A tiny black fly
A tiny black fly
Is cleaning her wings with legs
Sitting on the floor
poem by Asif Andalib
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Yellow Butterfly.
Gently flapping it's thin wings,
A butterfly lands upon my fingers,
And upon a soft breeze it leaves,
Yet it's delicate presence lingers.
Sunny yellow rimmed it's wings.
With dark daffodil yellow rings,
Pure coal black traced it's veins,
It's image - in my mind - remains.
Such a soft and delicate brush,
Of a butterflies wings, so plush,
The softest touch of it's tiny legs,
Lifted my spirits - well, the dregs.
That butterfly, that passed me by,
The messenger between land and sky,
Has stayed lodged in my mind,
I'll never meet another of it's kind,
A single butterfly, while I was alone,
Came to me and my world was thrown,
But I'll never forget that yellow butterfly,
That left me when I let out a soft sigh,
A soft sigh that came from me,
Swept my butterfly, set it free,
This is my butterfly that I'll remember,
My butterfly from last September.
poem by Rayne Goddard
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Faith
Faith's no legs
So can not walk
Nor has any wings
So can not fly
Immature and tiny
Incubate in heart
Safe-guard to safe-guard
Rooted deep in allegiance
To break open light
In vision, listen, speech
In every disability
Of even on infernal-couch
For faith's now grown with wings
'Hope and confidence'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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~Spring Cleaning~
Shaking out dirty rugs
That cover the earth eaten floor
Dusting the cathedral beams
That reach for heaven's door
Cant quite get it all
Fevered pitch to faraway heights
Tall ceilings in my den pretend
The dust has misted in flight
Shine upon the tables glaze
Clean reflections bent
Cleaning-clearing and polishing
Spotless-time- well spent
Carpeting link that floats the sky
Vacuum packed it twice
Spot remove-the black eyed groove
That dirties this carpetless prize
Spring cleaning on into June
With bleached out whale bones
Hanging from yonder oak paneling
Sparkling clean crystal gold tones!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Babies have big heads and big eyes, and tiny little bodies with tiny little arms and legs. So did the aliens at Roswell! I rest my case.
quote by William Shatner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men Cleaning Women Cannot Abide
My wife said she was going out to shop,
I knew she'd be gone for hours,
So I cleaned the house from bottom to top,
Then went out and bought her some flowers.
On arriving home she asked what's that smell,
I boasted I had just cleaned the house,
With what she said it's like something from Hell,
It stinks like a hundred dead grouse.
By doing the cleaning I thought you'd be flattered,
She said exactly what have you cleaned,
That really left my giant ego shattered,
How dare she leave me feeling demeaned?
The house is filthy what did you use,
I replied the same stuff as you,
She said it's my intelligence you're trying to abuse,
I'll now have to start cleaning anew.
What have you done to my kitchen floor?
You've got it full of stellar streaks,
The worktops are scratched like an old barn door,
My mop bucket's now full of leaks.
The toilet is filthy I said no it's not,
She said look at the state of the pan,
You've left enough stains to play dot to dot,
As for cleaning you're now on a ban.
She'll be so impressed she'll be singing,
That's what I honestly thought,
Now she's saying I've got the house minging,
Remember good cleaners cannot be bought.
I walked away totally deluded and sad,
It's moan if we don't then moan if we do,
If they had a self- cleaning house they'd still go mad,
I'm going down to the pub for a brew.
The moral of my story affects far more than me,
It's a problem that is truly worldwide,
It's a sexist thing I'm sure all males would agree,
‘' Men Cleaning, Women Cannot Abide ‘'
‘' They think we do it deliberately''
When I got back to my father and mother and was sitting up there in our tepee, my face was still all puffed and my legs and arms were badly swollen; but I felt good all over and wanted to get right up and run around.
Leg
I know your legs are
On the legs of Baali the demon king
I know your legs are
On the head of Bharata your brother
I know your legs are on the
Head of Uddhaba your follower.
You have no leg I heard.
I Know you are present everywhere
Everytime and in everybody.
I do not know what a leg is.
I know the insect has six legs
I know the animal has four legs
I know the bird has two legs.
Your leg is my project paper
I do not know howmany legs you have
I do not know I a leg is.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Garden Seat
Its former green is blue and thin,
And its once firm legs sink in and in;
Soon it will break down unaware,
Soon it will break down unaware.
At night when reddest flowers are black
Those who once sat thereon come back;
Quite a row of them sitting there,
Quite a row of them sitting there.
With them the seat does not break down,
Nor winter freeze them, nor floods drown,
For they are as light as upper air,
They are as light as upper air!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Ode to Crumbs
when I eat
a cake
of chocolate,
Crumbs are everywhere
All over the counter
my hand
the floor
a mess everywhere
tiny islands on
the counter
meaningless
though I can't help
but pay attention
to crumbs
on my hand
my counter
my floor
all over the place
why are they so obssesive?
small
tiny little specs
though I can't look away
so
I must clean them up.
