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Margo Wants The Mustard

I watch her move up and down the beach, well
The fellows drool, but shes out of their reach, and
These are not a part of the scheme, but
Let them hope, and let them dream
So many dreams in the mind of the men, well
Come to life through a good one love
Margo walks in another place, well
Its in their minds, and its on her face
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard

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song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Tale of Custard The Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

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poem by Ogden Nash
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Ballade 2

In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
With every roast and mutton dish,
With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
With fresh and with salt-water fish,
Always, never asking, mustard.

I ordered herring, said I'd like
Carp for supper at the bar,
And called for simple boiled pike,
And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
The bus boy brought in with my mussels
As always, never asking, mustard.

I couldn't eat or drink without it.
They add it to the water they

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poem by Eustache Deschamps
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Sonnet: The Mustard Seed

How great a power fills a mustard seed-
A miniscule sphere, packed with silent life!
That falls in soil right, turning tree to feed
Both beasts and human beings, in much strife.

What creative mind made the mustard seed,
That rudely wakened, sprouts to mammoth tree!
With multitude of leaves verdure indeed,
And branches which nest birds, so proud and free.

God’s Kingdom too is like a mustard seed
That grows infinitesimally big with time,
And houses righteous souls that always heed
To Maker’s code regardless of earth’s clime.

The beauty of Heaven is foretold thus:
So fathomless, that none should ever miss!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2007

poem by John Celes
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A Mustard Seed Develops Exponentially?

Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted introverted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.

Sometimes an apology
is absolutely necessary.
To excuse a moment of extreme stupidity
or faux pas various social misdemeanors.
Even when we may be absolutely innocent
framed misunderstood or sadly guilty as sin.

Such socially interactive afterthought
and kind commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate beautify.
A mere agitated mortal into

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mustard 'And' Pudding?

Climbing out the crib,
To take care of personal business...
Is taught.
And becomes a necessity.
A work ethic.
A game daily sought to play,
As a way of life to survive.
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard.

It would be nice to have a team-mate,
To relay strategies.
But when one is taught to win,
Only those accustomed to hitting homeruns...
Get the attention.
Time is rarely given,
To those boasting of what they've done.
Action is the key to unlock doors these days.

'What do you mean by...
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard? '

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Choices

i prefer smooth peanut butter
to crunchy
mind you
crunchy is all right
but i prefer smooth.

i prefer strawberry jam
to raspberry
mind you
raspberry is tasty
but it's got all those seeds
and i prefer strawberry.

i prefer mustard
to mayonaisse
mind you mayonaisse has it's place
amongst condiments
but is likely to go bad
if left out to long
and poison everyone

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poem by Laura Sewell
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When You Touch Me

when you touch me
something in me grows
like a mustard

and then as Jesus once said
the mustard
becomes a tree and i am here
on top of everything

flowering fruiting
blooming ripening

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Mustard Tree

Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.

Such socially interactive afterthought
and commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate.
A mere agitated mortal into
a person attaining great compassion.

These are mustard tiny seeds
of apparent insignificance.
From which the mighty
mustard tree may grow.

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Collection February 24,2012

yellowing marriage blanket
she wonders what
to say to him

lost virginity
every time as she sees
zip

a burst of laughter
the old pant zip works well
for her trousers

artist's new dawn
the horizon streaked with
yellow acrylic

buddha birthplace visit
the mustard fields
swirling with grace

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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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