Contentment
Bed and bread are all I need
In my happy day;
Love of Nature is my creed,
Unto her I pray;
Sun and sky my spirit feed
On my happy way.
To no man I bow the head,
None may master me;
I will eat my crust of bread
Lauding liberty;
And upon my truckle bed
Glory to be free.
You who grab for sordid gold,
You who fight for fame,
Shiny dross your fingers hold,
Empty is your aim.
--Soon we fatten graveyard mould,
Rich and poor the same.
So from world of want and woe
I retreat with dread;
Tuned to Nature glad I go
With my bite of bread:
Praising God I lay me low
On my truckle bed.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Our Daily Bread
"Give me my daily bread.
It seems so odd,
When all is done and said,
This plea to God.
To pray for cake might be
The thing to do;
But bread, it seems to me,
Is just our due.
"Give me my daily toil,"
I ought to say -
(If from life's cursed coil
I'd time to pray.)
Give me my daily sweat,
My body sore,
So that bread I may get
To toil for more.
"Give me my daily breath,"
Through half a sob,
Until untimely death
Shall end my job.
A crust for my award,
I cry in dread:
"Grant unto me. Oh Lord,
My daily bread!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feathers on head
The one who sings on God does so for one’s bread.
The one who spells gospel does so for one’s bread.
The one who serves God does so for one’s bread.
You give them bread and keep them on your head.
16.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Neighbours
My neighbour has a field of wheat
And I a rood of vine;
And he will give me bread to eat,
And I will give him wine.
And so we are a jolly pair,
Contentedly unwed,
Singing with supper as we share
Red wine and crusty bread.
Now venison is mighty meat
And so is trout and hare;
A mallard duck is sweat to eat
And quail is dainty fare.
But such are foods for festal day,
And we will not repine
While on the table we can lay
Crisp bread and rosy wine.
A will to till one's own of soil
Is worth a kingly crown,
With bread to feed the belly need,
And wine to wash it down.
So with my neighbour I rejoice
That we are fit and free,
Content to praise with lusty voice
Bread, Wine and Liberty.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crying For Bread
"Please, lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
The suit fits you splendidly--that you'll allow.
Oh! don't say tomorrow! I see you are going;
But this will not hinder long--please pay me now.
Ma work'd all night for you! ev'ry minute;
Now she lies groaning with pain in her head;
And there by the pantry (with not a thing in it),
Sits poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
"On! driver, on! they have all gone before us,
And I will not be late at the ball," Beauty said;
And wintry winds echoed her answer in chorus
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!
"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
I'll run and get change for you. Don't call me bold--
But how could you dance tonight all the time knowing
That we were left suffering, hungry and cold?
Ma looks so wild! she keeps calling for Daisy;
That was the name of my sister that's dead.
Oh! what shall I do, with my Ma going crazy,
And poor little Theodore cryiing for bread?
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
She must have some medicine--that let me buy.
Now, don't speak of beggars! 'tis money you're owing:
Do please, pay me part of it--else we must die."
On the wheels roll'd, and Fidele returned weeping;
Ah! in her absence a spirit had fled,
And morning light found her a weary watch keeping,
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Bread Hair
Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Vagabond
HE was old and alone, and he sat on a stone to rest for awhile from the road:
His beard was white, and his eye was bright, and his wrinkles overflowed
With a mild content at the way life went; and I closed the book on my knee:
'I will venture a look in this living book,' I thought, as he greeted me.
And I said: ' My friend, have you time to spend to tell me what makes you glad?'
'Oh, ay, my lad,' with a smile; 'I'm glad that I'm old, yet am never sad!'
'But why?' said I; and his merry eye made answer as much as his tongue;
'Because,' said he, 'I am poor and free who was rich and a slave when young.
There is naught but age can allay the rage of the passions that rule men's lives;
And a man to be free must a poor man be, for unhappy is he who thrives:
He fears for his ventures, his rents and debentures, his crops, and his son, and his wife;
His dignity's slighted when he's not invited; he fears every day of his life.
