En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Churned Butter!

Churning the yogurt to separate the butter,
With hand held robe attached with a plunger,
Or hold the plunger between two palms and twist,
The affinity between water and the fat breaks,
Fat molecules escape as a great victory to gather,
Start to float on the surface of the curd, whiter,
Fluffy as the cotton candy, has to be pressed,
To remove the water, the lumps of butter churned,
The fragrance is better than any butter in the shelves,
Dip the fritters or steamed cakes into it to savor,
The memory of younger days blooms as young shower,
We may have more than enough to buy and taste,
But the first taste of anything, that sticks to the mind.

Churning the societal curd to extract the cream of people,
Some countries still use the plunger toil hard to get little,
The others use the mechanized system to mass produce,
what others do in the pots in every house hold,
economy of a country depends upon the administration,
how we administer our own brains and resources,
for the betterment of our own people as well as others,
how we protect our knowledge bank not to be loaned and robbed,
how we live our life on the roads of our own country,
where everything is placed, maintained and kept in order,
let us churn our society not to get butter,
but to make our life to be better.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter

Pull me from the toaster
Straight into the roaster
Fill my head with the stuff
Brightest dreams are made of
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Promising the big guns
Reward when the light comes
Screaming from the damage done
Screaming from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up like I know you will
Cover it up like I know you will
Better yourself like I know you will
Breaking the trust like you always will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Be good for it, you never will
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Butter me up, butter me up
Duh
So you think you got the best
Thought I was like all the rest
Reaping from the damage done
Reaping from the damage done
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Bringing me down again
Duh

song performed by by Ultraspank
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Butter?

No Butter? (when a country practice monopoly)

“Butter, the chef said, I can’t fry a snitzel without butter? If I use margarine
it gets too salty and tastes like whale, if I use olive oil, it gets a Portuguese
flavour, a snitzel is Austrian. How can you fry an egg without using butter,
one loses the taste of clover and rural idyll, farm yards and chickens looking
for worms? ” ” Sorry the restaurant manager said, but we have no butter,
you gotta use margarine and anyway the guests are not chefs they will not
notice the difference.”The chef looked aghast, put down his ladle and said:
“You can’t mean that, has all my work comes to nothing? ” Took off his apron,
had tears in his eyes, ready to walk out into the cold night and not return.
“Hang on the manager said, without you I can’t run this place, it is the caring
way you prepare food that our guests like you they know there is a butter
shortage, but they don’t mind as long as they now you are the chef.”
Mollified the cook took his apron back on lifted his ladle and said, “Ok, but
see if you can get some butter even if you have to buy it from the Danes.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter Up

Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.

Butter up,
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a loving and done with fun.

And when Monday begins,
We'll have those memories...
To keep!

Butter up!
Butter up!
Butter up, butter up, butter up, butter up!
Butter up...
If you want to keep me weak and numb.
Butter up,
If you want to be my number one.
Butter up,
If you want to have the weekends done,
With nothing but a buttering done with fun.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peanut Butter Lovers

Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.

But...
Those who prefer their peanut butter,
Alone...
Spoon it from a jar protected,
As if its diamonds they own.

Peanut butter,
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

It is licked quick from the lips.
And it isn't there long.
Those addicted to their peanut butter,
Have stacks in their homes.

Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it's discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

Chocolate,
And marmalade...
Is a taste craved by some.
Who may just rave...
About the flavor that comes.

But it's peanut butter,
Loved like nothing other.
It can make one stutter,
When it is discovered.

Oh yes, it's peanut butter...
When it is discovered.
Is loved like nothing other,
To soothe one's secret druthers.

Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.

Keep your chocolate and that marmalade.
Peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers,
Are different from the others.
Those peanut butter lovers.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I eat peanut butter

I eat peanut butter from a jar
Sitting quitly naked at the bar
Wired in frankincense and cheap olive oil
You can never spot where Ive hidden my old boil

I eat peanut butter with a spoon
Hanging on a telophone from the moon
Looking everywhere for the third rock in my drawer
cause I'm followed by the elaphant whose getting rather cold

I taste peanut butter with marmalade
Its sutured with nectrines with astringent taste
Surrounded by a gang of malefactent tea cups
Coming from Buenos Aries on the back of maple syrup

want to ride the posse of little bitty irishmen?

