On Reading a Recent Greek Poet
After the wailing had already begun
along the walls, their ruin certain,
the Trojans fidgeted with bits of wood
in the three-ply doors, itsy-bitsy
pieces of wood, fussing with them.
And began to get their nerve back and feel hopeful.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Hen and the Wren
The lovely, laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren.
'Good morning. It's nice to see you now and then.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'Thank you Mrs. Hen.
I haven't seen you for awhile and don't remember when.'
The laying hen said to the itsy-bitsy wren, 'If you recall,
The last time we were together was a bit before last fall.'
The wren smiled and said, 'Oh yes I should have guessed.
It's spring again so I'm back to build another nest.'
The hen said, 'Soon we both will be sitting on our eggs.
Not long after that there'll be babies ‘neath our legs.'
The itsy-bitsy wren said, 'I wish my eggs weren't so small.
Your eggs are so large that your babies will be tall.'
Well the lovely laying hen said, 'Your eggs are just right.
And that song you sing brings everyone delight.'
From spring to fall wherever hens and wrens reside,
There'll be nests, eggs and babies chirping far and wide.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Variations on a Theme by Joyce
The war is in words and the wood is the world
That turns beneath our rootless feet;
the vines that reach, alive and snarled,
Across the path where the sand is swirled,
Twist in the night. The light lies flat.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.
The rain is ruin and our ruin rides
The swiftest winds; the wood is whorled
And turned and smoothed by the turning tides.
--There is rain in the woods, slow rain that breeds
The war in the words. The wood is the world.
This rain is ruin and our ruin rides.
The war is in words and the wood is the world,
Sourceless and seized and forever filled
With green vine twisting on wood more gnarled
Than dead men's hands. The vines are curled
Around these branches, crushed and killed.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.
poem by Weldon Kees
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Itsy Bitsy Spider
(carly simon, based on the nursery rhyme)
(chorus)
The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout
Down came the rain and washed the spider out
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain
And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again
I believe in love
And who knows where or when
Bit its comin? around again
(chorus)
I know nothin? stays the same
But if youre willing to play the game
Its comin? around again
(chorus)
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Itsy Bitsy Spider's Mrs
Itsy Bitsy Spider had it tough from the very start,
All he really wanted was to win the Mrs' heart,
But Mrs Spider was angry after a huge fight,
And scurried up the water spout, away from Itsy's sight.
So up went Itsy to the top of the water spout,
But when he reached the top the Mrs gave a shout,
Her rainfall of tears made him run back down,
And that's when Itsy decided to go to town.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "We haven't spoken for hours"
And a kindly young gentleman said, "Why not give her flowers? "
Flowers, Itsy thought, that will prove I'm devout,
So up went Itsy, up the water spout.
The Mrs pushed him down again, tears in her eyes,
And quite distressed, Itsy gave an unhappy sigh.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "I saw a tear in her eye"
And a jolly old baker said, "Why not make her a pie?
A pie, itsy thought, that will be the best tack,
So Itsy went up the water spout with a pie on his back.
The Mrs pushed him down again, moaning words of hate,
And Itsy didn't know how to make her emotions sate.
Round and round Itsy ran, round and round the town,
"Help! " he yelled, "Help, help! The Mrs pushed me down! "
"I cannot take this pain" he cried, "She says all we have is hate"
And a pretty little girl said, "Why not bring her on a date? "
A date, Itsy thought, that will ensure forgiveness!
So Itsy clambered up the spout, not wanting any less.
The Mrs pushed him down again, after her tears had rained,
And Itsy wished he could prove that his love was not feigned.
Standing at the bottom of the spout Itsy wondered what to do.
He thought and thought and then suddenly, he knew!
The way to win the Mrs' back was to simply tell the truth,
It can't be so hard, he thought, I've loved her since our youth.
At the bottom of the spout Itsy yelled to Mrs,
"My dear, my dear, how I miss your kisses! "
"I miss your lively eyes and your happy smile,
I need you back right now, if only for a little while".
"Please, oh please, you cannot just say goodbye,
Because if you don't forgive me, I know that I will die"
At the top of the spout the Mrs' rain stopped flowing,
Before Itsy new it, sunshine was growing.
