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When pumpkins are watered, brinjals also get watered.

Kashmiri proverbs
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The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo

I

On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

II

Once, among the Bong-trees walking
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
There he heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,--
''Tis the lady Jingly Jones!
'On that little heap of stones
'Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

III

'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
'Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
'Will you come and be my wife?'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
'I am tired of living singly,--
'On this coast so wild and shingly,--
'I'm a-weary of my life:
'If you'll come and be my wife,
'Quite serene would be my life!'--
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

IV

'On this Coast of Coromandel,
'Shrimps and watercresses grow,
'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,'
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
'You shall have my chairs and candle,
'And my jug without a handle!--

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Lear
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When pumpkins are watered, brinjals (a small vegetable) also get watered.

Kashmiri proverbs
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When pumpkins are watered, brinjals [small plants] also get watered.

Asian-Indian proverbs
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Watered Down Love

Love thats pure hopes all things,
Believes all things, wont pull no strings,
Wont sneak up into your room, tall, dark and handsome,
Capture your heart and hold it for ransom.
You dont want a love thats pure
You wanna drown love
You want a watered-down love
Love thats pure, it dont make no claims,
Intercedes for you stead of casting you blame,
Will not deceive you or lead you to transgression,
Wont write it up and make you sign a false confession.
You dont want a love thats pure
You wanna drown love
You want a watered-down love
Love thats pure wont lead you astray,
Wont hold you back, wont mess up your day,
Wont pervert you, corrupt you with stupid wishes,
It dont make you envious, it dont make you suspicious.
You dont want a love thats pure
You wanna drown love
You want a watered-down love
Love thats pure aint no accident,
Always on time, is always content,
An eternal flame, quietly burning,
Never needs to be proud, restlessly yearning.
You dont want a love thats pure
You wanna drown love
You want a watered-down love

song performed by Bob Dylan
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The Reluctant Visitor

The Reverend Peter Porter Guys
Was a gentle man with anaemic eyes,
Pale blue, that watered wherever he went
From Epiphany, to the fasting of Lent.

He walked the villages of his flock
From door to door, from knock to knock,
And always he mentioned the Organ Fund
To the full of life, and the moribund.

He went from house to house with glee
Consuming hundreds of cups of tea,
And never noticed - and there's the rub,
That 'hubby' had gone to hide at the pub.

The ladies listened with wringing hands
To the trials of Job and the Lord's commands,
And simpered long in the hopes that he
Could give them a personal 'Heaven' key.

Forgive their sins, both now and then
Put in a word with the Lord for them,
Perhaps forgive them a future sin
Or two or three - like a lottery win!

His eyes then watered, the Reverend Guys
He gave no specials, he told no lies,
The road was narrow, the road was straight
With no back alleys to Heaven's Gate.

One day he went to visit the Dunns
They hadn't been to his service once,
Just newly moved from a house in town
They'd come to the country, settled down.

Now Peggy Dunn, she wanted to fit
With the country types of Nether Stitt,
She'd sworn to please, so she asked him in
And they sat in her bright solarium.

His eyes, they watered in there the most
As he talked of the passing Holy Ghost,
While Peggy shuddered and looked askance
At the pot containing her cannabis plant.

Her husband Don was an atheist,
Who didn't believe that gods exist,
'We all came down from a worm, ' he said,
'That turned to a monkey; then we bred! '

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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A Pumpkin grows in Midwife's yard

Her mother is a midwife
and she is a nanny to her far relative.
He collects pumpkins hastily for the sunday fair.
Do you think a street vendor sees pleasant dreams?
Anyhow please do not get surprised
if a street vendor marries a nanny
and she delivers precious children safely
as her mother knows the job perfectly.
Still the pumpkins grow in the yard
and the vendor collects them without any bargaining.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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If She Does

We’ve got in pumpkins-
Entire bins of pumpkins- and my job today
Was to kill the ants,
And think of something:
And this really beautiful mother came in today-
She looked like someone’s sister.
She looked like she’d played soccer in high school.
Then a man came in with gold teeth,
And I think he made a comment about my face
Under his breath-
I shouldn’t like to think what he had to say,
But I know he was Italian and a painter
And from New York,
But definitely not an artist,
And I was glad when he went away,
And after he went away I thought again of myself as
An artist
Who must try and look at his face from the sunburned
Shadows from the best possible angles
And try to make the best of it,
And be happy that that beautiful young mother came in
And asked my name,
And said that she would be back to buy a Christmas tree.
If she comes, then I’ll have to find out her name,
And see if she doesn’t want to ride bicycles near the sea:
If she does it will be the first time I’ve been with a woman
In seven years,
And the very first time I’ve been with a beautiful woman
Not counting a couple prostitutes
If she does.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Pumpkin Parade

