I have a memory like an elephant. In fact, elephants often consult me.
quote by Noel Coward
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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China Slaughters Elephants For Profit Ivory
10 million elephants 10 years ago
decade on worldwide 2012 less than
450,000 elephants survive worldwide
an evil hand causes elephant holocaust
elephants only survive in wilderness areas
Chinese companies resource rape cut roads
into mother planet earth last wilderness areas
urban global hero Wikileaks sources reviews
Wikileaks spills the beans on Chinese financial
elephant poaching China slaughtering elephants
for profit ivory to get limp Chinese alter ego dicks
up demand is growing growing growing dickless
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Every elephant contains two elephants, one who learns what he's taught and another who insists on ignoring it all.
Jose Saramago in The Elephant's Journey (2008), translated by Margaret Jull Costa
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Elephants dont forget
You think I ve forgotten
You think I'll forget
Well let me tell you this
I ve a memory of an elephant
And elephants dont forget
You think my anger will go
Dont make me luagh
You abused me and im full of rage
Why on earth do you think I ll forget?
are you messed in the haed?
I will never ever forget what you did
Dont be thick in the head
I will never forget
I will get you though thats a promise
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Chains
In Chains
In the valley where I live there are no elephants
and that’s sad for the children who have to go
indoors and watch a wildlife program on TV to
see one of those magnificent creatures.
My valley is far from Africa and is full of olive,
lemon and almond trees that make the landscape
look like its been painted by Van Gogh, friendly
mules too lend ambience, but sadly no elephants.
Saw an elephant, once, at a fair it was chained to
rusty iron looked forlorn gloomy eyes that often
cried but it had resigned to its fate, that was a sad
sight to see an animal robbed of its natural dignity.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Well, the big elephant in the whole system is the baby boomer generation that marches through like a herd of elephants. And we begin to retire in 2008.
quote by Lindsey Graham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Live Madhu And 'Minkey
Madhu wrote a wonderful poem
named 'Jungle for sale', in her class
If Madhu is not writing a poem
like this, especially by a girl
who is living and studying in UK,
who else will write it.
Madhu went with her friend Mary for shopping
She wanted to buy a baby Kangaroo leaping;
Fortunately there were no elephants,
she can't tie in her yard, the jungle elephant,
she can't also feed the white elephant;
she bought a baby monkey,
He is quiet with rap-around arms and tail,
He will be hereafter called 'Minkey';
Long live Madhu and 'Minkey'
with her sister Nivi and Pinky.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Waa
Rat was
Play for
Elephant...
Elephant also play
for rat...
Suddenley
Angry mood
Elephant
Told rat
'Go to play for cat'
Ok...
Ok..
Told the rat bite
The elephant leg
And run to run...
With smile...smile...
Very soory
Elephant was cry
With lough for rat...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Be Brave!
Be brave! They say, but they don't know
The terrors that I've seen!
Pink elephants with eyes that glow
That glare and look so mean!
Those elephants can really roar,
Like trumpets from their trunks!
Then they taunt me with their encore,
They dance as if they're hunks!
They may look hunks to someone else,
As they prance on the ground,
But I wish they'd say their farewells,
I don't like them around!
You've never seen long tusks their size!
Like spears from left to right!
I put my hands upon my eyes!
I just can't stand the sight!
Pink elephants! They're everywhere!
The cops won't do a thing...
They smile at me like they don't care,
Say I'm imagining!
I don't take drugs and don't drink booze!
God's got it in for me!
They'll lock me up, won't let me loose,
They'll throw away the key!
At last, I'm all alone, at last!
This padded cell is great...
No longer feeling quite downcast...
The catering's first rate...
I think I'll stay here for a while...
No trunks, no tusks, no ears...
In fact, that thought sure makes me smile...
I could stay here for years...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse; Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.
Super Samson Simpson
I am Super Samson Simpson,
I'm superlatively strong,
I like to carry elephants,
I do it all day long,
I pick up half a dozen
and hoist them in the air,
it's really somewhat simple,
for I have strength to spare.
