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Mr. Klaw
A claw is a claw
And, and, and nobody has seen a, a talking claw
Nobody has seen a talking claw
Unless, unless that claw is the famous, the famous
Unless that claw is the famous
Mr. klaw
Mr. klaw
Mr. klaw
Mr. klaw
(mr. klaw) mr. vanity klaw
(mr. klaw) mr. lightning bulb
(mr. klaw) mr. vanity klaw
(mr. klaw) mr. dental flaw
(mr. klaw) mr. vanity klaw
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A neighbor come calling
(A neighbor come calling, this year!
Banging on the door at 22.44pm)
'Did you hear that screaming?
Is it coming, from yours…?
Can you check; your outdoors? '
…So, I then switched on a back light!
And, peered through the window…
And, saw two cats, standing…
Claw to claw, and Oh, what a furor!
There came with a tiger's paw.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Raw
Ive been running round town for a new identiy
Ive been dreaming hot dreams of insecurity
Ive been chasing my heart through the streets of my mind
Ive been clinging to the bed the sweat is turning me blind
Well Im plugged all the holes and sealing all the cracks
Im like a galvanised nerve I just cant seem to relax
Shes got fire on her breath and chilli on her lips
Teeth around her neck and shes got jazz on her hips
Theres a flash in my brain like a shot from above
Its a strange idea of love
Like a wolf at the door
Like a scratch of a claw
She says come on baby I want it raw
A wolf at the door
A scratch of a claw
I want it raw
Well Im driving out of town Im on the verge of a storm
Im sucking my st. christopher and trying to keep calm
A mambo mamma on the back of my heels
And this incantation can trap my wheels
Theres a heat in my car theres a fog on my screen
Ive never felt so scared never dreamt such a dream
Theres a man on the corner preaching fire above
Its a strange idea of love
Like a wolf at the door
Like a scratch of a claw
She says come on baby I want it raw!
A wolf at the door
A scratch of a claw
I want it raw!
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sestina: Terminataur
Enveloped by the glow of bedside light,
a small child listens spellbound to a plot.
A parent tells a story quite absurd
of cyborgs, birds and dinosaurs, most mean.
A science fiction tale of keen-edged claw
and culminating fast with time machine.
‘A fearsome shrewd reptilian machine
was lurking ‘mid striated cycad light.
His iridescent scaly skin and claw
advising ‘gainst the trespass of his plot.
A grey bird hovered close; what could it mean?
and conversation flowed; now that's absurd'!
‘Tyrannosaurus said, 'You're quite absurd',
'a cyborg bird with so-called time machine',
'and plans which sound both devilish and mean',
'involving death by catastrophic light'.
'You wish to beg my pardon for the plot',
'and ask respectfully to shake my claw'? ! ? ! ? ! '
‘The cyborg bird said, 'Cousin, take my claw',
'I'm your descendent, though it sounds absurd'.
'Our fourth millennium A.D. course is plot',
'whereby we triumph over man machine'.
'I'm here to guide the bird-made meteor light',
'so we can wing ascent; see what I mean'? '
‘Just then a ratty mammal, snide and mean,
who hid within the cycad's curving claw,
quick swiped the heedless bird in dusky light
and thereby foiled cretaceous scheme absurd.
The meteor missed and dinosaur machine
retained its topmost spot, in spite of plot'.
The father closes zany fiction plot
and though his sharp-toothed grin looks wily mean,
he is a loving dinosaur machine.
The sleepy dino-child lets go his claw
and slips into a dreaming world absurd.
He kisses scaly snout and dims the light.
The moral here is both absurd and light.
I mean by this: Beware the bird machine
which may still plot to claim the upper claw.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of The Rose Bush
This homely bush doth to mine eyes expose
A very fair, yea, comely ruddy rose.
This rose doth also bow its head to me,
Saying, Come, pluck me, I thy rose will be;
Yet offer I to gather rose or bud,
Ten to one but the bush will have my blood.
This looks like a trapan,[34] or a decoy,
To offer, and yet snap, who would enjoy;
Yea, the more eager on't, the more in danger,
Be he the master of it, or a stranger.
Bush, why dost bear a rose if none must have it.
Who dost expose it, yet claw those that crave it?
Art become freakish? dost the wanton play,
Or doth thy testy humour tend its way?
Comparison.
This rose God's Son is, with his ruddy looks.
But what's the bush, whose pricks, like tenter-hooks,
Do scratch and claw the finest lady's hands,
Or rend her clothes, if she too near it stands?
This bush an emblem is of Adam's race,
Of which Christ came, when he his Father's grace
Commended to us in his crimson blood,
While he in sinners' stead and nature stood.
Thus Adam's race did bear this dainty rose,
And doth the same to Adam's race expose;
But those of Adam's race which at it catch,
Adam's race will them prick, and claw, and scratch.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strayed Crab
This is not my home. How did I get so far from water? It must
be over that way somewhere.
I am the color of wine, of tinta. The inside of my powerful
right claw is saffron-yellow. See, I see it now; I wave it like a
flag. I am dapper and elegant; I move with great precision,
cleverly managing all my smaller yellow claws. I believe in the
oblique, the indirect approach, and I keep my feelings to myself.
