Nope Not Supposed To
The simples of kindness
Ever to express
Was a dog biscuit from the mailman’s vest
Today while on my way
My dog did spy
From his biscuit eye
This uniform of yesterday
Who would bring treats along his way
Nope....I’m not supposed to he say
No biscuits anymore along my way
It has become a no more to be
This kind gesture between the dog and me
Nick Krakana
December 28,2011
poem by Nick krakana
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Biscuit City
Id like to be in biscuit city
With my banjo in my hand
I dont need no long vacation
In some foreign land
Cause the sound of my own breathing
Has been turning to a sigh
I wish that I could make the time
To be in biscuit city by and by
Oh the water is of emerald
And the beach is white as snow
And everyones got money
And no place to go
In a land of milk and honey
It can really make you smile
And if I had a ticket
I would stay in biscuit city for a while
All the girls are in bikinis
All the boys are in the buff
With the baby in between and
That makes three of us
And the streets are all so quiet
And the walls are squeaky clean
I think you aint been nowhere til
The town of biscuit city you have seen
Id rather be in biscuit city
With my banjo in my hand
Than take a big vacation
In some foreign land
Cause the sound of my own breathing
Has been turning to a sigh
If it were not for misfortune
I would be in biscuit city by and by
If it were not for misfortune
I would stay in biscuit city til I die
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mundane Tale
We know each other the two of us
I was in a hurry in a time of rush
He was happy his eyes joy-lit
"Spare a little time, for one biscuit".
Just then came the red office bus
I was annoyed, I was in a rush
A moment's hesitation and I boarded it
Glanced at him and our eyes did meet.
Something I saw moistened his eyes
A surprise it was he couldn't disguise
He couldn't believe, the thing of the street,
that I would leave him without biscuit.
It found me again back on the street
Someone was needed to buy him a biscuit
Other things could wait, such as office
Not for the world could I give it a miss.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Mailman, Bring Me No More Blues
She wrote me only one sad night,
Told me she's no longer mine.
Sue sue mailman, that will do for sometime.
Mailman, bring me no more blues.
Mailman, bring me no more blues.
One more heartache is all i can use.
Mailman, bring me no more blues.
Mailman, bring me no more blues...
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Robert Frost
A Note to Robert Frost's
A Prayer in Spring
Pleasures from flowers
Give spring to the air
A pleasure like no other
At this time of year
Robert Frost has a way
Of taking us there
I wonder if he wrote these things
Before or after a thankful prayer
As happy as a bee
Or the darting bird over there
Each a simple reminder
Of the creators care
Captured a new each year
In the fresh spring air
Nick Krakana
April 2nd 2012
poem by Nick krakana
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Pick This to Leave
A product solicited and much too erotic,
With a marketing done to the very young.
In articles that blatantly state:
'Scope Upon Your Pleasures.
And Keep Fixed In Positions to Satiate.'
Promoting promiscuity.
And the irresponsibility,
Of random breeding.
What else could this be?
But a fostering of humanity,
Depleting in self defeat.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't need it.
Don't welcome it to feed it.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
New addictions may appease.
But pick this from your head to leave.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Or become addicted.
Make this leave.
Don't be submissive.
Make this leave.
Don't think of this as a benefit.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Or become addicted.
Make this leave.
Don't be submissive.
Make this leave.
Don't think of this as a benefit.
A product solicited and much too erotic,
With a marketing done to the very young.
Someone, something has to stop it.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit.
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Don't let this sit pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Don't let this sit pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
Nope. Nope...
Pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Pick this to leave.
Nope. Nope...
Pick this to leave.
Don't give this even a chance to breathe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grey
The diner nibbles biscuit
because a stealthy misfit
has finished off the brisket and the pie.
His methods are erratic
and crumbs bedaub his jacket
unheeded by his static glassy eyes.
Upon his thin long fingers
a whiff of Cheddar lingers.
The end of a malingerer is nigh.
His ears are pricked for whispers.
A presage stills his whiskers
before tight sprung ballistic metal flies.
The silence is emphatic.
The stillness is dramatic
to underscore a tragic mouse demise.
Quick nails tip tap the china.
He grinds his biscuit finer.
Behind his specs, the diner's eyes are dry.
poem by Diane Hine
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I Will Not Take That Much Anymore
I have aged a lot after such a short time and I look
Like an old man, a useless man, a man who can do nothing and give you nothing.
