Webster and I are very aloof. The two of us go and sit there by ourselves. I sit by myself in the corner with my book and the newspaper. He kind of runs around a little bit, and then he goes and sits on top of the picnic table. He never plays with other little dogs.
quote by Calista Flockhart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Going Out For A Picnic
Going out for a picnic,
Nothing to worry and panic,
When the adult children accompanied,
What is there to be distressed?
Mummy prepares the food,
Daddy buys the snacks with good mood,
The children take their net books, I phones, PDAs,
All go for a picnic in Putra Jaya.
When daddy switches on the radio,
The children close their ears,
One with the hands and the rest with ear plugs,
Mummy watches the brood without any clue.
The angry daddy looks at them,
Expects them to speak what he wants to listen,
The son talks to his girlfriend through sms,
The daughter plays the CG online.
None look out as they used to do,
The parents of unpredictable adults are confused.
Another son watches the movie in the net book,
The happy family is on the way for a picnic.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Angel...
Alone in the corner,
The innocent girl plays,
In her own world,
And in her own daze,
No one ever siad,
That to even her bad things can happen,
And when Mom's friends around,
She won't even try nappin',
Livin' in fear,
That he'll get to her again,
She tries to stay with her mom,
But mom's got dates with men,
So she sits in that corner,
All hidden and safe,
Until hide and seak starts, ...
...There is no base...
poem by Deyanira Yari Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Newspaper Wife
Sitting here in this dirty bar
Watching the trash go by
Shes selling cigarettes and lollipops
Shes got a sparkle in her black eye
She says maybe my time will come
Maybe my time will come
He said hed sweep her off her feet
Defying all of gravity
Well shed move any bright city
To fill this gaping cavity she says
Im a slave in this empty life
Diggin my grave Im his newspaper wife
Well he must have a very small broom
As she sits in this very large room
Maybe its just a piece of straw
She says why am I so in awe
Chorus
Im a slave to this empty life
Diggin my grave Im his newspaper wife
Im ashamed of this meaningless life
Diggin my grave Im his newspaper wife
She sits across from him
Drinking her coffee
His face is buried in other peoples lives she says
i wonder if hes gonna read forever
Im his newspaper wife
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whisper Quietly In The Night
See that man who sits there crying
in the corner down the street
his blankets of newspaper
and old slippers on his feet
he is one of the forgotten
who once had happy lives
but now one of the dispossessed
bereft of kids and wife
look closely at his countenance
his empty pleading stare
and whisper quietly in the night
thank god its not me there.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Go, Little Book - The Ancient Phrase
GO, little book - the ancient phrase
And still the daintiest - go your ways,
My Otto, over sea and land,
Till you shall come to Nelly's hand.
How shall I your Nelly know?
By her blue eyes and her black brow,
By her fierce and slender look,
And by her goodness, little book!
What shall I say when I come there?
You shall speak her soft and fair:
See - you shall say - the love they send
To greet their unforgotten friend!
Giant Adulpho you shall sing
The next, and then the cradled king:
And the four corners of the roof
Then kindly bless; and to your perch aloof,
Where Balzac all in yellow dressed
And the dear Webster of the west
Encircle the prepotent throne
Of Shakespeare and of Calderon,
Shall climb an upstart.
There with these
You shall give ear to breaking seas
And windmills turning in the breeze,
A distant undetermined din
Without; and you shall hear within
The blazing and the bickering logs,
The crowing child, the yawning dogs,
And ever agile, high and low,
Our Nelly going to and fro.
There shall you all silent sit,
Till, when perchance the lamp is lit
And the day's labour done, she takes
Poor Otto down, and, warming for our sakes,
Perchance beholds, alive and near,
Our distant faces reappear.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man
He sits quietly murmuring
Talking only to himself
His eyes sunken and dark
A look of tiredness across his face
His head is slightly bowed
Resting upon his hand
He sits alone in almost darkness
Except for a small table lamp
In the far corner of the room
There is little in the way of light
Old books gather dust
In piles around upon the floor
Those stories he once read
The worlds to which he escaped
Now stacked without order
Like memories becoming forgot
A glass of vintage wine
Held in his thin, bone like fingers
Softens his pallet, soothes his throat
While he sits alone each night
In quiet conversation with himself
Another old man growing grey
Wishing on yesterdays
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Old Man
At the noisy end of the cafe, head bent
over the table, an old man sits alone,
a newspaper in front of him.
And in the miserable banality of old age
he thinks how little he enjoyed the years
when he had strength, eloquence, and looks.
He knows he's aged a lot: he sees it, feels it.
Yet it seems he was young just yesterday.
So brief an interval, so brief.
And he thinks of Prudence, how it fooled him,
how he always believed - what madness -
that cheat who said: "Tomorrow. You have plenty of time."
