Mr.Carpenter
I need some table
where i serve tea for visitors
and some chairs for them too.
Get me a nice bluegum bed
that kids can play on vehemently
and a chopping board for vegetables
i need a cupboard
for my clothes and the television
plus a window for my new house.
Can you fix my heart?
That i get blessings
and restore my broken soul
mr.carpenter i beg of you.
poem by Fate Mcfate
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Applauding A Boo
Vegetables on the chopping board
Inaugurate a television recital..
I chop chop
Recital going on
The lady joins me harmoniously
Chopping, chopping, chopping
Chopping the brinjal, raga
Potato, tala, onion, lyric
Her vocal chords strain to wriggle
The accompaniments, onion shed laughing tears
Dissonant, discordant, cacophony
Screaches to countless decibels
I'm chopping lady's finger
My finger weeps red
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Because normally with Western cuisine, you'll serve vegetables separate from the meat, so kids will eat the meat and never touch the vegetables.
quote by Martin Yan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside the House of Bread
Everyone has a table inside the house of bread
Pouring in into the chairs the fish have come to roost
Its already started to happen inside the house of bread
Feasting and Forever enough to go around the table.
And I keep to myself in the age of all this water
We can share an ocean but don’t drink from my open well
I wont mind sharing in the house of bread
Everyone at the table deserves to be fed
poem by James Daniel Gabriel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cupboard
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear?
Mother: The cupboard of red mahogany
With handles shining clear.
Mary: That cupboard, dearest mother,
With shining crystal handles?
There's nought inside but rags and jags
And yellow tallow candles.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother mine?
Mother: That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber,
The silver corners shine.
Mary: There's nothing there inside, mother,
But wool and thread and flax,
And bits of faded silk and velvet
And candles of white wax.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
And this time tell me true.
Mary: White clothes for an unborn baby, mother..
But what's the truth to you?
poem by Robert Graves
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San Pedro de Alcantara
[An orange on the table
Your dress on the rug
And you in my bed
Sweet gift of the present
Freshness of the night
Warmth of my life
- 'Alicante', Jacques Prevert]
Clothes strewn on the table
Juice stains the floor board
He rises above you
You journey beneath him
I watch from the window
Cold in the night
Lemon tea on the dresser
Seed of pomegranite
Adorning your belly
As he falls above you
You draw down his kisses
Warm essence of life
Stranded at the station
In the cold of the morning
My bed for your sleeping
The rug for your dress
In the warmth of awakening
Dawn your caress
Lemons on the table
You make up by the window
I lie in my bed
Unable to watch you
The night steals the freshness
The gift that you left
Now I lie beside you
Emptiness on the table
Your hem in my fingers
The gift a deliverance
Your presence a memory
Warmth of the past.
poem by Frank Bana
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Oranges Testimonial
Mr. John Flansburgh: "Hey, this is John of They Might Be Giants. You might know me better as one of the guys from They Might Be Giants. You know, chemistry is like a relationship and that's why when you're looking for web design, go to the best: The Chopping Block. You might not know it, but over 50% of web designers are sleepy and cranky. The Chopping Block, through farm living and an active internship recruiting policy have over 10 million employees ready to serve your corporate whatever they call it. Orange powered and web-fueled, The Chopping Block... e-solutions to e-verybody."
Oranges
Oranges
Oranges and graphic design
The Chopping Block spends their time
Growing oranges, picking oranges
Then working on graphic design
The Chopping Block works all the time
All the time
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House Across the Way
The leaves looked in at the window
Of the house across the way,
At a man that had sinned like you and me
And all poor human clay.
He muttered: 'In a gambol
I took my soul astray,
But to-morrow I'll drag it back from danger,
In the morning, come what may;
For no man knows what season
He shall go his ghostly way.'
And his face fell down upon the table,
And where it fell it lay.
And the wind blew under the carpet
And it said, or it seemed to say:
'Truly, all men must go a-ghosting
And no man knows his day.'
And the leaves stared in at the window
Like the people at a play.
