfully odoured the bus-terminus at Madurai
Trying a faster pace myself behind husband
Roamed around sufficiently the many sundry
Caught the bus finally, me in pushed
Almost a bare bus.Thanked God
Possibly my teen bus was now stale
However felt jolly; Hubby too did
After decades old couple enjoying quite hale
The running bus metrically jolted us
Lapping meteoric curvetures shortly curtly
My musical mind enjoyed the meters
Hubby, his usual self of berating loudly
My usual self shirked him
Slicked a little aside
Evening crept in with a prayer hymn
Hubby, dozed with a slight slide
Night came yet not our destination
Started counting the stars seen out
Slowly fell asleep dreams woven
So far nowhere did the bus halt
Steadily whirred and whirred
Somewhere at the depth were we asleep
A sudden break, a sonorous horn stirred
Kovilpatti did the bus stop
There did I first fuss disturbed
Nudged me a vendor with a cut cucumber
' Nothing has yet changed 'I opined
'Since my teen time older'
Civics cremated by those vendors
Better to be cautious not to be diseased
Hubby got out of the bus
Just to be uncaged a while indeed
Our trip intermitted only once just
Happy hubby couldn't get out often
Lest would be mine a pulsating heart
Waiting in search off and on
So was our rare experience
Like some people sometimes try out
'A sovereign thrill of one's independence'
Safe at our Nellai such we felt
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Daily
you wake up early
you wash your face
you use soap and water
you wipe your face with
a white towel near the sink
hanging
you dress up
you take breakfast
you chew your food
you drink your coffee
you read the papers
hear the news on tv
you go to the garage
warm up your car
you open the garage
and speed your way to your office
you read the whole day
you talk less
you take your lunch
and you cat's nap
you work the whole afternoon
you read a lot
you write
you are tired and ask your driver
to drive you home
you open the door of your house
you sleep with your shoes on
you sleep for some hours
you are hungry
you go to the kitchen and eat
the food made ready for you
by your housemaid
you are alone in this sequence
you turn on the tv
and the whole night you feel
you are the lookout
for something that is about to happen
you ask yourself, what is this all about?
you tell yourself, you do not know, it is just your daily routine
for years and years, and it goes on and on and you have no
way of stopping
they call it life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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