Jars
The second she was born, they put bits of her in jars,
placenta was the first, that went in the jar,
oh yah, it went straight in the jar.
Then when she was 4, her tonsils, what's more,
her adenoids too were all put in jars,
oh yah, they went straight in the jar.
Hospitals, such strange places, all antiseptic and large
and medics are prone to examine, you know,
all those bodily parts left in jars.
So getting back to the story, appendicitis was next,
and sure as the first two small stanza's
you can guess where appendix went next.
For a while they left her alone, in tact and therefore unharmed
but as soon as she turned 47
they put more of her bits in those jars.
Her uterus and her cervix along with her ovaries too
and next on the list was a very small cyst
that they put in a jar labeled blue.
By the time this poor lady was 60
there wasn't much left I'm afraid, but at least when she died
she was tiny and the coffin was perfect sized.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Related quotes
Fifty Marbels
Fifty years of marbeles
Pulled from our jars
One by one
Shared with the love of each other
We've watched as the years melted away
Oh how it seemed like only yesterday
When things were all brand new
Now after these fifty years
Whats left in our jars
Are meant for us to renew
All the good times togather
With all those we met on the way
For when the jars go empty
On to the Lord
We'll spend our days
poem by David Kush
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Down the Sweet Shop
The little corner shop
full of special treats
Chocolate, bottles of Pop,
and jars and jars of sweets.
With pocket money in hand
given to me by my Dad
sometimes a little bit extra
if he heard I'd been a good lad.
I really loved that little shop
it was every young boys dream
you could get everything you'd want
Football Cards, Toys, and Ice-Cream.
My dad used the shop as well
he'd pop in to buy his fags
and Mum did her weekly shop
she'd get me to help her with the bags.
Then along came the big supermarket
the little shop began to lose it's trade
so sadly it had to close it's doors
an end of an era again I'm afraid.
But I'll always remember the little shop
stood there at the bottom of our lane
yes it may have only been small
but it had more style than any supermarket chain!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Honey Room
Brother Al, in his hood,
is out in his field
making love to his bees.
From my room I can see him
move through his hives
the way people should move
among people.
The bees give him gold and the gold
turns orange in the jars
that he sells in a room
near the door of the abbey.
The Honey Room, everyone calls it.
Besides Brother Al, only I
go into that room full of honey.
I go in there and bend
and look through the jars
on the shelves and the sills
till there in the orange I see Sue
standing straight
in a field of her own
with a smile
for our garland of children.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Jars & Pickles
Jars and Pickles
Our George was a pickler,
pickles were his number,
pickled eggs and cucumbers,
and pickled meats for dinner.
He kept ‘em all in pickle jars,
some small, some large, some, round
and they were in his out house
where pickles would abound.
Some had pull tops, screw tops, twist,
some were sealed with paper, greased
and he'd strive to fill them up with treats
as his wife Lilly loved her treats.
Oh yes Lilly loved a pickle,
cauliflower was new and so
George would endeavour
to pickle quite a few.
Oh yes George loved to pickle
and finally broke through
when he made his dear wife Lilly
the proudest gal, tis true
for there upon the table,
all tied up with string
was a jar called Picalilly,
that made Lil's heart go zing!
poem by Ruth Walters
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Ah Me! Ah Me!
Ah, me! Ah, me! My weary doom to labour here in the Palace!
Seven good wine-jars have I - and three in my province.
There where they stand I have hung straight-stemmed gourds of the finest -
They turn to the West when the East wind blows,
They turn to the East when the West wind blows,
They turn to the North when the South wind blows,
They turn to the South when the North wind blows.
And there I sit watching them turning and turning forever-
Oh, my gourds! Oh, my wine-jars!
poem by Sugawara Takesue no Musume
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To an Aged Cut-Up, II
Chloris lay off the flapper stuff;
What's fit for Pholoë, a fluff,
Is not for Ibycus's wife--
A woman at your time of life!
Ignore, old dame, such pleasures as
The shimmy and "the Bacchus Jazz";
Your presence with the maidens jars--
You are the cloud that dims the stars.
Your daughter Pholoë may stay
Out nights on the Appian Way;
her love for Nothus, as you know,
Makes her as playful as a doe.
No jazz for you, no jars of wine,
No rose that blooms incarnadine.
For one thing only you are fit:
Buy some Lucerian wool--and knit!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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See And Feel
see how sun set and rise,
mix and melt colours of the sky
with the sars it will bright
see small stars,
as it could fit in the jars.
feel their shine,
you too will feel fine.
Leisure Time
see how sun set and rise,
mix and melt colours of the sky
with the sars it will bright
see small stars,
as it could fit in the jars.
feel their shine,
you too will feel fine.