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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Vegetables
Im gonna be round my vegetables
Im gonna chow down my vegetables
I love you most of all
My favorite vege-table
If you brought a big brown bag of them home
Id jump up and down and hope youd toss me a carrot
Im gonna keep well my vegetables
Cart off and sell my vegetables
I love you most of all
My favorite vege-table
Oh oh taba vega vegel
I tried to kick the ball but my tenny flew right off
Im red as a beet cause Im so embarassed
Oh oh dum do dum de dooby do
Oh oh dum do dum de dooby do
Oh oh dum do dum de dooby do
Oh yeah
Oh badumday oh dum do dum de dooby do
Oh badumday oh dum do dum de dooby do
Chomp chomp chomp chomp do-do-do do-do-do
Bop bop bop bop do-do-do do-do-do
I know that youll feel better
When you send us in
Your letter an
Tell us the name of your
Your favorite vege-table
I know that youll feel better
When you send us in
Your letter an
Tell us the name of your
Your favorite vege-table
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sad House
the children are locked inside the house
if they go out once again
they shall be chained like dogs
once the hyperactive one
fell from the window
but its bones are strong and it knew how to land
like a cat
on the hard floor
spoiled kids says the mother
who is out of the house most of the time
they deserve punishment
says the father who is sick with lung cancer
stuffed toys
these kids without necks
they were never allowed to play
they have to go direct
to become
cruel men later
and no one is to blame
no one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Visitor Clever Theme Words
my visitors are voices clever words
my visitors arrive anywhere anytime
my visitors script film opera words
my visitors mirror parody depths mime
my visitors initiate connect life dots
my visitors represent patterns to define
poem by Terence George Craddock
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If You Love And Really Love
always be ready
with a tray of
forgiveness
like fresh fruits
and flowers on the tray
of hope
serve forgiveness
heartily
and then be happy again
dining on the table
of love
by the window the
sun is always ready with
the rays of
more blessings
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Only Need The Heart The Soul
to be a poet
(what they think is needed is the
discipline to fully master the craft)
one needs (however)
only the heart
the soul, the rest when summoned
properly
comes without much
hesitation, for in time, when you are
true and faithful
words come like servants
and arrange themselves like furniture
the chairs walk in
to form the dining set
with the center table
the curtains hang themselves
on window borders
to form a frame
a perfect perspective
to view the sea
of art.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Afternoon Sun
This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let's Play Nice
Let's play nice.
No need for spinning wheels,
Or the rolling of dice.
The pie secretly sliced...
Could be tasty for all.
If we stopped tossing chips,
With no thought to their fall!
Let's play nice!
Why gamble on bets..
To entice more regrets?
If those at the table enjoy eating cake...
Make sure there's enough,
For all to take a taste.
Why spoil or waste,
A gathering that takes place?
Let's place nice...
And allow for open dialogue.
Excite all appetites that come,
Forget about etiquette, rules and laws!
Let's play nice!
Put a smile on these 'tight' jaws!
Even those who seem to always win...
Appear to be frowning for no reason at all!
Let's play nice!
And break down those uptight walls!
Loosen up and let's go skipping...
Down those dull and dim-witted halls.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Earth
God loafs around heaven,
without a shape
but He would like to smoke His cigar
or bite His fingernails
and so forth.
God owns heaven
but He craves the earth,
the earth with its little sleepy caves,
its bird resting at the kitchen window,
even its murders lined up like broken chairs,
even its writers digging into their souls
with jackhammers,
even its hucksters selling their animals
for gold,
even its babies sniffing for their music,
the farm house, white as a bone,
sitting in the lap of its corn,
even the statue holding up its widowed life,
but most of all He envies the bodies,
He who has no body.
The eyes, opening and shutting like keyholes
and never forgetting, recording by thousands,
the skull with its brains like eels-
the tablet of the world-
the bones and their joints
that build and break for any trick,
the genitals,
the ballast of the eternal,
and the heart, of course,
that swallows the tides
and spits them out cleansed.
He does not envy the soul so much.
He is all soul
but He would like to house it in a body
and come down
and give it a bath
now and then.
poem by Anne Sexton
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For hundreds of years, that was the major form of entertainment: The grown-ups sat around and watched the kids play. Now they sit around and watch the television. The actors are the kids.
quote by David Duchovny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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A View In Town Square
four blue chairs surround
a center table
at the center table
lies the red cloth
there are no diners
this time of the day
on the blue frames of
the glass window
where the white curtains
hang & flow like silky water
the lush of the red
bougainvillea is a wreath
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Blessings
Written by teddy gentry, randy owen, ronnie rogers, greg fowler
I satnd here lookin up at the starts tonight, how can one man have somuch in
Life
As I look around me, what a picture it paints, Im muchmore than lucky, i
Oughta give my thanks
Theres food on the table, a log on the fire, and in my womans eyes theres
Love and desire
The blessings, sent from above, oh, the blessings, a life full of love
When I look around I can see, all thats been given me, so ilift my eyes up
To the sky
I wanna give my, my, my, my, my thanks for the blessings
Sometimes I fall asleep at the end of the day and I forget to thank you, im
Ashamed to say
But as I lay m down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep
I know you can hear me here on earth, thank you for giving me more than i
Deserve
The blessings, sent from above, oh, the blessings, a life full of love
When I look around I can see, all thats been given me, so ilift my eyes up
To the sky
cause I wanna give my, my, my, my, my thanks for the blessings
Blessings, when I look around, I can see, all thats been given me
So, I lift my eyes up to the sky, cause I wanna give my, my, my, my, my
Thanks for the blessings
The blessings, oh, the blessings
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Happy Heart
i
there are table
specially made for our kind
and some chairs too
they are made for
solo settings
ii
i sit on one of those
chairs
most often
and i eat on such
tables
more than what is
necessary
iii
sometimes people
stare at me
i eat alone, i sip my own cup of tea
alone
and it does not
really bother me
i am familiar with such
feeling
i am at home
and my heart is still a happy
place
for my dwelling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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