He remembers impulses bridled, the joy
he sacrificed. Every chance he lost
now mocks his senseless caution.
But so much thinking, so much remembering
makes the old man dizzy. He falls asleep,
his head resting on the cafe table.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talkin' Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues
by Bob Dylan
I saw it advertised one day,
Bear Mountain picnic was comin' my way.
"Come along 'n' take a trip,
We'll bring you up there on a ship.
Bring the wife and kids
Bring the whole family."
Yippee!
Well, I run right down 'n' bought a ticket
To this Bear Mountain Picnic.
But little did I realize
I was in for a picnic surprise.
Had nothin' to do with mountains.
I didn't even come close to a bear.
Took the wife 'n' kids down to the pier,
Six thousand people there,
Everybody had ticket for the trip.
"Oh well." I said, "it's a pretty big ship.
Besides, anyway, the more the merrier."
Well, we all got on 'n' what d'ya think,
That big old boat started t' sink
More people kept a-pilin' on,
That old ship was a-slowly goin' down.
Funny way t' start a picnic.
Well, I soon lost track of m' kids 'n' wife,
So many people there I never saw in m' life
That old ship sinkin' down in the water,
Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other,
Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin',
Women screamin', fists a-flyin', babies cryin',
Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'.
Maybe we just better call off the picnic.
I got shoved down 'n' pushed around,
All I could hear there was a screamin' sound,
Don't remember one thing more,
Just remember walkin' up on a little shore,
Head busted, stomach cracked,
Feet splintered, I was bald, naked. . .
Quite lucky to be alive though.
Feelin' like I climbed outa m' casket,
I grabbed back hold of m' picnic basket.
Took the wife 'n' kids 'n' started home,
Wishin' I'd never got up that morn.
Now, I don't care just what you do,
If you wanta have a picnic, that's up t' you.
But don't tell me about it, I don't wanta hear it,
'Cause, see, I just lost all m' picnic spirit.
Stay in m' kitchen, have m' own picnic. . .
In the bathroom.
Now, it don't seem to me quite so funny
What some people are gonna do f'r money.
There's a bran' new gimmick every day
Just t' take somebody's money away.
I think we oughta take some o' these people
And put 'em on a boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain . . .
For a picnic.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death Of The Baby
The death of the baby
the family went for a walk
the dog ran off
the mum and dad started to talk
“do u know our sons a goth”
they felt a breeze
it was getting cold
they started to freeze
as they get old
they all go home
the baby starts crying
y mums on the phone
the dad goes paragliding
the baby pulls the dogs tail
the dog growls
but it was an epic fail
the loud sound of the dogs howl
the mum jumps up
and grabs the dogs collar
throws the cup
the dog rips her kids bottle dollar
the mum smacks the dog
the dog gets mad
and runs outside it to the fog
the mother is sad
she rings the dad
“gets back here now”
“the dogs been bad”
the dad runs over a cow
gets out the car
sees the dog
but hes not far
but dissapears into the fog
he drives home
the baby is dead
and there alone
the baby bit on its head
at the funeral they cried
never got a dog again
every 1 was by there side
but now this is THE END
poem by Arron John
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Coffee Song
By colton and smith
Theres a full time reservation
Made in a bar at the railway station,
And theres a story, a kind of fable,
On a card at the corner table.
On it is a message; been there some time.
It starts off, the coffee tasted so fine...
It says, one day, this may find you,
These few words may just remind you.
We sat here together just to pass time;
You said how the coffee tasted so fine.
It goes on to say, I love you.
If you should find this I must hear from you.
It gives a number but the name has faded away.
All that is left are just the words, maybe someday...
Thats the story and the fable;
Never leave alone from a corner table.
Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo.
Doo doo-doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo doo.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Coffee Song
By colton and smith
Theres a full time reservation
Made in a bar at the railway station,
And theres a story, a kind of fable,
On a card at the corner table.
On it is a message; been there some time.
It starts off, the coffee tasted so fine...
It says, one day, this may find you,
These few words may just remind you.
We sat here together just to pass time;
You said how the coffee tasted so fine.
It goes on to say, I love you.
If you should find this I must hear from you.
It gives a number but the name has faded away.
All that is left are just the words, maybe someday...
Thats the story and the fable;
Never leave alone from a corner table.
Doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo.
Doo doo-doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo doo.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Have I To Fear?
if death be but a step,
a flower fallen with silent shouts...
a kiss blown by wind but never lost,
a friend who tends the grave.
a hymn, a prayer, kind words spoken,
a drink at a corner table.
a book placed back on the shelf,
a child's drawing done in crayon.
a door closed, left unlocked,
cattle left in the pasture all night.
an empty bowel, a candle burned down,
a sparrow sitting outside the window.
a shovel of dirt, a broken glass,
boots left in the corner.
the dog's leg cocked,
the fire burned down....
the still darkness waiting on dawn.
the river overflowed,
the cage door opened...
then what have i to fear?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues
I saw it advertised one day,
Bear mountain picnic was comin my way.