I lick peanut butter from outerspace
I was born southside so it goes to my waist
I lick peanut butter from a dress
Its my wifes who i never met

I take peanut butter to a zoo
Watching the contortions of the Gaia philharmonic
Exasperating riddles which their tvs cant decode
While swimming in the puzzles of a Lincoln camry ford

Bet you wished their was some Peanut butter
to explain this ghastly poem?

poem by Kevin Patrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please stay away, our people have to survive!

A curd woman carries a pot of yogurt that drips on her moon forehead
The crystal white droplets drench the old soul, shouts, "yogurt,
Fresh yogurt, churned butter, anyone wants to buy? ",
Vegetable man pushes his cart, full of colorful vitamin vegetables,
Shouts as usual, "Vegetable, Vegetable, Green vegetables".
Fruits seller and fish monger carry their bounties in the baskets,
Pots, pans, spoons and brooms are sold on streets,
Sweat, tear, longing and desperation in discreet,
What place do the multinational whole sale retailer hit,
On the soil of poor people, where people live as dogs and cats.
Please stay away from us and we are not the good market,
as the habit of descendant will not let you see the profit.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Big Butter And Egg Man

Now she wants...a butter an egg man
From way out in the west
She wants somebody...who's workin' all day
So she's got money...when she wants to play
Now pretty clothes...they'll never be mine
But what she told me the other day
I hope she don't change her mind
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
A great big butter and egg man
From way down south

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Butter & Egg Man

Now she wants...a butter an egg man
From way out in the west
She wants somebody...whos workin all day
So shes got money...when she wants to play
Now pretty clothes...theyll never be mine
But what she told me the other day
I hope she dont change her mind
Now she wants...a butter an egg man
A great big butter and egg man
From way down south

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krishna Denying He Stole The Butter

O mother mine, I did not eat the butter
come dawn, with the herds,
you send me to the jungle,
o, mother mine, I did not eat the butter.
all day long with my flute in the jungles
at dusk do I return home.
but a child, younger than my friends
how could I reach up to the butter?
all the gopas are against me
on my face they wipe the butter,
you mother, are much too innocent,
you believe all their chatter.
there is a flaw in your behaviour,
you consider me not yours,
take you herd-stick and the blanket
I'll dance to your tune no longer.
Surdas, Yasoda then laughed,
and took the boy in her arms,
mother mine I did not eat the butter.

poem by Sant Surdas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Butter Fly Wings

Butter Fly wings
float near my face
and this softest breeze
reminds me of the way
your lips brush mine,

not touching
but close-by
fluttering;
.

gentle usherings
planting butter-fly kisses
on your red mouth

pursed
in the filtered sun.

Butter me,
Butter Fly me
and I will land
where softer souls gather
in butterfly-kissed
kaleidoscopic fields
close to home
where gentle hands
stroke my brow
whilst I inhale
eternity
kissing the face
of Love True.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Put Your Chocolate In My Peanut Butter!

Hey you, you have too much hair and we dont like what you wear
And you have really bad breath so were gonna beat you to death
Because there is plenty of us and only one of you weve got plenty
Of reasons and heres just a few you put your chocolate in my
Peanut butter I was walking and you were in my way you looked
At me without my permission you never even apologized you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good enough reason for
Me to bash you put your chocolate in my peanut butter thats good
Enough reason for me to smash no justice / theres just us / so trust us
You put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put your chocolate in
My peanut butter you put your chocolate in my peanut butter you put
Your chocolate in my peanut butter

song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4. A Merry Christmas

Gone shopping for good brandy butter
My homemade plum puddings in need
I don’t want a tin of rum sauce mix
It just wouldn’t do no indeed

Last night’s Christmas Eve rush was crazy
The shop had none left on the shelf
So I bought half a pound of best butter
To mix up with brandy myself