My muscles are enormous,
they bulge from top to toe,
and when I carry elephants,
they ripple to and fro,
but I am not the strongest
in the Simpson family,
for when I carry elephants,
my grandma carries me.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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For example, after developing a sound similar to an elephant trumpeting, I wrote the song Elephant Talk which gave my elephant sound an appropriate place to live.
quote by Adrian Belew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Absence Of Mind
There is an elephant in the room it’s in the corner eating my
straw mattress the one I have had since childhood and could
not bear to get rid of, because all my dreams are hidden in
the stalks of cereal plants; white now as an old man’s beard,
yet soft as the fleece of a spring born lamb.
Ah, memory of a good life lived; sing for m let me write down
what happened so long time ago when time was forever and
forgetfulness was a youthful distraction on a jubilant day.
Poor memory is more sinister now, what is forgotten will not
be remembered, so I need my dreams.
It is true that once upon a time I was seafarer, but since I do
not recall well, I have to invent my tales, yet I have seen and
feared the irate sea. I must write all this down if the elephant
eat the last straw my dreams will be blank screen.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Mother's Dream
‘A sixty year old dream
Recurred last night, '
She just shared with me
After her routine puja
A lump formed in my throat
Seeing her eighty year body
In a tremor and a forgotten quiver
In her otherwise passive voice
‘Do you remember the room
We used to sleep in?
Can you recall a small dark niche?
There I found a baby ivory elephant
When Ramakka was a toddler...
Now I found hoards of baby elephants
Ivory in colour and closely guarded by the mothers, '
She went on, ‘and then I found Sardar Vallabhai visiting us
For some reason I didn't know I followed him
Only to find myself lost and loitering till I sighed in relief
Sighting some people busy at construction...'
She paused... ‘once again to find hoards of elephants! '
And she walked to the table for lunch...
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hanibal B.
It was round about the third century B.C.
In Carthage by the sea,
That General Hamilcar Barca's son grew up
By the name of Hanibal B.
And this boy lived with no other thought
Than elephant husbandry.
I was a calf and he was a child,
In Carthage by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was frowned upon by some
I and my Hanibal B.
With such love, that the elephant god Ganesh
Fancied him and me.
And this was the reason that in 218 B.C.
In Saguntum by the sea,
The double-dealing Romans played up, upsetting
My sensitive Hanibal B.
So that his relatives said,
‘For Baal's sake, let the elephants be!
And cross the Alps and sort Rome out
For Carthage by the sea'.
Ganesh, tiring of affairs on the sub-continent,
Trumped up some nasty weather in the Pyrenees-
Yes! - that was why my poor boy came down with a sniffle
And was a bit weepy,
That the soldiers teased him because he was talking through his nose,
Chiding, deriding, saying 'Hanibal, you're so twee! '
But our love was more interesting than the love
Of those who weren't at all twee-
Of many who were ever so twee-
And when push came to shove
No puny punic soldier draftee
Could ever convince me it was droll
To mock loving minorities.
For I, one-tusked Surus, narrating these reams
Of the beautiful Hanibal B.
Say, though we shared many rumbles and sighs,
There was never any bestiality;
And yet all the night-time, I lay by his side
Warming my darling- his skin on my hide,
In the Alps, encamped past treacherous scree,
Inscribed in my heart and my memory.
poem by Diane Hine
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Drinking Session
Behold the mighty elephants
Now standing side-by-side!
As if they all were drinking friends,
With all mouths opened wide!
With loud guffaws and 'One more, please!
And let's come back real soon...'
As if their lives were such a breeze,
They'd sing a merry tune!
They've wet their whistles, that's for sure,
Those elephants with trunks!
And if that water wasn't pure,
They'd all be drunk as skunks...
But water's good enough for them!
That sun is way too hot!
Yet a wee drink solves that problem,
'Ah, yes, that hits the spot! '
Behold the mighty elephants
Still splashing here and there!
And yet all life on this depends
And water's sometimes rare!
They lap it up, 'Let's seize the day!