When I speak to you I forget and would have a hard time recalling that it was you and that I was speaking to you, I am like an old useless part of your household
I will not take that much about myself anymore
I cannot speak that much that which you have expected from me
I cannot take that much load anymore and I am surrendering myself to you
Begging for laxity
Begging to understanding
I cannot take that much anymore, I will take less time
I am an old useless man and you can now convert me into
A biscuit.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Honey Biscuits And Gravy
My wife and I sat down one day
to honey biscuits and gravy
and when the last of it was on my plate
what did she say to me
She said, 'my dear devoted husband
husband of many years
would you give the last of that breakfast treat
oh would you please, my dear? '
I said, 'my wife, my darling wife
wife of many years
of biscuits and gravy I cannot part'
so with my fork I began to start
But before I could reach the plate
I was stopped by my hungry mate
She said, 'I'll give you silver and gold
all the fortunes yet untold
if you'll give what's on your plate
the still standing honey biscuit and gravy'
I said, 'my dear, darling wife
wife of many a day
nothing short of a great earthquake
can make me part with my plate'
And then she grew desperate
a horrid fiend intemperate, she said
'You'll be the sole head of the estate
for that last serving of biscuits and gravy! '
I said, 'dear, devoted wife
wife of many a day
you don't know that with what you give
so willingly away'
She said, 'a small price, a small price
I eagerly will pay
for that last remaining morsel
left standing on your plate'
So I did the deed, I confess
and now I must say
my wife's head tasted just as good
as honey biscuits and gravy
poem by Kevin Howell
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Today is better than Yesterday
Yesterday
Yesterday, I was running with to feet
Yesterday, I was playing with kids
Yesterday, I was kicking the ball
Yesterday, I had it all, all was mine.
Yesterday, I was growing well,
Yesterday, I had it all undercover
Yesterday was my day
Yesterday, my days were
Yesterday, I had a lover, ‘true lover’
Yesterday, promises were made
Yesterday, promises were not kept
Yesterday, I was happy.
Yesterday, I gave him everything
Yesterday, I sacrificed everything
Yesterday, I was a fool
Yesterday, I was dying
Today
Today, I am lying in bed
Today, I am watching hopeless kids
Today, I can hardly move
Today, everything is falling
Today, I am dying in bed
Today, it is all wrong
Today, is not my day
Today, my days are not
Today, I have no one
Today, promises are broken
Today, promises are not
Today, I have no hope
Today, I long for myself
Today, I cry over spilled milk
Today, I am wise
Today, I live
Whatever happened yesterday is not
Whatever was, is not
Whatever was broken can be fixed
Whatever wound are, can be healed
Just need the Perfect Healer
Jesus I know you are! ! !
poem by Sbonelo C Ngcobo
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The Problem
the problem with us is that when we open the computer and begin
to read poetry we cannot stop, we do not know when and where to stop
we get carried away like a paper boat on the river and we do not know
where we shall be taken
and not only that
in some mysterious ways we too assume the hands of the poet his mind
his emotions contaminating us
and we (oh let me just talk about myself)
and i begin to write myself some lines
honestly not knowing where these line come from
and like ants they invade me and begin to eat me like a chunk of chocolate
or a broken biscuit or a grain of rice that they all carry like a good catch
and then i pride myself with the belief that i must still be sweet
as chocolate, crisp and tasty like a biscuit, and white and unblemished
like a grain of rice
not because i am writing poems
but because the ants too, like the river have carried me away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beahcomber Dog
Beachcomber dog is on my trail,
windy company, late December;
distracts my glance; a mute tale,
within his shiny eyes and amber.
A fervent dog, paces on shore,
sniffing my footsteps as I walk
December is gray, an icy hoar,
sea waves on monotonous talk.
I turn to see, the friendly dog,
a kind smile! Maybe a biscuit
if I could find! a dark icon in fog,
much he 'd like a tasty brisket!
The wind spells around the dog,
his bitter cold is apt to remind,
that we are firmed upon a clog,
on aimless course, a port to find.
A strange dog, on random stroll,
I left in fog years ago, his bark,
I hear; eyes appear like odd call
and old spirits salute me in dark.
I turn to approach the stray dog,
but he 's not there, flied in air,
marginal aptitude, figure in fog
marginal solitude a dusk despair.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Ball & Biscuit
Its quite possible that Im your third man girl
But its a fact that Im the seventh son
And right now you could care less about me
But soon enough you will care, by the time Im done
Lets have a ball and a biscuit sugar
And take our sweet little time about it
Lets have a ball and a biscuit sugar
And take our sweet little time about it
Tell everyone in the place just to get out
Well get clean together
And Ill find a soapbox where I can shout it
Read it in the newspaper
Ask your girlfriends and see if they know
That my strength is ten fold woman
And Ill let you see if you want to before you go
Its quite possible that Im your third man girl
But its a fact that Im the seventh son
It was the other two which made me your third
But it was my mother who made me the seventh son
And right now you could care less about me
But soon enough you will care by the time Im done
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Risk Your Biscuits
Don't risk your biscuits.
Keep those biscuits mystic.
If they're found delicious,
Keep the people licking their lips.
Do not risk those biscuits,
For suggestions or tips.
From others who just want them to be,
Buttered and split!
When you took them out the oven,
You knew then the flavor would...
