Café
The ladies at the table next to mine
are window-shopping the mortician's display
with the taste of sweet cream
from a mouthful of pastry
poem by Mikael Ejdemyr
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Maintaining Standards.
To make the grade in Biggleswade.
Teatime is taken seriously.
The cake you serve must be home made
and rather plain not too fancy.
Of course the table must be laid
with your best china on display
A snow white cloth the finest made.
Things must be done the proper way.
The good ladies of Biggleswade.
Intent on keeping standards high,
will try their hardest to persuade
new ladies that they must not buy
Rich fresh cream cakes to serve for tea.
They must maintain tradition.
I’m not convinced too easily
and so I wait’ til they have gone.
My man and I prefer our tea.
Strong hot and sweet from half pint pots.
We eat while watching the TV.
We think they are a stuffy lot.
But we are not from Biggleswade
and we do things a different way.
More casual not stiff and staid.
More suited to the world today.
We don’t fit in, in Biggleswade,
we do not like formality
we never will I am afraid.
But we don’t care we’d rather be
allowed to live the way we choose.
And not by rules we must obey.
So quite politely we refuse
and send the ladies on their way.
The leading ladies of the town.
The great and good of Biggleswade.
I am quite sure have marked us down
Unsuitable to make the grade.
Sunday,13 June 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Shopping
Were buying and selling your history
How we go about it is no mystery
We check it with the city, then change the law
Are you looking forward?
Now you want some more
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Its easy when you got all the information
Inside help, no investigation
(no investigation, investigation)
No questions in the house, no give and take
Theres a big bang in the city
Were all on the make
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Our gain is your loss, thats the price you pay
I heard it in the house of commons: everythings for sale
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
(were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory.
Memory of your mother
rolling pastry
and you watching
her hands
and the rolling pin
and the way the pastry
was pushed down
and out
and then she took
the pastry
and put it over a dish
and spooned in
the cooked beef
and onions
and then placed another
rolled out piece
of pastry on top
and forked down
the edges of the pastry
and she said
do you want
the end clippings?
and you said
sure why not
and she gave you
the clipped off pasty
raw in your hands
and you began to eat
noticing how red
and raw and worn
her fingers
and hands were
and how tired
her eyes looked
and wiping hair
from her eyes
with the back
of her floured hand
she pushed out a sigh
and you saw there
how a thousand dreams
of young girls die.
poem by Terry Collett
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An Afternoon Poem
it is all coffee without cream
no sugar, you say please, no sugar no cream
it is all about cold bread
nothing electrifying
unlike the softness of the arms of the beloved
it is about the coldness of bread
and the hotness of coffee
less the cream and the sugar
nothing sweet really
you guess it: there is something bitter
not from the water (for why should water be bitter?)
not from the cup (is there such a cup which has a bitter taste?)
guess further: you are wrong.
it is bitter, it is really bitter.
it comes from the heart. Not from the saucer
or the spoon.
it is the heart that is bitter. do not attempt
tasting it.
it can be toxic because it is mine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Don’t scold venders
All men are there to display their wares.
It is up to you to accept or reject.
They may seek you, coax you or plead with you.
They do so lest they should miss the chance,
If at all had there been one from your end.
Take it light if you are not for that.
Allow them to do window shopping.
03.06.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Greedy Cat at the Cafe.
He sits at the corner table
with not a fur out of place,
delicately he eats with a well-manicured claw,
then, overwhelmed by the delicious smell - and taste,
shovels mouthful after mouthful in with his paw.
He greedy comes to the Cafe everyday
for breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea,
Gets served by Chris and Morgan,
two lovely people who, to please their customers
go out of their way.
The Cafe but had no name,
a catchy title none could think of,
But then the cat with the appetite so greedy,
said 'why not name it after me? '
'I always come here everyday,
and the freshest food you go out of the way to serve,
It would do me the greatest honour
if you named it The Greedy Cat Cafe'
So the cafe at last had a name,
'The Greedy Cat' it's now called,
Still everyday there go's that greedy cat,
Because of the food -
and Chris and Morgan's service with a smile -
he could never get bored.
02/01/06.
A lawyer is never entirely comfortable with a friendly divorce, anymore than a good mortician wants to finish his job and then have the patient sit up on the table.
Seeing reduces feeling of owning
Now and then I go for window shopping.
