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Show Tune II
That's the long and short of it
now you know
how I've been waiting all these years
where I'm coming from
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
just how hot hot jazz was
how it turned about, my bookcase
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you know
that my arrest record's
not my best record
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
how the Past's like a love
you can neither leave nor live
that's the long and short of it
That's the long and short of it
now you know
it was no gun in my pocket
it was a rocket
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
and you're wond'ring dear
how I kept so pure
hull, it was easy
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
now you see
so bounce your head
into bed
that's the long and short of it.
That's the long and short of it
read the blues
in these tattoos
make a song of it
that's the short and long of it.
How I wish
there was a bridge-
then I could burn it;
or the train
of a refrain
then I could board it
but there isn't
no there isn't, so...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Spinner
As I calmly sat and span,
Toiling with all zeal,
Lo! a young and handsome man
Pass'd my spinning-wheel.
And he praised,--what harm was there?--
Sweet the things he said--
Praised my flax-resembling hair,
And the even thread.
He with this was not content,
But must needs do more;
And in twain the thread was rent,
Though 'twas safe before.
And the flax's stonelike weight
Needed to be told;
But no longer was its state
Valued as of old.
When I took it to the weaver,
Something felt I start,
And more quickly, as with fever,
Throbb'd my trembling heart.
Then I bear the thread at length
Through the heat, to bleach;
But, alas, I scarce have strength
To the pool to reach.
What I in my little room
Span so fine and slight,--
As was likely. I presume--
Came at last to light.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Thread
Something is very gently,
invisibly, silently,
pulling at me-a thread
or net of threads
finer than cobweb and as
elastic. I haven't tried
the strength of it. No barbed hook
pierced and tore me. Was it
not long ago this thread
began to draw me? Or
way back? Was I
born with its knot about my
neck, a bridle? Not fear
but a stirring
of wonder makes me
catch my breath when I feel
the tug of it when I thought
it had loosened itself and gone.
poem by Denise Levertov
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0016 Amphibrach
A tinker, a tailor, a soldier, a sailor...
‘A one and a two and a three and a four, guys…’
The amphibrach sings one of poetry’s basics;
a metrical foot – though a difficult one; it
is named from the Greek, meaning short at
both ends – that is, short, long, short, short, long short;
a poet can use it like this for a few lines, or longer;
however, it always seems trying to be something
else – like, some poor donkey who’s lame in one hind-leg;
it’s happier changing to dactyl or ana-
pest – see what I mean, now?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Book Of Contemplation - Five Things
WHAT makes time short to me?
Activity!
What makes it long and spiritless?
'Tis idleness!
What brings us to debt?
To delay and forget!
What makes us succeed?
Decision with speed
How to fame to ascend?
Oneself to defend!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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It's The Little Things
You can burn my house
You can cut my hair
You can make me wrestle naked
With a grizzly bear
You can poison my cat
Baby I don't care
But if you talk in the movies
I'll kill you right there
It's the little things
It's just the little things
Aw it's the little things
It's just the little things
Yeah it's the little things
That drive me wild
I'm like a mad dog
I'm on a short leash
I'm on a tight rope
Hanging by a thread
I'm on some thin ice
You push me too far
Welcome to my nightmare
No more Mr. Nice Guy
You can steal my car
And drive it into the lake
You can stick me in the oven
And put it on bake
You could throw a big brick
Through my window pane
But if I ever hear you ask me
How I got my name
It's the little things
It's just the little things
Aw it's the little things
It's just the little things
Yeah it's the little things
That drive me wild
I'm like a mad dog
I'm on a short leash
I'm on a tight rope
Hanging by a thread
I'm on some thin ice
You push me too far
Welcome to my nightmare
No more Mr. Nice Guy
I've done it all
I mean I been everywhere
I've been beaten
I been stabbed
I been hung
I been burried alive
And I can deal with that
But its the little things
I've done it all
I mean I been everywhere
I've been beaten
I been stabbed
I been hung
I been burried alive
And I can deal with that
Cuz its the little things
It's the little things
It's just the little things
Yeah it's the little things
Just the little things
Aw just the little things
That drive me wild
I'm like a mad dog
I'm on a short leash
I'm on a tight rope
Hanging by a thread
I'm on some thin ice
You push me too far
I'm just a psycho
Pathic psycho
Pathic
I'm like a mad dog
I'm on a short leash
I'm on a tight rope
Hanging by a thread
I'm on some thin ice
You push me too far
Welcome to my nightmare
No more Mr. Nice Guy
It's just the little things
Aw it's the little things
It's just the little things
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Brutal Planet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Prayse Of The Needle
To all dispersed sorts of arts and trades
I write the needles prayse (that never fades).