Itsy saw the sun in her eyes and climbed swiftly to her side,
And Mrs Spider beamed at her husband with joy and pride.
poem by Lenore Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Weird Science
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces and
Magic from the hand
Were makin
(weird science)
Things Ive never seen before
Behind bolted doors
Talent and imagination
(weird science)
Not what teacher said to do
Makin dreams come true
Living tissue, warm flesh
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
Chorus
(bits of) my creation--is it real?
Its my creation--i do not know
No hesitation--no heart of gold
Just flesh and blood--i do not know
From my heart and from my hand
Why dont people understand
My intentions . . . . oooh, weird . . . .
Weird science!!
(weird science)
Magic and technology
Voodoo dolls and chants
Electricity
Were makin
(weird science)
Fantasy and microchips
Shooting from the hip
Something different
Were makin
(weird science)
Pictures from a magazine
Diagrams and charts
Mending broken hearts (and makin)
(weird science)
Something like a recipe
Bits and pieces . . . .
Bits and pieces . . . .
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Coming Around Again - Itsy Bitsy Spider
Baby sneezes
Mummy pleases
Daddy breezes in
So good on paper
So romantic
But so bewildering
(chorus)
I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It's coming around again
So don't mind if I fall apart
there's more room in a broken heart
You pay the grocer
Fix the toasted
Kiss the host Good-bye
Then you break a window
burn the Souffl
Scream the lullaby
I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It's coming around again
So don't mind if I fall apart
there's more room in a broken heart
And I believe in love
But what else can I do
I'm so in love with you
I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It's coming around again
The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout
Down came the rain and washed the spider out
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain
And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again
I believe in love
And who knows where or when
Bit its comin around again
I know nothin stays the same
But if youre willing to play the game
Its comin around again
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Trojans
Our efforts are those of the unfortunate;
our efforts are like those of the Trojans.
Somewhat we succeed; somewhat
we regain confidence; and we start
to have courage and high hopes.
But something always happens and stops us.
Achilles in the trench before us
emerges and with loud cries terrifies us.--
Our efforts are like those of the Trojans.
We believe that with resolution and daring
we will alter the blows of destiny,
and we stand outside to do battle.
But when the great crisis comes,
our daring and our resolution vanish;
our soul is agitated, paralyzed;
and we run around the walls
seeking to save ourselves in flight.
Nevertheless, our fall is certain. Above,
on the walls, the mourning has already begun.
The memories and the sentiments of our days weep.
Bitterly Priam and Hecuba weep for us.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Knock On Wood
I dont want to lose the good thing that Ive got
If I do, I will surely, I will lose a lot
For your love is better than any love other Ive know
Its like thunder, lightning
The way you love me is frightening
I better knock on wood
Baby
I got superstitious about you, but I cant take change
You got me spinning, baby, spinning in a trance
But your love is better than any other love Ive known
Its like thunder, lightning
The way you love me is frightening
You better knock on wood
Its no secret, but that woman fills my lovin cup
She sees, so ready, that I get enough
And her love is better than any other love Ive known
Its like thunder
Its like lightning
The way you love me is frightening
I better knock on wood
Baby
Better, yes, better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) yes, I better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) oh, knock on wood
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) you know I would, would
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) its no secret
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) no, oh, better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) hangin above me
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) I cant leave her
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) oh no, baby
Knock on wood, woo!
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Alumni Hall
surrounded by old wood
you breathe wood
and you feel the wood
breathing you too
all around you
in deep sleep
the past comes still dreaming of you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A woodpecker pecked wood.
A woodpecker pecked wood.
Pointed in dismay
arranged to be sharp,
my sword moves
a plain battlefield
of bloodspotted ink
which will stay.
Stained by fools
who never learned
to break the
walls of prejudices down,
i frown in surprise.
How can I start
a life that's never begun,
were can i put
my big little toe?
Shocked by my
clodded
tabula rasa,
i break down
and cry.
The field is grained
and dotted
with grey, black
and reds,
on a sunny
display.
