Quotes about baker, page 3
Medley: Rubber Bullets/silly Love Songs/life Is A Hinestrone
I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail
Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant baker got a call from the governor of the county jail
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets
I love to hear those convicts squeal
Its a shame these slugs aint real
But we cant have dancin at the local county jail
Sergeant baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
Theres a rumor goin round death row
[...] Read more
song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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I don't think they'd ever make a movie about Chuck Baker but I'd love to play Chuck Baker.
quote by Cillian Murphy
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It was so strange. I knew that Josephine Baker had performed on the same stage but that night I felt it. Many of the same people who worked with Josephine Baker are still here. They know what they're doing. And that was a very comfortable feeling.
quote by LaToya Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Is The Baker Who Takes The Heat
Everyone wants to get their taste,
Of that piece of delicious homemade pie.
Grandma 'use' to make!
But few have the credentials to apply,
And be accepted as the baker.
Since it is the baker who takes the heat,
If the number of pies are not baked to satisfy...
Those who just want to sit and eat and not sweat.
Yet feast.
To leave feeling they are entitled,
With their wishes and dreams...
Getting more impossible to meet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heat of Hunger
'Jesus took the Loaves,
Gave thanks,
And distributed them.'
In a bakery the poor baker rolls the dough with water and his sweat.
Bakery owner is a registered miser among the poor folks
Who never throws a bread crumb to a crow.
The stray smoke rises from chimney to the helpless sky in its usual rhythm
And I see a man who sits on the pavement just opposite the bakery.
He must be a homeless and he thinks if he's the baker
Then he could have swallow a cookie easily.
Saliva comes out from his toothless mouth
Like in a leaked urban tap.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Pane Caldo
Rising in the morning
like warm bread,
from a bed
in America,
the aroma
of my baking
reaches you
in Italy,
rocking in your boat
near the Ponte Longo,
cutting through the glitter
of yesterday's moonlight
on your sunstruck
canal.
My delicious baker-
it is you
who have made
this hot bread
rise.
[...] Read more
poem by Erica Jong
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A Vase at the Pottery
The potter's daughter; like her father's craftsmanship
very beautiful to her *pinafore dress and the pigtails.
He sniffs when I ring the bicycle bell
during my routine delivery of their daily bread.
He knows my boss well; the pot bellied baker
and they are good drinking partners.
Baker's son goes to a high school
and very smarter than me.
Oh! I am an orphan who sleeps on a sooty mat
near the oven.
But she likes me very much
and I gave her a birthday present a stealing bun.
Postscript
*Because of her pinafore dress and the pigtails
she was attracted to me (on her school days)
and still struggle in life.
Dedication to the wild flowers whatever blossom & deteriorate
mysteriously in the wilderness.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Give Them Cake From The Baker
I've been told,
There is an ethical approach to poetry...
That is both etiquette and acceptable.
And yet...
Those who express this clinical direction,
Seem not to be able to define...
Poetic limitations.
If it does not expose the comforts,
Of either prose or rhyme,
Or addresses a particular interest to reflect...
Emotions scented with a retrospective.
'Give them cake from the baker!
And not just the crust from which to taste.'
~Now...
I have these 'nagging' questions.
Would that be whole wheat flour?
Or all purpose and enriched?
Is the baker qualified with a certificate?
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wile Watching the Black and White TV
Your old man
came into the lounge
where you were watching
black and white TV
and your mother was standing
talking to an uncle
it's the baker
your old man said
he wants his £50
what £50?
your mother asked
the £50 I owe him
well pay him
your mother said
I can't
I don't have it
[...] Read more
poem by Terry Collett
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A Street Corner
Here, where the thoroughfares meet at an angle
Of ninety degrees (this angle is right),
You may hear the loafers that jest and wrangle
Through the sun-lit day and the lamp-lit night;
Though day be dreary and night be wet,
You will find a ceaseless concourse met;
Their laughter resounds and their Fife tongues jangle,
And now and again their Fife fists fight.
Often here the voice of the crier
Heralds a sale in the City Hall,
And slowly but surely drawing nigher
Is heard the baker's bugle call.
The baker halts where the two ways meet,
And the blast, though loud, is far from sweet
That with breath of bellows and heart of fire
He blows, till the echoes leap from the wall.
And on Saturday night just after eleven,
When the taverns have closed a moment ago,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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