So long as children shall be got or borne,
So long as garments shall be made or worne,
So long as hemp or flax, or sheep shall bear
Their linen woolen fleeces yeare by yeare,
So long as silk-wormes, with exhausted spoile,
Of their own entrails for man's gaine shall toyle,
Yea till the world be quite dissolv'd and past,
So long at least, the needles' use shall last.
poem by John Taylor
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Silence Is Like A Spool Of White Thread
silence is like a spool of white thread
take the the tip and walk away
at the end
after you have traveled a very long distance
you come back and tell me
if this is worth it
the long silence of the white thread
what did it tell you?
you come back.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Old Army Blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
The soldier did not seem to care
Let the enemy try to take if he dare;
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
Driving rain or snow wearing his blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
Being a soldier he could expect no better fare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
His fight done, read over with a prayer
Wrapped in the old grey Army blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
He did his duty few could compare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
poem by Derrick Fernie
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Law makes long spokes of the short stakes of men.
quote by William Empson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lofty legs are the beauty.
Short legs and short waist are the ducks.
Long legs and short waists are the geese.
Short legs and long waists are the penguins.
Lofty legs without waists are cranes
Who is graceful?
The crane stands out; the tall woman stands out.
29.04.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I write short, my words tight to the thread of the narrative.
quote by Carmen Laforet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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18 Definitions Of A Short Poem
1) A short poem
Saves time,
2) A short poem
Saves time
For its reader, also.
3) A short poem is over
Before its read.
4) A short poem
Can be swiftly reread.
5) A short poem
Is a lightning flash.
6) A short poem
Is one metaphor only.
7) A short poem
Is less than nine words.
8) A short poem
Opens ones eyes
In the morning.
9) A short poem
May be a short prayer.
10) A short poem
May be a poem of a single word.
11) Poem.
12) A short poem
A small play on words.
13) A short poem
May be a single sentence.
14) A short poem is shorter
Than the definition of it.
15) It breaks up the icy sea within.
16) A chill down the spine.
17) There is no end
To making definitions of the short poem.
18) A short poem in Hebrew
Is shorter than than the same poem in English.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Truth About Forever
How long is forever really?
You told me you'd love me forever and ever.
I actually believed you.
Forever is really short if its how long we made it.
Which was not long at all.
I gave you my heart,
And you took it for granted.
I can't believe I was that blind
That I did not see that we would never make it.
Forever sounds like a long time,
But you have proven it is really really short.
Forever sounded like a wonderful long time with you.
But now I see your real colors,
I am glad that forever is not long at all with you.
poem by Makayla Straight
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The Needle and Thread
The Needle and Thread one day were wed,
The Thimble acted as priest,
A paper of Pins, and the Scissors twins
Were among the guests at the feast.
That dandy trim the Bodkin slim
Danced with Miss Tape-measure,
But he stepped on her trail, and she called him 'a whale,'
And that put an end to their pleasure.
Wrinkled and fat the Beeswax sat
And talked with the Needle-case.
'I am glad,' she said, 'that my niece, the Thread,
Has married into this race.
'Her mother, the Spool, was a dull old fool,
And the Needle and Thread were shy;
The result you see came all through me,
I taught her to catch his eye.'
The Emery-ball just there had a fall-
She had danced too long at one time,
And that put a stop to the merry hop,
And that brings an end to my rhyme.
The groom and the bride took their wedding ride
Down a long white-seam to the shore,
And the guests all said there never was wed
So fair a couple before.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My Bullying Days
I bully people all day long,
And each time I do so,
I sing a joyful song.
I always feel good
Whenever I beat the crap out of some guy.
It frequently makes them feel
That they want to die.
So, that pretty much concludes
My very, very, very short poem...
But what makes me be at my happiest
Is when I bully my mummy at home.
poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
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Broken Thread
Broken Thread
Waking early I hear myself breathing
Covered up in my hand me down hand me down
Hiding under my patchwork freezing
With my wedding dress calling me, calling me
I dress myself in dis-function
Do I drown you in sympathy, sympathy
You could be my winter messiah
Scarred around and around me....around me
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
I choose to set you on fire
No-more wearing and tearing me, tearing me
Your still my only desire
And now it seems like your leaving me, freeing me, healing me.
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time for a short poem
Short poems are great
they don't take very long
as they're only a few verses
the words won't be spelt wrong.
They can be about anything
as long as they rhyme
and because there short
it don't take much time.
This one isn't about much
in fact nothing at all
the reason it isn't long
is because I'm off to the Football.
So that's the end of this poem
as I'm now off to the match
but before the game kicks off
time for a few beers and a batch!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Metrical Feet
Trochee trips from long to short;
From long to long in solemn sort
Slow Spondee stalks, strong foot!, yet ill able
Ever to come up with Dactyl's trisyllable.
Iambics march from short to long.
With a leap and a bound the swift Anapests throng.
One syllable long, with one short at each side,
Amphibrachys hastes with a stately stride --
First and last being long, middle short, Amphimacer
Strikes his thundering hoofs like a proud high-bred Racer.
If Derwent be innocent, steady, and wise,
And delight in the things of earth, water, and skies;
Tender warmth at his heart, with these meters to show it,
WIth sound sense in his brains, may make Derwent a poet --
May crown him with fame, and must win him the love
Of his father on earth and his father above.
My dear, dear child!
Could you stand upon Skiddaw, you would not from its whole ridge
See a man who so loves you as your fond S.T. Colerige.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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