Such A Beautiful Place
Gloomy faces in grocery stores
Traverse the aisles of the vegetables.
No one seems happy plotting out
And paying for their sustenance,
But personally, I adore
Every bag of gorgeously orange carrots
And the lovely dark green broccoli.
And how divine to see Italian wine
Or recently baked apple pies,
Sometimes I can’t believe my eyes
To be in such a beautiful place!
In reverence I bow my head,
I can’t wait to go home and say my prayers
And break my bread.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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The Apple Tree Greed
he has an apple a green apple
he is the only person in this room
with a green apple
suppose suppose NOW
he has MORE of those at home
WHY he has a GREEN APPLE tree
In his backyard no WAIT
He has a vineyard behind his chapeau
And he makes green apple wine
And he sells it to the BOONES FARM people
And they make BOONES FARM green apple wine
And the whole city is soon sick
The children ralf and barf and ralf again
There is no more end to the men
Drinking all the green apple wine
To make this ONE person rich
He never offered me any of his wine
Eyes never drink of alcoholic beverage
Eye have juices and tea and a soda please
I'm just full of good intentions
Picking green apples in my mind and eating way too many
Having a green apple with mye lunch of poetical decay
WAIT he left and YES he took the green apple core with him
Not leaving me a bite not wanting me to taste the pleasure
of his mite. Why eye understand him greedy is his name
the green apple hoarder has so many apples now his wine cellar is so full and his larders aer so rich he does save the stems and seeds to plant again in ground so rich and he chews on this green apple while he watches MTV in selfish hedonistacal revenge while eye have no green apple stuck between my teeth OH bliss oh strang decay my teeth at least aer happier today he took the core away he left me all alone im appleless today im happier to say no song is being sung of little apples of the green variety been hung oh see the tree how big its grown the apples have been lost too long and they fall in misery from branches of decay to rot to rot to rot upon the vineyard floor there is no apple wine no more the green variety is gone they drink it only read and red is the color of the wine in cups so full of color there in plates so heaped of agony with applesauces vailiantly piled higher then the sky.
poem by Parme Hice
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The Pieman
I'd like to be a pieman, and ring a little bell,
Calling out, 'Hot pies! Hot pies to sell!'
Apple-pies and Meat-pies, Cherry-pies as well,
Lots and lots and lots of pies - more than you can tell.
Big, rich Pork-pies! Oh, the lovely smell!
But I wouldn't be a pieman if ...
I wasn't very well.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Funny Farm
Green and yellow
apple orange
this is the way to the funny farm
where people work from break of dawn
and never think they’ve worked too long.
Hoein’ and mowin’,
huffin’ and puffin’,
they work all day for damn little or nothin’.
Green and yellow
apple orange
that’s why it’s called the funny farm.
poem by Kendall Thomas
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We couldn’t find spinach anywhere
We couldn’t find spinach anywhere,
not at the Fruit and Veg
or other green grocers
or even at chain stores
like Pick-a-Pay, Checkers,
Shoprite and Woolworths.
“It must be out of season, ”
I told my darling
who had returned the green beans
and so we didn’t have
any green vegetables
and joking I told her
that we will get scurvy.
Passing a traffic light
in the inner city
she saw a hawker
selling vegetables
with packets and packets of spinach.
She told me to stop
and I parked next
to the road
across from him,
but before I could get out
of the car
he was already there
with a selection
of vegetables
at great prices.
That night my darling
prepared her special dish
with chicken, spinach
and feta cheese
fried in a great sauce
and served it with a bottle
of St. Anna wine
and my thoughts went to
the little smiling hawker
who made our day.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The greatest thing
I put the seed
into ground that I
mingled with dark black compost.
Rows of beans,
some carrots, some pumpkins
and spinach
I sowed into the orange brown earth.
Some small tomato plants,
I planted in blocks
and pressed small
frames of reeds
on top
for them to crawl over.
Every day I sprayed water
and tended the weeds
and in time
little green plants
sprang out of the ground
and the tomatoes crept
and crawled all over
their reeds.
It was great to be part
of spring and see
living things sprout
from the ground,
but a dog dug
some carrots out
and a flock of mice
came to eat
tomatoes from the plants.
Yet in time
some great vegetables
came to my table
and spring was awesome
and so was summer
and to tend my own garden
is the greatest thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Those Were The Days
There is a landscape in my head
I sometimes travel
But this is strictly after dark
Beyond the barricades and trenches
There stands the factory
Hand me the costum of the sad acrobat
And he says:
Son, this is the bread I break for you
But do not touch it
And he says:
Son, this is the wine I pour for you
But do not drink it
Dein aschenes haar, sulamith
And he says:
Son, this is the bread I break for you
Son, this is the wine I pour for you
But do not drink it, dont drink at all..