Without purse I do shopping happily.
To ensure, I do it frequently,
That how happily I could live without them.
How many cars I window shopped.
Buying of them never occurred.
23.06.2001, Chennai
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Today
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the an evening with john denver album, and has also been released on the country classics album. some versions of the first album do no
Tain this song.
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Ill be a dandy, and Ill be a rover
Youll know who I am by the songs that I sing
Ill feast at your table, Ill sleep in your clover
Who cares what the morrow shall bring
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
I cant be contented with yesterdays glory
I cant live on promises winter to spring
Today is my moment, now is my story
Ill laugh and Ill cry and Ill sing
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine
Ill taste your strawberries, Ill drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away
ere I forget all the joy that is mine, today
Words and music by randy sparks
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutie Pie
CUTIE PIE
Cup cakes and cotton candy
Sugar plums and honey buns
Sweet potatoes and candy yams
taste so good,
on my tongue
The scent of sweet cinnamon sprinkles on an apple crumb pie
cuts through my senses
bringing tears to my eyes.
Just like when I image your face, sweet father of mine.
It creates a space in my heart
filled with the sweet cherished love you have for me.
I’ve never wanted to be nothing more than you sweet baby
so blessed that you’re all mine and I forever your little lady.
Let me forever be that apple in your eye
To have and to hold….wearing your love draped around me like a coat.
It will forever keep my heart safe and warm from the cold.
There’s nothing more precious than a daughters love for her daddy.
You’re the first to call me a cutie pie…which I never knew I was cute until you.
So whenever I look at my imagine in the mirror I get a sweet tooth.
When I look in the mirror I see you.
My brown cinnamon skin is like a pastry treat.
Cup cakes and cotton candy
Sugar plums and honey buns
Sweet potatoes and candy yams
taste so good,
to have them
I’d break a limb
The scent of sweet cinnamon sprinkles on an apple crumb pie.
cuts through my senses
bringing tears to my eyes.
Just like when I image your face, sweet father of mine.
It creates a space in my heart
filled with the sweet cherished love you have for me.
I’ve never wanted to be nothing more than you sweet baby
so blessed that you’re all mine and I forever your little lady.
Let me forever be that apple in your eye
I shall forever and always be your cutie pie.
poem by Shaniqua Hudson
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As Sweet As Honey
Come to the land of beauty to taste my love,
For there is a special creamy milk set for you to taste;
Come to the land of love to taste the true meaning of my love,
For there you will meet the beautiful young ladies!
And the handsome men are there to cheer you up.
This is like a folklore story of love and,
You will love to stay the night in your nakedness;
For te land is full of sweet aroma of words,
And my love is as sweet as honey.
You will be infused with the rivers along the line and,
You will hear the music of love being played daily;
For your health will be taken care with my love.
You will visit me again and again after your first experience,
For the sweet taste of love is the thing that you need;
And i am the example of the things that moves your love.
There is a dramatic act of love out here and,
You will like to run naked in the dark as well;
And you will live on to love me,
For i am as sweet as honey and your dreams will come true!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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~~~The Chef~~~
Saucy as the tang of Chili...
...Warmed as gingers heated groans-
Taste delight of Curry to the palate...
...Sweet as Honey Bees, to their drones...
Sirens scented journey-
Into aroma's of London Town...
Satisfied a billowing hunger...
Placed a smile and erased a frown...
Courted with Heavenly Manna-
Ushered in, by taste buds sweet...
Raised and baked in sheer splendour-
Temperature of ovens complete!
In the kitchen of attractions wonder-
Sizzles a Chef So Supreme...
Seasoned and hand crafted taste delight
He's todays: 'Cream De La Cream'
Ordinary cook, no never? !
Naturally adept at La Cuisine...
Evermore shall he create...
Succulent, saucy, dreams...
Watch: Take Home Chef
TLC, Weekdays
4: 00 P.M. Eastern
Dedicated to:
Chef: Curtis Stone
poem by Theodora Onken
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Apples
I am an orange man from an orange tree and,
I want to taste the fruits of your apple tree of love;
So prepare me a table so sweet for your apples.
My juice is orange and your love is from this apple tree,
So prepare me a nice table to taste some of your fruits!
