I Have Taken Your Slice Of Bread
i have taken your slice of bread
from the table
it is for you
as i have already eaten mine
early
this morning
forgive me
i have learned
to eat more
and took
without so much
thinking
your share
the slice of bread
one half bigger
than mine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Just A Taste Of Life
what i have in my hand
is a slice of pineapple
it is sweet
its sweetness lingers
in my tongue
and sticks to my brain
it is simply a slice
just a taste of this bigger life
ahead of us
i have another slice
to hand to you
take it
why waste some time
on bitter herbs
and sour grapes?
what i have is just a slice
of sweet pineapple
take it now
it is sweet
what do we have next?
we shall wait and see
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Recipe For A Hippopotamus Sandwich
A hippo sandwich is easy to make.
All you do is simply take
One slice of bread,
One slice of cake,
Some mayonnaise
One onion ring,
One hippopotamus
One piece of string,
A dash of pepper -
That ought to do it.
And now comes the problem…
Biting into it!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Appetizers For The Day
just a slice of green raw mango
to fill my thirst
a morsel of bread to satisfy hunger
a thin slice of onion
to invigorate the eye
red hot chili for my tongue
rosemary and thyme for my smell
finally a burp for the final sound.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The King's Breakfast
The King's Breakfast
The King asked
The Queen, and
The Queen asked
The Dairymaid:
"Could we have some butter for
The Royal slice of bread?"
The Queen asked the Dairymaid,
The Dairymaid
Said, "Certainly,
I'll go and tell the cow
Now
Before she goes to bed."
The Dairymaid
She curtsied,
And went and told
The Alderney:
"Don't forget the butter for
The Royal slice of bread."
The Alderney
Said sleepily:
"You'd better tell
His Majesty
That many people nowadays
Like marmalade
Instead."
The Dairymaid
Said, "Fancy!"
And went to
Her Majesty.
She curtsied to the Queen, and
She turned a little red:
"Excuse me,
Your Majesty,
For taking of
The liberty,
But marmalade is tasty, if
It's very
Thickly
Spread."
The Queen said
"Oh!:
And went to
His Majesty:
"Talking of the butter for
The royal slice of bread,
Many people
Think that
Marmalade
Is nicer.
Would you like to try a little
Marmalade
Instead?"
The King said,
"Bother!"
And then he said,
"Oh, deary me!"
The King sobbed, "Oh, deary me!"
And went back to bed.
"Nobody,"
He whimpered,
"Could call me
A fussy man;
I only want
A little bit
Of butter for
My bread!"
The Queen said,
"There, there!"
And went to
The Dairymaid.
The Dairymaid
Said, "There, there!"
And went to the shed.
The cow said,
"There, there!
I didn't really
Mean it;
Here's milk for his porringer,
And butter for his bread."
The Queen took
The butter
And brought it to
His Majesty;
The King said,
"Butter, eh?"
And bounced out of bed.
"Nobody," he said,
As he kissed her
Tenderly,
"Nobody," he said,
As he slid down the banisters,
"Nobody,
My darling,
Could call me
A fussy man -
BUT
I do like a little bit of butter to my bread!"
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Today... 'Bread
Manna of Heaven coming from God
walked with us and earths pathways trod.
Come let's taste and see that the Lord is good
and not just settle for plain earthly food
There is Bread that God to mankind did give
So that we might all eat of it and live.
The Body of Christ is that Bread given
The Bread of Life that came down from heaven.
This Bread was stricken and smitten of God
when up the hill of Calvary He trod.
He was wounded and broken there for me
bore the price of sin that I might go free.
I've been to communion with You Lord
Broke the Bread in accordance with Your Word.
No bread of earth tasted so sweet and fair
as the bread I broke supping with You there
Such a feast was set by God before men
sweet Bread and wine laid upon the table then.
Bread broken for iniquities of mine
and into the cup poured the blood red wine
As I broke the bread Lord, I heard You say
'This is my body broken for you that day.'
Then I closed my eyes and I saw You Lord
hanging for me upon the cross of wood.
I heard You cry in pain and agony
Shout 'My God why have you forsaken me.'
Then 'Father forgive them ', I heard You say
for those that drove the nails in deep that day.
Your body bearing the sins of mankind
was wounded for these transgressions of mine.
Bowing Your head becoming Broken Bread
as You bore the wrath of God in my stead.
Broken for me was that Heavenly Bread
for my sins You suffered and You bled.
