Upon Hearing That A Lawyer Dies Of Tongue Cancer
i sent my sympathies
and notes of condolences
some flowers and
a big wreath for the
death of a lawyer
suffering from cancer
of the tongue
the delivery boy who
carries it to the place
where the dead body lies
tells the other delivery boy
carrying the flowers
his tongue deserves it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I’m Proud Of Having A NORMAL Delivery
Child birth,
Which one is healthier;
And happier?
Is it natural delivery
or Ceasarian delivery?
One is (self) delivered,
another is (surgeon's help) to be delivered;
One is delivery by individual and self,
Another is a procedure carried out by surgeon
through Caesarian section;
A mother once said, I heard,
This is my child
I delivered this child;
I felt the pain,
enjoyed the pain,
with trembling of my thighs;
I am proud of having a NORMAL delivery,
It is a pleasant experience for everybody.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curious Delivery Indeed
Average duration of
Human pregnancy is 273 days
We heard of a delivery
Just a day's back
And delivery took place
After 255 days
Though seemingly premature
It was not at all
But a perfect delivery
As expected
All safe and fine
Normally a child has one mother only
But a lot of mothers delivered this
And it was delivered not at home,
Hospital, operation theatre,
Why it was not delivered on earth
It was delivered at a place
Which can be reached
Only after 255 days of travel
And at times speeding at
Twenty thousand kilometers per hour
No doctor, nurse why for that matter
No one attended the delivery
All were remotely controlled
Yet the delivery was safe
The child landed smooth
Descending gently
On the land
And believe the child is already
On the move
Taking photographs
Collecting samples
Doing anything which its mothers
Ask it to do remotely controlling
Its each movement
Let us congratulate the mothers
Who conceived the child
And let us complement them
For safely delivering it
Let us wish they conceive similar children
And deliver them at farther destinations
Let us pray that the child
Named curiosity
Stay there healthily and longer
And keep performing assigned tasks
On the surface of mars, the planet
Curious delivery indeed
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rhythm Delivery
Im gonna ring your bell
Because I got your number
Im gonna knock as well
We got a rhythm delivery
Im gonna stomp and yell
We gonna bring a drummer
We gotta beat that swell
We got a rhythm delivery
Babe, Im gonna cheer you up
Set your table, fill your cup
Dont you think I should come up
Check that I got what you wanted
So get it while its hot
And get it while its jumpin
Cause if youre in or not
We got a rhythm delivery
Yes, Im gonna rock your soul
You will go to high from low
You from swell will go to hip
But honey, dont forget my tip
So get it while its hot
And get it while its jumpin
Cause if youre in or not
I got a rhythm delivery
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tongues
the tongue
of my body
is in the nerves
the tongue
of my soul
in the heart
the tongue of
my mind
in the head
the tongue
of truth and deceits
in the mouth
the tongue of
the World (Creation)
in the words
of God
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And I think the rolling polls put more pressure on them to sustain their beliefs and to improve their delivery of the policy and their delivery of the ideas so that they can garner support for whatever principle they're articulating.
quote by Jim Bolger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yami
Every tongue shall tell me that you do love me so,
Come to my sweet home oh Yami and let me show you my love;
For you are like a special delivery that came to me!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tongue Bath
Yeah, (ohhh), we got the hood rats in the house right
(Would you like a tongue bath babe)
They say they like tongue bath (from the back)
So, uh, we went and got Methron
But of course, it's the Ying-Yang Twins
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that's the way I like it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Forget about that Summer we stretched straight thuggin it up
In the tongue bath world we was loving it up
I've been told by the eye we were holding each other
To the room, sexual, of the Isley Brothers
Sippin' Alazez and Hennessee, straight thug passion
Licking nipples, got you gigglin', so you started to laugh
And now it's getting so erotic baby
All of a sudden so I'm kissing on your body baby
Admit it babb
See baby a tongue bath is what I like
Lick me up, lick me down, curve my appetite
Let me open up my legs, show me what you got
The way you licking on my body's got me really hot
And I'm loving the way you lick me though
Do it little daddy, let your tongue take control
You got me shaking like hell when you're licking my toes
From the top to the bottom, make your tongue roll
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
Anyway you want it, I'm with it
I just wanna get up in it
(You want a tongue bath, you need a tongue bath)
Let me see you freak your body
I won't stop until you get enough
A tongue bath, from the back
Oh yes, that'
song performed by by Ying Yang Twins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song from Aella
O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Black his cryne as the winter night,
White his rode as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cole he lies in the grave below:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the brier'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Here upon my true-love's grave
Shall the barren flowers be laid;
Not one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
With my hands I'll dent the briers
Round his holy corse to gre:
Ouph and fairy, light your fires,
Here my body still shall be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
Drain my heartès blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
poem by Thomas Chatterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mumble Syndrome (Fun Poem 104)
Do you ever get one of those days
when the brain runs amok
and the tongue won’t get into gear
and all you can utter is gibberish
for the whole world to hear.
I think we all know some politicians
that could easily fit that bill.
They call it the mumble syndrome
and we all get a touch of it sometimes
and always when we least expect it.
The bridegroom at his wedding
gets up to make a toast to his in-laws
when his brain starts to race
and his tongue isn’t quick enough
and he forgets the in-laws name
and starts to toast someone else.