Oh, how i dream to taste your sweet apples.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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If I Were Ice Cream
Wat flavor would I be
Would I be a classic like vanilla strawberry or chocolate some times i wanna run away with the goodness in my pocket. Ive been described as rocky road mmmm velvety chocolate and so sweet. my life hasn't always been easy so it makes since to me I'm soft but a little nutty talking about this icecreams making me hungry.
I wonder why icecream can be so comforting. But at the same time it's Different on the taste buds of everything. My taste buds scream loud for ice cream. But as human we don't realize how much we use that thing we use ice cream for broken hearts icecream has a way to cheer us up it's also used on a hot summer day to cool us off alil as the sun goes away.
what flavor best describes you
I love all types of ice cream so that means (I love you to) as I think of all the extravagant types that sit on the tip of the tongue man there's not even enough days on the earth to try every last one. I love flavors there all unique each one is different
poem by Keema Kreations
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Goodnight Ladies
Goodnight ladies, ladies goodnight
Its time to say goodbye
Let me tell you now
Goodnight ladies, ladies goodnight
Its time to say goodbye
Now all night long youve been drinking your tequilla
But now youve sucked your lemon peel dry
So why not get high
Goodnight ladies, ladies goodnight
Goodnight ladies, ladies goodnight
Its time to say goodbye
Goodnight sweet ladies, ladies goodnight
Its time to say goodbye bye bye
Oh weve been together for the longest time
But now its time to get high
Come on lets get high
And goodnight ladies, ladies goodnight
Oh, Im still missing my other half
Ah, it must be something I did in the past
Dont it just make you want to laugh
Its a lonely saturday night
Oh, nobody calls me on the telephone
I put another record on my stereo
But Im still singin a song of you
Its a lonely saturday night
Now if I was an actor or a dancer who is glamorous
Then you know an amorus life would soon be mine
But now the tinsil lighted starbreak is all thats left
To play my heartbreak
At eleven oclock I watch the network news
Oh, wow, wow, something tells me that youre nearly gone
You said we could be friends but thats not what I want
Ah, anyway my tv dinners almost done
Its a lonely saturday night
I mean to tell you its a lonely saturday night
One more round
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pssht....
pssht...... everyone wants
to hear but no one
likes to listen
good and bad make it
sense
early morning is a coffee,
a finger tip
and lips
that save
a table dine, where issues
and concerns are fine
a cream of sweet honey
in a table meet, where our
minds meet....pssht...
poem by Antonio Liao
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Homely is lovely
To rave royal ladies is to taste banquet
Dishes
To devour ladies next door is to taste
homely food.
Any thing homely is more agreeable.
29.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Rolling Cones
You hear their siren song in the air,
before you ever see the truck.
If it is “The Rolling Cones”
then my friend, you are in luck.
Where Mister Softee use to be
an old bald man down on his luck,
“The Rolling Cones” have sweet young things
Make sexy sundaes in a cup.
These ice cream ladies sell the wares
while wearing frilly bustiers.
Men of a certain age all troupe
to wave their dollars for two scoops.
Curves and ice cream swirls can be
Sexy, yes, but not obscene,
It’s a profitable duopoly.
They use hot babes to sell ice cream.
To differentiate their trucks
From the topless coffee vendor “Cups”
They needed a name all their own
That’s why they’re called “The Rolling Cones”
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Ladies Pay
All the sailors theyre all home from leave
And everybodys waiting for them to try to deceive
The storekeepers have drawn their lace curtains bare
And all the women and the wee young girls all waiting there
Oh, but how the ladies pay
Oh, if they only knew how the ladies pay
Yeah now, how the ladies pay
Oh, when the men theyve gone away
Nobody is standing on upon the door
And nobody is feeding any of the poor
The poor sick soldier lies in bed beside his girl
Thinking of another place on the other side of the world
Ah
How the ladies pay
Oh-oh, oh, how the ladies pay
When the men theyve gone away
Oh, I wish I knew how the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night
Night and day
Day and night
Day and night, night and day, ladies pay now
Night and day, day and night
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night now
Night and day and now
How the pay now
Oh, how the pay now
Ladies pay, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay the way now
Ladies pay, ah, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay
Night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay
Oh, night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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David O's thrifty shopping advice
Christmas shopping to me
is like a walk in the park
The method I use is
So easy and slick
But it is best done
late after dark
And requires no money
this simple trick
You simply go out
And do some window shopping
With a mask, a bag,
And a brick
poem by David Whalen
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