The leeks
newly washed white,-
how cold it is!
haiku by Matsuo Basho
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The Winter Leeks
The winter leeks
Have been washed white --
How cold it is!
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Spivey Leaks
Spivy Leeks was a drip of a man
I met him washing dishes in a local cafe
And he told me if...were fishes
He'd steal all their scales and he ... away
Spivy Leeks was an introvert
Like a broken radio
He'd make your day real long
An end result, ... time he looked up women's skirt
Just trying to figure out what was right from what was wrong
He was looking for Jesus in all the wrong places
There in my hole, save his soul
Spivy Leeks, It's time to go home
Spivy Leeks was an odd looking man
He looks just like a pool table
Shoved into jeans
And he thought that he possessed a secret power
And no matter what he did, he would be redeemed
Spivy Leeks lived at the local 7-11
He looked at dirty magazines most everyday
He studied those pictures like he studied the Bible
He thought that they were angels and that he'd been saved
He was looking for Jesus in all the wrong places
There in my hole, save his soul
Spivy Leeks, It's time to go home
Spivy Leeks robbed a liquor store
Instead of a gun, he used a candy bar
He told the cashiers that he was their saviour
But his holiness,
His holiness and his Baby Ruth didn't get him very far
Spivy Leeks died a glorious death
Down on main street
It was quite a public site
And as Mr. Sheriff man was about to
Blow him to pieces
He said "Hallelujah, I'm coming home tonight
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spivy Leeks
Spivy leeks was a drip of a man
I met him washing dishes in a local cafe
And he told me if...were fishes
Hed steal all their scales and he ... away
Spivy leeks was an introvert
Like a broken radio
Hed make your day real long
An end result, ... time he looked up womens skirt
Just trying to figure out what was right from what was wrong
He was looking for jesus in all the wrong places
There in my hole, save his soul
Spivy leeks, its time to go home
Spivy leeks was an odd looking man
He looks just like a pool table
Shoved into jeans
And he thought that he possessed a secret power
And no matter what he did, he would be redeemed
Spivy leeks lived at the local 7-11
He looked at dirty magazines most everyday
He studied those pictures like he studied the bible
He thought that they were angels and that hed been saved
He was looking for jesus in all the wrong places
There in my hole, save his soul
Spivy leeks, its time to go home
Spivy leeks robbed a liquor store
Instead of a gun, he used a candy bar
He told the cashiers that he was their saviour
But his holyness,
His holyness and his baby ruth didnt get him very far
Spivy leeks died a glorious death
Down on main street
It was quite a public site
And as mr. sheriff man was about to
Blow him to pieces
He said halejuhah, Im coming home tonight.
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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T2
the green tiles of the garage
reinvent this old house
it is more livable now
the hammock newly washed
the shoes newly brushed and
the table newly painted
this house has reinvented itself
into something more admirable
decent, confident, renewed,
this could be a start
as you must begin to recreate
what you once was too
do not be just yourself
go beyond what is admirable
reinvent your mind
dye your hair, polish your nails
scent your soap and
wash your hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White-Washed Sea
White bread and white maids,
Marmalade and sugar tarts: stick me
High atop the citrus tree,
Like a paper airplane, paper nose pointing
The way to the white-washed sea:
Pretty dolls and forget-me-nots,
Ivory beavers slapping dams,
Lover-boys in snowy trams making their
Procession to the white-washed sea:
Tourists there, Mickey-Mouse, and fricassee,
Conquistadors jounced on vanilla poles,
Saints and crosses like Spanish scarecrows on
Concrete atolls, bleed anemically towards
The white-washed sea: Hills of windmills are
Picaresque, lovely cherries on her white washed-
Breasts, bones of birds and pica ninnies;
Aunts sing cantos at their nieces nurseries,
Pale and freckled and on their knees,
Girls who’d been roller-skating as if on foam,
Stop and pray to the white-washed sea;
Pick themselves up, adjusting their silky delicates,
Before rolling home, to sit cross-legged smoking
Candied cigarettes and gossiping underneath the
Sky’s crenulated dome, eyes so lost and hopeless,
All fair and so lonely, yet well-perceived,
Searching for some solutions across the white-washed sea.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year.
The house across the way is newly painted white.
Right now, that’s all my being seems to need:
this winter morning, sharp, cold, bright and clear,
the morning sunlight pours across white paint;
contains a thousand messages, in me
interpreted.. or simply left to be..
this moment, that’s as much as being craves:
this morning’s glory; and I, born for praise..
even as I write, I watch the sun’s
white paint brush move across the house’s front
and tell the eye of reason that this world
is turning, basking, in this morning sun;
already sparkling on the Bondi waves
as if the world had just been washed anew;
cast early dawn’s pearl light on Taj Mahal
as if the sun itself could never tire of beauty;
Italian villa forecourts just hosed down,
the air all fresh to meet the warming day;
the gardens of Carmel, eight hours from now,
will paint their flowers fresh with mist and dew;
as every carefree holiday yourself
recall, as proof eternal of pure soul..
and here - the witness of my silent mind
needs nothing, need go nowhere else to find
its very self, this moment without taint:
immortal sunlight shining on white paint.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A metaphor in search of a poem perhaps
Like a favourite vase,
newly washed, saying
I'm beautiful as I am,
empty yet shining,
what will you fill me with?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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White and Red
The cold,
the white,
that fell,
from the sky.
