A Shilling In The Meter (Fun Poem 76)
Quick
put a shilling in the meter
let the sun come out to play.
The sun being expensive
that shilling won’t last that long
and soon the rain will come back
and the sun will fade away.
I searched my pockets,
and hunted high and low
for another shilling for the meter,
but there wasn’t one there.
So we are stuck with rain
from Monday and Sunday now,
unless someone out there
has another shilling for the meter
somewhere.
28 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Love On A Farmboys Wages
High climbs the summer sun
High stands the corn
And tonight when my work is done
We will borrow your fathers carriage
We will drink and prepare for marriage
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus: shilling for the fellow who brings the sheep in
Shilling for the fellow who milks the herd
Shilling for the fellow with a wife for keeping
How can we feed love on a farmboys wages?
Deep under winter snow
Deep lay the lambs
And tonight by the full moons glow
Flask of wine on my feather bedding
We will drink and prepare for wedding
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus
People think that Im no good
Painting pictures carving wood
Be a rich man if I could
But the only job I do well is here on the farm
On the farm
And its breaking my back
We will borrow your fathers carriage
We will drink and prepare for marriage
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love On A Farmboys Wages
High climbs the summer sun
High stands the corn
And tonight when my work is done
We will borrow your fathers carriage
We will drink and prepare for marriage
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus: shilling for the fellow who brings the sheep in
Shilling for the fellow who milks the herd
Shilling for the fellow with a wife for keeping
How can we feed love on a farmboys wages?
Deep under winter snow
Deep lay the lambs
And tonight by the full moons glow
Flask of wine on my feather bedding
We will drink and prepare for wedding
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus
People think that Im no good
Painting pictures carving wood
Be a rich man if I could
But the only job I do well is here on the farm
On the farm
And its breaking my back
We will borrow your fathers carriage
We will drink and prepare for marriage
Soon my darling, soon my darling
Chorus
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovely Rita
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Nothing can come between us,
When it gets dark i tow your heart away.
Standing by a parking meter,
When i caught a glimpse of rita,
Filling in a ticket in her little white book.
In a cap she looked much older,
And the bag across her shoulder
Made her look a little like a military man.
Lovely rita meter maid,
May i inquire discreetly,
When are you free,
To take some tea with me.
Took her out and tried to win her,
Had a laugh and over dinner,
Told her i would really like to see her again,
Got the bill and rita paid it,
Took her home i nearly made it,
Sitting on the sofa with a sister or two.
Oh, lovely rita meter maid,
Where would i be without you,
Give us a wink and make me think of you.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weeping Meter
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
The more you get some pity you sit and solicit it.
With a drive you started in campaign,
And aimed to have a perfect pity party trip.
You've got your buckets ready to collect the slightest drip.
Like an attention getting kitten,
Being petted as it purrs and licks!
That's what you need!
A boost to benefit.
Like the petting of a kitten getting enjoyment out of it.
To get a little bit of stroking before it leaves...
To meander off and drift.
Satisfied and pleased.
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
Maybe you just need some petting,
And some stroking too?
Oooo...
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
Maybe you just need some petting,
And some stroking too?
Oooo...
If you're on a weeping meter,
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
You may need a boost.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Any Kings Shilling
Youre a fine one, oh yes you are
Youre a fine one just like me
And were friends now, oh wouldnt you say?
Weve been friends now, oh havent we?
Stay at home tonight if you know whats good for you
I cant say more it would be telling
For if you dont what will become of you
Just isnt worth any kings shilling
I will answer when they make that call, pull upon this ragged uniform
Up til now I know its been your trade
Spit and polish the potato parade
Stay at home tonight if you know whats good for you
I cant say more it would be telling
For if you dont what will become of you
Just isnt worth any kings shilling
Please dont put your silly head in that pretty soldiers hat
Youve done your duty, thats enough of that
I dont know if what Im doing is right
I dont know if you should be forgiving
But for me it seems it means my life
While for you it could just be a living
Stay at home tonight if you know whats good for you
I cant say more it would be telling
For if you dont what will become of you
Just isnt worth any kings shilling
Please dont put your silly head in that british soldiers hat
Youve done your duty thats enough of that
Youre a fine one, oh yes you are
Youre a fine one, just like me
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soldiers Tale
The scum of the earth you called us
In your fancy boots and clothes,
But it was us who faced the guns
And on your orders died
For a shilling in our pocket
And a flogging on our back.
