En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Bed

The spider weaves silk for its web;
birds gather twigs to make their bed.
We just go down to the furniture store
and pick whatever we choose.
Dogs and Cats curl up on a matt
making sure they hog the fire
while it seems we sit a mile away
and in the cold, shiver.

22 October 2009

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace And Propriety

in the name of propriety
to cats we must be cats too

you know what happens when
we show to the cats that we
are really dogs in feelings and
actions,

there will be a chase of course,
and chaos, and there will be war
and there will be losers and
winners,

and in this matter
and manner of speaking we choose
to be dogs to assure that we win

but that is not always the case
the cats have advanced in their feline
technology and breeding

so my dear, let us just be proper
to cats we shall be cats
and make this world a happy place
for all.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Set them free..They will multiply..

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.

collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.

I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring

Shiver shiver in the cold
Who is that standing out there bold

Primrose, Bluebell,
Crocus and the rest
Daffodills number amung the best
Willows covered with soft fur
Budding trees to occur.

The time is near..
To put away
The coat....
And winter gear..
Tank top, Shorts, strapless wear
Flaunt if you dare

Prisoner of the inside
now no more
The fire has moved
For you to store
Letting your spirit dance all free
Now let it be..
Restore the body and the soul
Outside freedom now lets go..

Torrid rays of the sun
Saying it is done
Melting the adhesive hold
Luquifying the icy cold
Winters grip is no longer bold
Greenery and flowers
It will bring
Birds in the trees giving you their sing

Shiver shiver
In the past
Now you are laying on the grass....

poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A flimsy cobweb

I see a spider weaves its tiny network in between the twigs in the garden.
And I thought If I am an insect,
Then I could have rush into your mesh
And swing until a twilight sleep.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Afternoon

Three yellow cats up a tree.
Our fire-red grill is still cold.
We're tossin' horseshoes and
watching blue dogs
circle three cats up a tree.

poem by Rick Stokes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spider Silk

Its lining is that of silk,
Like a from a spider,
For it their spiders are webbing
To determine for the workers to liven their salary.
To test an exam for the student,
Who lightens the silk for the dress he was given
By the tailor.
He exchanged the silk of a spider for its spit.
Spit has venom.
Student is dead from silk.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blessed Cats and Dogs

Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?
Causing the country to insist
What the blows are to the chest.

Why do little angels work so caressed?
Making the country to assist
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?

My soldiers in the army are with a blood test,
Keeping lines and dictation as a checklist,
What the blows are to the chest.

Amazed by the brilliance of those in the contest,
Canine help became something to co-exist,
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?

May service feed the animals of conquest,
Domestic keepers will arrive at their crest,
What the blows are to the chest.

We see, we know the animals are depressed,
May loving people take a goodness as a list,
What the blows are to the chest,
Cats and dogs, aren’t they blessed?

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curl

You curl, you know how to curl,
Yes you know a curl in your hair
And you curl yourself like a
Hair, in your bed,
It is so cold and no one
Sleeps here
No one comes
There is no hello
As guest and no
Hi to pretend
You are coming
Well, you curl, you know how to curl,
Like your hair,
This time, curl forever,
Nothing straight till the end,
Eternal curl,
Still
Touch it

It bounces and rebounces,
touch it again,
and be silent

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rocket Love

Do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do
Do do do, do do do, do do do-oo
I longed for you since I was born
A woman sensitive and warm
And that you were
With pride and strength no one would test
But yet have feminie finesse
And so much more
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
A female shakespeare of your time
With looks to blow picassos mind
You were the best
Your body moved with grace and song
Like symphonies by bach or brahms
Nevertheless, oh oh
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Ooh you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Da da da, da da da, da da da, da da da
Da da da, da da da-aa
The passion burning in your heart
Would make hells fire seem like a spark
Where did it go
Just why that you would overnight
Turn love to stone as cold as ice
Ill never know
But you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Baby you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Cold, too cold, you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Oh, oh, oh, took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to into this cold, cold world
I would not do that to a dog
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Ooh baby
Rocket love

