Quotes about nugget, page 2
Stray pigeons in a secret meeting on my window sill
I hear their cooing
And an older one whispers something seriously;
'This poor Bookworm reads all the day
And I realized that he is in insufficient funds.
If I could help him definitely I'll try to dropp him a golden nugget.'
Afterward I checked their dropping eagerly but nothing found.
Still it's a dilemma what I heard whether in a dream or reality?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Had Been
The most wanted moon
was writhing
in black sky, after a star
fell for a pebble.
The nymph had become
a golden nugget in east.
Sun was rising.
Guilt of burning the sea
was writ large on the face
of purple clouds.
I am collecting the garments of dew.
Sitting in a night
of waves, watching the theater
going in flames.That day
a cuckoo did not sing.
poem by Satish Verma
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about Anthony's poem
quite a gem
gold in luster
gleaming
amidst the mud
the sun sighs
saying: how can
they ever not notice
the beauty of his poems?
what a gem i too said,
and then i feel so light like a tiny white bird
and i fly near the nugget
of wisdom
so smooth is the color so like the golden sheen of the sun
the peace and quiet
the contemplation i still remember
beside a pond
underneath a lotus flower
is a charming koi.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Melodiuos Bullocky
'Tis of the Wild Colonial Boy [Come out of that saplin', Rat!]
Brought up by honest parents [Now, Strawberry, what are yer at!]
He robbed them lordly squatters and [Whoa Diamond! Dam yer hump!]
And a terror to Horsetralia [Now then, Nugget, you mind that stump!]
'Twas at the age of seventeen [Gee back there, Dimple! Gee!]
He never [Way there Baldy, [sich a cow I never did see!]
He was his father's only son [Gee back there now, Rob Roy!]
And fondly did his parents love the Wild Colonial Boy!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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Sonnet- You Must Struggle To Achieve Great Things
The greatest men were born in humblest ways;
The birth of Jesus is an example;
Achievers great have had their troubled days;
Yet, any record, you can well trample.
The most exotic of Orchids is found,
Deep in jungles, no man has ev'r set foot;
The most beautiful pearl makes you dumb-found,
But is got from near deepest sea-plant root.
The best scent on earth is from the Musk –deer;
A gold-nugget is got deep in a mine;
And huge diamonds can't be got very near,
For oil, you drill thro’ the bottom of brine.
The priceless things in life are scarcely found;
Unless, you dig a lot into the ground.
poem by John Celes
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Digging for Nuggets
You got to work and sweat, kid!
The old prospector looked up at me
as he squatted on the river bank.
He held a battered pan and washed
grains of sand and gravel in river water.
It was a cold day in the middle of July
with clouds overhead and a stiff breeze
blowing from the north. I was tired
and weary of squatting and sifting dirt.
It was years later when it dawned on me
that prospecting was very like writing
You sit in front of the monitor
and sift through ragged thoughts
trying to glean a nugget of metaphor
from the stream of consciousness.
Then suddenly light breaks through
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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On the tip of your tongue.
You know, you know but can't explain
Just how or why you came to gain.
The facts stored in your memory.
Odd facts stored subconsciously.
For no good reason seemingly.
Stored away haphazardly.
Though ev'ry fact our mind has stored.
It had some reason to record.
A nugget added to the hoard.
A vast accumulation
Of useless information.
We very seldom call upon.
But when we do it's sad but true
We find that we cannot renew.
The direct link that leads us to.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Poem On A Sunday #1
nothing is really useless.
even those who only wait, has that function.
waiting.
and it is a sacrifice, just imagine
you, at the train station,
wanting to leave and be somewhere else,
yet you do what you are assigned to
do that whole week,
waiting. It saddens me.
I tremble to some extent.
Like a heavy thud
of impatient feet, throwing away the shoes
that serve no purpose.
on the other hand, i assure you,
everything has a purpose.
the cup, the saucer, the teaspoon
and the white
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is The Lucky Country
This is the lucky Country but not for everyone
Not for the grieving mother who has buried her young son
Left to die on the roadway in a case of hit and run
Not for her the lucky Country when all is said and done.
This is the lucky Country for the new tattslotto millionaire
For to scoop the big jackpot such luck indeed seems rare
And though others they may tell you for to win you must be in
So many have to lose out for one to have a win.
This is the lucky Country a well known politician said
And on his huge retirement pension he won't go short of bread
He also said in future decades no Aussie child would know of poverty
His prophesy is off the mark how very wrong is he.
This is the lucky Country or so we have been told
But not every gold prospector finds a big nugget of gold
And like the big tattslotto winners and their type are quite rare
So many must grow poorer for each new millionaire.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Johannesburg 1965
As a baby barely able to walk,
I walked in the long corridors
of the apartment block that belonged to us
pulling-pulling on the big collie dog
that was smiling at me all the time
and wanted to lick me in my face,
taking a broom
I held the handle against my head
and when I slipped and fell
my whole forehead was cleft open
with blood pouring out
as if from a fountain.
One afternoon I got hold of the shoe polish
smearing my face full of Nugget
and I looked like dear old Sofie
and she laughed with white teeth
while cleaning my face,
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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