My dad was great. He was very droll, very dry.
quote by Albert Finney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
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The Short Story Of The Droll
a droll little man
with a quiet
tongue-in-cheek kind
of humor
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
quote by Clement Clarke Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merry Andrew
Sly Merry Andrew, the last Southwark fair;
(At Bartholomew he did not much appear,
So peevish was the dict of the Mayor)
At Southwark, therefore, as his tricks he show'd,
To please our masters, and his friends the crowd,
A huge neat's tongue he in his right hand held,
His left was with a good black pudding fill'd.
With a grave look, in this odd equipage,
The clownish mimic traverses the stage:
Why, how now, Andrew! cries his brother droll,
To-day's conceit methinks is something dull.
Come on, Sir, to our worthy friends explain
What does your emblematic Worship mean?
Quoth Andrew, honest English let us speak;
Your emble - (what d'ye call it?) is Heathen Greek.
To tongue or pudding thou hast no pretence;
Learning thy talent is, but mine is sense.
That busy fool I was which thou art now,
Desirous to correct, not knowing how,
Blaming or praising things as I thought fit:
I for this conduct had what I deserved.
And dealing honestly was almost starved.
But thanks to my indulgent stars, I eat,
Since I have found the secret to be great.
O dearest Andrew, says the humble droll,
Henceforth may I obey and thou control;
Provided thou impart thy useful skill -
Bow then, says Andrew, and for once I will.-
Be of your patron's mind, whate'er he says;
Sleep very much; think little, and talk less:
Mind neither good nor bad, nor right nor wrong,
But eat your pudding, slave, and hold your tongue.
A reverend prelate stopp'd his couch-and-six
To laugh a little at our Andrew's tricks:
But when he heard him give this golden rule,
Drive on (he cried) this fellow is no fool.
poem by Matthew Prior
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De Young-A Prophecy
Running for Senator with clumsy pace,
He stooped so low, to win at least a place,
That Fortune, tempted by a mark so droll,
Sprang in an kicked him to the winning pole.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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At a prize giving speech
The words of an inspector became meaningless
as if he was all along talking rubbish and turned clueless
when he heard the music teacher fart
and without excuse had a attack of the heart
and his droll stories couldn't amuse or bless, became nothingness.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Democritus And Heraclitus
Democritus, dear droll, revisit earth,
And with our follies glut thy heighten'd mirth:
Sad Heraclitus, serious wretch, return,
In louder grief our greater crimes to mourn,
Between you both I unconcern'd stand by;
Hurt can I lauh? and honest need I cry?
poem by Matthew Prior
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Whip
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fortune hunter
your uninterrupted lamp
has
torch light out the
parasite in their closet
like an erosion that called
the black pot of sacrifice of the perpetrator
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The fervent farmer
your crude instrument
has
uprooted the unwanted ornament
in the vineyard
like locus waiting the planter
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The lean steward
you never sleep nor slumber
in the quest of monitoring the
offender in the field like Nigeria
EFCC punching out the beautiful criminals
Great Great Great Great
is thy work
The no nonsense headmaster
with this
masquerade Cain whipping
the deaf prefect in the school of moral
The whip that caution the senior wife
is at the top of the roof for
YOU
poem by Samuel Abimbola Aladetan
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The Cloak Model
'My son,' the stranger thus began,
And drew me to the window side,
'Now here are beauties better than
You ever have dreamed, or ever can.
But yet beware!' he cried.
A tidy citizen was he
Although a dismal daffy one.
'See this one pose and pout for me
And march around magnificently.
But I'm immune, my son.
'Observe how ripe the lady's lips,
How Titianesque the mop of hair,
And where the great white shoulder dips
Beneath its gauzy half-eclipse,
You well may stare and stare.
'When I was young I said as you
Are saying in your sapphic youth,
That ah! such lips were certain cue,
And look! her bosom's rhythm too,
It signified her truth;
'Her broad brow meant intelligence
And something better than a bone,
Her body's curves were spirit's tents,
Her fresh young skin was innocence
Instead of meat that shone.
'I wish the moralists would thresh
(Indeed the thing is very droll)
God's oldest joke, forever fresh:
The fact that in the finest flesh
There isn't any soul.'
