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Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three blind mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run!
They all run after the farmer's wife,
And she cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did ever you see such a thing in your life
As three blind mice!
poem by Beatrix Potter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All things bright and evolutionful
Even as we speak,
two mice who by chance
have stronger teeth than their siblings
are mating; and one day
their noble line will survive beyond all others
by eating through the thickest plastic
that you thought was safe from them:
such is the glory of evolution
which the righteous kneel before
as the wisdom of God,
Who built into His glorious Creation,
Chance; for it to survive, develop, flourish;
and also, threats appropriate
to provide a challenge.
To the godly mind, all things are God.
So check your larder;
or share that divine joke
with a wink at your nightly mouse.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Three Mice Who Hoped
Six mice stared out their door.
The Cat was crouching there.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
“The Dog will come and scare it away! ”
But one mouse ran out, gave up.
In the jaws of Cat he died.
Five mice stared out their door.
Still the feline purred.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
”The Dog will be here soon! ”
But one mouse could wait no more.
In the jaws of Cat she died.
Four mice stared out their door.
The Cat was waiting for them, too.
“Have… hope…” one said.
But one mouse snapped and darted out.
And soon, in jaws of Cat, was dead.
Three mice stared out their door.
The Cat sat ready, claws extended.
“Have… h-hope…” one said.
But one mouse squealed and started –
The one who’d spoken held her down.
“Have hope! ”
For hours more the three mice sat.
The watched, trembling, the mighty Cat.
But still: “Have hope! ” they cried.
Then came the Dog.
The Cat scurried away to hide.
The mice were free at last.
poem by Sophia White
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Mothers Day2007
She hath my heart, she is my mum.
She hath my heart, she is my only, she is my one.
She hath my heart, though rough winds may blow.
She hath my heart, still her love will flow, her love will always show.
She hath my heart, I thank my lucky stars.
She hath my heart and i have hers.
She hath my heart, i long for her presence.
She hath my heart, her name is essence.
She hath my heart and forever she will.
Lifetimes will come and go, i will love her still
She hath my heart, this fact i cant conceal
Our bond is like sentiment you just cant kill
She hath my heart in times of sorrow.
She hath my heart, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
She hath my heart, my voice will sing.
She hath my heart, she makes the bell in my heart ring.
She hath my heart, in times of trouble.
She wont stumble no i will not let her crumble.
She hath my heart in each and every way
And my love for her grows with each day
She hath my heart for we were once one.
She hath my heart, the heart of the boy inside the man
I hath her heart, the heart we once shared.
Though separated in body the hearts still paired.
She hath my heart i need her near.
She hath my heart my mama dear
She hath my heart and she already knows
In a world of thorny bushes she stands out like rose
She hath my heart for she is always by my side
When the sun sets she is my light, she is my guide.
poem by Soul Child
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Bag Of Mice
I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.
poem by Nick Flynn
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Sugar And Spice And Fourteen Blind Mice
Sugar and Spice and fourteen blind mice
sat in a room way up in the barn.
the name of the cat was Sugar and Spice
fourteen blind mice, they were spinning a yarn.
As you can picture, the odds were unfair,
though none of the mice had been overly wise
a mad starving hunter to sit there and stare
planning the strategy of a surprise.
How can a cat catch so many at once?
Only with claws and a growling old gut
cats do not utilise swords, spears and guns
this one just sat on her soft furry butt.
The night was soon over and all things were the same
all the mice had been snoozing, unaware of the foe
in the cold of the morning now the cat sought to aim
its formidable powers like a young feline pro.
But a god now took mercy and he told all the mice
that united you stand and divided you fall,
so they jumped on the cat, and they squeezed like a vise
and the end of the frenzy wasn't pretty at all.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Here's to the Mice!
(Written with the hope that the socialists might yet dethrone Kaiser and Czar.)
Here's to the mice that scare the lions,
Creeping into their cages.
Here's to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here's to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here's to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here's to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain's groans.
Here's to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Hath The Courage?
Who hath courage? Not the hero
Leading in the strife,
To receive a nation's plaudits,
For his waste of life.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He alone who dares
Act up to his own convictions,
And the right declares.
Who hath courage? Not the tyrant
Boasting of his skill,
To enslave and bind his fellow
At his simple will.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He that doth proclaim,
Unto all their right to freedom,
Every man the same.
Who hath courage? Not the sober,
Or untempted one,
Who hath never had his stomach
Eaten out by rum.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He who though he may
Have been using poison freely,
Throws the cup away.
Who hath courage? Not the daring,
Reckless pugilist,
Who for wager smites a brother,
With uplifted fist.
Who, then, is it that hath courage?
He that won't resent
Every little insult given
With a base intent.
poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark
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Live Not Being Bothered
Mice cannot live where cats will not enter.
Mice do not abandon feeding and mating
Because there's a threat from the predators.
Let me live my life, not being bothered.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When do we have a day of fast? When there is no bread and ham in the larder.
The keys at the girdle, the dog in the larder.
If your guest becomes a cook, your larder will soon be empty.
Mice versus rats
I'm not for spending money or traveling abroad, but when I opened
the drawer, at the bottom of my desk, it was full of tiny mice, nesting
on my check- book, since I hadn't opened for years; they had eaten
my passport too, and a couple of poems I thought were too racy to be
published.22 mice smaller than a baby's thumb confused in the glare
of light the creatures thought my fingers were other mice when I tried
to retrieve my check book- and out of date my passport.
Closed the drawer to the mice's delight, thought it had been a deviation,
got hold of a tin bucket opened the drawer again and put them all in there,
yes, even the babies- there are times in life when one can show no mercy-
my intention was to drown them, but could not, their struggle to climb up
the bucket must be honored. At night I let them free on the sandy lane.
When I opened the drawer next day a big rat sat there, bit my finger it had
stolen my credit card…. Now, how do you explain that to a bank manager?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A monkey that pilfers from a widow's larder must not be admonished.
The monk preached against stealing, and had the good in his larder.