Related quotes: It's like trying to pin...

It's like trying to pin down a kangaroo on a trampoline.

quote by Sid Waddell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

The Duck and the Kangaroo

Said the Duck to the Kangaroo,
'Good gracious! how you hop!
Over the fields and the water too,
As if you never would stop!
My life is a bore in this nasty pond,
And I long to go out in the world beyond!
I wish I could hop like you!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.

'Please give me a ride on your back!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.
'I would sit quite still, and say nothing but 'Quack',
The whole of the long day through!
And we'd go to the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee,
Over the land, and over the sea;
Please take me a ride! O do!'
Said the Duck to the Kangaroo.

Said the Kangaroo to the Duck,
'This requires some little reflection;
Perhaps on the whole it might bring me luck,
And there seems but one objection,
Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold,
Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold,
And would probably give me the roo-
Matiz!' said the Kangaroo.

Said the Duck, 'As I sat on the rocks,
I have thought over that completely,
And I bought four pairs of worsted socks
Which fit my web-feet neatly.
And to keep out the cold I've bought a cloak,
And every day a cigar I'll smoke,
All to follow my own dear true
Love of a Kangaroo!'

Said the Kangaroo, 'I'm ready!
'All in the moonlight pale;
'But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady!
'And quite at the end of my tail!'
So away they went with a hop and a bound,
And they hopped the whole world three times round;
And who so happy - O who,
As the Duck and the Kangaroo?

poem by Edward Lear
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I once saw an albino kangaroo,
Beside a tasmanian devil at the Melbourne zoo!
A koala was there,
While a wombat combed the hair,
Of that snowy white cute kangaroo!

quote by by Robert Edgar Burns
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Kangaroo Power

NOW, Yankee inventors can beat a retreat,
And German professors may take a back seat,
For their colours we’re going to lower:
They’ve invented a wonderful plough in the West,
The scientists call it “the latest and best”;
It ploughs, sows, and reaps without taking a rest,
And they drive it by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!

O wondrous the changes our children shall meet,
For soon we may travel the principal street
In something far short of an hour.
The traffic shall flow without stoppage or jambs
And sharp little screeches and naughty big damns,
For soon all the hansoms and ’busses and trams
Shall travel by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!

Advance, Young Australia, thy banner unfurled,
And jump through the years and astonish the world;
Thou art of all nations the flower.
And Bismarck with envy shall grind his old stumps,
And Yankee inventors shall sit in the dumps,
To see young Australia advancing by jumps,
When driven by kangaroo power.
Sing hey!
Sing ho!
Then it’s bully for kangaroo power!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Seasonal Trampoline

SEASONAL TRAMPOLINE

Joy joins imagination, seeks
serenity, at last
creating wonder, world which speaks
renewal. Very fast,
wintry woes which weighed for weeks
are banished to dark past.
Awareness reaches plateau, peaks
before horizons vast
boundless, cloudless, rebirth leaks
from blossom, bird, sky, grass.
Joy springs trampoline - sad cheeks
bleak, teary, overcast.

3 May 2010

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Kangaroo talks to the Sun

Hey Sun, look Man -
I can move around and hop
and I can run around
even at 70km/h;
I can kangaroo fight and kick for a mate
and I can go all across the land -
and you?
All you can do is to spin and spin
and crawl over the sky
and burn and lose all your hair
and burn and show your temper in solar flares

Hey you, Sun, look Man -
I can stand on three using my tail as well
and jump around like a ping pong
and you, all you can do is
to shine and burn and try and look bright.
Hey you, Sun, look Man –
what can you do?

And the Sun
burned hot and showed its temper
and the continent was parched
and heat waves came with fire and smoke
and the creeks and rivers went dry
and the Kangaroo could find no shade;
and then the kangaroo said, with a grin:
Hey God Sun…
you needn’t take my words so seriously, eh?

poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Cockatoo and the Kangaroo

The happy cockatoo asked the hopping kangaroo,
“Does everyone in your family have a purse like you? ”
The hopping kangaroo stopped and smiled at the bird,
Saying, “Calling it a pouch would be a better word.”
The happy cockatoo was interested in learning more
And asked, “A pouch? Please tell me what it’s for.
The kangaroo explained that she had become a mother.
This pouch was the home of this new precious other.

