Quotes about salt, page 3
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 15
Ac after my wakynge it was wonder longe
Er I koude kyndely knowe what was Dowel.
And so my wit weex and wanyed til I a fool weere;
And some lakked my lif - allowed it fewe -
And leten me for a lorel and looth to reverencen
Lordes or ladies or any lif ellis -
As persons in pelure with pendaunts of silver;
To sergeaunts ne to swiche seide noght ones,
' God loke yow, lordes!' - ne loutede faire,
That folk helden me a fool; and in that folie I raved,
Til reson hadde ruthe on me and rokked me aslepe,
Til I seigh, as it sorcerie were, a sotil thyng withalle -
Oon withouten tonge and teeth, tolde me whider I sholde
And wherof I cam and of what kynde. I conjured hym at the laste,
If he were Cristes creature for Cristes love me to tellen.
' I am Cristes creature,' quod he, 'and Cristene in many a place,
In Cristes court yknowe wel, and of his kyn a party.
Is neither Peter the Porter, ne Poul with the fauchon,
That wole defende me the dore, dynge I never so late.
At mydnyght, at mydday, my vois is so yknowe
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poem by William Langland
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Jerry the Slug
Hello Jerry
So verry Merry
I poor salt on your face
Whats that? Your screaming?
You cant run, I nailed your eyes to the floor
Flee my little mollusk
Here comes the salt!
The evil evil evil evil salt!
It will burn your impurites and slugness
Like you LOVES IT!
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poem by Allyah Cullen
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Salt
Alive you are removed, what sees just to lurk - The way to obey, never to the dark - Skinned is my teeth, bit to the grit, grid to the byte - Whatever you say, princess - Whatever you want, princess of the damned - Argue with the ocean, win only you can - Waves which breaks, do so on the shore - Not inside your mind or soul - Never the talk, never to your back - Salt on your food, salt to your back - Salt by the steps to your door, prevents demons from the attack.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Salt is Sweet
Its dessert of salt
Rains mostly in night
And rarely in light
Has day and night
Color is black and white
Black resembles night
White resembles light
But its heart is black
So pours mostly in night
Whenever heart is tight
It pours all the night
Until heart sees light
Its rain is always salty
So it is very colorful
And makes life cheerful
It makes heart light
From night to light
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poem by Kranthi Pothineni
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Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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If You Would, Please
Pass the salt dear, if you would, please,
I need to put some on these peas.
But not the pepper, now don’t tease,
you know it always makes me sneeze.
The horseradish sauce, is so nice,
it gives the meal a touch of spice.
But too much and you’ll pay the price,
it’ll burn your tongue in just a trice.
The tartare sauce is worth a try,
this is so true, I do not lie.
With luscious fish baked in a pie,
then served with a piquant stir fry.
What about chocolate dessert,
some extra calories won’t hurt.
then more cream, just maybe a squirt,
and watch it doesn’t stain your shirt.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Agony
And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney
And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry
And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Magellanic Penguin
Neither clown nor child nor black
nor white but verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
The mother smiles at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
but the child child does not smile
when he looks at the bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
the immaculate passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.
I was without doubt the child bird
there in the cold archipelagoes
when it looked at me with its eyes,
with its ancient ocean eyes:
it had neither arms nor wings
but hard little oars
on its sides:
it was as old as the salt;
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poem by Pablo Neruda
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Hidden watcher. For M'; lady Francesca
Hidden watcher.
The salt marsh stretches endlessly
and forms a perfect habitat
Where migrant birds nest in safety
to brood and raise a family.
Few hunters ever venture here,
because they fear the boggy ground
That’s noted for its treachery.
So most prefer to hunt elsewhere.
Bird watchers come the whole year round.
They only shoot with cameras
and they avoid the boggy ground
They know that rare birds can be found.
In the salt marsh beside the sea.
It is a twitcher’s paradise
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Perservering of Palms
for Karthik, once again,
'The light foot hears you
and the brightness begins...' - Pindar
that salt adheres to the palm
proclaiming only this
that purchase requires both
sweat and the one hidden pearl
of scraped touch
much there is in the hand
bequeathed;
beneath the thigh the grit
burns smooth the groove
where you lay
your wonder - that purchase
of kisses, too, with salt,
crystalline, rimed - is hard
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poem by Warren Falcon
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