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A flea on the top of a bald head - it is only too apparent.
The Flea
A flea that bit you had bitten me too.
The two bloods mingled for single blood.
The flea’s body is our marriage lobby.
Neither shame nor sin would accrue since than.
Nor would you have grown any weaker too.
By yielding to me and getting my blood
You would shed no grace nor honour either.
You will make me than the flea happier.
Your yielding to me will not do more harm
Than what the flea has done to you, dear.
[the verse of John Donne, The Flea, rewritten]
20.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.
quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flea
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two;
And this, alas! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true; then learn how false fears be;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cravat Or Turkey Neck
The visible signs of ageing
the bald head
I've been nearly bald
since my early
twenties
the Friar Tuck grey hair
the last remnant
of a great teenage
Elvis pompadour
the turkey neck
I could disguise
with a cravat
but that's not me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fifi The Flea
(ransford)
Fifi the flea fell in love
With a clown from a flea circus fair
She gave him her heart
But he still couldnt see
That for such a long time she had cared
He put himself round all the other girl fleas
Unaware that he hurt her so badly
She cried in the arms of his manager friend
And declared that she loved the clown madly
One day fifi went
And this drove the clown wild
The poor little flea started crying
Never you mind his manager said
I ought not to tell but shes dyin
Dyin for love of you little flea
Youve broken her heart with your lyin
She couldnt stand to see you throw
Her love away without tryin
The day fifi died the little clown vowed
Hed tend her grave every hour
He broke down and cried
When he saw her grave
And on it he placed a small flower
Poor little flea he wasted away
Hed lost his fifi forever
So they opened her grave
Put him inside
Now at last they are together
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leise Rieselt Der Schnee
Leise rieselt der schnee,
Still und starr liegt der see.
Winterlich glnzet der wald:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald!
In den herzen ists warm;
Still schweigt kummer und harm.
Sorge des lebens verhallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald.
Bald ist stille nacht.
Friede auf erden erwacht.
Horch nur, wie lieblich es schallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Flea (Fun Poem 120)
You get into bed with your partner
and they toss and turn
as if they have a flea up their arse.
They keep you awake
with their fidgeting,
eventually you get to sleep
and believe it or not
they start to do it again.
By now, you are ready
to give up trying to sleep
or get the bug killer spray
to kill that damn flea.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A flea can trouble a lion more than the lion can harm a flea.
At a flea market I always head for the junk jewelry table first.
quote by Ethel Merman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.
quote by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't find me too bald, do you? Old, and bald, and with a belly?
quote by Julio Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The right moment wears a full head of hair: when it has been missed, you can't get it back; it's bald in the back of the head and never turns around.
quote by Francois Rabelais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now I Have My Eyes On Dinner
When I say I am seeking something substantial in my life?
Why does that make you laugh to see me at a flea market?
I am seeking something that doesn't need to be high maintenanced...
Looking for wrinkles to moisturized.
To get nipped and tucked when bags begin to sag.
'And...
You are going to find that at a flea market? '
OH yes.
Some people don't know quality to throw it away.
Just like that.
Maybe recently divorced?
Or separated?
'You are talking about being at flea market,
Right! '
Ab-so-yes indeed-lutely!
And today must be my lucky day.
Because I am looking at a bargain.
A steal that's too genuine to leave.
And...
What do you think I've discovered?
'A day you found something priceless? '
Is there such a thing...
Of hoping to spend every moment,
With something so priceless...
To wish it is available?
'What can I say?
Your discovery is as good as mine? '
Are you sure you don't want to look around?
'What makes you think I haven't been doing just that?
I was hoping to see those candleholders you purchased,
Last week...
Again.'
So you had your eyes on 'them' too?
'Very much so.
Now I have my eyes on dinner! '
With breakfast?
'And lunch? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Once Had The Body Of A God.
Now I'm a fat old sod.
Too many cakes and cream buns,
Around my fat chair are too many crumbs.
Once with the hair of a star,
I could have gone far.
Now the head is bald,
And the girls' no longer call.
The skin is red and blotchy,
And my temperament rather crotchety.
I walk the length of our house,
And want to sleep like the church mouse.
If you think I'm a cranky man presa,
You should see me on a bad day!
I'm down on myself and can't stand my ways,
The memory of the body beautiful is a haze.
Maybe tomorrow will see me in a better frame,
My humour may return but not betting just the same.
I could measure the possibility by chain, perch, or rod,
But I'll just be the same bald, cranky, blotchy, crotchety old sod.
RKH 29/08/2012 2: 17 PM
If the bald man knew a remedy he would rub it on his own head.