Out of the pouch the precious baby popped his head;
Looked at the cockatoo with a funny smile and said,
“You make me very nervous Mr. Happy Cockatoo.
Flying in the air with those arms on top of you.”
Mother kangaroo said, “Don’t be afraid of such things.
Since this cockatoo is a bird, those are called wings.
Just as we kangaroo hop on our legs to get around,
The cockatoo uses its wings to fly above the ground.”

The cockatoo said, “I guess it’s like my nest in the tree
Where I lay and hatch my eggs, then raise my family.”
Your ways seem strange. It’s different from what I see.
Though when I get to know you, you’re a lot like me.
We both have our babies and help them find their way
So they can love and raise their own families another day.
It’s this love we all share that shines brightly as a flame
Whether pouch, feather or wing, we’re all much the same.”

poem by Gregory Huyette
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A Roo

A large, red kangaroo
hopped into a bar on West 47th St.
and ordered a martini.

The bartender, polishing a
glass, really didn't
feel like being inter-active,

but ever the professional, remarked,
'We don't get many kangaroos
in this place-know what I mean'?

The kangaroo, a little miffed, replied
'No. And at these prices
You're not likely to be getting many more, either'.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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To Mary Ruefle, poet

and since you're an
American Poet or
a poet writing in English
or however you might put this
in a cv which you'll surely
never need being unique
and therefore beyond all
job descriptions except poet

since you're, well, those things or
that thing
you may never have seen
a kangaroo (and in a zoo
they can't hop..)
but if you do you'll recognise it
when I say it - your mind
is metaphorically, and no-one
handles metaphors like you do may I say,
like a kangaroo - huge hops
off into the horizon of thought
with what in marsupial body-language
may be bounding, boundless
joy

a kangaroo which might in the world
of your poems which I can't hope
to imitate but I'll have a go,
be carrying a baby roo in its pouch with
its head sticking out
and a backward glance towards you
who one day will return grown-up
with a crumpled poem
in its own pouch
addressed to Mary Ruefle
mentioning in passing
immortality

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Only Land For Me (A currency Lad)

Prate not to me of foreign strand,
Of beauty o'er the sea -
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!

The only land for me
The only land for me
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!

I love to roam, like a wild gazelle,
O'er my native mountains blue,
And wildly, thro' the woody dell,
Chase the bounding kangaroo!

The bounding kangaroo
The bounding kangaroo
And wildly thro' the woody dell
Chase the bounding kangaroo!

I've rode upon the stormy wave,
I've danc'd aboon the sea;
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?

My native land to me
My native land to me
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?

poem by Anonymous Oceania
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The Milch Kangaroo

'Which reminds me,' said O'Brien
'And 'tis not a word of lyin'
Of a summertime way back in eighty-two,
Whin a felly name of Brady
An' his sister (quite a lady)
Ran a dairy up beyant in Wallaloo.
But, in place of cows like Bossy
An' Strawberry and' Flossie,
It was Kangaroo she milked - I'm spakin' true;
While his pretty sister, Mary,
Was the mistress of the dairy,
Of the dairy of the milch Kangaroo.

'Now, his neighbour, name of Cleary,
He was dape in love with Mary
Small blame to him; for sure she was a drame;
But his love he had to smother
'Count of Mary's wealthy brother
Wid his waggon-loads of Kangaroo crame;
For a clever man was Brady,
Tho' some thought his methods shady;
For, in spite of all that they could say or do,
'Twas the thing he kept concealin',
Past the hope of all revealin',
Was his secrit of the milch Kangaroo.

