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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys
there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'
how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?
If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.
a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?
what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You never get quite down to the bottom of the barrel, but we are much higher than that at the present time. There is quite a lot left in the barrel that could be explained by them. If they have some weapons, if they have some anthrax, they should deliver that.
The Black Barrel of a Gun
You say you're going to shoot me up
Yeah, shoot me up
If I don't do what you want
Yeah, shoot me up
While looking over the black barrel of a gun
You say again do what you want or it's going
To be the gun
Yeah, be the gun
If I don't do what you want
While looking down at the black barrel of a gun
Oh, well it's a good thing I can't hear
Yeah, I can't hear
Cause I'm not giving in to wants
Yeah, I can't hear
While your shoving a black barrel of a gun
Oh, yes and I can't see, no can see
When you give me your ultimatum
Cause I can't see giving in
To someone with a gun
While I look across the black barrel of a gun
So you can get your ass on flee
Because I don't see
You shoot me up, yeah shoot me up
Cause I'm not doing what you want
While I look across the black barrel of your gun
poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Poets
dead poets; old cars
junked in heaps
in front of
abandoned houses...
empty mailboxes
rusting to the
ground...
empty swings creaking
in the late evening breeze;
a bottle of wine,
half-empty,
moans in the shadows.
the fields have been picked,
nothing left, but sweat stained dirt....
even the embers have grown cold,
and the pot is empty.
the sounds and smells of living
linger by unmarked stones...
dead poets; old cars...
running on empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The first pork-barrel bill that crosses my desk, I'm going to veto it and make the authors of those pork-barrel items famous all over America.
quote by John McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar(Decor) -103
Grumble(Quatern)
The Quatern is-
stanzaic, written in 4 quatrains.
syllabic, usually written in lines of 8 syllables.
rhymed at the poet's discretion.
Possible rhyme schemes are Axax xAxa axAx xaxA x being unrhymed
and the cap A being the refrain.
Or Aabb aAcc ddAa eeaA or any combination the poet chooses
as long as the refrain is in the proper position.
composed with a refrain that is repeated as
L1 of the first stanza
L2 of the second stanza
L3 of the third stanza
L4 of the fourth stanza
Grumble
Empty mind mine sounds only hush
Lonely bewildered in silence
I am to fill it with words lush
My musings are hunting for thoughts
Albeit heart yearns for poetry
Empty mind mine sounds only hush
I pat my brain quite brisk
So that floods of words lot in gush
Time does not seem to wait then rush
Brain is working fast-yet
Empty mind mine sounds only hush
Thought-hunt is busy running on
I don't like a random scribble
Perfect theme, proper words should push
That my poem is set right-still
Empty mind mine sounds only hush
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Barrel Race
Unloading from the trailer,
you wonder how the day will end.
Will you bring money? Will you place? Will You even participate?
You WILL ride, your horse is ready and confident, your name is called to the allyway, the horse takes off!
No time to be nervous, the first barrel arrived
RIGHT TURN!
The horse blasts off toward the second barrel
LEFT TURN!
The top third barrel is getting closer with every stride and before you know it
LEFT TURN!
Now you're heading home looking up at your time!
You pass the lazer......15 seconds taking home the prize.
poem by Horse Lover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Insecurities Of Aging...
the more you age
the more you keep things to yourself
old and new socks are mixed up in one wooden cabinet
somehow you are not using any
it is just the keeping for keeping sake
you are not thinking of any heir of any shoe
you begin to emphasize the importance of empty containers
how each must be filled
an empty cup must have coffee to its brim
an empty room must have someone to talk to
and empty road shall have at least one car making a dusty path
the empty stairs are too fearful to look at
how you hate an empty chair
it can make you sick if no one sits in there in another hour
the hours can be empty too
how can you stop the arms of the clock from taking away the sound
of ticking?
you are sensing a terminal
the train must be full so that you can never experience the
palpitations of being alone
you can hear it like the sounds of korean drums
the cascading waterfalls
the horns of taxis in city traffic
do not dare to stop the inevitable
i assure you... you can't. So? get yourself attuned
have an empty cup and learn to drink from it
you must feign the satisfaction of thirst, because
it can't be long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Justice In The Barrel
Hey mister can you help me
I'm a loner on the run
I'm just looking for tomorrow
And I ain't gonna hurt no one
I jumped headfirst into a bottle
I was looking for a friend
Came up just short of nothing
I didn't find the truth I only found an end
So tell me who's gonna save me
Or my father or my son
When the only justice a man can see
Is the barrel... of a loaded gun
I been broke and I've been hungry
I think they're both my middle name
But I don't never ever never seem to get enough
Still guess I can't complain
'Cause what you get in life you take it
You've gotta hold on and make it last
They say good things come to those who wait
But it's life that goes so fast
And when there's just one rule you live by
Each day you kiss the rising sun
When you live and die by the life we breathe
In the barrel of a loaded gun
Guns talk to me in my sleep at night
And a gun somewhere is burning
With my name
Winners are losers
And losers will have to face
All those yesterdays
And all of the dreams they blew away
So Mister can you help me
Or are you my gun
Have the ghosts of justice
Brought you here to me to taste
The barrel of a loaded gun
There's justice in the barrel
Of a loaded gun
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“Sweet Sounds of Joy”
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear sweet sounds
Of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear momma sing
In her morning voice
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to be in the presence
Of these sounds of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love sweet sounds of joy
poem by Va Rockeya Foy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lock And Key
They are bound together
By the fibers of my tears
Can't you see the pain etched in it?
Don't you hear
The sorrowful clank
Of metal against metal…..
It sounds like the clashing of swords
By two gallant knights
Braving another day of battle….
Or maybe it sounds like a prisoners chain
As he walks past his empty cell
And onto the gallows,
Dying for his beliefs….
Then again, it might sound like the pounding of bronze
To make a sword
That Is destined to take somebodies life…..
But maybe it just sounds like a lock turning a key
poem by Faith Franklin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Done Somebody Wrong
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
It was all my fault, I musta did somebody wrong.
Everything that happens, you know I am to blame.
Everything that happens, you know I am to blame.
Im gonna find myself a doctor, perhaps my luck will change.
Ah, my mamma she told me, these days will surely come.
I wouldnt listen to her, had to have my fun.
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone.
But its all my fault, I musta done somebody wrong, oh yeah.
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
The barrel-house told me, my baby caught that train n gone
It was all my fault, I musta did somebody wrong. oh play the blues...
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band, music by Elmore James (1960)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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