Honoured For Nose
My nose is running, having congestion.
Have to visit doctor for medication.
Loosing taste of mouth, cannot smell rose
But my friend is honoured of his nose.
He is sensitive to the surrounding,
In his duty he proved outstanding,
Being very daring and composed,
Last year promoted to senior post.
A special task he was assigned,
With the police team combined,
On the eve of holidays of new year,
To patrol at venues every where.
Venues suspected were at risk,
Concealed explosive he frisked,
Was planted in a crowded place,
The suspect was thereafter chased.
If the explosive was exploded
Lives of many could have eroded,
Diligence of the sniffer saved those,
So honoured for his amazing nose.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Related quotes
Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Nose
No one cares for the nose
To go nose straight is the tao
If there were no eyes
You could see better with your nose
If there were no nose
you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter
And there would be no value judgements in the world
And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold
And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad
The nose is the vigilant customs officer
That does not allow any drug to your lungs
And the nose cannot be bribed
Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body
And the pivot of value judgement in the world
If that name thou love
Remain with us and teach the noseless world
That it must have a nose in this wartorn world
He who knows the greatness of nose
Surely goes to the realm of rose
In the life to come
Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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O! What a nose!
People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes
Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes
Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!
Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose
Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
Red and long when it snows
And this nose is nosy
She can smell a rat, cat or a bat
When you are getting cozy
In your one bedroom flat
O! What a nose!
In and out juice flows
And when she smells the air
They all cannot help but stare
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Dudley
My special friend is like a rose.
He is drop-dead gorgeous,
Fully outrfitted with a beautiful nose.
My friend you will see,
Is the most amazing horse.
My horse has the temperament of a rose as well,
Sweet most of the time,
He can unleash the enemy like a rose when it fell,
Into your handds poking you with his 'thorns'.
I love him for this,
Because he is not plain, always the same.
My amazing, beautiful super star friend,
Knows when to shine his best.
Whether it be in the show ring, all the way to the end.
He knows when to impress.
Just like your red rose.
My special friend to me,
Is not a fake like some.
As you can see,
My horse will shine,
Just like your red rose!
Why Do You Bob Your Nose, Girl ?
(kinky friedman)
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it does not look so nice,
If it' s just to keep in fashion, it's not the lord's advice.
Well, you mangle mother nature and brave the lord's command
You care about your nose, girls, and reach the glory land.
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it's not the thing to do,
Run with that nose and some day the lord may say to you:
You naughty little booger, you honky tonkin' hose
But at least i'm glad for one thing: you'sll never bob your nose.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an Old Man with a nose,
Who said, 'If you choose to suppose,
That my nose is too long,
You are certainly wrong!'
That remarkable Man with a nose.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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My Nose Is Growing Old
Yup.
A long lazy September look
in the mirror
say it's true.
I'm 31
and my nose is growing
old.
It starts about 1/2
an inch
below the bridge
and strolls geriatrically
down
for another inch or so:
stopping.
Fortunately, the rest
of the nose is comparatively
young.
I wonder if girls
will want me with an
old nose.
I can hear them now
the heartless bitches!
"He's cute
but his nose
is old."
poem by Richard Brautigan
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My favorite venues are the 2,000 seat theaters, like the Warfield. If there was a Warfield in every city, I would play it. That's all I would do. I love venues like that.
quote by Les Claypool
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose
When I got my finger stuck up my nose
I went to a doctor, who said,
"Nothing like this has happened before,
We will have to chop off your head."
"It's only my finger stuck up my nose,
It's only my finger!" I said.
"I see what it is," the doctor replied,
"But we'll still have to chop off your head."
He went to the cabinet and took out an axe.
I watched with considerable dread.
"But it's only my finger stuck up my nose.
It's only a finger!" I said.
"Perhaps we can yank it out with a hook
Tied to some surgical thread.
Maybe we can try that," he replied
"Rather than chop off your head."
"I'm never going to pick it again.
I've now learned my lesson," I said.
"I won't stick my finger up my nose -
I'll stick it in my ear instead."
poem by Brian Patten
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A freudian slip (who nose?)
