Citatepedia^®.com

My name is Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you.

quote by Harvey Milk
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

635 Milk The Elixir Of Life

MILK - One of God's preciuos gifts
For all who seek to live
Of all the food that passes lips
This has the most to give.
And when we from our Mothers feed
Her milk provides our every need.

The milk of cows and goats and sheep
Sustains us in our later life
An elixir before we sleep
It calms our nerves and eases strife
What is the secret of this stuff
Milkaholics just can't get enuff.

We know that milk is mostly water
There's almost eighty eight percent
There's protein - fat and carbohydrate
And calcium to give bones strength.
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day
It sure will help you on your way.

Full-fat milk makes ladies fertile
And it tastes much nicer too
Leave the skimmed milk for the slimmers
While you enjoy your creamy goo.
Jersey Milk has FIVE POINT THREE
Fresian much less - Oh dear me! ! !

Milk is a rich source of vitamins
A and D and E and K
Lactose gives our milk its sweetness
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day.
Drinking milk instead of coffee
Keeps you calm and much less stroppy.

Natural milk is prone to curdle
So we have to Pasteurise
Killing all the dee-dum-durdle
Homogenise and Sterilise.
When next in't Country - it's my vow
To drink my milk straight from the cow! ! !

Milk provides a range of products
Cream - Butter - Cheese and Yoghurt too
Without which life would be much poorer
No Camembert or Danish Blue.
When our palates we would please
We judge a country by its Cheese.
I'll sing the praise of English Cheeses
Cheddar - Cheshire - Wenslydale

[...] Read more

poem by John Knight
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Take Me To Your Leader

'Take me to your leader! '

The new recruit cried

She was forty stone and six feet high

She had just arrived on 'PLANET WORK'

She was met at the gate by a slob called BURK!

He was four foot five and incredibly shy

He gave an indolent half witted sigh,

And then he spoke, one word,

'Why? '

He was in the middle of demolishing a large meat pie

That stood on his plate at, just under two foot high

The new recruit began to cry

'Take me to your leader!

Burk, who was once 'GREAT BIRK, ' but now had only a 'walk on part'

Took his time his mouth have full

Spluttered 'Why? ' again, and choking looked pale and ill

The new recruit who tapped him hard on the back to release the obstruction and avoid getting the sack

Looked back, 'I need to know, which way to go, ' I am new you see

flown in from Eden,

And with that she started pleadin, 'Take me to your leader now, it's getting late'

And when Burke had eaten half a cake he stopped quite dead, then said,

Looking at the clock,

'Which one? '

An then an iternary began of every living woman and man,

From head of the cuboard supplies

[...] Read more

poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

100 STD's 10,000 MTD's

There are STD's, sexually transmitted diseases.
and then there are MTD's, meat transmitted diseases.

The latter take a lot more lives.

*********

In Animal Flesh: Blood Sweat Tears as well as Carcinogens Cholesterol Colon Bacteria

Animal products kill more people annually in the US than
tobacco, alcohol, traffic accidents, war, domestic violence,
guns, and drugs combined. USAMRID wrote that consumption of pig flesh caused the world's most lethal pandemic in WW1,
euphemistically called flu. Anthrax
used to be called wool sorters'
disease. Smallpox used to be called
cow pox or kine pox because of
its origin in animal flesh.
.

WHAT'S IN A BURGER? BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS (AS WELL AS BIOTERRORISM)

POISONS IN ANIMAL AND FISH FLESH... A PARTIAL LIST

a partial list in alphabetical order

acidification diseases
addiction (to trioxypurines)
adrenalin (secreted by terrorized
animals before and during slaughter)

ANTIBIOTICS (too many to list) (crowded factory farm animals standing in their own feces are often infected)

BACTERIA
creiophilic bacteria survive
the freezing of animal flesh
thermophilic bacteria survive
the baking boiling and roasting

bacteriophages (viruses FDA allows to
be injected)
blood
colon bacteria.. euphemistically
called ecoli animals defecate
all over themselves in terror
John Harvey Kellogg MD studied
the exponential rate into the billions