A woodpecker
pecked wood,
misunderstood
and then stopped
to learn.....
to be good. Madrason 30-09-2010
poem by Madrason writer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Driftwood
Pieces of wood intertwined like the bodies of lovers
Smooth edges ridges and curves for me to discover
Entangled branches held together building a new form
Intimate confrontations left behind by a great storm
The wood shows cracks like the wrinkles of skin
Bleached out by salt and sun a piece of art therein
To me my love - you seem like the driftwood I found
You are beautiful and smooth all the way around
Your expressions are throughtful and sad at the same time
My heart you have captured committing a victimless crime
You carry the marks of life and adventure on your face
I would love to drown in your arms within your embrace
Like pieces of driftwood connected by fate together
With you I can withstand life in any kind of weather
I want to become a better me with you forever around
Like the beautiful wood we are for eternity bound
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When Orpheus Sweetly Did Complayne
When Orpheus sweetly did complayne
Upon his lute with heavy strayne
How his Euridice was slayne,
The trees to heare
Obtayn'd an eare,
And after left it off againe.
At every stroake and every stay
The boughs kept time, and nodding lay,
And listened bending all one way:
The aspen tree
As well as hee
Began to shake and learn'd to play.
If wood could speake, a tree might heare,
If wood could sound true greife so neare
A tree might dropp an amber teare:
If wood so well
Could ring a knell
The Cipres might condole the beare.
The standing nobles of the grove
Hearing dead wood so speak and move
The fatall axe beganne to love:
They envyde death
That gave such breath
As men alive doe saints above
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
~ Make Me Your Me ~
~ MAKE ME YOUR ME ~
Ms. Nivedita
25.09.09
UK
Your love
I club.
Your love
My decor blurb.
In my hub
Feelings echoing.
Fill my tub
Effulgently spilling.
Say
Hey
Oi
Oy
Love me why?
Tie me why?
I’m itsy-bitsy
I’m itty-bitty
I’m wee
Make me your me
If so
I’ll say okey-dokey!
------
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When It Began
It had begun,
When it began...
To make me pay attention.
To make me sit and listen.
Quietly...
And allow me to go within.
Without apprehension.
Until those 'thoughts' started to clear.
It had begun,
When it began...
To make me pay attention.
To make me sit and listen.
It had begun,
When it began...
And I was here.
It had begun,
When it began...
To click together and remove fear,
I had endeared.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The New-England Boy's Song About Thanksgiving Day
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way,
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house away!
We would not stop
For doll or top,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play-
Hear the bells ring
Ting a ling ding,
Hurra for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood-
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all,
And play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple grey!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his pow,
With a loud bow wow,
And thus the news he tells.
Over the river, and through the wood-
When grandmother sees us come,
She will say, Oh dear,
The children are here,
Bring a pie for every one.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurra for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurra for the pumpkin pie!
poem by Lydia Maria Francis Child
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Handprints On The Wall
(Lyrics by Scott Innes & Claude Parish)
(Music by Nelson Blanchard)
The wait turned into hours
Before you came my way
The smile that filled a daddy's heart
On the special day
The moment left me speechless
I didn't know what to say
Then you took your first breath
That took mine away.
Days go by so quickly
Summer turns to fall
Seems like only yesterday
That you began to crawl
So don't be afraid to take that step
I'll catch you when you fall
I don't mind if you leave behind
A few handprints on the wall.
I can't describe this feeling
Way down deep inside
The itsy-bitsy spider
Was the first thing that we tried
Patty cake, the baker's man
With your hands so very small
You could always stay this young
And I wouldn't mind at all.
Days go by so quickly
Summer turns to fall
Seems like only yesterday
That you began to crawl
So don't be afraid to take that step
I'll catch you when you fall
I don't mind if you leave behind
A few handprints on the wall...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn.
I in the autumn of my days
Stand by a place of tears,
And hear the unborn children weep
Within the unborn years;
And feel how all God's sorrow must
Go wailing on until
Man's autumn, too, is past, and he
May winter from all ill.
* * * * *
A pale light in the fading wood,
The sob of dying leaves —
A lorn bird lying in the dusk
Of life that wakes and grieves!
O mournful heart whose love is dust,
In the decaying wood
Death's deepening mystery will cling
Round thee like solitude.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!