The Hunters
Six men went hunting, but only four returned.
Two, in fact, hadn't returned.
Oknov, Kozlov, Stryuchkov and Motylkov returned home safely, but Shirokov and Kablukov perished on the hunt.
OKNOV went around very upset the whole day and wouldn't even talk to anyone. Kozlov walked round behind Oknov with great persistence, badgering him with all manner of questions, by which means he drove Oknov to a point of extreme irritation.
KOZLOV: Do you fancy a smoke?
OKNOV: No!
KOZLOV: Do you want me to bring you that thing over there?
OKNOV: No!
KOZLOV: Perhaps you'd like me to tell you a funny story?
OKNOV: No!
KOZLOV: Well, do you want a drink? I've got some tea and cognac here.
OKNOV: Not content with just having smashed you over the skull with this stone, I'll rip your leg off as well.
STRYUCHKOV AND MOTYLKOV: What are you doing? What are you doing?
KOZLOV: Pick me up from the ground.
MOTYLKOV: Don't you get excited now, that wound will heal.
KOZLOV: And where's Oknov?
OKNOV (Ripping off Kozlov's leg): I'm right here.
KOZLOV: Oh, my gosh golly!
STRYUCHKOV AND MOTYLKOV: Seems he's ripped the leg off him as well!
OKNOV: Ripped it off and thrown it over there!
STRYUCHKOV: That's atrocious!
OKNOV: Wha-at?
STRYUCHKOV: ...ocious...
OKNOV: What's that?
STRYUCHKOV: N-n... n-n... nothing.
KOZLOV: How am I going to get home?
MOTYLKOV: Don't worry, we'll fix a wooden leg on you!
STRYUCHKOV: What are you like at standing on one leg?
KOZLOV: I can do it, but I'm no great shakes at it.
STRYUCHKOV: That's all right, we'll support you.
OKNOV: Let me get at him.
STRYUCHKOV: Hey, no. You'd better go away!
OKNOV: No, let me through! ... Let me!... Let... That's what I wanted to do.
STRYUCHKOV AND MOTYLKOV: How horrible!
OKNOV: Ha, ha, ha.
MOTYLKOV: But where is Kozlov?
STRYUCHKOV: He's crawled off into the bushes!
MOTYLKOV: Kozlov, are you there?
KOZLOV: Glug-glug!
MOTYLKOV: Now look what's become of him!
STRYUCHKOV: What's to be done with him?
MOTYLKOV: Well, we can't do a thing with him, now. In my view, we'd better just strangle him. Kozlov! Hey, Kozlov! Can you hear me?
KOZLOV: O-oh, yes, but only just barely.
MOTYLKOV: Don't you upset yourself mate, we're just going to strangle you. Wait a minute, now! . . . There, there, there we are.
STRYUCHKOV: Here we are, and again! That's the way, yes! Come on, a bit more . . . Now, that's that!
MOTYLKOV: That's that, then!
OKNOV: Lord have mercy on him!
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Preface: Old Gosh Rhyme
Let him who is minded to meet with a Glug
Pluck three hardy hairs from a rabbit-skin rug;
Blow one to the South, and one to the West,
Then burn another and swallow the rest.
And who shall explain 'tis the talk of a fool,
He's a Glug! He's a Glug of the old Gosh school!
And he'll climb a tree, if the East wind blows,
In a casual way, just to show he knows . . .
Now, tickle his toes!
Oh, tickle his toes!
And don't blame me if you come to blows.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hot Thing
Hot thing!
Hot thing, barely 21
Hot thing, looking 4 big fun
Hot thing, whats your fantasy?
Do u wanna play with me?
Hot thing, baby u dance so good
Hot thing, baby I knew u would
Hot thing, tell me what u see
Hot thing, when u smile, when u smile, when u smile
Are your smiles, are your smiles 4 me?