BSE DISEASES, PRIONS IN SPECIES FROM GELATIN (JELLO ETC)
Mad Chicken

[...] Read more

poem by O. Anna Niemus
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Milkmaid's Song

Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn,
Turn by the dale, my Harry!
Fill pail, fill pail,
He has turned by the dale,
And there by the stile waits Harry.
Fill, fill,
Fill, pail, fill,
For there by the stile waits Harry!
The world may go round, the world may stand still
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh!
O, if we two
Stood down there now by the water,
I know who'd carry me over the ford
As brave as a soldier, as proud as a lord,
Though I don't live over the water.
Wheugh, wheugh! he's whistling through,
He's whistling 'The Farmer's Daugher.'
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
He shall not take the road to the town,
For I'll meet him beyond the water.
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
And send me to my Harry.
The folk o' towns
May have silken gowns,
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh! he has whistled through
He has whistled through the water.
Fill, fill, with a will, a will,
For he's whistled through the water,
And he's whistling down
The way to the town,
And it's not 'The Farmer's Daughter!'
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
The sun sets over the water,
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
I'm too late for my Harry!
And, O, if he goes a-soldiering,
The cows they may low, the bells they may ring,
But I'll neither milk nor marry,
Fill pail,
Neither milk nor marry.

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

When The Bell Blew Up

‘THAT’S the boiler at The Bell, mates! Tumble out, Ned, neck and crop—
Never mind your hat and coat, man, we’ll be wanted on the job.
Barney’s driving, Harvey’s stoking—God help all the hands on top!
Bring along the brandy, some one. Don’t stand like an image, Bob;
Grab those shirts—they’ll all be needed. Rugs and candles, that’s all right.
Bet your lives, boys, we’ll have lots of doctor’s work to do to-night!

‘Didn’t she thunder? Scot! I thought the universe had gone to smash.
Take the track through Peetree’s paddock, make the smartest time you know.
Barney swore her plates were rotten, but poor Bill was always rash.’
‘And his missus, heaven help her!—they were spliced a month ago.’
Down the track we raced together, up the hill—then o’er the claim
Saw the steam-clouds hanging thickly, lustrous with the glow of flame.

Boiler-house in hopeless ruins, engines wrecked and smoke-stack gone;
Bricks and shingles widely scattered, and the shattered boiler bare.
‘Five men missed!’ ‘Buck in, you fellows; get your freest action on;
Keep the fire back from the timbers—God knows who is under there.
Sprag that knocker. How it rattles! Braceman’s nowhere—Coleman’s Joe.
Tell them what has happened, Ryan. They will have to wait below.’

As we fought the fires, the women, pale and tearful gathered round.
‘That you, Peter? Thanks to Heaven!’ ‘There’s my Harry! God is good!’
‘Praise the Lord—they’ve got our lad safe! Joe the braceman has been found!
Down between the tips they found him, pinned there by a log of wood.
‘Battery boys are safe. Mack saw them hiding under Peetree’s ricks.
They just up and cut from under when it started raining bricks.’

Only two now—Bill and Barney. Still we laboured might and main
’Mid the ruins round the boiler where the shattered walls were stacked.
Then his wife discovered Barney, dazed and black, but right as rain;
Said he didn’t know what hit him—‘thought the crack of doom had cracked;’
He had landed on the sand-heap, thirty yards or so away.
‘God is mighty good to sinners,’ murmured Geordie. ‘Let us pray.’

Fifty voices called on Harvey, and we worked like horses all,
Delving down amongst the timber, burnt and knocked about, but gay.
‘Lend a hand, here, every man; he’s pinned beneath the outer wall!
All together. Now you’ve got him. Gently does it. That’s O.K.
Scalded! Yes, and right arm broken. Pass some brandy, one of you.
Cheer, ye devils! Give it lip, lads. He’s alive and kicking, too!’