Wondrous love has been shown my God to me
for I'm saved by Your death at Calvary.
Praise God for the Bread that came from Heaven.
Praise God for the life that He has given.
Grace and mercy He lavished upon me
when the Bread was broken upon that tree.
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
Inside the House of Bread
Everyone has a table inside the house of bread
Pouring in into the chairs the fish have come to roost
Its already started to happen inside the house of bread
Feasting and Forever enough to go around the table.
And I keep to myself in the age of all this water
We can share an ocean but don’t drink from my open well
I wont mind sharing in the house of bread
Everyone at the table deserves to be fed
poem by James Daniel Gabriel
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Critical Notebook 1.
in the small shop
adult people
they are doing
the shopping
on a graph-paper
exercise book
owner lightly
is smiling
he will
sometimes add
the free slice
of bread
this bread
is tasting
best with tears
when quietly you
are cutting with
the sharp knife
...
poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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How Should Mornings Be?
a cup of roasted coffee
a toast of bread
butter and marmalade
a slice of orange
some lima beans
a little music
some prayers
how nice would a morning be
overjoyed
by your presence
sipping same things all over again
with us
how can such a morning be so boring?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Matter Of Crust
Some bread, you can get bargain-priced
And every loaf you buy begins with a singular slice
But you know it will go stale again
Always does, its just a question of when
Ive lived long enough to have learned
The longer it stays in the toaster, the more it gets burned
But that cant happen to us
Because its always been a matter of crust
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crumbs Leftover
Every dime I find to claim,
Will be mine...
In the playing of today' game.
Sharing to give pieces of it away,
Had been a possibility 'yesterday'.
But the hours spent giving,
In those gift giving days...
Seems to have disappeared,
With the greeting of others...
With the showing of respect!
By no means am I greedy.
Or centered with a fixed selfishness.
I've learned to adopt survivalistic instincts.
And myself I will not neglect.
Every dime I find to claim,
Will be mine...
In the playing of today' game.
Today many observe a penny earned is worthless.
When a saving of them,
Will not end one's craving...
For a slice of buttered bread.
Or crumbs leftover to throw to birds,
Heard chirping while being fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Come Live With Me
(ray charles)
Come live with me and be my love
Share my bread and wine
Be a part of me, the heart of me
Be mine
Come live with me and be my love
Let our dreams combine
Be wife to me, be life to me
Be mine
With these hands I will build a roof
To shield your head
And with these hands I will carve the wood
For our babys bed
Come live with me and be my love
And let me love you all the time
Be mate to me, be fate to me
Be mine
I will try to do my best for you
I swear, I promise you
I will cry for you, I will comfort you
My whole life through
Come live with me and be my love
Share my bread and wine
Be a part of me, be the heart of me
Be mine
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry as bread - In the spirit of Rumi 28
Poetry is like bread – daily bread,
like ‘Irish’ soda bread, best eaten on its day:
In the bakery of the heart and mind,
the baker’s woken early before dawn,
refreshed and clear of purpose, full of the day’s promise;
brings air to flour, moulds and shapes;
as the sun rises, so the bread.
Here it is, warm from the heart,
smell it – this is the smell of goodness, isn’t it?
Touch it, both crisp and soft by turns;
taste its goodness, beauty, truth, its very being;
this is not yesterday’s bread, with which you toy
while waiting between courses, your head’s straying mind
in a thousand other places; this is here and now;
coming warm from the heart; eat it with your heart;
this is the heart’s nourishment; tomorrow it may serve
tomorrow’s mind; today, it is your daily bread,
your nourishment – this poem, warm from heart to heart.
And when you've eaten it - the bread has disappeared -
only your satisfaction remains, beyond all sense;
as these words, already staling on the page,
exposed to all the wanderings of the mind;
only the love that they were made with, still remains;
this, is your daily bread.
[from a metaphor in Rumi's writings]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Transubstantiation
I NOW EAT
a slice of this flesh
this bread
i now drink his blood
this wine
yet what do i really see?
it is not what i see
stupid.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hand
the hand on my heart
feels a lot like you,
the shadow of the stranger,
feels like clothes i have worn.
the cup on the table
is waiting to be filled.
on the plate a slice of burnt bread,
and the clock's stuck at six.
sounds i didnt hear before
resonate in the stillness.
the taste clings to my lips,
the old worn curtain blows.
and i cant for the life of me
remember what i was thinking.
my heart feels frozen
by the hand on the door!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Recognition: Now Your Silence Is Always Part Of Me
Now your silence is always part of me,
where you lie naked on the examination table
before they slice you open after your death
and much too quickly life frolics past
and now I want it so much differently.