There is a stranger on the shore
I sometimes travel
But this is strictly in my dreams
He feeds the seagulls in the winds with ashes
And as he speaks hes got my fathers voice
And he says:
Son, here is some bread I broke for you
Son, here is some wine..
Those were the days, my friend
Dein aschenes haar, sulamith
Der tod ist ein meister aus deutschland
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Eyes
got green eyes
as green as grass
on mama's lawn
got green eyes
over greener pastures
on the other fence
got green eyes
baby over your green eyes
when i stay
and you leave me
when you tell me
it is over
got green eyes
as green as
broccoli & lettuce
for my salad
that i serve
and share with my
newly found lover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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People aren't just paying more to fill their gas tanks or when they pay for their heating bills for their home; they are paying more at the grocery store, on air travel and for many other daily expenses.
quote by Dan Lipinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful
The time is right
Im gonna pack my bags
And take that journey down the road
Cause over the mountain I see the bright sun shinning
And I want to live inside the glow
Yeah
I wanna go to place where I am nothing and everything
That exists between here and nowhere
I wanna got to a place time has consequence oh yeah
The sky opens to my prayers
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
Please understand that it not that I dont care
But right know these wall are closing in on me
I love you more than I love life itself
But I need to find a place were I can breathe
I can breathe
I wanna go to place were I can hold the intangible
And let of the pain with all my might
I wanna go to a place where I am suspended in ecstasy
Some where between dark and light
Where wrong becomes right
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
I wanna go to beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0011 Scrubbing Carrots
Every Friday, a happy smiling man
who says he’s a mixture of Spain, Trinidad and England
delivers a bag of organic vegetables
and a bag of organic fruit, and
it’s a bit like a child’s Christmas bran-tub adventure –
some strange vegetables I’ve never seen before
and would never have dared to buy;
or eat, if I found them growing in the garden…
but it’s worth it for the carrots alone –
they taste, well, OK, like carrots used to taste..
and each week, they come from a different grower, so
they arrive clean and smooth one week,
clotted with earth another, but
as Rilke might say, rich with carrot-ness..
and I clean them with a respect which they
and the sheer living greenness of the greens
and other vegetables naturally demand of me
so that vegetable-cleaning
which used to be a chore done with attention
only at half strength, is now something more -
and in this mood, almost overlooked small great miracles of life
just happen of themselves –
two weeks ago, I watched amazed
as my two hands of themselves
devised a new way of cleaning carrots –
the hands reversed their roles: left hand
now held the scouring pad, diagonally,
and the right hand spiralled the carrot
in the pad… and lo! those etched horizontal lines
of dirt were perfectly removed..
and the isness of the carrot
and the isness of its servant
were together one silent song
where, it seemed,
the forgotten met the remembered
and rejoiced.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Flashlight in the Sky
Could you tell me
how beautiful is the sky this night
could you give me
simply a piece of his heart
This dark sky inside me
that grows,
has taken all the feelings
has finished it all
But wait here is a flashlight there, in my sky
i was hoping that i finally found the way
the place to go
the place were someone for me
is gonna take care
I was simply dreaming
about this lovely ending
cause i open my eyes
and i saw just that dark sky
inside me.
poem by Elida Cumani
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We Are The Vegetables
Well I've got this feeling in the back of my head
I feel like making someone's face turn red
Learning bike's and ditto vices
Try to look bored and your going places
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
Some music is playing by metal gazers
It's gone through the stage where everyone makes it
Do you think that we're not good
All I really know is I think you should
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
Well I've got this feeling in the back of my head
I feel like making someone's face turn red
Learning bikes and ditto vices
Try to look bored and your going places
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the vegetables
We are the
We are the
We Are The Vegetables
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fruit Together
A plum went to market
to buy some grapes,
everyone was was there
that day.
They didn't come
just to play.
Fruit was what
they needed most.
The apple came
to buy some pears,
Pears came to
buy some apples.
They ended up
buying each other.
What a fix,
so fruity was it.
Everyone went home
that day,
so they could all
make some fruit pies.
What a site this
was, seeing each
one making pies out,
of each other,
somehow pies
were made this
day, you ask
How was this done?
you figure it out,
I just wrote
the poem.
wrote 4-14-07
My Killarney Colleen
If I should ever stray from home
To roam the seven seas
Away from the green fields,
purple mountains and Dingle Bay
I will always remember my Killarney Colleen
Whose dark hair and laughing eyes
Are the most beautiful you’ve ever seen
And if in some foreign port
Someone should speak to me
Of my Erin home far across the sea
I will tell them what I’ve told no other man
All about my lovely Killarney Colleen
I will tell of this pretty girl
Who waits down by Dingle Bay
Of the candle she lights every night
In her window that faces the sea
Hoping that her wandering man
Will find a star to guide him
Back to their home to stay
I am no Irish rover
No seven seas will I see
I have no reason to wander
My home has everything I need
I may not be a rich man
For wealth is not what I need
Just the love of my Killarney Colleen
poem by David Harris
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Temptation
Lick me said the ice cream,
swallow me right down.