‘Give him air, now. Make a track there. Let him see his missus first.’
‘Where’s his wife?’ The women wondered. She had not been seen all night.
Someone whispered she was timid, that she dared not face the worst.
Harvey smiled despite his troubles. ‘Boys, she’s fainted—she’s all right.’
So we bore him gaily home, and as he saw the gateway near
Bill tried hard to lead the chorus when we gave a rousing cheer.

‘Stop, for God’s sake!’ In the garden, where her life blood tinged the vine,

[...] Read more

poem by Edward George Dyson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The 'Eathen

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone;
'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own;
'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about,
An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out.

All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess,
All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less,
All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, *
Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so!

* abby-nay: Not now. kul: To-morrow. hazar-ho: Wait a bit.

The young recruit is 'aughty -- 'e draf's from Gawd knows where;
They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square;
'E calls it bloomin' nonsense -- 'e doesn't know no more --
An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor!

The young recruit is 'ammered -- 'e takes it very 'ard;
'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters -- 'e sulks about the yard;
'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" 'e'll swing for by-an'-by,
An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry.

The young recruit is silly -- 'e thinks o' suicide;
'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride;
But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit,
Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit.

Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess,
Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less;
Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho,
Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so!

The young recruit is 'appy -- 'e throws a chest to suit;
You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot;
'E learns to drop the "bloodies" from every word 'e slings,
An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings.

The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year;
They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer;
They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance,
And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for "Lance".

An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet,
'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get;
They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can,
But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man.

An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed,
'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade;
They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dairy Ode

Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.

The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.

Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.

Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.

Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.

Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.

And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.

Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.

Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How to utilize it in the dairy.

The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.

[...] Read more

poem by James McIntyre
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Milkcow Calf Blues

(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

It IS Milk!

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'It is!
It IS milk! '

Great!
Now...
Let's move on to the meat and vegetables.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Cyclops

SILENUS:
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
And ere these limbs were overworn with age,
Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st
The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy side,
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear,
Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?
By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had devised
A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea
With all my children quaint in search of you,
And I myself stood on the beaked prow
And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys
Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose,
And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;
The one-eyed children of the Ocean God,
The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit,
On this wild shore, their solitary caves,
And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody,
We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks.
My sons indeed on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep,
But I remain to fill the water-casks,
Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering
Some impious and abominable meal
To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
With this great iron rake, so to receive
My absent master and his evening sheep
In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls?

CHORUS OF SATYRS:

STROPHE:
Where has he of race divine

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Cow-Juice Cure

The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June,
When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's saloon.
The frost was on the fodder an' the wind was growin' keen,
When Billy got to seein' snakes in Sullivan's shebeen.

Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup:
"Oh Billy, for the love of Mike, why don't ye sober up?
I've got the gorgus recipay, 'tis smooth an' slick as silk --
Jest quit yer strangle-holt on hooch, an' irrigate with milk.
Lackteeal flooid is the lubrication you require;
Yer nervus frame-up's like a bunch of snarled piano wire.
You want to get it coated up with addypose tishoo,
So's it will work elastic-like, an' milk's the dope for you."

Well, Billy was complyable, an' in a month it's strange,
That cow-juice seemed to oppyrate a most amazin' change.
"Call up the water-wagon, Dan, an' book my seat," sez he.
"'Tis mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "'twas just the same with
me."
They shanghaied little Tim O'Shane, they cached him safe away,
An' though he objurgated some, they "cured" him night an' day;
An' pretty soon there came the change amazin' to explain:
"I'll never take another drink," sez Timothy O'Shane.
They tried it out on Spike Muldoon, that toper of renown;
They put it over Grouch McGraw, the terror of the town.
They roped in "tanks" from far and near, an' every test was sure,
An' like a flame there ran the fame of Deep-hole's Cow-juice Cure.

"It's mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "I'm puzzled through and through;
It's only milk from Riley's ranch, no other milk will do."
An' it jest happened on that night with no predictive plan,
He left some milk from Riley's ranch a-settin' in a pan;
An' picture his amazement when he poured that milk next day --
There in the bottom of the pan a dozen "colours" lay.

