Onions Onions! Enjoy onions!
Every life is here,
Is like onion
Some are good some are bad,
Some are white,
Some are red,
They are alike when are peeled!
But some are chopped,
Some are cooked,
Some are eaten raw,
Some are rotten
some are planted,
To yield more onions!
Look this world ls full of opinion,
world filled with divine Onion,
no one believes in soul _God Union,
THOSE WHO DARE NOT TO DIVE INTO OCEAN,
EVER sit on shore
and shout IN SUSPICION!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Green Onion Shampoo
The baby-sitter's nuts! Please listen Mom, it's true!
Last night she washed my hair with Green Onion Shampoo!
Green Onion Shampoo! Green Onion Shampoo!
It smells worse than bad, and when you get through,
Your poor scalp will burn, your eyes will burn too!
Who ever heard of Green Onion Shampoo?
Why did she do that? She has a loose screw!
It's made in Cleveland! This stuff is brand new!
I don't understand! God, what did I do?
To ever deserve Green Onion Shampoo?
Promise to fire her! And trust when I say...
If you rehire her... I must run away!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Glass Onion
I told you about strawberry fields
You know the place where nothing is real
Well here's another place you can go
Where everything flows.
Looking through the bent backed tulips
To see how the other half live
Looking through a glass onion.
I told you about the walrus and me-man
You know that we're as close as can be-man
Well here's another clue for you all
The walrus was paul.
Standing on the cast iron shore-yeah
Lady madonna trying to make ends meet-yeah
Looking through a glass onion.
I told you about the fool on the hill
I tell you man he living there still
Well here's another place you can be
Listen to me.
Fixing a hole in the ocean
Trying to make a dove-tail joint-yeah
Looking through a glass onion.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Monkey & The Onion
See the monkey peel the onion
See the monkey cry
He can feel his tears are flowin
But he dont know why
He continues peeling faster
'til the onion is no more
Now at last his cryins over
But all he had is gone
Whatever for
You and I are always chasing
Wild ambitions and far off dreams
As we run in all directions
Nothings quite the joy it seems
If I tell you that I love you
Dont ask how much
And dont ask why
Have no doubt and ask no questions
Just believe its not a lie
Never take my love for granted
But never put it to the test
Like the monkey and his onion
Too much investigation
You know the rest
You and I are always chasing
Wild ambitions and far off dreams
As we run in all directions
Nothings quite the joy it seems
On that we could be contented
With the good things that weve gained
But in the end were empty handed
Just because we need the world explained
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Market Women’s Cries
APPLES
COME buy my fine wares,
Plums, apples and pears.
A hundred a penny,
In conscience too many:
Come, will you have any?
My children are seven,
I wish them in Heaven;
My husband ’s a sot,
With his pipe and his pot,
Not a farthen will gain them,
And I must maintain them.
ONIONS
Come, follow me by the smell,
Here are delicate onions to sell;
I promise to use you well.
They make the blood warmer,
You’ll feed like a farmer;
For this is every cook’s opinion,
No savoury dish without an onion;
But, lest your kissing should be spoiled,
Your onions must be thoroughly boiled:
Or else you may spare
Your mistress a share,
The secret will never be known:
She cannot discover
The breath of her lover,
But think it as sweet as her own.
HERRINGS
Be not sparing,
Leave off swearing.
Buy my herring
Fresh from Malahide,
Better never was tried.
Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard,
Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard.
Come, sixpence a dozen, to get me some bread,
Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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He who walks through a field of onions, will smell like an onion.
Natural Artistry
Natural artistry
The onion domes against the sky
by morning light blush rosily.
Before the sun has risen high.
Resplendent in his majesty.
He paints the domes with gleaming gold.
Without finesse but lavishly.
His whole approach is overbold.
I prefer delicacy..
The pastel shades that I could see
before the blazing sun applied
his crude form of artistry
and hid the beauty from my eyes.
With coats of gold he misapplied,
that he believes mistakenly.