Then there is the proposal
and the guy gets down on one knee
with his delivery ready.
The brain begins to go berserk
and his tongue goes in a different direction.
He begins to ask someone
with a different name if she will marry him.
I remember trying to learn a new dance once
and my wife said to me.
“You weren’t doing it right.”
“But I was, my feet were doing it
but my boots weren’t.”
And the mumble syndrome struck again
only this time with me.
15 July 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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End Of A Life
The End of a Life
There were many flowers on her grave
from family, friends and foes.
they feared her lashing tongue.
The evening and night were cold,
in the morning the flowers looked
white and bloodless.
Why does it has to end like this
In utter silence it is as she had never lived.
The morning traffic is heavy
Friday, the week is coming to an end
and no one will ever know her wisdom,
the suffering she had endured.
And if remembered, she was the old woman
who spoke the truth
No one wanted to hear.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Poets charter
One type of poem
And that is life.
One type of delivery
And that is time delivery.
The aim of life
is only one
that is to live
objective of life
is to maintain
peace and harmony.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gossips warning
Gossips warning
~
The forked tongue of the gossip
Carries a serpents poison
Spreading words with malice
Without truth or substance
The thought they conceive
Birth pain and hatred in the innocent
Lies, lies and more lies
All in the name of a good story
Little whispers and messages
Behind the back of others
May as well be sharpened knives
Et tu good friend
No look to the eyes
No questions for honesty
Just the vile poisoned tongue
The bile of the gossip
Now facing a stark warning
Do not cross the poet
poem by Matthew Holloway
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To The Copse
Return to the copse withering like green flowers,
Staying remains the locality, the flowers of seeds.
A blushing blinding pain subjugates to the excess,
Oily flesh ruptures reverently and blisters remake themselves.
A dead body has remained for a long time,
Features are like cracks fully intimidating to the local flesh
Of bodies passing by the copse of greenery and flowers.
Cracking over them are flies too hard to find elsewhere,
Lulling them means paying the penalty of death,
For you die when observing the dead, the plain dead
Of the copse, the corpse to fly never from this locality.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Testimony
'Tis not the fellowship or worship service
Nor the strength of your sermon delivery
Nor the power in your prayers offered
That testifies of your faith in God.
'Tis not your doctrinal scholarship
Nor the depth of your exposition
Nor the eloquence in your delivery
That speaks of your faith in Christ.
'Tis the life you lead moment to moment,
Your conduct in all your activities, great or small,
Your life in your secret hiding place,
The very intentions and motives in your dealings:
These testify of your faith in God
And speak of your walk with Christ.
poem by Oyekake Satty Joshua
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The mute singer
She cut out her tongue
So she could sing
Those unheard songs
sung
She cut out her tongue
So silently
She could unspeak herself
Free, from prison words
She cut out her tongue
So that her soul could catch the light
And let it run
Through her body transparent
Prism shining out
She cut out her tongue
To free her self
From her self
Completion
Knitted under the skin of silence
Flying unseen
Into unexplored horizons
Without
Mother
Country
Point of
Trace
She cut out her tongue
To see the eyes
Behind the face
yvette m smith sept 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: LXXXV
THE SAME CONTINUED
These flowers shall be my offering, living flowers
Which here shall die with you in sacrifice,
Flowers from the empty fields which once were yours
And now are mine. No gold, nor myrrh, nor spice,
Nor any dead man's offering may suffice.
I love not flowers: but thus to deck a grave
Which has no need of things of greater price.
Life is the only tribute death would have.
--Ah, thou art dead. Mine is this fair domain
With all its living beauty and brave shows
Of lawn, and lake, and garden; mine the increase
Of the year's harvest, the slow growth of trees,
And that fair natural wealth we loved in vain,
Flowers, which shall never more adorn my house.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Faith With Works
Bridle the tongue,
And be the doers of the law than the hearers;
Of a beastly system,
The tongue is like a fire!
It is an unruly evil and no man can tame it.
The tongue,
You need faith with works to be saved;
The tongue,
Faith without works is dead.
Like a thief in the night,
Do turn your hearts from hatred and turn to love and mercy.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Flowers
When you're sitting there, in your silk upholstered cahir
Talkin' to some rich folk that you know.
I hope you won't see me, and my ragged company
Cause you know I could never be alone
Take me down little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning,
Send me dead flowers by th U.S. Mail,
Send me dead flowers to my wedding,
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave.
When you're sitting back, in your rose pink, Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby day
I'll be in my basement room, with a needle, and a spoon
And another whore to take my pain away
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
Take me down, little Susie take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground.
And you can send me dead flowers every morning.
Send me dead flowers by the U.S Mail.
Say it with dead flowers in my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave
No, I won't forget to put roses on your grave
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heady
The heady heart dives with delivery,
And, floating softly and with confusion,
A passion overtakes the being of wonderment,
A heart heckles other hearts.
Amazed by anger, a ritual readies itself,
To obstruct an already great object
And to interfere with this dalliance brought on,
A war has guaranteed its delivery.
Hours of this Past have been dissolved,
Catching sight of a life in ruins,
Causing sharp griefs and wild sensations,
This is only a woe so ever-lasting.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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