But on this strange, smooth surface I am making too much
noise. I wasn't meant for this. If I maneuver a bit and keep a
sharp lookout, I shall find my pool again. Watch out for my right
claw, all passersby! This place is too hard. The rain has stopped,
and it is damp, but still not wet enough to please me.
My eyes are good, though small; my shell is tough and tight.
In my own pool are many small gray fish. I see right through
them. Only their large eyes are opaque, and twitch at me. They
are hard to catch but I, I catch them quickly in my arms and
eat them up.
What is that big soft monster, like a yellow cloud, stifling
and warm? What is it doing? It pats my back. Out, claw. There,
I have frightened it away. It's sitting down, pretending nothing's
happened. I'll skirt it. It's still pretending not to see me. Out of
my way, O monster. I own a pool, all the little fish that swim in it,
and all the skittering waterbugs that smell like rotten apples.
Cheer up, O grievous snail. I tap your shell, encouragingly,
not that you will ever know about it.
And I want nothing to do with you, either, sulking toad.
Imagine, at least four times my size and yet so vulnerable... I
could open your belly with my claw. You glare and bulge, a
watchdog near my pool; you make a loud and hollow noise. I
do not care for such stupidity. I admire compression, lightness,
and agility, all rare in this loose world.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You And I Saw Hawks Exchanging The Prey
They did the deed of darkness
In their own mid-light.
He plucked a gray field mouse
Suddenly in the wind.
The small dead fly alive
Helplessly in his beak,
His cold pride, helpless.
All she receives is life.
They are terrified. They touch.
Life is too much.
She flies away sorrowing.
Sorrowing, she goes alone.
Then her small falcon, gone.
Will not rise here again.
Smaller than she, he goes
Claw beneath claw beneath
Needles and leaning boughs,
While she, the lovelier
Of these brief differing two,
Floats away sorrowing,
Tall as my love for you,
And almost lonelier.
Delighted in the delighting,
I love you in mid-air,
I love myself the ground.
The great wings sing nothing
Lightly. Lightly fall.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A girl without a needle is like a cat without a claw.
If you want to eat pipius claw, you'll have to break a few pipiuses.
A goose quill is more dangerous than a lion's claw.
Life lasts but a few scratches of the claw in the sand.
quote by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power Of Love
(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
Ill protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
Feels like fire
Im so in love with you
Dreams are like angels
They keep bad at bay-bad at bay
Love is the light
Scaring darkness away-yeah
Im so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love your goal
*the power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love your goal
Ill protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
When the chips are down Ill be around
With my undying, death-defying
Love for you
Envy will hurt itself
Let yourself be beautiful
Sparkling love, flowers
And pearls and pretty girls
Love is like an energy
Rushin rushin inside of me
*(repeat)
This time we go sublime
Lovers entwine-divine divine
Love is danger, love is pleasure
Love is pure-the only treasure
Im so in love with you
Purge the soul
Make love your goal
The power of love
A force from above
Cleaning my soul
The power of love
A force from above
A sky-scraping dove
Flame on burn desire
Love with tongues of fire
Purge the soul
Make love your goal
Ill protect you from the hooded claw
Keep the vampires from your door
song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain king
Your Gold pelt
Your sharp claw
Your bold nature
That one cannot draw
You're the lion of the hills
King of the rocks
You're an icon of the mountain
You will not fit in any box
You prey on your enemies
With a merciless stare
They run for their life
But you do not care
You have your home
And protect it with care
You set out alone
To take some of theirs
You are the Mountain Lion
And all will bow before thee
You present you kingdom on high
For all to see
poem by Samuel Sweetnam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hickory-dickory Dock! The Lonely Mouse Runs up the Clock!
I saw imaginary masks walking along the streets in the Wolf Creek,
So I too wear a mask to hide my tears with a big smile plastic.
An absolute darkness is eating me, all I can feel is heebie-jeebies;
Yuk! I'm sucked deeper and deeper into a hole of screaming meemies!
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
A round-backed figure with a cigar is sitting on the narrow bridge
Heaving tortuous sighs, sledging at his own shadow with a grudge;
A lonely man is a lonesome thing - a stone, a stick and a bone!
Ugh! Shedding two tears, I Weep alone and walk alone in a cyclone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
I bid to meet harlequin on a tree pine and in palanquin a bride,
Ugh! One merry Andrew and a lonely gremlin took me for a ride;
To hide the wounds, I strive alone; if heart breaks, I mourn alone!
As the petals fell upon the stem of thorns, a rose in me died alone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
A cold wind is swinging branches in dark graveyard without light;
Tut-tut! Obscure clouds are overcasting skies in a mournful sight!
I died a death but stayed alive; in phantom's likeness I survive;
Alive, yet dead, I walk alone in rooms with walls as cold as stone.
Gee! I lay in the dark - with fang and claw, a lonely serpent stings;
Hickory-dickory dock! A Lonely Mouse runs up the clock with 24 masks.
poem by Harindhar Reddy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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