Hot thing, maybe u should give your folks a call
Hot thing, tell them youre going 2 the crystal ball
Hot thing, tell them youre coming home late,
If youre coming home at all
Hot thing, tell them u found a brand new baby doll
Hot thing, I cant wait 2 get u home
Hot thing, where we could be alone
Hot thing, I could read u poetry,
And then we could make a story of our own
Hot thing
Hot, hot, hot thing
Hot thing, hot thing
Hot thing, hot thing
Hot thing, barely 21
Hot thing, looking 4 big fun
Hot thing, whats your fantasy
Hot thing, dont u wanna play with me?
Hot thing, hot thing
Hot thing, I cant wait 2 get u home
Hot thing
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple Slurple (Children)
Hey, let’s make a purple slurple.
It’s good, I can show you how.
I won’t spill like when I was little,
I’m six, I can make it now.
You can get out the glasses
and then add some lumps of ice.
I’ll get all the other stuff out.
Thanks for your help, you’re nice.
We’ll glug six times with 7-Up,
add four shakes of sugar on top,
then stir with a big wooden spoon
and mix it in with the soda pop.
Then we’ll add the grape juice.
That’s what makes the slurple purple.
But be careful when you drink, go slow,
or your tummy makes a GREAT BIG burple!
Turn Around
I was working all night in my office
When a man I had recently killed
Called me up from a phone near my building
So I looked out the window at him
He had the same obsequious manner
That was the reason I had him killed
So to calm my nerves I sang this song
To him, over the phone
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
I was out by myself in the graveyard
I was doing an interpretive dance
When I felt something heavy and pointed
Strike me in the back of the neck
And then the ghost of my dance instructor
Pushed me down into an open grave
And as dirt rained down she played a xylophone
And sang me this song
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
We were waving our arms out the window
Of a fast moving passenger train
Acting in an irresponsible fashion
Until the engineer whose back had been turned
And who we thought would find us highly amusing
Quickly swiveled his head around
And his face which was a paper-white mask of evil
Sang us this song
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)
Turn around, (round) turn around (round)
Theres a thing there that can be found (theres a thing there that can be)
Turn around, (found) turn around (round)
Its a human skull on the ground (its a human skull on the)
Human skull (ground) on the ground (round)
Turn around (turn around, turn around)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joi, The Glug
The Glugs abide in a far, far land
That is partly pebbles and stones and sand,
But mainly earth of a chocolate hue,
When it isn't purple or slightly blue.
And the Glugs live there with their aunts and their wives,
In draughty tenements built like hives.
And they climb the trees when the weather is wet,
To see how high they can really get.
Pray, don't forget,
This is chiefly done when the weather is wet.
And every shadow that flits and hides,
And every stream that glistens and glides
And laughs its way from a highland height,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'Our test is the best by far;
For a Glug is a Glug; so there you are!
And they climb the trees when it drizzles or hails
To get electricity into their nails;
And the Glug that fails
Is a luckless Glug, if it drizzles or hails.'
Now, the Glugs abide in the Land of Gosh;
And they work all day for the sake of Splosh.
For Splosh the First is the Nation's pride,
And King of the Glugs, on his uncle's side.
And they sleep at night, for the sake of rest;
For their doctors say this suits them best.
And they climb the trees, as a general rule,
For exercise, when the weather is cool.
They're taught at school
To climb the trees when the weather is cool.
And the whispering grass on the gay, green hills
And every cricket that skirls and shrills,
And every moonbeam, gleaming white,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'It is safe, the text we bring;
For a Glug is an awfully Glug-like thng.
And they climb the trees when there's sign of fog,
To scan the land for a feasible dog.
They love to jog
Through dells in quest of the feasible dog.'
Now the Glugs eat meals three times a day
Because their fathers ate that way.
And their grandpas said the scheme was good
To help the Glugs digest their food.
And it's wholesome food the Glugs have got,
For it says so plain on the tin and pot.
And they climb the trees when the weather is dry
To get a glimpse of the pale green sky.
We don't know why,
But they love to gaze on the pale green sky.
And every cloud that sails aloft,
And every breeze that blows so soft,
And every star that shines at night,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
For they say, 'Our text is safe and true;
What one Glug does, the other Glugs do;
And they climb the trees when the weather is hot,
For a birds'-eye view of the garden plot.
