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The lion and the calf shall lie down together but the calf won't get much sleep.
quote by Woody Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Know Your Mother
A cow knows which her calf is.
A calf knows which its cow is.
God knows me who see not Him.
Instead, I know my mother.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Calf and the Giraffe
Once upon a time was born a gentle brown-eyed calf
Who lived near a zoo and met a tall, wise giraffe.
The calf said to the tall, wise giraffe, “Come and run with me.”
The giraffe replied, “I can’t since I live within these walls you see.”
The confused brown-eyed calf asked, “Can’t they let you out.”
The giraffe smiled and asked, “Do you know what a zoo’s about? ”
The gentle calf said, “You did something wrong so you’re in jail.”
The wise giraffe laughed and explained that his was a happy tale.
He said, “For everyone who visits the zoo there’s so much joy I give.
As one day you’ll love your babies and teach them how to live.
So let’s enjoy every day and look forward to what’s in store.
Then both of us can give to others since that’s what life is for.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Respect My Muse
Eat what you requested for and,
Respect my muse;
Sleep on the bed you requested for and,
Respect my muse;
For this love is all about you and i! !
And like the land of sweet bananas and apples;
But, i will meet you whenever you are ready.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feet
Your feet:
Dirt road walkers
Mud squeezers
Street passers
Bike riders
and Caressers
My feet:
In frailty
accepts time’s cruelty
and age with beauty.
Hardly four feet climb
hills and mountains
Can crawl up legs
Wind calf,
inch round
hard thigh
Feet winds up in bed.
Almedia Knight
(ASK)
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Milkcow Calf Blues
(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sexy Is Sexy, ' Watching You
Walking down the great hall.
Twin curved round balls.
Well rounded calf muscle and strong thigh and tall.
The hiking of skirts not seen by all.
Pink lips they drink from pink clouds,
dark heavy skies and blue clouds.
Full is the rumble and throaty the roar,
coming in through the back door.
Coming back for more pie, as it pulls up fast one striped flag.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Famous Dog Story
The story I am about to tell you it well may be true
For the one who told it to me for to give him his due
Is one who does not make up stories nor neither is he
One prone to imagine it would seem to me.
We were swapping dog stories myself and old Lew
Of dogs we heard tell of and dogs that we knew
Of dogs who are honoured in story and rhyme
The history of their greatness has lived on in time.
But the best dog story he told me was one I heard before
When I was a young school-boy going back five decades or more
The greatest dog story that he can recall
Perhaps is the greatest dog story of all.
A story from early Spring the weather was cold
The red shorthorn calf had strayed from her mother a young five days old
In the field by the farm-yard the cow bellowed around
But her calf did not reply and was not to be found.
The farmer searched for her with Shep his brown cattle dog
But no trace of the calf in the field by the bog
He then thought the calf may have strayed and in a bog hole drown
Still no trace of the young heifer though the bog he searched up and down.
But in the gray dawning of the very next day
Old Shep the brown dog to the yard made his way
With the red heifer calf suckling on the end of his tail
That the clever dog had dipped into a full milk pail.
The mother cow was delighted her calf she did lick
And none more relieved than the old farmer Mick
As he patted his dog you're a hero he did say
This a famous dog story that lives on today.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taxidermists
To the calf-less cow, a stuffed calf
Serves as a stimulus. She is in fantasy
To squash her teats.
To a thirsty man, a woman in photo
Or in thought is held in fantasy
To release his seeds.
Cow is fooled. Man is self-fooled.
09.08.2000, Paralakhemundi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Is Left to Please You Like That
It's too late to have explanations,
Bared and on the table.
That was done when you said you had no appetite.
But I watched you reach for dessert.
And you had no problem...
Feeding yourself with sweets.
And now you wish for a dish of reality?
Small enough...
So you can pucker up and peck,
For the taste of it to please!
This is not off a menu to be requested.
Or is there anyone here,
Waiting for you to digest it!
This is it as it is...
Whether or not you accept it that way.
And scratched is the soft music,
With a candelabra displayed.
And the candles were plastic.
Not waxed as you requested for your charade...
You wished to parade with serenade.
No one is left to please you like that.
Not here!
Only truth is served.
Deserving of it or not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Journey Home
The elephant was on her way,
Her calf was close nearby,
You should've seen their bodies sway,
Both marching, heads held high!
'Keep up with me! Left, right! Left, right! '
The calf was telling Mum,
The two of them were quite a sight,
Since so far had they come...
For many miles, the calf endured,
Without a thought to stop,
But Mum, of course, was quite assured,
His legs would flip and flop...
His trunk would droop and trail the ground,
His pace no longer fast,
With barely strength to make a sound,
As even more miles past...
And sure enough, she heard those words,
That parents often get...
The journey home, it's for the birds!
'Hey, Mum, are we there yet! ? '
'A few miles more! ' she told him straight...
He moaned and groaned, of course...
It's just right then, though life was great,
He'd rather be a horse!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'The Journey Home'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanksgiving
The man who stands above the bird, his knife
Sharp as a Turkish scimitar, first removes
A thigh and leg, half the support
On which the turkey used to stand. This
Leg and thigh he sets on an extra
Plate. All his weight now on
One leg, he lunges for the wing, the wing
On the same side of the bird from which
He has just removed the leg and thigh.