Come along n take a trip,
Well bring you up there on a ship.
Bring the wife and kids
Bring the whole family.
Yippee!
Well, I run right down n bought a ticket
To this bear mountain picnic.
But little did I realize
I was in for a picnic surprise.
Had nothin to do with mountains.
I didnt even come close to a bear.
Took the wife n kids down to the pier,
Six thousand people there,
Everybody had ticket for the trip.
Oh well. I said, its a pretty big ship.
Besides, anyway, the more the merrier.
Well, we all got on n what dya think,
That big old boat started t sink
More people kept a-pilin on,
That old ship was a-slowly goin down.
Funny way t start a picnic.
Well, I soon lost track of m kids n wife,
So many people there I never saw in m life
That old ship sinkin down in the water,
Six thousand people tryin t kill each other,
Dogs a-barkin, cats a-meowin,
Women screamin, fists a-flyin, babies cryin,
Cops a-comin, me a-runnin.
Maybe we just better call off the picnic.
I got shoved down n pushed around,
All I could hear there was a screamin sound,
Dont remember one thing more,
Just remember walkin up on a little shore,
Head busted, stomach cracked,
Feet splintered, I was bald, naked. . .
Quite lucky to be alive though.
Feelin like I climbed outa m casket,
I grabbed back hold of m picnic basket.
Took the wife n kids n started home,
Wishin Id never got up that morn.
Now, I dont care just what you do,
If you wanta have a picnic, thats up t you.
But dont tell me about it, I dont wanta hear it,
cause, see, I just lost all m picnic spirit.
Stay in m kitchen, have m own picnic. . .
In the bathroom.
Now, it dont seem to me quite so funny
What some people are gonna do fr money.
Theres a bran new gimmick every day
Just t take somebodys money away.
I think we oughta take some o these people
And put em on a boat, send em up to bear mountain . . .
For a picnic.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dogs Of Drangonchester
THE DOGS OF DRANGONCHESTER
The dogs of Dragonchester is a condo that sits by the Sea,
surounded by sand, tropical plants and palm trees.
Happy Dogs live at the Dragonchester for I have seen,
these dogs are special to their owners, they make them happy.
Inside this book is a collection of Dragonchester Dog poems,
you can read them at your leisure at night in your home.
Some poems might make you laugh, some poems might make you cry,
that is the observation of me the poet whose words I do scribe.
These poems you can pass along to your dear friends,
you can frame them if you like so you can read their words again.
Many wishes to the dog owners and a cheer to their pets,
many more stories to make into Dragonchester Dog poems still yet.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on December 22,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When two dogs fight for a bone, and the third runs off with it, there's a lawyer among the dogs.
Cowardly dogs bark loudest.
John Webster in The White Devil, 1612
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love & Fame & Death
it sits outside my window now
like and old woman going to market;
it sits and watches me,
it sweats nevously
through wire and fog and dog-bark
until suddenly
I slam the screen with a newspaper
like slapping at a fly
and you could hear the scream
over this plain city,
and then it left.
the way to end a poem
like this
is to become suddenly
quiet.
Submitted by .eve.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I See a Dog
Dogs, so simple, so boring
O the things they could say the way they would talk
My little dog talks like a six year old with ADHD.
My big dog sits in his chair with a corn stalk pipe and reads.
The dog down the roads is a construction worker that whistles at girls.
My sister’s dog is a dog has trained for a marathon.
My cousin’s dog is the school bully.
Big dogs talk with deep voices, little dogs talk in high voices,
Sometimes they are switched though.
Dogs really are not as simple as you think.
poem by Cody Averesch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Fargo, they say, well, that's a job. How well do you get paid? For example, for this book I was written about in Entertainment Weekly, and it was kind of cool because my mom asked me if Entertainment Weekly was a magazine or a newspaper.
quote by Chuck Klosterman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost Innocence
The small boy sits in the corner
waiting for his father into return.
He is afraid to move about,
He might be punished for that also.
He believes his father
will bring him something good.
But when his dad walks through the door,
all he has is the bottle in his hand.
He runs to embrace his father
and receives a blow to the head.
When the fragile child awakens,
He is in much pain.
His drunken father lies on the couch,
without a care in the world.
He returns slowly and quietly
To his darkened corner,
And says to himself
'Wouldn't it be great if my father loved me,
More than the bottle in his hand.'
(Views Taken from a short story in hindi.)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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