poem by John McAdam
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Escape Of The Worm
when there are no words
from the window
escape through
the door or
make a hole
on the floor
and slip your tiny
self in there
and you crawl out like a worm
into the open
you open your hidden wings and then you fly away where they cannot find you anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hot Legs
(rod stewart)
Whos that knocking on my door
Its gotta be a quarter to four
Is it you again coming round for more
Well you can love me tonight if you want
But in the morning make sure youre gone
Im talkin to you
Hot legs, wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, are you still in school
I love you honey
Gotta most persuasive tongue
You promise all kinds of fun
But what you dont understand
Im a working man
Gonna need a shot of vitamin e
By the time youre finished with me
Im talking to you
Hot legs, youre an alley cat
Hot legs, you scratch my back
Hot legs, bring your mother too
I love you honey
Imagine how my daddy felt
In your jet black suspender belt
Seventeen years old
Hes touching sixty four
You got legs right up to your neck
Youre making me a physical wreck
Im talking to you
Hot legs, in your satin shoes
Hot legs, are you still in school
Hot legs, youre making me a fool
I love you honey
Hot legs, making your mark
Hot legs, keep my pencil sharp
Hot legs, keep your hands to yourself
I love you honey
Hot legs, youre wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, youre still in school
I love you honey
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Raven
Dark bird
Black raven with black wings,
Black eyes as dark as midnight,
Wind flutters his wings,
Shadows turn his head,
And movement catches his stare.
He looks down upon you and watches in dismay,
No black is with in you,
No night in your eyes,
No wings to up lift you,
No shadow to attract you,
And movements pass your gaze.
A raven, A raven, A moonlight silhouette.
What Left My Throat Dry?
Inexcusable crime
And incurable disease
Of the last century
Left my throat dry
Without water wetted my wings
Without sickle tied my legs
I lost my peace in the din
A fish in the water without a fin.
Water can not wet my throat
The sun can not dry my wings
Untying my legs will not give me back my fins.
What is the use to be dry,
If I shan't get the shadow and the fly?
I shan't get surely the shadow from the sun
To it, it will only increase my bebt burden?
My wet wings needn't to be wide spread
As I know the hope of justice has already dead!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Tiny Angel
golden hair, tiny curls
blue eyes, sparkle
tiny angel laughing
chasing butterflies in the garden
sunshine and shadows
picking flowers, making chains
tiny angel halo
curled up on my lap
sandman coming soon
dreams await you
sleeping angel
sweet smiles, soft kisses
giggles that melt my heart
happy angel
i see your wings
don't fly away
i need you here with me
tiny angel
gone too soon
i miss you
poem by Shadow Princess
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The Coquette
Girl, oh girl,
I can see you
in the wintry morning
as you go out
hurrying
with the copper bracelets’ sound
your hair surmounts your tiny head,
your hair,
coarse like horse’s mane
black hairs cutting the air
as you look in the mirror
for the last time
before you lе а ve.
Girl, I can see you
with the lipstick,
idolizing your mouth,
full shiny mouth,
your high heels tempt the stairs
as you descend,
Girl, I know you,
your plain body, tiny legs, slim,
trembling
with the muscles of your arms
as you lock the door;
What have you done
and they don’t know?
Your curly red hair from the youth
you’ve straightened it smooth
and dyed black,
Girl, does your body hurt when nude?
What have you done?
I could never see
your plasticine drops flow,
why did you go to the wolfs
when night fell:
teary drops tear the flesh
your tiny breasts
were mesmerized
with the green amulet
swinging
from one breast to other
we see each other strangely;
How queer,
I can see you in the night
girl you crawl, the saffron shawl
slithers your body as your stomach
swells with pain
“To hell with the wolfs“
and in the room of old wolf
always reeks malodorous.
Girl I can see you
bending,
your knees rubbing the floor
your coarse palms
sending the bulletins of shame
to be published,
hush girl, I can see
your blackened and regretful
running down your toes: tears.
I can see you go
as someone locks the door
from where you went in the night
I can see you howling,
green with forest coldness
green were your eyes
reddened with plasticine
and you, what were you?
Why girl you are,
in the wintry night
as you come back home,
just another
plasticine doll.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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The Mystical
ALL that i want
that i dream about is that
i shall occupy
that place that rightfully belongs to me
the seat at the last
the floor at the bottom of the sea
the edge
where i am no longer myself
all i want is to be lost forever
not remembering anything
it is not that chair where we know what sitting is
or the bed that we have learned to recline and take sleep
it is not the sky where wings of birds fly
it is not the sea where fish as we all know swim
it is always something else
that we all yet have to know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter Night
It snowed and snowed ,the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
As during summer midges swarm
To beat their wings against a flame
Out in the yard the snowflakes swarmed
To beat against the window pane
The blizzard sculptured on the glass
Designs of arrows and of whorls.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
Distorted shadows fell
Upon the lighted ceiling:
Shadows of crossed arms,of crossed legs-
Of crossed destiny.
Two tiny shoes fell to the floor
And thudded.
A candle on a nightstand shed wax tears
Upon a dress.
All things vanished within
The snowy murk-white,hoary.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
A corner draft fluttered the flame
And the white fever of temptation
Upswept its angel wings that cast
A cruciform shadow
It snowed hard throughout the month
Of February, and almost constantly
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky
Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer
I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet
To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Little Acorns
legs ache
from sitting
word processing
too long
legs ache
with achievement
solidly established
firmly planted
poem by Terence George Craddock
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There Once Was A Tiny Girl
there once
was a tiny girl
who grew up
in this world
there once
was a tiny girl
who cried herself to sleep
every night
there once
was a tiny girl
who wore the same dress
every day
there once
was a tiny girl
who wouldn't go out
and play
there once
was a tiny girl
who would bleed and have bruises
from head to toe
there once
was a tiny girl
who begged
daddy, please no more
there once
was a tiny girl
who the angels
heard her prayer
they came down
and took her
to a better place
where that tiny girl
found love
instead of hate
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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