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fifteen

You curl, you know how to curl,
Yes you know a curl in your hair
And you curl yourself like a
Hair, in your bed,
It is so cold and no one
Sleeps here
No one comes
There is no hello
As guest and no
Hi to pretend
You are coming
Well, you curl, you know how to curl,
Like your hair,
This time, curl forever,
Nothing straight till the end,
Eternal curl,
Still
Touch it

It bounces and re-bounces,
touch it again,
and be silent

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Trail Of Pessoa

i've walked this road for so long,
that i know what silence tastes like.
i hear only the simple sounds,
or the simplicity of sound...
i no longer confuse shadows,
and i sleep with dogs.

owning nothing,
there's nothing i would kill
to purchase!
there are no footprints
in front of me,
i follow no one.

intimate encounters with strangers,
for we are all strangers,
even to ourselves.
perhaps a word or two,
or not...
we share the cup, and the fire.

i have long conversations with trees,
read intimate stories
written in branches and leaves...
sing lovesongs to small pools of water,
pick up the broken shell of the hatchling
with awe....

my eyes bow in reverence
in the presence of women...
small children come to me,
tell me stories about dreams.
we build kingdoms of sticks,
discarded by birds....

stray cats sit on my lap,
i learn the language of paw.
i listen to the wind
humming in the spider's web.
and dead things rest
by the side of my chair...
waiting for dawn, just waiting!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aphelion

Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
If his moon’s face had, blue-paced, grown a frown,
Maybe, if his wintered kings think higher,
If bone-robes of gold tried long to drown.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
If sly crying eyes marred stars and skies,
And had not washed away Sam’s happy pire,
Which wept three tipples true with his fine lies.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
If his hills had willed six steep-found ills,
And if his children’s chiding wasn’t dire,
As if there lives some love beyond his wills.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
And make nine lines of moonlight moving still,
And if his crazy cats would stop their ire,
And drink their skinny dinner for his fill.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
Yes if, beneath these seas, lush fish could breathe,
And each dumbstruck ivy could climb higher,
If some sober men sung well in Meathe.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
And let lost cold of soul burn urn tonight,
If his adoring peacocks could admire
Bold beauty by men’s death in fickle fright.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
Re-instigate red turrets in his seas,
If his smiling sun would re-retire,
And make quake flames for earth in each wan please.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
And make his clipped wings, with my sky, touch down,
If his mountains called all birds fine sire,
And guitars had laughed unlike his clown.
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
If his jury also felt false wigs,
Maybe I could synthesise a fire,
If his trembling hands could start two twigs.

poem by Sean Godley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curl Up

Curl up beside me
whisper in my ear
all the love between us
such passion so my dear

Curl up beside me
and never let me go
you fill my life with pleasure
oh, how I love you so

Curl up beside me
My one and only love
Curl up beside me
you fit me like a glove

2009

poem by CarolAnne Spalding
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Conscientious Deacon

(A song to be syncopated as you please)

Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau—
Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.

He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.
He sees big white men with dogs and guns.

He falls down flat. He turns to stare—
No cats, no dogs, and no men there.

But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.
The wind says, 'Miau!' and the rain says, 'Hum!'

He goes straight home. He dreams all night.
He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.

Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire looks fine!
Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire rolls in.

