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Seasons Of Life
Gazing at the breezy night
Empty or lack of immense sunlight
And the onset of Winters shined
Though reflecting warmth of mankind
O My Pa-pa
Our fathers have formed a poetry workshop.
They sit in a circle of disappointment over our fastballs
and wives. We thought they didn't read our stuff,
whole anthologies of poems that begin, My father never,
I Still See You In My Dreams
I still see you in my dreams with your angel face in your beautiful white dress, smiling like a queen.
It was the most beautiful day of my dreams that I've ever seen.
Is it not strange? A year ago to-day,
With scarce a thought beyond the hum-drum round,
I did my decent job and earned my pay;
Was averagely happy, I'll be bound.
Body And Soul
Half-numb, guzzling bourbon and Coke from coffee mugs,
our fathers fall in love with their own stories, nuzzling
the facts but mauling the truth, and my friend's father begins
to lay out with the slow ease of a blues ballad a story
B H Fairchild
There are too many kids in this tub
There are too many elbows to scrub
I just washed a behind that I'm sure wasn't mine
There are too many kids in this tub.
The Odyssey: Book 09
And Ulysses answered, “King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a
bard with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better
or more delightful than when a whole people make merry together,
with the guests sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded
The Twins Of Lucky Strike
I've sung of Violet de Vere, that slinky, minky dame,
Of Gertie of the Diamond Tooth, and Touch-the-Button Nell,
And Maye Lamore,-at eighty-four I oughta blush wi' shame
That in my wild and wooly youth I knew them ladies well.
Jest 'fore Christmas
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Mighty glad I ain't a girl-ruther be a boy,
Without them sashes, curls, an' things that's worn by Fauntleroy!
I am like a pelican of the wilderness: I am
like an owl of the desert. I watch, and am
as a sparrow alone upon the housetop.
Well breakfast black coffee one slice of dry toast no butter no jelly no jam
Lunch just some lettuce two celery stalks no booze no potatoes no ham
Dinner one chicken wing broiled not fried no gravy no biscuits no pie
And this dietin' dietin' dietin' dietin' sure is a rough way to die
The New Vestments
There lived an old man in the kingdom of Tess,
Who invented a purely original dress;
And when it was perfectly made and complete,
He opened the door, and walked into the street.
To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
Once on a time did Eucritus and I
(With us Amyntas) to the riverside
Steal from the city. For Lycopeus' sons
Were that day busy with the harvest-home,
Jon Corelis Theocritus
The Skokie Theater
Twelve years old and lovesick, bumbling
and terrified for the first time in my life,
but strangely hopeful, too, and stunned,
definitely stunned-I wanted to cry,
As thro' the Psalms from theme to theme I chang'd,
Methinks like Eve in Paradice I rang'd;
And ev'ry grace of song I seem'd to see,
As the gay pride of ev'ry season, she.
So We Were Poor...!
Yes we were poor, what da hell?
My parents could not read or write
It was a struggle to finish Matric with candle light.
When others kids could have their rapports signed
Bread And Jam
I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books
The poems that we have to learn on valleys, hills an' brooks;
I'd write of things that children like an' know an' understand,
An' when the kids recited them the folks would call them grand.
Edgar Albert Guest
The Odyssey: Book 17
When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared,
Telemachus bound on his sandals and took a strong spear that suited
his hands, for he wanted to go into the city. “Old friend,” said he to
the swineherd, “I will now go to the town and show myself to my
The Right To Grief
To Certain Poets About to Die
Take your fill of intimate remorse, perfumed sorrow,
Over the dead child of a millionaire,
The Way Of The Bush
A night of storm and wind and rain,
Tall trees bowing beneath the blast
That shakes and rattles the window-pane,
And a thunderous roar as the creek goes past.
Alice Guerin Crist
What's The Pope Do?
What's the pope do? Drinks, and takes a nap;
looks out the window, has a bite to eat,
fiddles with the housemaid's garter strap,
and makes the town a cushion for his feet.
Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
'E sez to me, 'Wot's orl this flamin' war?
The papers torks uv nothin' else but scraps.
An'wot's ole England got snake-'eaded for?
An' wot's the strength uv callin' out our chaps?'
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Dust, dust, dust and a dog â??
Oh! The sheep-dog wonâ??t be last.
When the long, long, shadow of the old bay horse
With the shadow of his mate is cast.
Preparing The Body
Sometimes it only took a single word,
just a look if they had drunk enough.
A hawkbill knife would flash, sometimes a gun.
The doctor closed their eyes and it was done.
There once was a Square, such a square little Square,
And he loved a trim Triangle;
But she was a flirt and around her skirt
Vainly she made him dangle.
Robert William Service
There is a world outside the one you know,
To which for curiousness 'Ell can't compare--
It is the place where "wilful-missings" go,
When Mother Made An Angel Cake
When mother baked an angel cake we kids would gather round
An' watch her gentle hands at work, an' never make a sound;
We'd watch her stir the eggs an' flour an' powdered sugar, too,
An' pour it in the crinkled tin, an' then when it was through
Edgar Albert Guest
A Christmas Morning
One of my father's oldest stories:
how when he was a boy growing up
in that town, there were no ponies.
Buggies were gone almost as soon
Dow's Flat. That's its name;
And I reckon that you
Are a stranger? The same?
Well, I thought it was true,-
MELIBOEUS, CORYDON, THYRSIS
Daphnis beneath a rustling ilex-tree
Had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon
I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life-we owe to flies.
In the old Strauss waltz for the first time
We had listened to your quiet call,
Since then all the living things are alien
And the knocking of the clock consoles.
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
I can promise you this: food in the White House
will change! No more granola, only fried eggs
flipped the way we like them. And ham ham ham!
Americans need ham! Nothing airy like debate for me!
A Song Of The Sandbags
No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
(The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes 'em good and ‘ard I doesn't ‘ate the Boche,
I guess they're mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
trace of a sigh,
The things on a shelf that I'd like for myself
I never regret I can't buy.
I can go through the town passing store after store
Edgar Albert Guest
‘Ave you seen Bill's mug in the Noos to-day?
‘E's gyned the Victoriar Cross, they say;
Little Bill wot would grizzle and run away,
If you ‘it ‘im a swipe on the jawr.