Car poems
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The Peddler (Male)
© Susan Frances Harrison
Scissors and needles and pins--pins and needles and tape!Autolycus come to life, but look how Autolycus grins!What's wrong with his mouth? You would say it's full of his needles and pins,It's all on one side with a kink, a kind of a twisted gape
Lines and Figures
© Charles Harpur
There is no curve of sea or sky,No turn of hill-top far defined,Without some fitness for the eye,Some meaning for the mind.
Love Canal
© Hamilton Jane Eaton
Medical wasteand the spawned babiesof industrial parksare starting to talk back.It's not the terrible two's --it's adolescent urges withwet dreams and blood.
Pascal's Wager
© Hall Kate
'If God does not exist, one will lose nothing by believing in him, whileif he does exist, one will lose everything by not believing.'-- Blaise Pascal
Virgidemiarum: Book I, Satire III
© Joseph Hall
With some pot-fury, ravish'd from their wit,They sit and muse on some no-vulgar writ:As frozen dunghills in a winter's morn,That void of vapours seemed all beforn,Soon as the sun sends out his piercing beams,Exhale out filthy smoke and stinking steams;So doth the base, and the fore-barren brain,Soon as the raging wine begins to reign
Strictly Germ-Proof
© Guiterman Arthur
The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic PupWere playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised; -It wasn't Disinfected and it wasn't Sterilized
The Passionate Suburbanite To His Love
© Guiterman Arthur
Commute with me, my Love, and be merry; How vain in the City to dwellWhen apple-trees blow in Dobbs' Ferry And lilacs adorn New Rochelle!White Plains is the Garden of Allah And Pelham's the Pearl of the Sea;There's bliss in the name of Valhalla -- Oh, fly to the Suburbs with me!
Then won't you commute on my family ticket?To Westchester County we'll flee
Our Suburb
© Guiterman Arthur
Our Garden Spot is always bright and pretty (Of course it's rather soggy when it rains),And only thirty minutes from the city (Of course you have to catch the proper trains)
Kindness to Insects
© Guiterman Arthur
I saw a Melancholy WaspUpon a Purple Clover Knosp,Who wept, "The Poets do me Wrong,Excluding me from Noble Song --Though Pure am I and Wholly Crimeless --Because, they say, my Name is Rhymeless!Oh, had I but been born a Bee,With Heaps of Words to Rhyme with me,I should not want for PanegyricsIn Sonnets, Epics, Odes and Lyrics!Will no one free me from the CurseThat bars my Race from Lofty Verse?""My Friend, that Little Thing I'll care forAt once," said I -- and that is whereforeSo tenderly I set that WaspUpon a Purple Clover Knosp
Into Battle
© Grenfell Julian
The naked earth is warm with Spring,And with green grass and bursting treesLeans to the sun's gaze glorying,And quivers in the sunny breeze;And life is Colour and Warmth and Light,And a striving evermore for these;And he is dead who will not fight,And who dies fighting has increase
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content
© Robert Greene
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content; The quiet mind is richer than a crown;Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss
Palliative Care
© Greene Richard
The journey goes past healing to placeslike this, where Demerol and morphineseparate the last of our consciousnessfrom a body shrinking away to pain
On Sherbourne Street
© Greene Richard
I am at home in a high-risewhere at night the voice of being humanis a siren blare or a drunk crying fucksomething or other on Sherbourne Street
The Flying Fish
© Gray John Henry
Magnae Deus potentiaequi fertili natos aquapartim relinquis gurgitipartim levas in aera.
The Kilkenny Cats
© Graves Alfred Perceval
In the dacent ould days Before stockings or staysWere invented, or breeches, top-boots and top-hats, You'd search the whole sphere From Cape Horn to Cape ClearAnd never come near to the likes of our Cats Och, tunder! och, tunder! You'd wink wid the wonderTo see them keep under the mice and the rats; And go wild for half shares In the phisants and haresThey pull'd up the backstairs to provision our PatsOch! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats!
But the shame and the sin Of the Game Laws came in,Wid the gun and the gin of the landlord canats; And the whole box and dice Of the rats and the miceMade off in a trice from our famishing Cats
Thirty-Six Ways of Looking at Toronto Ontario
© Gotlieb Phyllis
##.see my house, its angled street,east, north, west, south,southeast, northwest, there areno parking placeshere
Ordinary, Moving
© Gotlieb Phyllis
is the name of the gamelaughing, talking where the ball bouncesin the forgotten schoolyardone hand, the other hand; one foot, the other footyou know the one(Saturday Afternoon Kidblackball-cracker, scotchmint-muncherhandkerchief-chewer extraordinary)clap front, clap backballthwack on the boardfencefront and back, back and frontarms of old beeches reaching over drop theirsawtooth leaves in your hair (as I was sitting beneath a tree a birdie sent his love to me and as I wiped it from my eye I thought: thank goodness cows can't fly)tweedle, twydlecurtsey, saluteand roundaboutuntil you're out
the shadows turn, the light is longand while you're out you sing this song
this year, next year, sometime, never en roule-en ma boule roule-en we'll be friends for ever and ever
Pimperroquet, le roi des papillons se faisant la barbe, il se coupa le menton une, une, c'est la lune deux, deux, c'est le jeuseven, eight trois, trois -- c'est à toi!nine, a-lauraten a-laura echod, shtaimSecord hamelech bashomayim echod, shtaim, sholosh, ar-ba
A Catful of Buttermilk
© Gotlieb Phyllis
it 's a bird, it 's a plane, it 's apain in the neck, it 's a thornin the flesh, it 'sA CATFUL OF BUTTERMILK