"Well, what d'ye know 'bout that," sez Dan; "Gosh ding my dasted eyes,
We've been an' had the Gold Cure, Bill, an' none of us was wise.
The milk's free-millin' that's a cinch; there's colours everywhere.
Now, let us figger this thing out -- how does the dust git there?
`Gold from the grass-roots down', they say -- why, Bill! we've got it cold --
Them cows what nibbles up the grass, jest nibbles up the gold.
We're blasted, bloomin' millionaires; dissemble an' lie low:
We'll follow them gold-bearin' cows, an' prospect where they go."

An' so it came to pass, fer weeks them miners might be found
A-sneakin' round on Riley's ranch, an' snipin' at the ground;
Till even Riley stops an' stares, an' presently allows:
"Them boys appear to take a mighty interest in cows."
An' night an' day they shadowed each auriferous bovine,
An' panned the grass-roots on their trail, yet nivver gold they seen.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Spirit Of Jfk

Let the word go forth
Let the word go forth
From this time and place
Good evening my fellow citizens
Im speaking tonight in a spirit of hope
In the human spirit, the human spirit
Lee harvey oswald
Oh, no
Jack ruby
Oswald and ruby
Oh, no
To friend and foe alike
Oswald and ruby
My god, have you heard
The president is dead
Oswald and ruby
They do not imprison spirits
Oswald and ruby
They do not imprison spirits
The president is dead
Well, I know where that 3rd shot came from
The grassy knoll
Behind the picket fence
The energy, the faith, the function
Which we bring to this endeavor
Well fight our country and all who serve it
And the glow from that fire
Can truly light the world
History will record the facts
I didnt shoot anybody
Lee harvey oswald
Why should anybody serve?
Why should anybody serve?
Jack harvey oswald
We have learned in times past
The spirit of one moment or place
Can be gone in the next

song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Harvey's Brother

Harvey’s Brother.

I paused in, the shade of a carob oak, to smoke a cigarette,
when a rabbit crossed the track, stopped sat on its haunches
and sniffed the air. Do not come nearer, my furry friend
the temptation will be too great and I’ll shoot you. It didn’t,
but I shot it any way, gutted and skinned on the spot, hoped
no one heard the bang the hunting season had yet to start.
At home I cut it into nice pieces added, onion, garlic, parsley
and with butter gently fried it in an iron pan, then I let it
simmer with red wine for some time. I went into my study to
read the papers, the rabbit sat on top of my desk eating
yesterday’s poetry, nice animal grey and blue, with silky fur,
and I thought of a movie called “Harvey.” Back in the kitchen
I put the stew in a dish and gave it to the neighbour’s dog.
Harvey has gone now he doesn’t even appear in my dreams.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Wings of destiny

I

Ask any parabat that jumped at Cassinga
and he would tell you
that destiny has wings.

While facing a battalion of
Cuban tanks and armoured cars,
out of the blue and as if by magic
a Buccaneer appeared.

There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky,
but let me tell that heroic story
as I know it.

II

Coming back from a bombing raid on Cassinga
the next target of Captain Dries Marais was
the Swapo camp at Chetequera
and he insisted
on arming the Buccaneer bomber,
with armour penetrating rockets
in addition to the standard
high explosive rockets.

Andries Marais himself
couldn’t explain the reason
for the irregular request,
but kept on insisting
that every third rocket
should be armour piercing.

Even navigator Ernie Harvey
was perplexed with this request
and they were tense,
while preparing for
the strike mission.

The Buccaneer took of
and in a short while
crossed the Angolan border
and just when Ernie Harvey
were going to check in
with Tactical headquarters
things went mad

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Malted Milk

(by robert johnson)
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
Baby, youre just as welcome to my loving as the flowers is in may.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and Im talking all out my head.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Keep on stirring my malted milk, mama, until I change my mind.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and the hairs rising on my head.

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

2Oth WHO WBW Celebrations: Breast-milk is Still, the Very Best!

‘Breast-milk is best, ' most doctors surely vouch,
By working mothers or one sick on couch;
It gives the babe, the human warmth and touch!
Only the lazy moms would try to grouch!