Us Tommies, English, Scots and Welsh
Aye, and Irish too, us lions of the Isles
We stood and fought around the world
And saw how big it was
And when we were finished
A quarter of it was ours.
What a way to live and die
For us poor boys in red
But we took our shilling
And our floggings too,
And when you sent us off to war
We fought and mostly won.
When we stood in that thin red line
We showed them how to fight,
Then supped and tupped
In every place we went.
Yet all the time you treated us
Like shite beneath your feet.
But we saw through you toffs
With your boots and fancy accents,
Your polished schoolboy airs.
Us Tommies, us lions,
We'd seen it all before.
When the cannon and the muskets roared
It was us who stood and faced them
And on your orders died.
But when the guns fell silent
And our blood soaked the earth
It was you who got the medals
And us who paid the price.
poem by Paul Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mind Is In a Poetic Meter
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
Until it was produce to seduce,
To make aware.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Lit with verse and profound imaginings.
Clear of limits and in boundless flight.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Fixed within rhythmic thoughts combined.
And racing to attach themselves to the proper lines.
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Picked with a selected taste to find,
Just the right mixture to release at the right time.
To capture a comprehension that is mutually shared.
And creating an understanding that before was not there.
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
Can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
Can you can you feel it?
My mind is in a poetic meter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Drought
Upon the tranquil evening suddenly falls
The long-awaited passion of the rain,
A gushing silver torrent, spilling
On spear-like orchard boughs, where calls
A blackbird, over and over again,
Its joyous liquid note, filling
The cracked dry earth with that miraculous wine,
And making green the moss on flinty walls
And easing me of this constricting pain:
The heart's dry living death that knows the sign,
This leaping up of long lain dormant things-
Rain, splendid rain, how I can bless you now!
The moon rides up, a new and shining shilling,
While poised upon the silver-shining bough
The blackbird, out of timeless joy, still sings.
poem by Douglas Gibson
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There is no intrinsic worth in money but what is alterable with the times, and whether a guinea goes for twenty pounds or for a shilling, it is the labor of the poor and not the high and low value that is set on gold or silver, which all the comforts of life must arise from.
quote by Bernard de Mandeville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neater meter for Mr Earley
Neater meter?
I have to write a sonnet in free verse.
I must stick to Iambic pentameter.
A meter that I do not often use.
Pentameter is my more usual style.
A Sapphic meter would be so much worse.
I am more comfortable with the latter.
I find that some odd metres can confuse
a simple rhymester like me for a while.
I’m quite convinced that pentameter
makes my presentations appear neater.
It may be that you think I am obtuse
and that my simple verses make you smile.
You are entitled to your point of view.
Naturally I won’t agree with you!
11-Apr-08
Free verse sonnet
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disbelief Is High On Your Meter
Even though you're numb,
By that which has been done...
More is coming.
More is coming!
You're in it thick or thin,
But keep your faith within...
'Cause more is coming.
More is coming!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
But don't you give up hope.
Keep your hope afloat!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
But don't you give up hope.
Keep that hope afloat!
Even though you're numb,
By that which has been done...
More is coming.
More is coming!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
But don't you give up hope.
Keep your hope afloat!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
But don't you give up hope.
More is coming.
More is coming!
You're in it thick or thin,
But keep your faith within...
'Cause more is coming.
More is coming!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
More is coming.
More is coming!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
More is coming.
More is coming!
Even though you're numb,
By that which has been done...
More is coming.
More is coming!
A disbelief is high on your meter.
You're in it thick or thin,
But keep your faith within.
A disbelief is high on your meter.
You're in it thick or thin,
But keep your faith within.