Of course, it's rot,
But they love that view of the garden plot.'
At half-past two on a Wednesday morn
A most peculiar Glug was born;
And later on, when he grew a man,
He scoffed and sneered at the Chosen Plan.
'It's wrong!' said this Glug, whose name was Joi.
'Bah!' said the Glugs. 'He's a crazy boy!'
And they climbed the trees, as the West wind stirred,
To hark to the note of the guffer bird.
It seems absurd,
But they're awfully fond of the guffer bird.
And every reed that rustles and sways
By the gurgling river that plashes and plays,
And the beasts of the dread, neurotic night,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And, 'Why,' say they; 'it is easily done;
For a dexter Glug's like a sinister one!
And they climb the trees when the thunder rolls,
To soddenly salve their small, pale souls,
For they fear the coals
That threaten to frizzle their pale, pink souls.'
Said the Glug called Joi: 'This climbing trees
Is a foolish art, and things like these
Cause much distress in the land of Gosh.
Let's stay on the ground and kill King Splosh!'
But Splosh, the King, he smiled a smile,
And beckoned once to his hangman, Guile,
Who climbed a tree when the weather was calm;
And they hanged poor Joi on a snufflebust palm:
Then sang a psalm.
Did those pious Glugs 'neath the sufflebust palm.
And every bee that kisses a flower,
And every blossom, born for an hour,
And ever bird on its gladsome flight,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
For they say: ''Tis a simple text we've got:
If you know one Glug, why you know the lot!
So they climbed a tree in the burgeoning Spring,
And they hanged poor Joi with some second-hand string.
It's a horrible thing
To be hanged by Glugs with second-hand string.
Then Splosh, the king, rose up and said:
'It's not polite; but he safer dead.
And there's not much room in th eland of Gosh
For a Glug named Joi and a king named Splosh!'
And ever Glug flung high his hat,
And cried, 'We're Glugs! And you can't change that!'
So they climbed the trees, since the weather was cold,
As their great-grandmothers climbed of old.
We are not told
Why Grandma climbed when the weather was cold.
And every cloud that sails the blue,
And every dancing sunbeam too,
And every spakling dewdropp bright,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
'We tell,' say they, 'by a simple test;
For any old Glug is like the rest.
And they climb the trees when there's weather about,
In a general way, as a cure for gout.
Though some folk doubt
If the climbing of trees is good for gout.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Commits To The Giving Of It
How can one not love another,
Who commits to the giving of it...
Unconditionally?
And the last thing anyone should do,
Is to get upset...
By a point of view expressed.
Especially if that point of view,
Is shared between someone loved.
And doing it to communicate too.
Too many people share relationships,
To become angry over nothing quick.
Just to begin an unending argument.
Too many people become easily offended,
When something different that is mentioned...
Causes one not to listen and refuses to pay attention.
And the last thing anyone should do,
Is to get upset...
By a point of view expressed.
How can one not love another,
Who commits to the giving of it...
Unconditionally as true love is meant to be.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Kings Went to War
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
Now the kings have returned
Some have died
Most alive
Now the kings have returned
And I'm alone.
Who to tell
How to say
All that happened in the days
When the kings went to war
While I stayed home.
Oh the battles
Oh the hell
Not of war but worse
The well-kept secrets crying
To be known.
Knocks the door
Comes before
Nathan knows and he will tell
How the king failed to war
When he stayed home.
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
The Frozen Man
Last thing I remember is the freezing cold
Water reaching up just to swallow me whole
Ice in the rigging and howling wind
Shock to my body as we tumbled in
Then my brothers and the others are lost at sea
I alone am returned to tell thee
Hidden in ice for a century
To walk the world again
Lord have mercy on the frozen man
Next words that were spoken to me
Nurse asked me what my name might be
She was all in white at the foot of my bed
I said angel of mercy Im alive or am I dead
My name is william james mcphee
I was born in 1843
Raised in liverpool by the sea
But that aint who I am
Lord have mercy on the frozen man
It took a lot of money to start my heart
To peg my leg and to buy my eye
The newspapers call me the state of the art
And the children, when they see me, cry
I thought it would be nice just to visit my grave
See what kind of tombstone I might have
I saw my wife and my daughter and it seemed so strange
Both of them dead and gone from extreme old age
See here, when I die make sure Im gone
Dont leave em nothing to work on
You can raise your arm, you can wiggle your hand
And you can wave goodbye to the frozen man
I know what it means to freeze to death
To lose a little life with every breath
To say goodbye to life on earth
To come around again
Lord have mercy on the frozen man
Lord have mercy on the frozen man
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Admit I Have Forgotten
When I was a much younger person,
It was difficult for me to listen...