The pungent smell of autumn
With the air so crisp and cool
Golden leaves tumble to the ground
A time for nature’s renewal

The pumpkins are harvested
When autumn time appears
They are ripe and ready
For the parade we all revere

Horses are hooked up
To wagons and carts
Folks all pile in
And we’re ready to start

Aren’t they just beautiful?
The pumpkins I mean
Every size shade and style
It’s a sweet autumn dream

The air is so fresh
The time is so right
It’s a pumpkin parade
What a beautiful sight!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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Once I Was A Prince

Once i was a prince in your highbeamed palm-thatched house
timber and stone
of hardened mud and cold green shiny cement
in your village ribbed with drying splintering palmleaf fences
buttressed by ferns
palmyra jackfruit mango trees standing solitary sentinel in compound
corners

then just for a month
i was a prince in your eyes
i hazarded the Bay of Bengal on a lolling steamer
and watched in unbelief naked children dive for coins in the Nagapattinam offshore anchorage
just to be with you
still a teeny dreamy youth
and there you were
afraid that your village ways might irk me
make me want to go back before time

the day i arrived a double murder in the island
a day or two earlier another
vendetta vengeance wreaked in blood for slights of caste contraventions
other threats other life-taking threats for mere unintended insults
innuendoes injuries
to the state of one's birth
to the validity of one's finance one's moral upstandingness one's looks one's genealogy
a longdrawnout court case for the plucking of a ripe mango from an overhanging branch in the neighbour's compound

sitting squat on your two firm broiled scarred feet
your coarse borderless demure saree stretched to its apparent tatters
your stalwart all-bearing sturdiness masked in that humble crouching
posture
your rough-rolled cheroot smouldering on the edge of the kitchen-patio
cemented mudfloor
and rolling off the corner of the wallbacked seat from where you listened to the swish swish of my coming down the fine sand-filled path rising swiftly furtively only to prepare the ceremonial washing of my feet hands face with the natural coolness from your own ancestral well the chembu as you reverently tilted it giving off just that much of thrashing water into my upturned cupped hands
your meloncholy dreamy gaze riveted on my face my hands my hair my feet recalling perhaps the husband you moaned and whom I had never seen not even in a word-picture
your eyes those bee's full trusting warm honey-coloured ensconced within sharply falling epicanthic folds watching without imposing but who knows how nostalgically
your fear of touching me with those toil-knotted fingers lest I recoil worn yet tender frail still strong from serving two husbands over half a century lest I inadvertently even make a gesture that might make you feel unlike someone of your highborn bridal glory

Once i was a prince in your eyes
my every wish granted
even before I could wish it
eevaa peerankal muuvaa maruntu

the hot kuul boiling complaining in the chemman earthenpot
your apparent fear that the nextdoor neighbour woman might begin her daily chant of your ancestors' drawbacks failings mishaps for fear that my still sheltered ears might tire of your village ways tire of the lack of other comforts running water showers toilets for fear that your native untutored tongue might sound too outlandish to my ears
your pain perpetually shrivelled between your brows notching your fine
flanking nose

Once you touched me
for I had not risen at the appointed hour for my ritual bath

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
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Shakuntala Act 1

King Dushyant in a chariot, pursuing an antelope, with a bow and quiver, attended by his Charioteer.
Suta (Charioteer). [Looking at the antelope, and then at the king]
When I cast my eye on that black antelope, and on thee, O king, with thy braced bow, I see before me, as it were, the God Mahésa chasing a hart (male deer), with his bow, named Pináca, braced in his left hand.

King Dushyant: The fleet animal has given us a long chase. Oh! there he runs, with his neck bent gracefully, looking back, from time to time, at the car (chariot) which follows him. Now, through fear of a descending shaft, he contracts his forehand, and extends his flexible haunches; and now, through fatigue, he pauses to nibble the grass in his path with his mouth half opened. See how he springs and bounds with long steps, lightly skimming the ground, and rising high in the air! And now so rapid is his flight, that he is scarce discernible!

Suta: The ground was uneven, and the horses were checked in their course. He has taken advantage of our delay. It is level now, and we may easily overtake him.

King Dushyant: Loosen the reins.

Suta: As the king commands. – [He drives the car first at full speed, and then gently.] – He could not escape. The horses were not even touched by the clouds of dust which they raised; they tossed their manes, erected their ears, and rather glided than galloped over the smooth plain.

King Dushyant: They soon outran the swift antelope. –Objects which, from their distance, appeared minute, presently became larger: what was really divided, seemed united, as we passed; and what was in truth bent, seemed straight. So swift was the motion of the wheels, that nothing, for many moments, was either distant or near. [He fixes an arrow in his bowstring.]

[Behind the scenes.] He must not be slain. This antelope, O king, has an asylum in our forest: he must not be slain.

