Quotes about eats, page 5
Bad Dog Blues
I've got me a bad dog
Yeah, he's a mean old boy.
I've got me a bad dog
He's sure a mean old boy
He won't answer when
I call him, lawd, he treats
me like a toy.
He's so ornery
I've got to chase him down
each time he roams.
He's so ornery
I've got to chase him down
each times he roams.
Seems like everytime I
turn around I'm dragging
that sorry dog home.
He know's he's a bad dog
when he eats holes in my shoes.
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poem by Faith Elizabeth Brigham
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An Expectant Mother
(Who knows about the importance of the present time more than an expectant mother does?)
She's not just expecting a baby,
But the future with no more of hers.
She's not just giving birth to a baby,
But the future, Wow! full of wonders.
She eats not just for herself,
Nor for her pleasant pleasure;
She sleeps not just for her health,
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poem by KnowledgeSincerityWisdom KSW
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My Brother Julian.
my brother julian is weird,
but hes not one to be feared,
burgers and fries is all he eats,
loves video games
but he always cheats,
sleeps all night sleeps all day,
he goes to church but i never heard him pray,
but his nose is special it could smell food a mile away,
he gets crazy and physco thats why i call him violent j,
he loves food like they aint no tommorow,
he eats so fast i sometimes wonder if he swallowed,
hes always first in line to order,
hes favorite food is the ultimate cheeseburger,
hes cool but mostly rude,
but show him your food and violent j will druel.
1/05/2008
Copyright ©2009 Jose Murguia
poem by Jose Murguia
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Eating Together
I know my friend is going,
though she still sits there
across from me in the restaurant,
and leans over the table to dip
her bread in the oil on my plate; I know
how thick her hair used to be,
and what it takes for her to discard
her man’s cap partway through our meal,
to look straight at the young waiter
and smile when he asks
how we are liking it. She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what’s killing her
eats, too. I watch her lift
a glistening black olive and peel
the meat from the pit, watch
her fine long fingers, and her face,
puffy from medication. She lowers
her eyes to the food, pretending
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poem by Kim Addonizio
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The Syphinx's Look (Stream I)
In a vacuum.
No sound to penetrate
without thinking they
Slid sliding into love,
Hip hopping out again
As easy as pie
Pi r squared.
As difficult to decypher
as the syphinx's look
Brought to book
All that mystery
and no, I know where to go
It wears me out
You know,
Go-
Go on find it, its there
Whilst I'm here
Do you hear there.
Their eyes lock
The key to their depair
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poem by Paul Brookes
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Nor We of Her to Him
He said no word of her to us
Nor we of her to him,
But oh it saddened us to see
How wan he grew and thin.
We said: she eats him day and night
And draws the blood from him,
We did not know but said we thought
This was why he grew thin.
One day we called and rang the bell,
No answer came within,
We said: She must have took him off
To the forest old and grim,
It has fell out, we said, that she
Eats him in forest grim,
And how can we help him being eaten
Up in forests grim?
It is a restless time we spend,
We have no help from him,
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poem by Stevie Smith
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Another clown
the clown with red nose
the clown with green ears
the clown with yellow cheeks
the clown with webbed feet
the children don’t like the clowns
all clowns
all the children are scared by all clowns
the child with orange hairs
the child with blue eyes
the child with pink smiles
the child with wide eyes
the clown don’t like the children
all children
all the clowns want to kill all children
the clown get back at home
He shouts: I hate the children
then he eats the soup of day
quietly smiling
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poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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Charlene-n-Booker 4ever
And the old men, supervising grown grandsons, nephews,
any man a boy given this chance of making
a new sidewalk outside the apartment building where
some of them live, three old men and their wives,
the aging unmarrying children, and the child
who is a cousin, whose mother has sent her here
because she doesn't know what to do with her,
she's out of control, she wants to be a gangsta, and
the old folks talk to her as if she minds them
and already has that respect for their years her mother
finally grew into. The girl who does not look
like them eats and eats and sleeps late, sneaks away
when they are busy, and tonight will write herself
all over the sidewalk while it is still wet but
the old have gone inside, and the grown gone home,
and her mother who is somewhere overseas thinks of
writing her that long long letter, but decides not to.
poem by Forrest Hamer
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This Hate
I hate the word terrorist
I hate how it is used
I hate the war began by it
I hate the hate that ensues
I hate the politicians, who squander human lives
I hate the people
I hate the people who allow
I hate the people who ignore the truth
I hate myself who stands helpless, frustrated, and confused
I hate… hate
I hate the truth of today
I hate the horror of yesterday
I hate that I cannot forget
I hate the media who conform the masses
I hate the fear that leaves a repugnant odor
I hate those that use this fear to kill
All this hate I bear eats at me
This hate eats you
Hate will consume us, until all of humanity is lost
While I spin so does the world
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poem by Samson Minder
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Lust or love?
If it’s lust or love
nobody will ever know
and the night in front of the hot fireplace
I cannot forget easily
and still both are at times
part of what is in a relationship
between two people.
Strangely the lust eats me
were I stand almost naked
at the fireplace
and small john,
tries to stand just as upright
and big as big john.
There are flames from the fireplace
flashing in your eyes
when I take my underpants off
and your white face
is suddenly strangely pure,
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poem by Gert Strydom
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