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Pinnochio
Geppetto took a block of wood
With knife in hand he tried
To carve his path to fatherhood
With a son wood could provide
He carved and carved all day and night
Working beaver-ishly
He soon would see the end in sight
Carving fever-ishly
He was rewarded with a son
Who was, of course, just wood
But with this son, he felt as one
It made him feel so good
To give him life he pulled some strings
And gave his son a name
Pinnochio would Geppetto bring
Some joy and even fame
But somehow all awry went things
Pinnochio found one day
He didn't seem to need those strings
They just got in his way
This new found freedom brought a cloud
Life wasn't quite so rosy
When spouting lies, he was endowed
With a nose that was too nosey
So, in the end, this wooden boy
Stopped lying through his nose
And once again became a toy
Wearing strings and puppet clothes
poem by Stanley Cooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The bust of Mercury cannot be carved in every wood.
Rotten bastards
The lot of you.
All of you
You are all rotten bastards.
And I hate you all
All of you
Raped and abused me.
But what goes around comes around.
And revenge will be mine.
Rotten bastards.
You rotten rats.
Rape and abuse.
Is that all you can do?
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Young People
Young people gather wood, rather rotten wood,
Relaxing as can be, relishing the coal of the fire;
They wait until death has arrived, on their doorstep,
When steps are taken to disturb the real fire of life.
Youth is spending a youth, young men and women,
All of them are splendid in jobs, worthwhile endeavour.
We space our life around the stages we encounter,
The young heart masters a new strategy, feeling good
About the way we wonder and wander, like burning wood.
The heart of red blood felt all right,
But young hearts defend themselves.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Something Rotten
It seems were here i
Miss you something rotten
The stinks are here
Its guaranteed alls forgotten
Down here
Down here its clear that your uncut
Dont fear
Dont fear, keep all this forgotten
Face down
Face down
Face down, I miss you something rotten
Face down
Face down, this crown is broken rotten
Down here, down here, I know its not, its all forgotten
Down here, down here, face down, I miss you something rotten
Down here, down here, it stinks, it stinks of something rotten
Dont fear, dont fear, keep all this forgotten
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here...
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grave Stones
They stood like soldiers in a line
Tall and rugged eaten by wind and rain
Sublime
Taken from Earth and carved
Some adorned with flowers others forgotten
Made with marble or stone
weathered rotten
The volcano's warning
Will claw all into strife
And start again this endless reverie
Life.
poem by Margaret Beil
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Life Without Guilt
Listen not to those who brand you a “Sinner”
Their fleshless hearts are carved from wood
They'd never be guests at Jesus’ last dinner
So never feel guilty, when you’re feeling good
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
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Dirty Rotten Shame
I recall the good old days
But thankfully, theyve gone
Now the ponies all are broken nags
That stumble as they groan
And throw the jockeys from their throne
When there are pitches left to dodge
And lions left to tame
But its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Its a dirty rotten shame
That when youre frivolous and strong
It isnt youth, its fearlessness
That has been wasted on the young
The cruel are in the cradle
And the bishops in the bag
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Now I find life a millionaire
That brags for rags and jewels
A snarling pup is wild enough
But as his anger proves
Hes left to sharpen useless tools
That tear and graze and finer phrase
But few are worth the name
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Its a dirty rotten shame
And that is not an idle boast
When all your courage and your strength
Will leave you as you need it most
When there are lamps to dampen
And cauliflowers to flip
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dolly Is Queen
Dolly is queen
Such kind of beauty is never seen
As if carved out from wood
And considered as thought for food
Lovely smile
To take you for ride meanwhile
Joy and only joy
With her you can always enjoy,
Exchange pleasantry
That is all necessary
Makes everybody happy
Always in good mood and ready
Combination of art and skill
She is rich by her strong will
She has made great impact
By skillful presentation in the poetical act
How can I miss her?
Without any appearance or picture
Yet her impression is carved out in mind
I have yet to see her and find
Such kind of brilliance with beauty is rarely seen
As if full moon has appeared in sky with rare scene
Nobody may notice their regular appearance
But when in contact can be considered as golden chance
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Playmates
It's sixty years ago, the people say:
Two village children, neighbours born and bred,
One morning played beneath a rotten tree
That came down crash and caught them as they fled;
And one was killed and one was left unhurt
Except for certain fancies in his head.
And though it's all so very long ago
He's never left the wood a single day;
I've often met him peeping through the leaves
And chuckling to himself, an old man grey;
And once he started in his cracked old voice:
'We're playing I'm a merchant lost his way,
She's robbers in the wood behind yon tree,
The minute we grow up too big to play' -
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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Tolerance is carved into the rostrum of the U.S. House of Representatives and intolerance should not be carved into the U.S. Constitution.
quote by Jay Inslee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your work is carved out of agony as a statue is carved out of marble.
quote by Louise Bogan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swirls of antique stained glass, blazes of brass, forests of carved wood and waterfalls of crystal combine to make up the city's most fabulously festive interior.
quote by Mimi Sheraton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Carved Ivory
Walking naked and barefooted,
Moab will wail for Moab;
Naked and barefooted,
Gladness is taken away along with joy.
A Carved Ivory,
Fair as the moon with my mind on you;
To the heights of the mountains,
Bright as the sun with my mind on you;
To the bed of spices,
Love is like the fragrance of Lebanon!
To a Carved Ivory,
Our legs at war;
To a Carved Ivory,
Our toes for battle;
To a Carved Ivory,
Our bones so scattered;
Love is sweeter than wine.
prayers like incense,
Gladness is taken away along with joy;
Life is like a harp with ten strings where,
Wisdom is better than strength.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In Rotten Row
In Rotten Row a cigarette
I sat and smoked, with no regret
For all the tumult that had been.
The distances were still and green,
And streaked with shadows cool and wet.
Two sweethearts on a bench were set,
Two birds among the boughs were met;
So love and song were heard and seen
In Rotten Row.
A horse or two there was to fret
The soundless sand; but work and debt,
Fair flowers and falling leaves between,
While clocks are chiming clear and keen,
A man may very well forget
In Rotten Row.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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