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Poetic Existence
i have found them, the things that cannot be lost
education, and patience,
my steady face...inside my room,
the mirror that looks at me
always, these eyes
i shall always keep what treasures i found
you, and myself, that time so luckily gives
our lips, our bodies, our mouths
we never exchange them for anything
we found what we deserve: the poetic existence
of these beings.
that stare and droll, these eyes, these hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New Year Sonnet
Each year I fear a little less than last
as time erodes the terrors I have known.
No longer doomed to deem the die is cast,
though 'change for change's sake' is overblown.
I know I need a catalyst, ad lib
to spur the odd excursion from the droll
I know the pen is nowt without the nib
I know the ink inside me is the goal.
I seek not to discover what is new
when what is old has yet to be explained.
I'll dig down deep and ask, 'What can I do
to share the knowledge I've already gained? '
In order to bequeath our wisdom's wealth...
This year I'll start by honouring myself.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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Who Is Truly Great?
Great is one who humbles oneself;
Great is one who accomplishes without expectations;
Great is one who labors for others’ welfare;
Great is one who struggles for a noble cause;
Great is one who gives his life for his Maker’s sake;
Great is one who sacrifices his precious life for truth’s sake;
Great is one who takes the road least taken;
Great is one who climbs life’s steep hills;
Great is one who treads dangerous paths for mankind’s progress;
Great is one who risks his life unduly to save others’ lives;
Great is one who although born or made handicapped does extra-ordinary feats;
Great is one who scales heights of achievements rarely done by others;
Great is one who toils in sleep-hours too for mankind’s upliftment;
Great is one who racks his brain to find a cure for a crippling disease;
Great is one who shuns selfishness for the cause of his poorer brethren;
Great is one who dies so that others can live in peace;
Great is one who lives not for oneself but others;
Great is one who loves and forgives his worst foe;
Great is one who leads life in accordance with the Word of God!
(4-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
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In My Dreams I Am Lost
IN MY DREAMS I AM LOST
In my dreams I am lost
I take the wrong road
I cannot find my way home-
In my waking life this morning
I am lost -
The books piled high waiting to be read
The endless droll of others never-ending pages-
I am lost cold
And only writing my only true work
Only writing these words now
Brings me a bit of hope a bit of a sense
that I might mean something somehow
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Whoever renders service to many puts himself in line for greatness--great wealth, great return, great satisfaction, great reputation, and great joy.
Whoever renders service to many puts himself in line for greatness - great wealth, great return, great satisfaction, great reputation, and great joy.
A Child
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll!
Hugging it in huge content,
Little wisp of wonderment;
Life has only laughter sent—
Everything is droll:
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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How Great
Like a mother mine was delighted she gave birth
It feels as great as we felt coming to live on earth
Great as we thought it was when joining school
Highly respectable as we perceived our graduation
with great love of money for love and infatuation
Much as we thought money made people great
Then the job made great impact on love perception
We were held higher by those thinking we were great
Our mind made us take a great pride in education
With little regards to the good great book we forgot
For great eloquence in language for communication
For great crowds of ladies and gentlemen we fought
The more lovers one has, the easier it was to feel great
How great was the lavish and satisfaction
How great the diversity and the depth we experienced
How great the comfort to feel the hardness and softness
How great on earth does it taste fornication?
How great when we fear not for our Godlessness
How great when we die is going to be our tribulation?
poem by Linus Kithinji Njeru
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But that's different
The jester jests: He plays the role
we are conditioned to accept.
His sly insults though dry and droll
conceal much malice I suspect.
If he should chance to pick on you
as target for his vicious tongue
Then act as you’re expected to.
Just smile pretend to play along.
He seems to pick unerringly
On those who have something to hide.
Exposes secrets fleeringly
Though some would say he’s justified.
But when the jester picks on them
Adopt a different stratagem.
24-May-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Shall Not Be Moved
You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.
My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.
You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.
You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.
You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.
You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.
You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Great Grandma
Great Grandma married Great Grandpa
poor Irish girl and poor Indian man
Great Grandma
used to get beat by Great Grandpa's mom
Great Great Grandma
because Great Great Grandma only spoke an Indian
language and not English.
She got hit by a train.
Lots of us Indians got hit by trains in one way
or another, but this was
literal and not metaphor.
poem by Smack Thompson
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