Quotes about stew, page 8
A Gals Poem ;)
He didnt lyk my curry
and didnt like my cake....
he said my biscuits were hard not lyk his mother used to make
i didnt prepare d coffee ryt
he didnt lyk d stew
i didnt mend d socks lyk his mother used to
i ponder 4 d answer
isnt dere nything i can do to match his mother's shoe
den i smile n saw a light
i turned around n slapped him tight
like his mother used too.......... :) :) : P; D
nEeLaBhA
poem by Neelabha Mahajan
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Ahh... Sports
Life's a bore, here's some chore
Pick up your gears, join the tour
Tag your spouse, break a sweat
Grab a tutor, take the heat
Swing a club, hit or miss
Play poker perhaps with a jest
Tiger and Stew were on the run
These guys were really having fun
A thing or two, I'd like to express
Give me a deal and I'll do the rest
Projects and tasks from day to day
I work when I work, play when I play
poem by Noel A Medina
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Who Gave It To You?
I was not using it and,
You were not using it either!
But, who gave it to you?
Hew, dew, few, brew, drew, threw;
But this story started long ago!
And your lips are now red,
So, who gave it to you?
Slew, sew, stew, pew, spew, mew;
Strange food,
Strange meat,
Strange people,
Strange land,
Strange culture,
Strange love,
Crew, grew, new, strew, screw;
But, with your red lips! !
So, who gave it to you?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Tests
Tests growl at summer as dawn approaches,
Volleyball practises many talents of slaves,
We are trails of stepping shoe-prints, soldier’s prints,
The stew of food goes down the throat that is a sheet.
Many in the woods called spying sessions,
Sailing the very forest with tigers growling,
Sisters of dragons were crawling and they died.
My sea sparks strawberries written by fruit,
The riddle of a walk is through the forest.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Our Favorite Recipe
Put a man who's good and wholesome
into a mixing pan.
Then, add one woman full of love
and blend well with the man.
Add any children of the man,
and the woman's children too.
Stir them all together
as you would a pot of stew.
Then a little bit of sugar
and fourteen cups of love.
Sprinkle in some blessings
from the heavens high above.
When you have completed
this amazing recipe,
you will have created
a blended family.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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My Rules
If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do:
You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.
And you must sew my holey socks,
And soothe my troubled mind,
And develop the knack for scratching my back,
And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.
And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,
And when it is hailing and snowing
You must shovel the walk... and be still when I talk,
And -- hey -- where are you going?
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Re-Dedicated
Simmering stew of love
Left unattended
She left in such a rush
That she forgot to tell:
When to straighten my skirt
And when done away with
-Put my smiles away in attic
[Originally inspired after a brief conversation with a very precious friend about her mother who died when she was 5; didn't know that in just six months it had to be re-dedicated to her when she died and left her 5 years daughter-forever; this is from her daughter]
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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The Prints In The Palace
You were my friend(still are I hope)
I hung my prints in your palace
never expecting another look
You read my thoughts so well
my mouth was truly dry
I thought about your lips
and what's appealing to the eye
The never-ending onion
was placed over the kitchen stove
so my tears would hide within the stew
[...] Read more
poem by Boink Boink
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Days Go On and On
I play. I sing and write a rhyme.
These 3 things consume my time.
and my days go on and on.
I think. I dream and wake up tired.
These 3 things have got me wired
and my days go on and on.
I eat. I drink and watch my weight.
These 3 things can just frustrate
and my days go on and on.
I worry. I stew and then obsess.
These 3 things create a mess
and my days go on and on.
I weep. I laugh and then I swear.
These 3 things make me aware
that my days go on and on.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In The Treasuries
Place your sweet love in the treasuries for me to speak,
And with the spices and the fine oil of love;
For i want to prepare my sweet red stew for you,
And like Balandan, Bala and Merodack who came to the party last night.
My fruit of love is like the gold as preserved in the treasuries,
But i invited Balah and Rodack as well to the party last night;
And of the beautiful treasure box as shown to them to understand my love,
For the windows of heaven are about to send down the rain!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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