I want to clear this matter up some way
And at the same time make my point
That love note I sent you the other day?
The one that got your nose all out of joint?
I think I simply typed too fast
And didn’t say what I meant to say
Not …“I like your huge, turnip nose”…
But “I like your cute turned up nose”
Was What I really meant to say
poem by David Whalen
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Turned-up nose
I want to clear this matter up some way
And at the same time make my point
That love note I sent you the other day?
The one that got your nose all out of joint?
I think I simply typed too fast
And didn’t say what I meant to say
Not …“I like your huge, turnip nose”…
But “I like your cute turned up nose”
Was What I really meant to say
poem by David Whalen
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I wonder how I fit into my new country
Respect for other people
and self are missing
and while I go up the steps
of the bus
teenage girls are shouting
loudly to each other
and a ghetto blaster,
is playing very loud music
and it’s much worst
than in a mad bazaar.
a Toddler pushes her fingers
one after the other
into her nose
and draws lines
on seats and windows
and her mother
wipes her nose against her jersey.
An overweight lady
sits down next to me
and there’s a sharp smell
that hits my nose
and no other seat
to go to
and I wonder if she
bathed this week,
or this month
and are scared that head lice
are going to jump on to me.
The bus draws away
and misses a car narrowly
and jerks
while the driver changes gears,
as if he’s struggling
to get the right one.
When I get off at the bus stop
there’s a man relieving himself
and the urine smell,
hangs heavy in the air
and I wonder how
I fit into my new country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A human body
Your
Head is not head
A computer...
Your
Eye is not eye
A camera...
Your
Ear is not ear
A cell phone...
Your
Mouth is not mouth
A wet grinder...
Your
Nose is not nose
A window...
Your
Stomach is not stomach
A Hotel...
Your
Hands is not hands
A wonder tool...
Your
Legs is not legs
A bycycle...
Your
Heart is not heart
A Rose...
With love...
With out love
A pump...
It is all
Your and your's of
Human body....
Simple Example...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Gotta Bad Nose Job
Bah bah bah babbay,
You brought the Moon.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!
Bah,
Babbay...
And when I sleep.
Bah,
Babbay...
My dreams get to leaping.
Bah,
Babbay...
And you know...
I am up to pace the floor.
'Cause I know,
You know...
I gotta bad nose job!
Bah
Bababy...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!
And you know...
I know,
I gotta bad nose job!
Bah bah bah babbay,
You brought the Moon.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Stars.
Bah,
Babbay...
You brought the Sun,
Right into my heart!
And you know...
I know you know,
I gotta bad nose job!
Yes I know you know...
I've got that bad nose job!
'You wanna put some 'salsa'
On that 'lemon merange'?
Do ya!
For your rhythmic pleasure?
Do ya?
And seal it with a French kiss?
Do ya? '
Yes I know...
You KNOW,
I've got that bad nose job.
Bah babbay...
Yes I've got it.
Bah babbay...
Yes I do.
Bah babbay...
Yes I've got it.
And you know it too.
Yes I know...
You KNOW I've-got-that BAD nose job!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why The Red Nose Rudolph?
His nose lights St. Nick’s sleigh
This intrepid reindeer leader
Helps his fellows find their way
It’s said, he’s an under achiever
You ask, “Why is his nose so red? ”
Is that whiskey under his bridle?
Is drinking why his eyes are red?
We must find out, not stand idle
Perhaps it’s time to notify AA
Get Rudy help for reckless drinking
We, his many fans can't be blasé
While this reindeer’s life is sinking!