Suta: [Listening and Looking.] Just as the animal presents a fair mark for our arrow, two hermits are advancing to interrupt your aim

King Dushyant: Then stop the car.

Suta: The king is obeyed. [He draws in the reins.]

Enter a Hermit and his Pupil.

Hermit: [Raising his hands.] Slay not, O mighty sovereign, slay not a poor fawn, who has found a place of refuge. No, surely, no; he must not be hurt. An arrow in the delicate body of a deer would be like fire in bale of cotton. Compared with thy keen shafts, how weak must be the tender hide of a young antelope! Replace quickly, oh! replace the arrow which thou hast aimed. The weapons of you kings and warriors are destined for the relief of the oppressed, not for the destruction of the guiltless.

King Dushyant: [Saluting them.] It is replaced.

[He places the arrow in his quiver.]

Hermit: [With joy] Worthy is that act of thee, most illustrious; of monarchs; worthy, indeed, of a prince descended from Puru. Mayst thou have a son adorned with virtues, a sovereign of the world!

Pupil: [Elevating both his hands.] Oh! by all means, may thy son be adorned with every virtue, a sovereign of the world!

King Dushyant: [Bowing to them.] My head bears with reverence the order of a Bráhmin

Hermit: Great king, we came hither to collect wood for a solemn sacrifice; and this forest, and the banks of the Malini, affords an asylum to the wild animals protected by Shakuntala, (Shakuntala) whom our holy preceptor Kanva has received as a sacred deposit. If you have no other avocation, enter yon grove, and let the rights of hospitality be duly performed. Having seen with your own eyes the virtuous behaviour of those whose only wealth is their piety, but whose worldly cares are now at an end, you will then exclaim, 'How many good subjects are defended by this arm, which the bowstring has made callous!'

King Dushyant: Is the master of your family at home?

Hermit: Our preceptor is gone to Sómatirt'ha, in hopes of deprecating some calamity, with which destiny threatens the irreproachable Shakuntala, and he has charged her, in his absence, to receive all guests with due honour.

King Dushyant: Holy man, I will attend her; and she, having observed my devotion, will report it favourably to the venerable sage.

Both: Be it so; and we depart on our own business. [The Hermit and his Pupil go out.]

King Dushyant: Drive on Suta. By visiting the abode of holiness, we shall purify our souls.

Suta: As the king (may his life be long!) commands. [He drives on.]

[...] Read more

poem by Kalidasa
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden

Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.

[...] Read more

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Watering' The 'unwatered

Concentration is less water
More water is dilution
Stones, boulders more strong concentration
Sand and the like fine concentration
Water and the like just dilution

Side by side rock and water coexist
To each other rock and sand give birth
To a mix sand and water give birth
The Mix to a rock gives birth

Water on rock evaporates
Rock on water stays
Sand on water or
Water on sand never

The rock of old age
Strong concetrated knowledge means
The Mix of young age
Fine conceterated knowledge means

Fine Concentration watered can be
As sand and water mix
Strong concetration watered can never be
As rock on water stays

The watered is the sand
The unwatered, the rock
Thou shall never water the unwatered

poem by Obed Akuma
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False Hope

A tree was planted watered by the rain
watered through these hands
until it grew, then grew till grown
and still I see no fruit
I wait and no treet to have
I have been decieved
that's why I decided to cut down that tree

poem by Godfrey Morris
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Chica Da Silva

On the first day of spring
They heard the news
The word spread like fire
That she had fallen
The fields of that day
Were watered with tears
Tears that were cried
For chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
She was young and brave
The prime of her life
Fought for her country
Became a spy
And men told the secrets
Once looked in her eyes
They laid in the arms
Of chica da silva
The game that she played
Couldnt last very long
Luck she relied on
When they had all gone
Her hands tied together
Back on the wall
They shot the life
From chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
On the first day of spring
They heard the news
The word spread like fire
That she had fallen
The fields of that day
Were watered with tears
Tears that were cried
For chica da silva
She was young and brave
The prime of her life
Fought for her country
Became a spy
And men told the secrets
Once looked in her eyes
They laid in the arms
Of chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva
Chica da, chica da, chica da, chica da silva

[...] Read more

song performed by Boney M.
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Disneyland