For he milked them by the dozens;
Not the Fiend and all his cousins
Could discover how he kep' the bastes in bounds.
Then Tim Cleary, thinkin' deeply,
Wint and purchased rather cheaply,
Half a dozen savage Kangaroo hounds.
For 'twas ruination utter
That this Brady and his butter
Meant to every single soul in Wallaloo.
'An' he's overworin' Mary,'
Muttered Cleary, 'wid his dairy
Wid his dairy of the milch Kangaroo.'

'Well, you've guessed it,' said O'Brien;
'For, widout a word of lyin',
Brady's flocks an' herds were scattered far an' wide;
An' 'twas aisy Cleary found him,
Wid his drames in tatters round him,
Whin he came to claim swate Mary for his bride.'
Said O'Brien: 'That's the story;
An' I here declare to glory,
Every single, blessed word of it is thrue.
An', if any would misdoubt me,
I've a par of fists about me
To convince yez of the milch Kangaroo.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Of Hopping And Of Hoping

a kangaroo hops
perhaps finding discomfort
on the grass below its feet
or sensing danger
of the strange sound around
it hops
and hopes for something better
on the other hill

i sit here
unable to hop like this silly kangaroo
sensing my gaze
as a dangerous haze

does it ever know
how hopping can destroy
hope that does not know
how to hop?

i hope for some better things
in my life
i will take chances under these trees
resetting some leaves
and twigs
to see the skies
and the sun that must
this morning rise

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kangaroo Court

Kangaroo Court
When he reads news of
Kangaroo Courts held
in some places where the brutes live,
for enquiring fishy incidents like
petty thefts, eloping of girls with strangers,
knotty problems involving naughty youths,
love affairs between boys and girls
of different cates and religions,
and punishing the guilty
with insulting treatments,
he relives the painful moments,
he underwent in his sixteenth year,
prostrating several times
before the nitpickers of his village,
in a Kangaroo Court held in her house,
for responding with a few lines of love.
Boys of soft castes need be punished that way,
for saving them from being assaulted by the goons
of the violent castes of the girls.
When the Britishers ruled India,
castes were relegated to the background
but in the free country, the politicians with verve,
had brought it to the foreground.
----------

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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If you could build a house on a trampoline, that would suit me fine.

quote by Alan Rickman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Of Me (feat. David Foster)

The late George Woolnough
Worked on High Street
And lived on manors
52 years he sat on his veranda
And made his saddles
and if you had questions
About sheep or flowers or dogs
You just ask the saddler
He lived without sin
They\\\'re building a library for him
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The son of George Woolnough
Went off and got married
And had a war baby
But something was wrong
And it\\\'s easier to drink than go crazy
And if there were questions about why
The end was so sad
Well George had no answers about why a son
Ever have need of a gun
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The grandson of George
Has been all around the world
And lives in no special place
Changed his last name
And he married a girl with an interesting face
He\\\'d almost forgotten them both
Because in the life that he leads
Theres nowhere for George
And his library
Or the son with his gun
To belong
Except in this song
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
Time is a medler
Tenterfield saddler make your bed
Fly away cockatoo
Down on the ground emu up ahead
Time is a tale teller
Tenterfield saddler turn your head
Ride again jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tenterfield Saddler (feat. Peter Allen)

The late George Woolnough
Worked on High Street
And lived on manors
52 years he sat on his veranda
And made his saddles
and if you had questions
About sheep or flowers or dogs
You just ask the saddler
He lived without sin
They're building a library for him
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The son of George Woolnough
Went off and got married
And had a war baby
But something was wrong
And it's easier to drink than go crazy
And if there were questions about why
The end was so sad
Well George had no answers about why a son
Ever have need of a gun
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
The grandson of George
Has been all around the world
And lives in no special place
Changed his last name
And he married a girl with an interesting face
He'd almost forgotten them both
Because in the life that he leads
Theres nowhere for George
And his library
Or the son with his gun
To belong
Except in this song
Time is a traveller
Tenterfield Saddler turn your head
Ride again Jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead
Time is a medler
Tenterfield saddler make your bed
Fly away cockatoo
Down on the ground emu up ahead
Time is a tale teller
Tenterfield saddler turn your head
Ride again jackaroo
Think I see kangaroo up ahead