'Cause more is coming.
More is coming.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wilson and Broadway at 4 a.m.
Chicago
Sunday evening. Drunk
and strolling home.
On the way an hour now,
block after block,
bar to bar.
Weekend's gone,
Monday's turning.
Along the way
his swollen fingers find
parking meter posts
are an endless xylophone.
Plunked, they play
the anthem
of a life misspent.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broadford Bazaar
Dirty white caravans down our road, sailing.
Vivas, cortinas, weaving in their wake.
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns flattened, fists whaling,
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake.
And its ''all come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.
Theres home-dyed woolens, and wee plastic [cuillins]
[blessed? ] [cuchulains? ]
[cuchulain == mythical irish hero --- wee plastic cuchulains? ]
[[email protected] (jo lobb) explains: broadford is a town on
Skye (where the road that passes dun ringill leaves the main
Road, incidentally) and skyes famous cuillin hills are nearby.
I suppose tourists could be expected to buy wee plastic models
Of spectacular hills .... also, the cuillin hills are ''also
Known as the coolins or cuchullins, possibly after an ossianic
Hero..., so maybe wee plastic model heroes do make sense, after
All.]
The day of the broadford bazaar.
Out of the north, no oil-rigs are drifting.
And jobs for the many are down to the few.
Blue-bottle choppers, they visit no longer.
Like flies to the jampots, they were just passing through.
And its ''all come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car
Where once stood oil-rigs so phallic
Theres only swear-words in gaelic
To say at the broadford bazaar.
All kinds of people come down for the opening.
Crofters and cottiers, white [wild? ] settlers galore.
[crofter == farmer renting land]
[cottier == farmer renting land]
And up on the hill, theres an old sheep thats dying,
But it had two new lambs born just a fortnight before.
And its ''all come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.
Well take pounds, francs and dollars from the well-heeled,
And stamps from the green shield.
The day of the broadford bazaar.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midnight Anthem
Chicago
Sunday evening. Drunk
and strolling home.
Roscoe's on his way,
block by block,
whistling as he goes
despite the lurching.
Weekend's gone,
Monday's turning.
Along the way
his fingers find
parking meter posts
are an endless xylophone
that only he can play
for all the world to hear
the midnight anthem
of a life misspent.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There once was a dentist from Pilling,
Supposedly not a 'full shilling, '
But he'd drill your tooth out
And if none was about
He would craftily swipe your gold filling.
(Written Feb 1995)
quote by by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In London, before I set out, I had paid one shilling; another was now demanded, so that upon the whole, from London to Richmond, the passage in the stage costs just two shillings.
quote by Karl Philipp Moritz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Clouds...
the old man who
lived by himself down
by the highway...
died this morning in his sleep.
passing cars never even slowed down,
and the mailman left another faceless bill.
the meter reader stopped to read his meter,
and the hands on the clock
continued their crawl....
yet the stray dog walked up
on the porch and howled,
and the trail of ants stopped to weep.
the wind seemed to stop,
for just a moment...
and the sun went behind the clouds.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Das Meter is running
Bonn Prostitutes working the streets
now pay twice for displaying their treats.
They already pay substantial income tax,
for plying the world's oldest profession.
Now Politicans, also whores of a sort,
want more money despite the recession.
Now to make the sin tax yield sweeter
Certain streets now have Prostitute meters.
Six Euros a night is the rate
for these girls who have more than one “date”
So if your “dame des abends” says “Antreiben! ”
as the clocks ticking down on the evening.
She has a legitimate worry
in telling her patron to hurry.
In Bonn, the meter is running
and only the meter maid’s coming!
(The city of Bonn, Germany has installed street meters for Prostitutes. They must purchase (and display? ?) a ticket to solicit on the street. Meter maids enforce payment and collection. I envision the meter maids being like the 400 pound female gorillas Mayor Bloomberg employs here in New York. It's like easy pass for an easy lass.
There is a smattering of German in the poem
Dame des Abends= Lady of the Evening
Antreiben= hurry(up))
poem by John F. McCullagh
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