Let's party, while life's good! '
In fact, they had so much to say,
They woke the neighbourhood!
Denis Martindale, copyright,2011.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Drinking Session'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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The problem is that during the 1980s, a decade of heavy poaching, the elephants retreated to safer areas. And now people have moved into the corridors once used by the elephants.
quote by Richard Leakey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Aggie
When Joe Dove took his elephants out on the road
He made each one hold fast with his trunk
To the tail of the elephant walking in front
To stop them from doing a bunk.
There were fifteen in all, so 'twere rather a job
To get them linked up in a row,
But once he had fixed 'em Joe knew they'd hold on,
For an elephant never lets go.
The pace it was set by the big 'uns in front,
'Twas surprising how fast they could stride,
And poor little Aggie, the one at the back...
Had to run till she very near died.
They were walking one Sunday from Blackpool to Crewe,
They'd started at break of the day,
Joe followed behind with a bagful of buns
In case they got hungry on t'way.
They travelled along at a rattling good pace
Over moorland and valley and plain,
And poor little Aggie the one at the back
Her trunk fairly creaked with the strain.
They came to a place where the railway crossed road,
An ungated crossing it were,
And they wasn't to know as the express was due
At the moment that they landed there.
They was half way across when Joe saw the express-
It came tearing along up the track-
He tried hard to stop, but it wasn't much good,
For an elephant never turns back.
He saw if he didn't do something at once
The train looked like spoiling his troupe,
So he ran on ahead and he waggled tho buns
To show them they'd best hurry up
When they caught sight of buns they all started to run,
And they soon got across at this gait,
Except poor little Aggie-the one at the back,
She were one second too late.
The express came dashing along at full speed,
And caught her end on, fair and square
She bounced off the buffers, turned head over heels,
And lay with her legs in the air.
Joe thought she were dead when he saw her lyin' there,
With the back of her head on the line
He knelt by her side, put his ear to her chest,
And told her to say " ninety-nine."
She waggled her tail and she twiggled her trunk ;
To show him as she were alive;
She hadn't the strength for to say "ninety-nine,"
She just managed a weak "eighty-five."
When driver of th' engine got down from his cab
Joe said "Here's a nice howdedo,
To see fifteen elephants ruined for life
By a clumsy great driver like you."
Said the driver, "There's no need to mak' all this fuss,
There's only one hit as I've seen."
Joe said, "Aye, that's right, but they held on so tight
You've pulled back end off t' other fourteen."
Joe still walks around with his elephant troupe,
He got them patched up at the vet's,
But Aggie won't walk at the back any more,
'Cos an elephant never forgets.
poem by Marriott Edgar
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Contagion
Elephants are contagious!
Be careful how you tread.
An Elephant that's been trodden on
Should be confined to bed!
Leopards are contagious too.
Be careful tiny tots.
They don't give you a temperature
But lots and lots - of spots.
The Herring is a lucky fish
From all disease inured.
Should he be ill when caught at sea;
Immediately - he's cured!
poem by Spike Milligan
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The Incubus
Who wants a nice white elephant,
Quite fit in wind and limb?
An ornament for any gent
Who can find use for him.
It won't pay us to kill the cuss;
But we can't afford his keep.
Who wants a nice white elephant?
We'll sell or lease him cheap.
Who wants a nice white elephant?
He'd make a lovely pet.
In rich, fat days we loved his way,
But in these times of fret
He's sort of grown too big for us
To fondle, groom and feed.
Who wants a fine white elephant
Of most exclusive breed?
Who wants a nice white elephant?
Of noble lineage he.
His breed is by State Jealousy
Out of Prosperity.
The rich years thro' he grew and grew,
And, ah, we loved him so.
But we can't afford his bed and board,
And we'd like to let him go.
Who'll buy a nice white elephant?
No decent bid refused.
We love him yet, altho' our pet
Has often been abused.
But come on, gents, walk up, walk up.
Our funds, alas, are scant.
Altho' we once were sold a pup
Who'll buy an elephant?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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