Will be pleasing to the eyes
of the vast majority.
Who only value opulence.
I could be wrong he may be right.
But I prefer the evidence
which is provided by my eyes.
Te golden glow the sun supplies
to onion domes is transient.
Although pleasing to most men’s eyes,
an artists eyes are different.
I keep my vigil faithfully
though I confess impatiently.
Tomorrow morning I shall see.
The onion domes bathed in beauty.
Before the sun can brutalise
with crass insensitivity.
The pastel colours dawn applies
to onion domes against the skies.
Thursday,27 May 2010 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Piccalilli (Revised)
Piccalilli - the pickle that zings with zest
and foretells my royal downfall, a roll
prepared with onion, cheese, egg n'
tomato, spiced liberally with piccalilli
One bite cost my common sense -
knowing full well white rolls make me
ill I ate with relish still; it tastes soooo
wonderful when one like me
Lives in a bland dish desert of safe
condiments in black pepper and coarse
salt - if I felt bad after Prego steaks, I
now adore a crazy piccalilli tang
An extravaganza returns to haunt me in
solitary confinement of official texts, head
throbbing, oh piccalilli, chopped veggies,
cheese and spice, enchanting, piquant
For the unrequited palate…
[ORIGINAL: ]
Piccalilli - the word just sings with zest
and zing - spells my downfall, when you
prepared a roll with golden onion, tomato
egg and cheese all spiced up with piccalilli
I took one bite and lost all common sense
knowing full well that white rolls make me
ill I went ahead and ate with relish, it tastes
wonderful to one like me who lives life
In a desert of bland dishes with black pepper
and coarse salt the only safe condiments - I
love Prego steaks, feel bad afterwards, now
adore the tangy taste of piccalilli
An extravaganza coming back to haunt me in
solitary confinement with official texts, head
throbbing; oh piccalilli, chopped vegetables
and spices enchanting and piquant
For the underprivileged palate…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Beef Wellington
Crisp is the crust flaked,
Surrounding the tenderloin sweeten meat.
That has been liver patéd...
With onion and mushroom,
Within this pastry doughed to eat.
And after heating in the oven,
Buttered and cooled...
This beef wellington's a treat!
When eaten is so hard to overrule.
And if you're using red wine,
The time to dine will find your guests...
Converted into hooked,
Finger licking lip smacking believers!
'That' they will confess.
When the stomach is delighted,
A joy lights up the eyes.
And never leave them.
With a taste of wellington,
The tongues of more than one will want..
Repeaters.
Of this good beefy meat...
Cooked to satisfy and treat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Meat to Eat
To care is too disastrous for me now,
I die, I die, and I did try this night
To stay alive, from warmth and anyhow,
Like supper; like them and then start to bite.
The steaks do taste with juice, like a melon,
But of the earth, of one small animal,
They happen in an instant - abandon!
One animal will be this abysmal.
I fry the onion, on a bright flame,
I eat those bagels as the little fool,
May seasons take a flame as a small game,
The onions, the onions are tool.
Let one of us so eat the plate in time,
Then share, then share with us, without a rhyme.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Battle
Dames should be doomed to dungeons
Who masticate raw onions.
She was the cuddly kind of Miss
A man can love to death;
But when I sought to steal a kiss
I wilted from a breath
With onion odour so intense
I lost my loving sense.
Yet she was ever in my thought
Like some exotic flower,
And so a garlic bulb I bought
And chewed it by the hour;
Then when we met I thrilled to see
'Twas she who shrank from me.
So breath to breath we battled there,
To dominate each other;
And though her onions odious were,
My garlic was a smother;
Till loth I said: 'If we would kiss
Let's call an armistice.
'Now we have proved that we are true
To our opinions,
My garlic I'll give up if you
Give up your onions.'
And so next day with honey sips
How sweet her lips!
poem by Robert William Service
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A World Yet Saved
When | you look at me...