He frees the wing enough to expose
The breast, the wing not severed but
Collapsed down to the platter. One hand
Holding the fork, piercing the turkey
Anywhere, he now beings to slice the breast,
Afflicted by small pains in his chest,
A kind of heartburn for which there is no
Cure. He serves the hostess breast, her
Own breast rising and falling. And so on,
Till all the guests are served, the turkey
Now a wreck, the carver exhausted, a
Mere carcass of his former self. Everyone
Says thanks to the turkey carver and begins
To eat, thankful for the cold turkey
And the Republic for which it stands.
poem by Mac Hammond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Bite A Married Woman On The Thigh
Never bite a married woman on the thigh oh my
Cause she just can't rub it off no matter how she'll try
And when she gets home at night her man will ask her why
Then she'll say it's just a birthmark or some other silly lie
But he'll get suspicious and then he will start to pry
Then she'll get hysterical and she will start to cry
And he'll say I don't blame you but tell me who's the guy
So she'll admit to everything and he will say bye-bye
And he'll buy an airline ticket and he'll fly across the sky
And then he'll come and find you and he'll punch you in the eye
Then he'll rent a cheap hotel room and he'll hang himself with his tie
And when she gets the news she'll take an overdose of sleeping
Tablets and she's gonna lie on the couch and die
So never never never never never never never bite a married woman on the thigh
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cradle Song
Baby, O baby, fain you are for bed,
Magpie to mopoke busy as the bee;
The little red calf’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird’s in the tree.
Daddy’s gone a-shearin’, down the Castlereagh,
So we’re all alone now, only you an’ me.
All among the wool-O, keep your wide blades full-O!
Daddy thinks o’ baby, wherever he may be.
Baby, my baby, rest your drowsy head,
The one man that works here, tired you must be,
The little red calf ’s in the snug cow-shed,
An’ the little brown bird ’s in the tree.
poem by Louis Esson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cocoon For A Skeleton
Clothes: to compose
The furtive, lone
Pillar of bone
To some repose.
To let hands shirk
Utterance behind
A pocket's blind
Deceptive smirk.
To mask, belie
The undue haste
Of breast for breast
Or thigh for thigh.
To screen, conserve
The pose, when death
Half strips the sheath
And leaves the nerve.
To edit, glose
Lyric desire
And slake its fire
In polished prose.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hang My Teeth On Your Door
Your sympathy is my simple joy
Your bossom my mobile home
Free from the thunder that tore me asunder
I have you as my own
And I hold you over rolling on the floor
Naked you say this is the way
Lets sing an dance some more
And theres love sore love in your eyes
Theres rest love rest for me your lonely boy
Rosey cheeks an ruby lips fade with every sigh
Dance in the middle an flee from the ghetto
An tango thigh to thigh
And please dare - show bare your need to me again
This is the way - redeem the day
An daily pull me in
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Fat Woman
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Now oooh
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
And every time you move make my temperature rise
That fine lookin' woman got a great big leg
Fine lookin' woman got a great big leg, Yeah
Big fat woman with a great big leg
Big fat woman got a great big leg
And every time she moves
Moves like a soft boiled egg
So big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
Now you obese woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clap Yo Hands
Verse
Potter:
Come on, you children, gather around -
Gather around, you children.
And we will lose that evil spirit
Called the voodoo.
Nothin but trouble, if he has found,
If he has found you, children -
But you can chase the hoodoo
With the dance that you do.
Let me lead the way.
Jubilee today!
Hell never hound you;
Stamp on the ground, you children!
Come on!
Refrain
Clap-a yo hand! slap-a yo thigh!
Halleluyah! halleluyah!
Evrybody come along and join the jubilee!
Clap-a yo hand! slap-a yo thigh!
Don t you lose time! dont you lose time!
Come along-its shake yo shoes time
Now for you and me!
On the sands of time
You are only a pebble;
Remember, trouble must be treated
Just like a rebel;
Send him to the debble!
Clap-a yo hand! slap-a yo thigh!
Halleluyah! halleluyah!
Everybody come along and join the jubilee!
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be there an introspection
Parents type I:
You feed the dog;
It guards the yard.
You pay the maid;
She is your aid.
Bone and flesh,
Parents gave you.
Without their nod
You flee with a lad.
You are ungrateful;
Parents are indignant.
Parents type II:
Plants give flowers
For bees to hover.
Moon sends light
For lovers to delight.
Cow yields calf.
Calf selects the bull.
Your bone and flesh-
Out of parents’ blush.
Give bone and flesh,
With one you wish.
Your joy parents cherish.
They have no remorse.
Which parents are you-
The one demanding a return
Or the one retaining the love?
22.11099
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clothes Have No Memories (for Doreen)
Your most prized dress
must confess
that it
cannot
remember
the swell of your breast
the rise & fall of your breathing.
Clothes have no memory.
It is Winter now and your summer
frock has totally forgot
the sheer sunny shockingness of being
(underneath it all)
absolutely knickerless.
Kisses like butterflies
alight high (high)
on your inner thigh (thigh) !
Clothes have no memory.
Your bra
unhooked & unhinged
cannot really recall
the thrill of it all
as my hands caresss
create your breasts.
Clothes have no memory.
Clothes have no memory
...but I do.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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