We must not hold Santa to blame
Lest he and Rudolph share a jug
For it would be a downright shame
To see them drinking “chug-a-lug”
Sorry for our doubt dear Rudy
It’s Santa’s reputation we protect
We’re just performing civic duty
We really meant no disrespect
Shine on our bright red nose friend
We’ll watch the skies till you ascend
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Long-Nosed Fair
Once on a time I fair Dorinda kiss'd,
Whose nose was too distinguish'd to be miss'd;
My dear, says I, I fain would kiss you closer,
But tho' your lips say aye--your nose says, no, Sir.--
The maid was equally to fun inclin'd,
And plac'd her lovely lily-hand behind;
Here, swain, she cry'd, may'st thou securely kiss,
Where there's no nose to interrupt thy bliss.
poem by Christopher Smart
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Face is the signifier of under world
The sexiest shape of a woman is her
mouth,
Indicating the depth of her channel.
The sexiest shape of a man is his nose,
Signifying the length of his sword.
A wide mouth woman tempt men
A long nose man hooks women.
10.02.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Moving Up Scared
Anxiety running through my vines
Like in the colors of a chock rainbow
Being washed off the side walk
A little scared but not enough to show it
I take that big step on my own
You know the step from
I know I'm a little kid to
I'm a big kid now that I'm in Middle School
I slowly walk down the blue carpeted terrifying hall
They made it scary for a reason
Then I met you Breanna
On the first day within the first 10 minutes
Some how you saw right through
My brave little 11 year old mask
The overwhelming lack of security
That was now so present
Making me not think in the right sate of mind
The stories of horror that all those years
My sister has told me and all I can think of
Is complete terror that is invading my body
Walking in those double doors for the first time
Was one of the scariest things I had ever done in my 15 years
I thought I was going to cry
And then did when I heard your voice tell me that
You knew I was scared to go to high school
Just like the first day of sixth grade
And the last day of eighth grade year
You know you always knew
Now it came the year that we were all working for
The year where we see that our teachers
Really do know what they are talking about
Their not crazy old people after all
And we get what their talking about
Some of the pieces of the skeleton of our lives
Start to fall into place
The year where we discover who we
For sure don’t want to be
The year where we think we have it all together
The year where the 4.0 doesn’t matter as much any more
Cause this is the year that you have to figure out where your
Going to live in 6 months after it hits you
Oh no I have to do this year there is no more next year
There is barely a tomorrow
then when you realize that tomarrow is coming too quick
and you dont know how to slow the clock down
you really know that the year has came and you hate to say it
but you have to grow up and be the adult now that
mommy and daddy arnt going to be there picking up the slack
all to soon
The year where you look to your best friend from sixth grade
And you know she is just as scared as you
This time Breanna I knew your scared too
A year to learn to really learn
This year is senior year and here and there it's almost
Scaring me to death
P.S
As a senior teachers always ask me to give advice to underclassmen and my advice is this to have fun join a club and a sport if you can make high school an amazing experience don’t do anything you will regret latter. However most of all try in your classes I’m not saying 4.0 just try, try hard because when your friends, and family are not there for you your education is all you will have.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Tunnel Vision
I have been advised of having tunnel vision...
You know when you are near blind as a bat?
Worried and in fear-for my eyes my dear?
Nah, my nose works and i'm sure i smell a rat**! ;
Thank God for my nose and my ears...
Never mind my limited sight...
A highly developed instinct also carries me-
Through the blackest of darkest night! ;
It gives me much sought after information...
Of long ago sequesterd plans and schemes...**
I've been told that i am sixth sense old...
That my information is formed in my dreams;
So never mind my tunnel vision sweetheart-
My nose and my ears do just fine...
Coupled with the sixth sense instinct God gave to me...
For miles i can smell my enemies sign**;
May 14,2010
**Smoke From The Attic (as usual)
The Phantom IS Back.
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Perfume Of Early Spring
The wonders of this new year,
I'm just now beginning to sense.
The chilly halcyon days now gone
Took away the weeks of suspense.
The early morning dew fallen fresh
Begets the scent of wet vernal leaves.
In flower beds new blossoms form,
With nectar nose bearly now perceives.
Park timber emits a lingering fragrance
Of scented pines and evergreen,
With other trees yet missing foliage
Giving a woodsy scent for nose to glean.
The grasses damp with spring rain
Emit their pleasing smell for miles.
Blending the air with kindred aromas,
The gift of spring in its vernal styles.
poem by Albert Price
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