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Kangaroo

The rain-clouds have gone to the deep -
The East like a furnace doth glow;
And the day-spring is flooding the steep,
And sheening the landscape below.
Oh, ye who are gifted with souls
That delight in the music of birds,
Come forth where the scattered mist rolls,
And listen to eloquent words!
Oh, ye who are fond of the sport,
And would travel yon wilderness through,
Gather - each to his place - for a life-stirring chase,
In the wake of the wild Kangaroo!
Gather - each to his place -
For a life-stirring chase
In the wake of the wild Kangaroo!

Beyond the wide rents of the fog,
The trees are illumined with gold;
And the bark of the shepherd's brave dog
Shoots away from the sheltering fold.
Down the depths of yon rock-border'd glade,
A torrent goes foaming along;
And the blind-owls retire into shade,
And the bell-bird beginneth its song.
By the side of that yawning abyss,
Where the vapours are hurrying to,
We will merrily pass, looking down to the grass
For the tracks of the wild Kangaroo!
We will merrily pass,
Looking down to the grass
For the tracks of the wild Kangaroo.

Ho, brothers, away to the woods;
Euroka hath clambered the hill;
But the morning there seldom intrudes,
Where the night-shadows slumber on still.
We will roam o'er these forest-lands wild,
And thread the dark masses of vines,
Where the winds, like the voice of a child,
Are singing aloft in the pines.
We must keep down the glee of our hounds;
We must ~steal~ through the glittering dew;
And the breezes shall sleep as we cautiously creep
To the haunts of the wild Kangaroo.
And the breezes shall sleep,
As we cautiously creep
To the haunts of the wild Kangaroo.

When we pass through a stillness like death
The swamp fowl and timorous quail,
Like the leaves in a hurricane's breath,
Will start from their nests in the vale;
And the forester,* snuffing the air,
Will bound from his covert so dark,
While we follow along in the rear,
As arrows speed on to their mark!
Then the swift hounds shall bring him to bay,
And we'll send forth a hearty halloo,
As we gather them all to be in at the fall -
At the death of the wild Kangaroo!
As we gather them all
To be in at the fall -
At the death of the wild Kangaroo!

poem by Henry Kendall
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Tramp

I jump on the trampoline
And land on my back
And the stars in the sky move
And for just one second I'm in control

(June 19,2010)

poem by Percy Flage
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Novacaine

the taste of your fingers
digging in the dirt
the touch of your hair
falling down your shirt
the smell of your skin
blowing across the bed
the gasping of your breath
the silence never said
the silence never said

you are my chocolate
you are my Magdelene
you are my Everest
jumping on your trampoline
you are my daybreak
falling down like summer rain
you are my flash of life
you are my novacaine
you are my novacaine

the hunger of your silent
staring in the night
the hurt in your breaking
like a string drawn too tight
the beauty in your years
wrapped inside my lifeline
the softness of your lips
lost inside of mine
lost inside of mine

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The First Dingo

The kangaroo was formed to run,
but not from man alone -
it ran before the horse or gun
or native dog was known.
It ran when drought left waterholes
three hundred miles between -
from great floods and greater fires
than we have ever seen.

The blacks beside the coastal springs,
where mountain sides are steep,
they bred and kept their kangaroo
much tamer than are sheep.
And when the men fought inland tribes
or when they roamed at large,
they drove their flocks down to the sea
and left the gins in charge.

And so, alert, with startled eyes
the shepherdess in fear
perceives with wonder and surprise
some foreign beats appear.
She watches, creeping through the trees,
and round the blackened logs
the strangest sight by southern seas -
the stranded Dutchmans's dogs.