The Poem thread

[marval]

Here is a cat poem.

CATLETTE'S poem


To go outside, Or to remain within:
That is the question
Whether 'tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And by so dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock's bright gears with sullen time
and stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare
Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal's opened up, to stand
As if transformed by doubt.
To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our re-admittance gain: aye, there's the hairball;
For if paw were shaped to turn a knob,
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
as simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household's petty plagues
The cook's well-practiced kicks, the butler's broom,
The infant's careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten?
Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbour’s yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans' faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus, caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause on the threshold of decision.

Shakespaw

 

[Mollie]

poem about health

hello friends

i like your poem it is really intresting. i would like to thanks you are write this poem. i think you write a poem about health because every body not leave fit so you write a poem on health.

thanks

 

[marval]

Failing Health


I heard about an older, widowed lady.
This energetic woman loved to dance
but underneath her rapture something shady
had sought the Doctor, such was circumstance.

"It isn't all that serious", she told him,
"but every time I dance with male friends,
if I should snuggle close to one, and hold him,
I break wind as my body twists and bends".

"It's not so bad - they're never ever smelly.
They don't make any noise that you can hear,
but I am so embarrassed. If my belly
is ailing, are there pills to ease my fear?"

The doctor said "I'll give you this prescription.
Two pills each night. Come back in ten more days".
He smiled at her and finished his transcription.
Days later she was back with anguished phrase -

"Doc. what was in those pills? The floor was clearing
last night because the sound was loud as hell!"
He answered "Great! The pills have fixed your hearing.
And now to just regain your sense of smell!"

Copyright; Brian Bell [FONT=Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]
[/FONT]

 

[methodistgirl]

Piles of yarn

Three boxes full in the corner,
A box full complete with knitting needles and hooks.
When am I going to stop buying more?

Everytime I go to the store, I find more
Rows upon rows of the different colors.
You'd think I'd say why bother.
Just one more goes into the basket.
Hoping for another roll or skein to tasket.

Will it be crocheted or knitted?
That is the question.
Will it become a blanket, scarf, or sweater?
But in the end the yarn winds up in the box.

When will it end? When will I make it up?
Only time will tell because it wound up waiting.
Waiting for it's future wear but is only a collection.
judy tooley

 

[marval]

That is lovely Judy, thank you for sharing.

 

[marval]

This a poem that just shows you how important it is to have friends.



The Dummy

by Michael Mack


In that forgotten part of town
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound,
A wrinkled man with life near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend,
Fashioned bits of wood and things
And made a dummy run by strings.

He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact
That he controlled it's every act.
He told it how he never had
A chance, since all his luck was bad
Although he'd tried so to succeed -
The dummy nodded and agreed.

And how his journeys in romance
Had never given him a chance,
And wasn't it a crying shame
That he was always held to blame
When everyone knew, oh so well,
That life is but a living Hell,
Controlled by lust and power and greed?
The dummy nodded and agreed.

With patience that would rival saints,
That dummy sat through all complaints
And, with each little expert tug,
He'd droop his head or bow or shrug
And give some comfort to the man
Who held his lifelines in his hand
And helped to fill a lonely need
When he just nodded and agreed.

Senility increased with time
As did the old man's phantomime,
And feverish fingers pulled with glee
The dummy's dance of misery.
They never left each other's side
Until the day both stopped and died.
We found them lying, hand in hand,
The dummy - and his wooden friend.

 

[methodistgirl]

I made up this poem even though it is so true. I do have enough
yarn to start my own store or shop along with the hooks and
needles long and short. Some are real thin knitting needles and
some are fat just like the crochet hooks. I have from size 8 to
17 in the needles. I have from size 7 steel hook to the biggest
Q hook. Man that thing is like crocheting with someone's finger.
Especially mine! :grin: But I enjoy knitting and crocheting like an
old lady. All I need is the rocking chair to sit in when I do my
work. There's one problem. The rocking chair would have to
be big enough for my fanny and strong enough for my 200+
pounds. Don't need a weak little chair, I'd break it down.
judy tooley

 

[marval]

Here is a short poem for everyone here. I don't know who wrote it.


Theres a Miracle called friendship


There's a "miracle" called Friendship,
That dwells within the heart
And you don't know how it happens
Or when it gets its start
But the happiness it brings you
Always gives a special lift,
And you realize that friendship
Is God's very precious gift

 

[Contratrombone64]

Here's a plaintive and poignant verse (W.S. Gilbert) about a love sick maid:

When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
She wanders to and fro;
Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,
And to all questions she replies,
With a sad ‘heighho!’
’Tis but a little word – ‘heighho!’
So soft, ’tis scarcely heard – ‘heighho!’
An idle breath –
Yet life and death
May hang upon a maid’s ‘heighho!’

When maiden loves, she mopes apart,
As owl mopes on a tree;
Although she keenly feels the smart,
She cannot tell what ails her heart,
With its sad ‘Ah, me!’
’Tis but a foolish sigh – ‘Ah, me!’
Born but to droop and die – ‘Ah, me!’
Yet all the sense
Of eloquence
Lies hidden in a maid’s ‘Ah, me!’

 

[marval]

Thank you CT, that is lovely, good old Gilbert and Sullivan you can't beat them.


Margaret

 

[marval]

I must go down to the sea again
Spike Milligan


I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky;
I left my shoes and socks there - I wonder if they're dry?

 

[marval]

RECIPE FOR A HAPPY NEW YEAR


Take twelve whole months.
Clean them thoroughly of all bitterness,
hate, and jealousy.
Make them just as fresh and clean as possible.

Now cut each month into twenty-eight, thirty, or
thirty-one different parts,
but don't make up the whole batch at once.
Prepare it one day at a time out of these ingredients.

Mix well into each day one part of faith,
one part of patience, one part of courage,
and one part of work.
Add to each day one part of hope,
faithfulness, generosity, and kindness.
Blend with one part prayer, one part meditation,
and one good deed.
Season the whole with a dash of good spirits,
a sprinkle of fun, a pinch of play,
and a cupfull of good humor.

Pour all of this into a vessel of love.
Cook thouroughly over radient joy,
garnish with a smile,
and serve with quietness, unselfishness,
and cheerfulness.
You're bound to have a happy new year.


Happy new year everyone


Margaret

 

[Contratrombone64]

Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle,
That's the way the money goes,

anyone care to furnish the last line?

 

[marval]

Pop goes the weasel (too much turkey and stuffing)


Margaret

 

[Contratrombone64]

And, Margaret, why is it called "pop goes the weasel"?

 

[marval]

To be honest David I don't know, I remeber singing it as a child but that is all.
I found these about it, but I am sure you already know.

http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_does_Pop_Goes_the_Weasel_mean

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/pop-goes-the-weasel.html


Margaret

 

[marval]

Just because it is Summer here in the UK.


from A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson

Summer Sun


Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy’s inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

 

[teddy]

Lovely. And now ......... more Milligan

The boy stood on the burning deck
his kneecaps turning brown
it really was his own fault
for pulling his trousers down.

teddy

 

[teddy]

And, Margaret, why is it called "pop goes the weasel"?

This rhyme is about using the pawn shop at the end of the week when the money had run out. I will look up and list it all.

teddy

 

[marval]

This rhyme is about using the pawn shop at the end of the week when the money had run out. I will look up and list it all.

teddy

Ah thank you teddy, I didn't know that. I like Milligan's poems.


Margaret