With a paying of attention.
I was young, dumb and full of...
Ignorance I shared.
With those who became upset,
With decisions I made too late to correct.
Today,
I listen to everyone.
Whether what is said is solicited or not.
I even sit through people repeating themselves,
With hopes my raised eyebrow would send a clue...
I got the message two days ago.
And they 'still' continue.
Believing I am listening intently.
I've learned that one never knows,
What is being said today...
Will not apply one day.
Whenever that day arrives.
'Remember you told me to shut my mouth,
To listen years ago.
And I became offended,
Calling you some horrible and atrocious names? '
No.
I don't remember that.
What names did you call me?
How horrible and atrocious were they?
'Well...
I just wanted to say I am grateful to you.
And I feel even more blessed,
You have forgiven me.'
Wait a minute. Hold on.
What were those names you called me?
Help me remember.
Maybe I haven't forgiven you at all.
Although I admit I have forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God's....
what you have taken which is
not yours
shall be returned
with all the penalties and interest
and surcharges
what you have given with a meek heart
shall be returned too
in the same manner
but this Time it is God
that gives you more than
you can ever expect
must you choose greed then?
must you stick to avarice?
you give a seed
then you shall have a tree filled with fruits
and even birds
nest there and find their rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)
He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.
On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer
He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,
he returned for he had left with promises of returning to his mother.
For sunset is nowhere more peaceful than the laps of her..
Dedicated to the wanderer,
No Longer Adrift
No longer adrift, I have returned;
Returned to the place of my birth,
The origin of my love's declaration.
I have returned to the sweetfullness
Of timelessness, on nature's breast
Yearned and in mourning, as since scorned.
But I still have my faith, I still have my love,
For the voices they speak to me, through your words.
poem by Harriet James
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There Stands A Woman
Behind every great man there stands a woman
I have heard that time after time before
Standing behind him and keeping him strong
There is a woman who is opening life's door.
Though I myself am not a great man
And a great man I might not ever be
But in my soul and mind I feel like a great man
As you are there always standing behind me.
When I fall you are there to catch me
Or you will pick me up when I hit the ground
You make me happier than I can ever speak
And because of you, you make me heaven bound.
You are behind me to fix my hair or straiten my tie
When I leave the house each and everyday
You give me the confidence to keep me believing
As without you, inside our home I would stay.
When I make a mistake you tell me not to worry
And when I cry you are there to wipe away my tears
You are there to listen to my worries and my problems
And you are there to help me fight my own fears.
You give me the support when others would reject me
And the hope I need when I am not sure of myself
You are there with the uplifting words to move me along
You are my riches, and you are my wealth.
Behind every great man there stands a woman
I don't know if that statement happens to be true,
But whenever that I look into my mirror,
Behind me; there is always standing you.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Meanstreet
At night I walk this stinkin street
Past the crazies on my block
And I see the same old faces
And I hear that same old talk
And Im searching for the latest thing
A break in this routine
Im talkin some new kicks
Ones like you aint never seen
This is home
This is meanstreet
Its our home
The only one I know
And we dont worry bout tomorrow
Cause were sick of these four walls
Now whatd ya think is nothing
Might be something after all
Now you know this aint no through street
The end is dead ahead
The poor folks play for keeps down here
Theyre the living dead
Come on down
Down to meanstreet
Theyre dancing now
Out on meanstreet
Its always here and now, my friend
It aint once upon a time
Its all over but the shouting
Ill come and Ill take whats mine
Were searching for the latest thing
A break in this routine
Talkin some new kicks
Ones like you aint never seen
This is home
This is meanstreet
Its our home
Only one I know
(this is home) see, a gun is real easy
(this is meanstreet) in this desperate part of town
(this is home) turns you from hunted into hunter
(this is meanstreet) go and hunt somebody down
(this is home) but hear me now, somebody said fair warning, lord !