But the man who is poor, and by age has grown sure that there are no surprises in years,
Who knows that to have is no joy, nor to save, and who opens his eyes and his ears
To the world as it is, and the part of it his, and who says: They are happy, these birds,
Yet they live day by day in improvident way—improvident? What were the words
Of the Teacher who taught that the field-lilies brought the lesson of life to a man?
Can we better the thing that is school-less, or sing more of love than the nightingale can?
See that rabbit—what feature in that pretty creature needs science or culture or care?
Send this dog to a college and stuff him with knowledge, will it add to the warmth of his hair?
Why should mankind, apart, turn from Nature to Art, and declare the exchange better-planned?
I prefer to trust God for my living than plod for my bread at a master's hand,
A man's higher being is knowing and seeing, not having and toiling for more;
In the senses and soul is the joy of control, not in pride or luxurious store.
Yet my needs are the same as the kingling's whose name is a terror to thousands: some bread,
Some water and milk,—I can do without silk,—some wool, and a roof for my head.
What more is possest that will stand the grim test of death's verdict? What riches remain
To give joy at the last, all the vanities past?—Ay, ay, that's the word—they are vain
And vexatious of spirit to all who inherit belief in the world and its ways.
And so, old and alone, sitting here on a stone, I smile with the birds at the days.'
And I thanked him, and went to my study, head bent, where I laid down my book on its shelf;
And that day all the page that I read was my age, and my wants, and my joys, and myself.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Bread is wiser
Butter is richer than bread
But can’t replace bread.
But butter is better with bread
For which is not sad the bread.
Wives are not wiser than bread.
05.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Picture Of Greed
on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread
on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread
a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread
then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth
the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile. It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see. and the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.
quote by Vincent de Paul
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Sexy Ginger Bread Man
On his body is a ginger bread thong
To soften you up he sings a sweet sugar song
If you hit on him he’ll play along
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
He’ll seduce you with candy wine
One a scale from 1-10 he is a 9
Girls look at him and say, “He’s so fine”
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
On his face are peanut butter eyes
He has powdered sugar on his manly thighs
He will reel you in with his seductive lies
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
On this neck is a chain of candy
Around the house he can be handy
If you add frosting he can be pretty randy
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
Out of the batch he is the pick
He has a giant ginger bread stick
It has rainbow sprinkles on it
He’s the sexy ginger bread man
You bite the chain and swallow the thong
Eat the stick which is very long
You gobble him up till he’s all gone
NO MORE sexy ginger bread man
poem by Paul Celano
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Now they have come to the place where their faith can no longer feed on the bread of repression and violence. They ask for the bread of liberty, of public equality, and public responsibility. It must not be denied them.
quote by Mordecai Wyatt Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Bread is All, Baby
If bread is all, baby,
the fat man on the corner
has a ticket to heaven
in his billfold -
If bread is all, baby,
the rich boy with the car
keeps love stashed
in his glovebox -
If bread is all, baby,
the man with the big house
decorates its rooms
with ecstasies -
But if you think so, baby,
why did you read this?
poem by John Libertus
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Work Hard,
Work Hard,
Work hard and strive on and on,
This is the Living Bread that Hold's this Conscience,
It is only through me that I find Trust worth an Honour,
Living with that Bread,
I take the reward as the Great Covenant from God,
work hard on earth like Birds that build nest with Honour,
Work hard regardless of Status,
Was is a Disillusion of God's Trust towards Mankind,
Whilst Iam taking this Bread that I may feed on the GOOD spirit.
poem by Abdul Karim
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Biscuits and Bread
Though moulded of the same dough,
were all cast of a different mould,
most rise soft and springy as bread,
other misfits end up as biscuits instead,
yet none wants to be the thing that they were born and bred,
to be,
and it baffles me, the irony,
that though there's time for each,
in any ordinary bakery,
bread soon tries to harden,
and winds up stale instead,
and biscuits crumble, become brittle,
soon as they try to soften,
and be bread.
poem by Kevin Gachuma Waithaka
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An Autumn Reverie
Alas! Beautiful Summer now hath fled,
And the face of Nature doth seem dead,
And the leaves are withered, and falling off the trees,
By the nipping and chilling autumnal breeze.