My mixer took brandy and butter
It churned the lot up to a paste
I drank what was left of the brandy
As I don’t like things going to waste

Everyone had a good dinner
With plenty of wine, port and sherry
But no one got fresh brandy butter
We all fell about slightly merry

poem by David Threadgold (2008)
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What I love is a peanut butter and pickle sandwich. I'll just have peanut butter and bananas, then peanut butter and pickles. Peanut butter and chocolate I don't recommend.

quote by Dianne Wiest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you don't mind smelling like peanut butter for two or three days, peanut butter is darn good shaving cream.

quote by Barry Goldwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butter.

Butter

Butter, like love,
seems common enough
yet has so many imitators.
I held a brick of it, heavy and cool,
and glimpsed what seemed like skin
beneath a corner of its wrap;
the decolletage revealed
a most attractive fat!

And most refined.
Not milk, not cream,
not even creme de la creme.
It was a delicacy which assured me
that bliss follows agitation,
that even pasture daisies
through the alchemy of four stomachs
may grace a king's table.

We have a yellow bowl near the toaster
where summer's butter grows
soft and sentimental.
We love it better for its weeping,
its nostalgia for buckets and churns
and deep stone wells,
for the press of a wooden butter mold
shaped like a swollen heart.

poem by Connie Wanek
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Black Eye Pea Stew

Did I mention,
My black eye pea stew to you?
Well...
This is what you do.

Boil your water,
Add sliced smoked turkey butt.
With seasons you prefer.
I like to mix in olive oil with butter first.
Before adding apple vinegar...
With Old Bay and a bit of salt,
Then soy sauce...
To allow my taste buds to burst.

Add your black eye peas.
Speckled butter lima beans.
Kidney and black beans too!
I also enjoy cooking with onions...
Green peppers, carrots and celery.
For a flavored taste,
You simply can not refuse!

Well...
You can 'try' making attempts.
But licking your lips,
Is not too convincing of a defense.

'May I get some more? '

You sure can!
After I get to taste it myself!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uncle Albert/admiral Halsey

Were so sorry uncle albert
Were so sorry if we caused you any pain
Were so sorry uncle albert
But theres no one left at home
And I believe Im gonna rain
Were so sorry but we havent heard a thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But if anything should happen well be sure to give a ring
Were so sorry uncle albert
But we havent done a bloody thing all day
Were so sorry uncle albert
But the kettles on the boil and were so easily called away
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Admiral halsey notified me
He had to have a berth or he couldnt get to sea
I had another look and I had a cup of tea and butter pie
(the butter wouldnt melt so I put it in the pie)
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Live a little be a gypsy, get around(get around)
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water (water)
Heads across the sky
Ooo------------ooo-------------

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If there is my

If there is my and there is yours
And a distinction is made
Stir is caused in it
And war is invited
As
Curd is churned
A stir is caused in it
And butter is extracted.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peanut-Butter Sandwich

I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing—
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bit
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
'My boy's committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!'
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn't melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil—
For twenty years of tears and toil—
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin' chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy—
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak—
The king's jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak—
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, 'How about a peanut-butter sandwich?'

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our revered Cattle

In our country oxen are used to plough,
And man declares, "the animals, we love"!
After harvest man gathers the grains to eat,
And offers the hay to the animal as a treat.

Man collects the cotton from the tree,
And the seeds he presents to the cattle for free.
Before cooking the grains he washes it with water,
And that is the cattle's drinking water.

Their milk meant for the calves are for man,
And he produces milk products as much as he can;
From it he makes yoghurt and sells it in a can,
He stirs the milk and retrieves butter on a pan.

When butter is melt, the aromatic ghee is got,
With ghee, delicious sweets are made and brought;
In villages cow-dung cakes are largely used,
With which glowing fire is instantly infused.

Cow-dung aids in the cleaning the floor off bacteria—
So are the many merits of cattle—is man's idea!
Man, the human is of no use to the cattle,
But they willingly serve us—let us revere the cattle!

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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