The warm,
The red,
That fell,
from my skin.
The white is clean,
stained by my red.
It is white and I am red,
But I am now one with white,
and the white is one with red,
What is white,
what is red,
If something is white,
Then it cant be red,
If something is red,
then it cant be white,
Something that is not white...
Something that is not red...
Something that is both...
Is what?
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Life Goes On
The sun is shining bright
after the stormy night...
life goes on.
...and the earth is newly washed
from the dirts of the past...
life goes on.
Life goes on.
Come, let me wipe your tears
and let me see you smile...
life goes on.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Christmas Roses
THE summer roses all are gone--
Dead, laid in shroud of rain-wet mould;
And passion's lightning time is done,
And Love is laid out white and cold.
Summer and youth for us are dead,
What do old age and winter bring instead?
They bring us memories of old years,
And Christmas roses, cold and sweet,
Which, washed by not unhappy tears,
I bring and lay beside your feet,
With gifts that come with flowers like these--
Friendship, remembrance of our past, and peace!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Is White
WINTER IS WHITE
Winter is white
.......dogwood white
..............forgetfulness
......... ..........an empty slate
Winter is windy
.......windless words
..............empty words
....................drifting aimlessly
Winter is cold
.......deedless words
..............barrenness
............ ........suffering cold
What sound goes there?
What meaning fills the void?
These white lies of life
...............blown sands –– no trace
.....................................–– no path
.....................blindness––no seeking
...................................... ––no faith
No seeing here
No leading love
White and no light
White and no sight
White and no flight
- March 6,2008
poem by Ben Gieske
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the leeks
such fair ladies
from the slums
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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After Prayers, Lie Cold
Arise my body, my small body, we have striven
Enough, and He is merciful; we are forgiven.
Arise small body, puppet-like and pale, and go,
White as the bed-clothes into bed, and cold as snow,
Undress with small, cold fingers and put out the light,
And be alone, hush'd mortal, in the sacred night,
-A meadow whipt flat with the rain, a cup
Emptied and clean, a garment washed and folded up,
Faded in colour, thinned almost to raggedness
By dirt and by the washing of that dirtiness.
Be not too quickly warm again. Lie cold; consent
To weariness' and pardon's watery element.
Drink up the bitter water, breathe the chilly death;
Soon enough comes the riot of our blood and breath.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Eat leeks in march, garlic in may, all the rest of the year the doctors may play.
Rondeau
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
Leeks, and cabbage three days old,
Smoked meat, as hard and black as coal;
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold.
Twenty eating from one bowl,
A bitter drink -it's beer, I'm told-
Bad sleep on a straw in some filthy hole,
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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Buying leeks
Buying leeks
and walking home
under the bare trees.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Yosa Buson
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Hot Night In A Cold Town
Sonnys out strolling, ambling slowly
Washed in amber street lights
A mexican wind blows in
Takin ahold of angelinas hair
And her halo
Motors running, muffling the sound
Of the street talk
A big deals goin down
In another hot night
In a cold town
Got yourself a hot night
In a cold town
Johnnys got spare change
In his pocket
A ring and a watch
To hock for a sweet ride
A one way ticket
Hidden in his shoe
These last few hours
He says hell spend with you
Hes leavin home without a trace
No forwarding address
Hell never have to face another
Hot night
In a cold town
Got yourself a hot night
In a cold town
Well, the losers and the groovers
And the corner boys
Are hangin around
Runnin in and out of doorways
Up and down the stairways
Stray dogs headed for the pound
In another
Hot night in a cold town
Got you, got yourself a
Hot night in a cold, cold town
Cold town
Its just another hot night
In a cold town
Such a cold town
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chimney
this morning...this morning..this morning
the chimney of the desolate house in front of mine
is smoking...smoking...smoking
what a lovely sight
who may be there
on the snow
white smoke onthe white snow
the bare plum tree is
grinning...grinning..grinning
the black crow
on the hazel nut tree
crowing...crowing...crowing
as if life is newly beginning...beginning...beginning
guess..who is there...who is there
behind the yellow lignt seen at night
shining from the desolate window
someone...someone....someone
living. ..emerging from the house
ı wish all the chimneys of the lonely poor smoked
in the wilderness of the cold..cold of the snow
what a happy and a lovely sight
the desolate chimney is smoking...smoking...smoking
ı wish ı were in this old house too
with the mystery of the ancients
where they have come
ı never knew
the desolate house is reviving this morn
ı only see the shadows
growing...growing....growing..and moving
poem by Metin Sahin
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White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence
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