The pleasures of the little birds are all fled,
And with the cold many of them will be found dead,
Because the leaves of the trees are scattered in the blast,
And makes the feathered creatures feel downcast.
Because there are no leaves on the trees to shield them from the storm
On a windy, and rainy, cloudy morn;
Which makes their little hearts throb with pain,
By the chilling blast and the pitiless rain.
But still they are more contented than the children of God,
As long as they can pick up a worm from the sod,
Or anything they can get to eat,
Just, for instance, a stale crust of bread or a grain of wheat.
Oh! Think of the little birds in the time of the snow,
Also of the little street waifs, that are driven to and fro,
And trembling in the cold blast, and chilled to the bone,
For the want of food and clothing, and a warm home.
Besides think of the sorrows of the wandering poor,
That are wandering in the cold blast from door to door;
And begging, for Heaven's sake, a crust of bread,
And alas! Not knowing where to lay their head.
While the rich are well fed and covered from the cold,
While the poor are starving, both young and old;
Alas! It is the case in this boasted Christian land,
Where as the rich are told to be kind to the poor, is God's command.
Oh! Think of the working man when he's no work to do,
Who's got a wife and family, perhaps four or two,
And the father searching for work, and no work can be had,
The thought, I'm sure, 'tis enough to drive the poor man mad.
Because for his wife and family he must feel,
And perhaps the thought thereof will cause him to steal
Bread for his family, that are starving at home,
While the thought thereof makes him sigh heavily and groan.
Alas! The pangs of hunger are very hard to hide,
And few people can their temper control,
Or become reconciled to their fate,
Especially when they cannot find anything to eat.
Oh! Think of the struggles of the poor to make a living,
Because the rich unto them seldom are giving;
Wereas they are told he that giveth to the poor lendeth unto the Lord,
But alas! they rather incline their money to hoard.
Then theres the little news-vendors in the street,
Running about perhaps with bare feet;
And if the rich chance to see such creatures in the street,
In general they make a sudden retreat.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Work Hard on Labours,
Work Hard on Labours,
Work hard and strive on and on,
This is the Living Bread that Hold's this Conscience,
It is only through me that I find Trust worth an Honour,
Living with that Bread,
I take the reward as the Great Covenant from God,
work hard on earth like Birds that build nest with Honour,
Work hard regardless of Status,
War is a Disillusion of God's Trust towards Mankind,
Whilst Iam taking this Bread that I may feed on the GOOD WITNESS SPIRIT agains't evil from Birds.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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)
Bold Sky
For he is awkward from the sky so bold,
Felt happy as a fool so long and hard,
Let poems be! Let strength win debarred,
So great is laughter, then the laugh controlled.
My laughter loves my life to trust as gold,
This sentence came tonight I can bombard,
This yard will show my very old graveyard,
In order to then read my lines, the mould.
This rock I found from skies and earth and storm
Shall feed my life, shall live a long long time,
To still be rocks that warn us for the length now.
My real bread stung by bees not giving form
Is being rocks, the sky so bold and prime,
The fields claw at fire, disallow!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Heavenly Banquet
I went to the heavenly banquet
The table that Jesus had set.
and broke the bread and drank the wine
nourishing this poor soul of mine.
Then my spirit soared heavenward
as before His table I stood
knowing that He loved me so much
experiencing His tender touch.
I felt complete and satisfied
there with Jesus the crucified.
The wine was rich, the bread so sweet
as I worshipped there at His feet.
My soul fed very well that day
as I journeyed upon my way.
and back into my home I went
my spirit feeling so content.
Shiny Happy People
Shiny happy people laughing
Meet me in the crowd
People people
Throw your love around
Love me love me
Take it into town
Happy happy
Put it in the ground
Where the flowers grow
Gold and silver shine
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing
Everyone around love them, love them
Put it in your hands
Take it take it
Theres no time to cry
Happy happy
Put it in your heart
Where tomorrow shines
Gold and silver shine
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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