(this is meanstreet) lord, strike that poor boy down
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Funny
It's funny how happy is accompanied with sad,
It's funny how your best of friends can sometimes turn out bad.
It's funny how sometimes we only ever feel at home,
It's funny how that time is sometimes when were alone.
It's funny how the best people in your life don't always turn out great,
It's funny how your friends don't always pull their weight.
But the one thing that is the best,
The one thing that beats the rest,
And the only thing that it could be,
Is that none of this is funny to me.
poem by Flying Fishstick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Determination
The sparrow lost her eggs
In the waves of the ocean
And she was upset
And she decided to dry up the ocean
And began to pick out the water
And she succeeded in her mission
And the ocean returned her eggs
And it is nothing
But her determination.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Not Upset! Not Yet!
Tell me where you go,
When you've got to leave me.
To say you're seeking some harmony!
Tell me where you go,
When you've got to leave me.
To say you're seeking some harmony!
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
'Cause,
I know you need alone time on your own.
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
'Cause,
I know you'll come back here to me at home.
Tell me where you go,
When you've got to leave.
I'm not upset.
Not yet,
'Cause...
I know you're needing some time alone on your own.
But you know at least you can pick up a telephone.
I'm not upset!
Not yet,
But...
Tell me where you go,
When you've got to leave me.
To say you're seeking some harmony!
Tell me where you go,
When you've got to leave me.
To say you're seeking some harmony!
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
'Cause,
I know you need alone time on your own.
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
'Cause,
I know you'll come back here to me at home.
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
But...
Something's getting heated and I'm feeling every bit.
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
But...
Something's getting heated and I'm feeling every bit.
I'm not upset!
Not yet!
But...
Something's getting heated and I'm feeling every bit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Monochrome Poem
IT will talk about
an absence in the same manner
that he talks about it
when you are together
about a job about to come
when
he does not know
but for the meantime
he stays with you
for support
he once tells about a woman
who jumped from atop the
cathedral
hitting her head on the
lamppost below
not only sad
but horrible
brains scattered on the pavement
blood spurting like
a fountain
so much self-inflicted
violence
one thinks about the noise
of the monochromatic life
outside the window
thinking that there is someone
there that you know
who like you
also looks for life
a job that did not come
the decision to come home
but when
that i do not really know
with you
for the meantime
everything is still on the meantime
we wait
hopefully for something not
as violent
not as horrible as
the cathedral story.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back Home
Don't know what I was looking for when I went home, I found me alone
And sometimes I need someone to say, "You'll be all right. What's on your mind?"
But the water's shallow here and I am full of fear, and empty handed after two long years
Another sunny day in Californ-i-a
I'm sure back home they'd love to see it
But they don't know that what you love is ripped away
Before you get a chance to feel it
Back home I always thought I wanted so much more, now I'm not too sure
Cause sometimes I miss knowing someone's there for me and feeling free
Free to stand beside the ocean in moonlight
And light myself a smoke beneath the dark Atlantic sky
Another sunny day in Californ-i-a
I'm sure back home they'd love to see it
But they don't know that what you love is ripped away
Before you get a chance, before you get a chance to feel it
Everybody here is living life in fear of falling out of line
Tearing lives apart and breaking lots of hearts just to pass the time
And the eyes get red in the back of your head, this place will make you blind
Put it all behind me and I'll be just fine
Another sunny day beneath this cloudless sky
Sometimes I wish that it would rain here
And wash away the west coast dreaming from my eyes
There's nothing real for them to see here
Another starry night in Californ-i-a
I'm sure back home they'd love to see it
But they don't know that what you love is ripped away
Before you get a chance, before you get a chance to feel it
song performed by by Yellowcard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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