Settled in Nettles
I remember climbing nettles-
Nettles climbing our wooden fence,
The excitement of touching,
The thrill of the blisters-
The red and the oozing
Beneath my long sleeves.
I remember nettle necklaces
Burning the fingers that linked
The green leaves- big green leaf
To big green leaf- How
My neck had red blotches
Itchy and sore. I scratched
And then bled and then wore fluffy scarves.
I remember Justin Whiles
Who scrunched up his face and bit
On his lip and tied me with rope
And dragged the green nettles
Over my skin and asked, 'Why
Did we do this again? '
And now in my cabinets are nettles
In jars- jar after jar- big glass
Jars, brimming with nettles,
Their thick green leaves.
And sometimes the night
Gets quiet and cold
And I walk to my cabinets
And pull down the jars
And pull out the nettles
And bite on the leaves
And bite and then chew
And then swallow the leaves-
Leaf after leaf-
Jar after jar-
Till the night's not so silent.
Till I throw up green mulch
In my hands.
poem by Alicia Adams
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I've never found that it jars to go back and forth.
quote by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Straight Through The Heart
You came on like an angel
I didnt see the evil in your eyes
I could see but I was blinded
Oh, believed your lies
You hit we with your promises
You shot me, I fell to the ground
Your promise of tomorrow
When I looked, you were
Nowhere to be found
You set me up right from the start
Stripped me of my dignity
You got me straight
Through the heart
I never did stand a chance
You got me straight
Through the heart
You cut me and left me for dead
You promised me a heaven
Turned out to be one hell all the time
The truth that youre pretending
Was just a chorus of lies
You set me up right from the start
Strip me of my dignity
And got me straight
Through the heart
I never did stand a chance
Got me straight through the heart
You cut me and left me for dead
You cut me and left me for dead
You came on like an angel
Just like an angel
You set me up
You got me straight
Through the heart
I never did stand a chance
Got me straight through the heart
You cut me, you left me
Straight through the heart
You never gave me a chance
Got me straight throught the heart
Im bleeding, youre leaving
Got me straight through the heart
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Dreams, My Works, Must Wait Till After Hell
I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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Straight Ahead
Day by day, dream by dream.
I fight to find the way to go.
Every day opens a different door.
Every dream shadows the one before.
But slowly I can see
The way youve made for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Carry on through the night,
When the road is hard to find.
Lying lights tell me to turn around.
Lying thoughts tell me Im lost not found.
But clearly I can see
Youre waiting there for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead).
Straight ahead (straight ahead), I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark (through the dark).
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead....
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alas! all music jars when the soul's out of tune.
quote by Miguel De Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Invitation To Tea (A Dark Comedy) Part 1
Charles Latimer visited the corner shop run by the Forbes sisters Charlotte and Grace almost every day. He could have collected his groceries in one visit, but the short intercourse of words they exchanged broke the emptiness in his life. As he entered the shop, the tiny bell above the door chimed.
Grace Forbes stood behind the counter. “Good morning Mr Latimer, ” she said. “What would you like today? ”
Good morning, Grace. I’ve written out a small list. My needs are not many as you know.” He replied and smiled.
“I’m surprised you never married. You would have made some lucky woman a wonderful husband.”
Charles Latimer felt his cheeks warm. “Would it be all right to leave the list and pick up my groceries later? ”
“Of course. Why, have you got a date with someone? ”
“In a manner of speaking. I feed the pigeons in the park every morning about this time. I must be going now.”
“We’ll have your groceries ready by the time you get back.”
“Thank you, ” he said, turned, and left.
Grace watched him leave. A sad unpretentious man whose clothes always seemed a size too large.
“Grace who were you talking to? ” Her sister asked entering the shop.
“Our Mr. Latimer, Charlotte. He has left a list.”
“It is a shame he never married.”
“Yes. He wasn’t fortunate to be blessed with a brother or sister neither. Such a same.”
“Maybe we should introduce him to Mr Potter.”
“I don’t think so. Not after the trouble we had with him after Mr Armad’s visit.”
“That is because he wasn’t English. Mr Potter doesn’t like foreigners. He found Mr Small and Mr Cummings quite agreeable, didn’t he? ”
“Yes.”
“He is bound to like Mr Latimer.” Charlotte smiled. “Now we must put up his groceries for him.”
To be continued…
poem by David Harris
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Cannibal after Dinner Talk
“Did you enjoy your rump steak Dannibal?
It was imported English teacher in jars, ”
“No I didn’t too tough Hannibal,
Must have spent too much time on her ‘R’s.”
poem by Ken e Hall
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