...here's what I see:
a world without hate,
a world without fear,
a world without hunger and sickness and sin.
a world full of love,
a world full of cheer,
a world full of plenty and healing and joy.
When | God looks at us...
...here's what He sees:
a world stained with bad,
a world stained with wrong,
a world stained with blood debt of many a man.
a world filled with filth,
a world filled with soot,
yet a world saved by naught but the blood of Jesus.
Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 18
A hermit, having been invited by a padshah, concluded that if he were to take some medicine to make himself weak he might perhaps enhance the opinion of the padshah regarding his merits. But it is related that the medicine was lethal so that when he partook of it he died.
Who appeared to thee all marrow like a pistachio
Was but skin upon skin like an onion.
Devotees with their face towards the world
Say their prayers with their back to the Qiblah.
When a worshipper calls upon his God,
He must know no one besides God.
We would load up the yellow Cutlass Supreme station wagon and pick blackberries during blackberry season or spring onions during spring onion season. For us, food was part of the fabric of our day.
quote by Mario Batali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dare to dream.
dare to dream of far off lands,
dream of of deserts covered in sand,
dream of a future filled with hope,
dream of a place where evil never spoke.
dare to dream of powerful things,
dream of mighty and caring kings,
dream of a word without yells or wars,
dream of a world with open doors.
dream in colour not in black and white,
change the world without a fight,
shout out loud and may your voice be heard,
people will smile with your every word.
We are the generation of tomorrow, let us change the world.
poem by Zoe Martin
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Onion
My love is an onion naked and white
Peeled back from itself
Into it's selves
It conceals many lives
My love is the layer upon layer
The years in which we grew
Slowly and in perfect symmetry
Up from that first shoot
Anchored in the earth of first passion
sculpted in time into one clear white orb
Invincible
immeasurable
The depth and breadth of you and I
Knitted in silkness of flesh and form
And at that first touch
The first severing of ties
A parting sorrow
brings a rivulet of tears to thy celestial eye
Twixt pain and joy,
True love is born!
yvette smith march 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Ocean is as one with the world
As I Stare out into the Sea,
I can feel the soft oceans breeze
the warmth from the sun
the grass dances with the whistling wind
the ocean is filled with thoughts
and mysteries,
I feel the cool water
the ocean is alive filled with lost souls
washing emotions up onto the shore
My feet sink in the softness of the sand
The ocean is made up of dreams
and achievements,
My mind lies in the heart of the ocean
The rocks are bones
Out in the open the waves settle and
wait for their attack,
I feel as one with the ocean
as the ocean feels like one
with the world.
poem by Izabelle Sheridan
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Poetry 202....
it starts as a quiver of
a morning
strands of light carry
the sprouting words
to the bedroom
at night
even in the middle of sleep
words bloom
into flowers
perfume spreading in
the darkness of
my soul
it becomes a habit
a lifestyle
an addiction of the
divine
shedding off
some skin
like
an onion
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mrs Bryces Onions
mrs bryces onions
Unmentionable as from today
They say, they're turning grey
Once proud shiny roundy
To be foundy in most fertile groundies
Now rotten to the core
Mrs bryces onions are corrupted
DEAD
They are no more!
Withered battered shattered
cheated and defeated
by the flux of ever changing climes
No more the darling of affections
Left off from vegetable selections
In the glitzy superstore
Laid low and easily forgotten
Cos they're stinky black and rotten
Festering within the plot land
Mrs Bryces ONIONS, are no more!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Good intentions are not enough. They've never put an onion in the soup yet.
quote by Sonya Levien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sinister Exaggerator
Your life is leaning downhill
Sloping off the outer edge
Your undetermined oyster beds
Were found to be a hedge
You cause the kids of Elmer Fudd
To feed the farmer whose
Cadaver's filled with onion rings
And feet are filled with glue
Now sinister exaggerator
What's your claim to fame?
Is still your favorite Ferlingetti
Found in Auntie Maim?
Your alter life is superceded
Only from above
Your hear is like a silken sponge
That calls saliva love
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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