Now your silence is always part of me,
with past moments that I cannot avoid,
when a holy man says some words from scripture,
before they slice you open after your death
and totally separated are you and I
where my hand rests on your breast,
now your silence is always part of me,
you that once full of life, carelessly free
could bind your love as a oath to me,
before they slice you open after your death
and I wonder what remains in these moments
where I have to lie down that, which had been between us,
now your silence is always part of me,
before they slice you open after your death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Slice Myself Like A Loaf Of Bread
i slice myself like a loaf of bread
so that you can have the best of me
spread out with all the things that you love
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Pane Caldo
Rising in the morning
like warm bread,
from a bed
in America,
the aroma
of my baking
reaches you
in Italy,
rocking in your boat
near the Ponte Longo,
cutting through the glitter
of yesterday's moonlight
on your sunstruck
canal.
My delicious baker-
it is you
who have made
this hot bread
rise.
It is you
who have split the loaf
and covered it with butter.
I prayed to the moon
streaking the still lagoon
with her skyblue manna;
I prayed for you
to sail into my life,
parting the waters,
making them whole.
And here you come,
half captain, half baker-
& the warm aroma of bread
crosses
the ocean
we share.
poem by Erica Jong
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Any Way You Slice It
I caught the tail of a hurricane and Ive never ever been the same
I went out on a limb, gotcha under my skin, well alright
You got dirt under your fingernails
What Im thinkin can land me in jail
Well, youre caught in this trap and you can never go back
Well, oh no no
I know you wanna cross the border and you know the doctors orders
Well its better late than never, cant stay innocent forever
Its alright, its alright, yeah
Any way you slice it, any way you slice it
You know you cant deny it, any way you slice it
Youre hot under the collar
Aint your mothers little daughter anymore
Ooh, aint no wolf on the corner, cant keep it in any longer
Well if youre lookin for bliss
What I got you cant miss, well alright
When it works like a charm itll do you no harm
Youll be in heaven tonight
I know youll feel alright
Any way you slice it, any way you slice it
You know you cant deny it, any way you slice it
I know whats in your heart, I know whats in your mind
Any way you slice it, any way you slice it
You know you cant deny it, any way you slice it
Youre hot under the collar
Aint your mothers little daughter anymore
I know you wanna cross the border and you know the doctors orders
Well its better late than never, cant stay innocent forever
No, no, no, no
Yeah, alright
Well, if I told you once, I told you twice
Just listen, babe, and take my advice
Why settle for seconds when you can have the best
So let me be your king bee, I want your hornets nest
Any way you slice it, any way you slice it
You know you cant deny it, any way you slice it
I know whats in your heart, I know whats in your mind, yeah
Any way you slice it, any way you slice it
I know you cant deny it, any way you slice it
Youre hot under the collar
Aint your mothers little daughter anymore
You know you aint your mothers little daughter anymore
Any way, ooh hoo
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 37
A dervish arrived in a place, the owner of which was of a noble disposition, and had surrounded himself with a company of distinguished and eloquent men, each of whom uttered something elegant or jocular, according to the fashion of wits. The dervish who had travelled through the desert and was fatigued had eaten nothing. One of the company asked him by way of encouragement likewise to say something. The dervish replied: ‘I do not possess distinction and eloquence like you and have read nothing so you must be satisfied with one distich of mine.’ The company having agreed with pleasure he recited:
‘I am hungry and opposite to a table of food
Like a bachelor at the door of a bath of females.’
The company, having thus been apprised of his famished condition, produced a table with bread but as he began to eat greedily the host said: ‘Friend, at any rate stop a while till my servants roast some minced meat’; whereon the dervish lifted his head and recited:
‘Do not order pounded meat for my table.
To a pounded man simple bread is pounded meat.’
As The Red Wine Into The Cup Is Poured
Christ the Lamb upon the alter stone.
Christ the sacrifice to atone.
Christ's blood, the wines a token.
Christ the bread that was broken.
As the grape was crushed to make the wine
so Christ was crushed for sins of mine.
As the red wine into the cup was poured
so Christ for me His blood outpoured.
As the bread was broken that we share
so Christ was broken upon the cross there.
'Father forgive, ' I hear Him cry
so I could live He was willing to die.