I'm dying to delight your tongue
and make you nice and round.
Eat me said the cherry pies,
the big meringue, the choccy heart.
Don't ignore us cream cakes
or mince pies, or treacle tarts.
You know I'm giving you the eye
said apple pie, yes apple pie.
It hears my calls and sees my thighs
that temptress with a taste divine.
Oh I am lost all to my cost my
my waist expanding as I toss
which itsy bitsy treat to eat,
make me obese, oh help me please.
I'm on my knees, I need food police
poem by Ruth Walters
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This Evening
this evening is another lovely evening
i see stars. i think of some memories. sticky ones. sweet ones.
mouthwatering ones between us. in the room dim and cold. warmed by our
two bodies.kisses. hugs. touches. caresses. whispers.
indeed, this is a lovely evening.
i have a glass of mild wine in my hand. an orange. an apple. some spices
of mint and chili. to make me feel hot on this lovely, cold night. the wind blows
from the sea. i hear the waves. but they are sounding so gently
reminding of a boat where we ride. kisses. hugs. touches. caresses.
whispers. making love. the boat stopped in the middle of the ocean.
both of us.
indeed this is a lovely evening. i have another glass of wine. an orange.
some chili. some pepper.
i like it hot. these memories. i have your picture in my hand. your last letter.
i have the picture of you and your husband. and your children. they all have
grown up. your daughter looks just like you. some smiles. hugs. kisses.
embraces. your family on your last wedding anniversary. in maryland.
indeed this is a lovely evening. an honest one.
everything is accepted. everything is true. and i wish you all the happiness.
for indeed this is a lovely evening. with myself. still strong as ever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Don't Cry My Green Eyes
Don't cry my green eyes
I'm not that far away
Just close your eyes
and you'll see me
standing there
I'm always here
watching over you
I may not be
around in person anymore
Death can't keep
me away from you
My love for you
is just too strong
I can't stay away
no matter what
I'll be here as
long as I can
Because it hurts me
to see those tears
So please don't cry
my beautiful green eyes
I really want you
to know
That I'm in a
really good place
I'm really happy here
with family and friends
It was just my time
I know you weren't ready
But my body was
just worn out
I tried to hold on
so I could see you again
It wasn't meant to be
Don't cry my green eyes
I'm always here with you
Always in your heart
one of your most
treasured memories
So please don't cry
my beautiful green eyes
(written in loving memory of my grandpa Raymond Eugene De Vasure. (Love u and miss u))
poem by Grace Hays
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A Season of Wine and Roses
Remember when the wine was red,
and the rose was red, as well ~
and how the two were wed as one,
when the sunlight softly fell.
The pinkened kiss, the gentle blush,
beneath a soft, green canopy ~
and wine flowed there beside the rose,
'til sunlight set on autumn's eve.
And there within the autumn's breath,
came an orange and golden kiss ~
that found the wine and lovely rose,
beguiled by summer's bliss...
remembering when the wine was sweet,
and the rose was a budding bloom ~
and velvet was the reddened wine,
when the red rose danced in June.
Thinly brown, with winter's death,
the vine and thorn entwine ~
and wait impatiently for spring,
when, once more, a life they'll find.
And now upon the chilling wind,
there's a whisper that gently fell ~
'Remember when the wine was red,
and the rose was red, as well'...
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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This Bread I Break
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.
Once in this time wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.
This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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My Mind Keeps Movin’
Walk into a restaurant with chicken on my mind
Look at the menu I want roastbeaf and wine
A waitress comes up I order baked beans and bread
Oh when she brings it I want ham'n eggs instead
Because my mind keeps a movin' bouncin' and a groovin'
A flippin' floppin' every whichaway
From minute to minute if my mind ain't really in it
Never know just what I'm do or say
Sometimes I wake up happy sometimes I wake up mean
Sometimes I wake up missin' somethin' I ain't seen
Might wake up wasted and I might wake up dead
Might wake up and look around and jump back into bed
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
[ guitar ]
Sittin' home at midnight thinkin' bout Marie go to the phone I dial Carol Lee
I say come by babe just as fast as you can
And when she gets there I'm thinkin' bout Ann
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
Fly off to Paris just to get away from home
Get off in London and I grab a boat for Rome
Got to St Louis be in St Paul or else take a trip and go no place at all
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
I go to a psychiatrist to straighten my head
Then I decide I need a chiropractor instead
Put salt in my coffee and ketchup in my tea only dig a chick that don't dig me
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
Sometimes I don't shave and I look kinda weird
So shave off my hair and I grow a beard
Shave off my beard dye my eyebrows green
Play myself a song upon a tambourine
Because my mind keeps a movin'...
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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