Bring joy to some.
Like no others had done.
And when they jellied up those biscuits,
With a favorite beverage...
A stirring had begun.
Making your biscuits their number one.
Do not risk those biscuits,
For suggestions or tips.
From others who just want them to be,
Buttered and split!
Eaten and enjoyed.
Making a habit of it!
You can choose and decide,
If you want them addicted!
But...
When you took them out the oven,
You knew then the flavor would...
Bring joy to some.
Like no others had done.
So...
Don't risk your biscuits.
Keep those biscuits mystic.
If they're found delicious,
Keep the people licking their lips.
Knowing only you,
Can do these biscuits like this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Yesterday I done things that pleased others
Today I do things that pleased myself
Tomorrow is the day I change what I have done wrong
Yesterday I hate things that hurt me
Today I shall change things under my control
Tomorrow I shall do more that I can envisioned
Yesterday I had past my youth era
Today I am wiser than yesterday
Tomorrow I will become a legend because I dare to dream big
Happy are those whom appreciated what yesterday had brought
Happy are those whom plan for things to do today
For tomorrow what might bring us is eternal happiness and peace
Yesterday Time flies so fast without realising we are already dead
Today Wasting our time is wasting our life
Tomorrow Time is valueless and priceless
Let yesterday remind me of the sweet memories of yester years
Let today be my reminder of treasuring our life
For tomorrow may bring uncertainty onto our life
So let us treasure and value our time
Time becomes priceless when we take things for granted
Time becomes meaningless when we face our final moment of our dead
Time becomes tomorrow heaven when we treasure the present moment.
© 2011 Lawrence Hiung
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Birth Of Food
The birth of a biscuit combines my mind with my body,
Hardening the soul, hardening the mighty heart;
May hearts collide in innocent gestures,
Love has been tasted by the birth of an ingredient of love.
Mighty remembrance has been loved and liked,
Gestures of a table combine with the mighty arms and legs.
The biscuits and dishes and fishes work on their own,
Finding a concept of philosophy and knowledge.
This is the birth of food and cookery,
That chefs may discover in their youth.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Escorted to the Threshold of Fame
Many have more than been escorted,
To the threshold of fame.
Some visualized this at their births.
Knowing within them,
Fame was the name of the game to claim.
Others want notoriety.
And don't know why they want it.
Not realizing it's much more of a risk...
To have a life flaunted,
With little time to rest.
Or just quietly be alone to reflect and sit.
Many have more than been escorted,
To the threshold of fame.
Some will admit they enjoy the attention.
Others signed to contracts,
Wish they could end them quick.
Knowing it is more than posing for photos.
When so many would rather,
Eat biscuits with syrup.
And lick their lips clean...
Of the bacon fat that drips.
'This is so delicious!
May I have more of it? '
~What about your physique and figure,
To please with 'mystique'...
For your fans? ~
'Please pass me another biscuit.
I will diet when I can.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Today
There has been a day like today
But a fresh new day is today
It is a unique day today
It is wide open today
All the answers for our questions has today
Let us dream today
Let us laugh today
Let us share our love today
Let us express our greatness today
Let us trade many a yesterday for today
Let us perform our tasks today
Let us make it a magnificent today
Let us thank God for giving life today
Let us thank God for seeing His creations today
Let us love most about today
A golden day is today
For it is a fact today
It has arrived today!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Yesterday, When I Was Mad
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday)
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday)
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday) when i was mad
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday) when i was mad
Darling, you were wonderful, you really were quite good
I enjoyed it, though, of course, no one understood
A word of what was going on, they didn't have a clue
They couldn't understand your sense of humour like i do
You're much too kind
I smiled with murder on my mind
Yesterday, when i was mad
And quite prepared to give up everything
Admitting, i don't believe
In anyone's sincerity, and that's what's really got to me
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday)
Yesterday (yesterday yesterday) when i was mad
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday/Today
Yesterday, I walked
Today, I run.
Yesterday, I fell
Today, I soar.
Yesterday, I frowned
Today, I smile.
Yesterday, I forgot
Today, I remember.
Yesterday, I wondered
Today, I know.
Yesterday, I dreamt that Today i would
poem by Maria Herron
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You, Yesterday and I
Yesterday wasn't just another day
There the earth moved on its axis
There the sun appeared on time
There the moon blinked at the sun
Yet yesterday wasn't another day
The passion we shared yesterday
Doesn't make it just another yesterday
The yesterday's warmth of your eyes
That traced all my nuances
The yesterday's breeze that touched me
After it touched you
The yesterday's redness of my lips
That you so fondly painted
The yesterday's voyage on sea of love
That we together dared
The yesterday's purple of love
That I found after you left
All these and more of yesterday
Still follow me today...
You see
Yesterday wasn't
Just another day!
On 28th of Sep 2011 at 17.47hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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