The first secreted milk Colostrum's, good,
With nutrients, immune bodies - great food!
To give her baby this, all mothers should;
Turn weak if 'tis denied, the baby could.

The Almighty destined Eve bear children
With labour-pains, and raise them up even;
The suckling-reflex too comes from heaven;
Breast-milk is best - a fact, long back proven!

Contents are ideal for the child always;
Container's ready, hygienic all days;
Matching the baby's hunger, sucking pace,
Breast-milk has kept healthy, the human race!

Milk gently comes through nipple's holes like spray!
The mother burns more calories each day;
‘The lactose suits the baby', people say;
The uterus gets back to size this way!

No formula can replace breast-milk's place!
Breast-milk is clean, sterile in every case;
The baby's brain and gaze well-developed stays;
The habit builds a bond of love that pays!

Breast-feeding does not affect maiden's form;
'Tis natural for mothers, does no harm;
It keeps the baby snug, busy and warm;
Well breast-fed baby stays happy and calm!

‘For babies' sake, let mothers learn the craft;
Breast-feeding is an art that should be taught;
The mind and hormones play a magic role;
It helps mother-hood to achieve its goal! '

‘Understanding the past - Planning the future! '
Dedicated by the Dean, IRT PMC Perundurai, TN, India
To all mothers and would-be mothers, world-wide.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-8-12

poem by John Celes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Bit News

Donkey milk

Is...

Good for health...

This thinking for

South indian poeple's...

So...

New born baby

Given for donkey's milk...

I also drink for

Donkey milk at childhood...

My gran mother told for me...!

Donkey milk is for

Only at donkey...

But...

People idea is...

Donkey's milk is how is

Help full for human health...?

I don't no...!

Miss or mrs univers

Celeo patra also

Take bath for

Donkey's milk...

For his beauty...

It history bit news

How much true

[...] Read more

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Cat with milk

My cat
Not drink milk...
For today...
Yester day

My cat was
Try drink hot
Of milk...

Hot was hit...
For my cat mouth...
Cat was did not cry...
Run away for hot

Milk pot...
So...
Today coll milk also

My cat did not drink...
O...
I am very soory

For hot milk...
Come to drink milk....

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Milkman Is Dead

'Verghese* these women are suffering
Precious milk is spoiled and in return get less offering'
Two friends were gossiping and discussing
There was not a single point for missing

K. Verghese never thought of making Gujarat
His work place for white revolution at flat
He saw the plight of village women
The idea for welfare of women emerged all of sudden

There was formation of milk cooperatives
It had one mission with clear objectives
State must prosper along with poor women
He was to create dynasty with good omen

'For effective sale brand name is must'
He used to canvass idea with full confidence and trust
'Amul' was name given meant for 'price less'
Amul milk dairy has become known world wide and famous

His life time contribution paved the way
The prosperity retuned to state all the way
The milk man played great miracle
The fortune moved with full cycle

Ask any woman in Gujarat village
She will smile for Kurian* and manage
He will be remembered as Milk Pitamah*
The effect may still remain known aftermath

He remained life time chairman
But set an example of noble man
Refused to charge single rupee as pension
Stopped it for last twenty years and it is worth to mention

No one has done such type of work
As did Mr. Kurian from the start
He may be remembered on world arena
'As milk' man for white revolution

*K.Verghese Kurian.. name …Pitamah…Grandfather? God father

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Hasty Pudding

A POEM IN THREE CANTOS

Canto I

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not to you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Despise it not, ye bards to terror steeled,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the stillhouse bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
It's substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.
Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rime,
No more thy awkward unpoetic name
Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame;
But rising grateful to the accustomed ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere!
Assist me first with pious toil to trace
Through wrecks of time thy lineage and they race;
Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore,
(Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore)
First gave thee to the world; her works of fame
Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.
Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days,
First learned with stones to crack the well-dried maize,
Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower,
In boiling water stir the yellow flour:
The yellow flour, bestrewed and stirred with haste,
Swell in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim,
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!