I Woke up got my lazy ass out of bed
I Watered all the rocks growing in my head
I Had a thoughtand fell asleep on you
There I was somewhere West of Tomorrow Land
Flying through the stars just like Peter Pan
I saidDamn this looks too good to be true
There she goes my heart again (would you mind rolling over)
I can feel it in the air (something's coming down)
I don't know and I don't care that it's a small world
It's a nice day if you wake up in Disneyland
It's a nice day when you wake up in Disneyland
In my dream everybody's got a little house
A dog, a bank account managed by Mickey Mouse
And the only thing we fight about is the Lakers
In my dream all the pirates down in Neverland
Never get the Hook they just get a hand
While the crocs sing Superman till we just can't take it
There she goes my heart again (do you mind rolling over)
I can feel it in the air (something's coming down)
I don't know and I don't care if it's a small world
It's a nice day when you wake up in Disneyland
It's a nice day if you wake up in Disneyland
We can fly away:
I Woke up got my lazy ass out of bed
I Watered all the rocks growing in my head
I Had a thought and I looked up to see
The sign read the park she's closed today
E-tickets don't work here no more anyway
Where every day's a magic day to be free You see
It's a nice day when you wake up in Disneyland
It's a nice day should you wake up in Disneyland
It's your L.U.C.K.Y. day should you wake up in Disneyland
It's a nice day should you wake up in Disneyland

song performed by Five For Fighting
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The Real Thing

(Chip Taylor)
I was on a bus comin' back to us
From Atlanta in '53
And I picked up a Rhythm & Blues magazine
Layin' underneath my seat
And I found out the stuff they'd been playin' us
Wasn't made from grits and bone
And it would take more than the Crew Cuts
And Pat Boone to take me home
I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud I'll make you proud
Or the songs they'd sing
I don't want you under my roof with your 86 proof
Watered down ''til it tastes like tea
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing
I remember old Elvis when he forgot
To remember to forget
And when young Johnny Cash hadn't seen this side of
Big River yet
And old Luther and Lewis and Perkins was pickin
And playin' them songs for me
I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud I'll make you proud
Or the songs they'd sing
I don't want you under my roof with your 86 proof
Watered down 'til it tastes like tea
You're gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing

song performed by George Strait
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Volcano Girl

Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Tell me, tell me what you really want from me
You gotta let me know
Im falling off and I need you terribly
One down, and one to go
Volcano girls we really cant be beat
Warm us up and watch us blow
Now and then we fail and we admit defeat
Were falling off
We are watered down and fully grown
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
A million miles of running
And I hit the wall
I bounce back and I run some more
This is it, Im giving up
Im calling quits
So get down and meet me on the floor
Way to go, way to flip off everyone
I steal your thunder then I try to bolt
But I could stand a little pity now and then
Im falling off, I am watered down and fully grown
Go, I dont wanna go
I dont wanna go
I dont wanna go
I dont wanna go
I told you about the seether before
You know, the one thats neither or nor
Well heres another clue if you please
The seethers louise
(one, two, three, wow)
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Leave me
Lying here
Cause I dont wanna go
Leave me

[...] Read more

song performed by Veruca Salt
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Volcano Girls

Leave me
Lying here
cause I dont wanna go
Tell me tell me what you really want from me
Youve got me let me know
Im falling off and I need you terribly
One down and one to go
Volcano girls we really cant be beat
Warm us up and watch us blow
But now and then we fail and we admit defeat
Were falling off we are watered down and fully grown
Leave me
Lying here
cause I dont wanna go
A million miles of running and I hit the wall
I bounce back and I run some more
But this is it, Im giving up, Im calling quits
So get down and meet me on the floor
Way to go to flip off everyone
I steal your thunder then I try to bolt
But I could stand a little pity now and then
Im falling off I am watered down and fully grown
I told you bout the seether before
You know, the one thats neither or nor
Well heres another clue if you please....
The seethers louise
Leave me
Lying here
cause I dont wanna go
Go I dont wanna go I dont wanna go I dont wanna go I dont wanna go

song performed by Veruca Salt
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Fatso & His Lady!

That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.

That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.

That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.

That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.

That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..

poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Pantoum: Angel

Insistent heavy throb of daylight passed
The sweated flora scented sunburnt air
The clarity of night transpired at last
The hunter shunned the radiating glare

The sweated flora scented sunburnt air
He watched the flickered furtiveness of night
The hunter shunned the radiating glare
A tissued wisp of wing eclipsed soft light

He watched the flickered furtiveness of night
Across the hanging moon's reflective gaze
A tissued wisp of wing eclipsed soft light
He felt an angel's fluctuating phrase

Across the hanging moon's reflective gaze
A hint of pink in bone-white watered silk
He felt an angel's fluctuating phrase
He felt enfolding hands as smooth as milk

A hint of pink in bone-white watered silk
A reflex startle soothed by calm embrace
He felt enfolding hands as smooth as milk
The pain was brief and bright as lightning's trace

A reflex startle soothed by calm embrace
The needle teeth released the dunnart's spark
The pain was brief and bright as lightning's trace
The ghost bat fed and wheeled to caverned dark

The needle teeth released the dunnart's spark
The clarity of night transpired at last
The ghost bat fed and wheeled to caverned dark
Insistent heavy throb of daylight passed

poem by Diane Hine
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