Quotes about slur, page 2
To My Bartender
Night after night
You serve me
Pint after pint
You greet me with a smile
And I stay for awhile
As lines start to blur
And my words begin to slur
Feeling start to stir
I begin to wonder what you look like under your dress
And how your skin would feel to caress
And if maybe,
Maybe you would dance with me in the yellow moonlight
On this starless night
As clouds drift by and I drift into you
As one we would be
But alas,
I see the bottom of my glass
You ask me if I want another
I can think of none other
I’d like to see night after night
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poem by Andrew Carson
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Spring's Messengers
Where slanting banks are always with the sun
The daisy is in blossom even now;
And where warm patches by the hedges run
The cottager when coming home from plough
Brings home a cowslip root in flower to set.
Thus ere the Christmas goes the spring is met
Setting up little tents about the fields
In sheltered spots.--Primroses when they get
Behind the wood's old roots, where ivy shields
Their crimpled, curdled leaves, will shine and hide.
Cart ruts and horses' footings scarcely yield
A slur for boys, just crizzled and that's all.
Frost shoots his needles by the small dyke side,
And snow in scarce a feather's seen to
poem by John Clare
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Gobble Gobble 2
Yes it's me the turkey
I am male, but not a bird
Oh you bit your tongue
not saying that dirty word
Male turkeys drink beer
and yes they strut around
Females are so attracted
to their special sound
Male turkeys love football
and the females pray
Their words won't slur
their lips won't spray
The female is cooking
such a special spread
The turkey is yelling
win or be dead
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poem by Terry Mar
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Shakespeare to His Wife, Ann Hathaway
To my angry, shrewish bitter wife,
Who threw at me both pan and knife,
Who told me I was bound to fail
And end my life in debtor's jail;
How right I was to run, abscond,
From you of whom I was not fond;
You had me in your old maid's bed,
Your belly swelled, I had to wed;
What gratitude did I incur?
You answered me with every slur;
I ran away to London Town,
A poacher being chased by hounds,
And there learned to hold a horse,
And became an actor to your remorse;
After all these years and my brief stays,
My gold aroused no word of praise;
And now I'm sick and write my will,
My hand shakes so with ink and quill,
I leave to you my second bed
In remembrance that you wished me dead
poem by David McLansky
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Hysteria Of A Sick Soul From A Friend's Diary
it happened so fast
it was just a blur
i tried to clear
my head of the
whisky fuzz
it was just a
blur,
a film over,
just a glaze over a glassy surface
hope loses clear vision.
Her eyes glazed over
perhaps from lack of sleep
The haze blurs the hills
confuse, obnubilate,
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pause
Pursuit of a desire
in the middle of philosophizing
life was an absurd idea.
I was drawing a relationship
between reality and death.
Learning from destruction brings a pause,
holding the hyphenating truth.
The energy flows in voices
of charity under the flowering words.
When you slur over a depreciation.
no one knows a bias.
The bridge was incomplete and walls were high.
The decay spilled out of the house, removing rotten beams.
The first and last economy
of throat sinks in
the mud of heavy propaganda.
It was not exactly a storm,
only hollow drums
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poem by Satish Verma
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Racism and the Culture Of Racism
We must be aware…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
It’s a slur and a swear….,
The Culture Of Racism….! ! !
Can’t turn your back….,
On the Culture Of Racism….,
Or you’ll feel the whack…,
Of the Culture Of Racism….! ! !
It’s hard to believe….
The Culture Of Racism….,
That’s why we all grieve….,
The Culture Of Racism…! ! !
We must face the facts….,
On the Culture Of Racism ….! ! !
Cause we’ve seen the attacks…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
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poem by Trade Martin
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Freedom from strife
Rivers of molten lava
Fresh hot salty tears
Lay to rest my worries
A mountain of dead fish
Kill all the prejudice
Lie your way through my trust
Battle all the bad
The goods already gone
Claim all the glory
Watch as your life dies
New anxiety a gruesome life
Try to speak out
Silenced by family
What are they for anyway?
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poem by Nicky Turner
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O' How I Played You
I sneak in breaths, between pressed lips
fingered mem'ries, not forgotten
loves wind blows, over familiar keys
a sultry͡ slur, an E-flat slips
slick swift runs, ‘cross wet dragged lips
tender nips, in wanton places
such furious highs, ascending clashes,
falling releases, fluttering splashes
a soft brushed cymbal, a stifled cry
lungs
exhaling…
fingers
trembling …
now…
antique brass, frames a coy sweet face
her pictured walls, twilight revealed
a tarnished glint…
a trumpet graced…
by a flower placed…
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poem by George Vuyakovich
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Greatest Evil
One of greatest evil
That was going on with our will
Now time has come to make final stop
Facilitating their venture on the top
Slums are real curse
Devoid of all facilities of course
Illiteracy and crime on rise
We need to work on with promises
Think of emerging future
They are not very much sure
Of their life and contribution
They are kept away from distribution
Their rights and liberty is farce joke
Their life is mystery and shrouded under smoke
For whom do they live and struggle?
Certainly life at mercy in democratic jungle
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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