And so, next day, to avoid the worst—
He takes that cow
Where he found her first.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cats Eye Resurrection

Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Eye
Cats ~ cats ~ cats
Splashing on my walls ~ my walls
In the field the bodies are tied
To the their crosses hair hanging down
The blood is rolling down their
Arms to the waiting dogs
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Doctors
Bad ~ bad ~ bad
Counting the meat on the tables
In the field the bodies are tied to the
Altar the popes mule sings a song of
Freedom from his majesty-the pope
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Butchers
Nazi ~ nazi ~ nazi
Waving their tongues in the air
Cats-cats-cats-bad-bad-bad-cats eye
Resurrection

song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Dogs Run Free

If dogs run free, then why not we
Across the swooping plain?
My ears hear a symphony
Of two mules, trains and rain.
The best is always yet to come,
Thats what they explain to me.
Just do your thing, youll be king,
If dogs run free.
If dogs run free, why not me
Across the swamp of time?
My mind weaves a symphony
And tapestry of rhyme.
Oh, winds which rush my tale to thee
So it may flow and be,
To each his own, its all unknown,
If dogs run free.
If dogs run free, then what must be,
Must be, and that is all.
True love can make a blade of grass
Stand up straight and tall.
In harmony with the cosmic sea,
True love needs no company,
It can cure the soul, it can make it whole,
If dogs run free.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pac-a-mac

I wear my cap with pride
When swaying side to side
Indoors where it be crude
Too late to find me shrewd.
I never lay in doubt
When walking from about
At home where it be warm
Youre sound asleep unborn!
Im a small chap
Walk tall chap
When it rains
Cats and dogs
From my pocket I pick a pac-a-mac.
Inside a rubber wall yelling
Screams echo, off the ceiling.
My love could penetrate
So Ill leave you now prostrate.
My fag smoulders out and out
And odours waft there about
So I give my head a kip
My caps worn to a split.
Im a small chap
Walk tall chap
When it rains
Cats and dogs
From my pocket I pick a pac-a-mac.
I wear my cap with pride
When swaying side to side
Indoors where I feel nude
Too late to find me shrewd.
I never lay in doubt
When walking from about
At home where it be warm
Youre sound asleep unborn!
Im a small chap
Walk tall chap
When it rains
Cats and dogs
From my pocket I pick a pac-a-mac.

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Birds and Animals

A dear bird shall shake and make
The clean interior of my living house;
Its chemical shall teach, remake our rooms
Into delightful and delicious abodes,
Full of changeable furniture, clammy chairs
And comfortable tables of bronze and wood.
Heavy utensils make the birds fly forever,
Importing themselves haughtily,
With hanging furniture, a closed door.
Greedy and grubby, the animals of the wilderness
Enter with flagrant patterns, filthy apparel.
A gorgeous person of animal spirits, called an ape,
Lopes in with an air of diligence, strongly perverted
In the ways of primates.
It is a person so hellish, that birds fly with stealth
To the outside-air. Hilarious movements are recorded,
Making people grieve and be homeless.
Humorous times make humorous people laugh.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boris The Spider

Look, hes crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now hes up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now hes dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe hes as scared as me
Wheres he gone now, I cant see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
There he is wrapped in a ball
Doesnt seem to move at all
Perhaps hes dead, Ill just make sure
Pick this book up off the floor
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Hes come to a sticky end
Dont think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl round
Hes embedded in the ground
Boris the spider
Boris the spider

song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Animals Can Count

PART ONE - DIAMOND AND HER KITTENS

She was a proud mother
Of four little kitties,
She told us thereafter
Of her maternal bliss.

Two days later, two died,
She looked and was frantic-
She thought we tried to hide
Her newborns in the attic.

Her mournful mother's cry
Kept gnawing through the night
To her we tried to lie-
Only two saw the light.

Yes, cats know how to count
So we had to explain,
Whatever one discounts-
Mothers cats know the pain.

PART TWO - MACKIE AND KUTCH

So if cats can count,
Well the dogs can too.
In our home there are two
Who guard who goes through.

They know who is still out
They will watch the gate waiting
Not at home hereabouts-
Which master is still missing.

They know by the sound
And can smell miles away,
Their master has been found
And he is on his way.

Their jubilant greeting
Say the number is complete,
They are through with the counting-
And they are ready to eat.

PART THREE - SAMMY THE SPIDER

Now you say this is odd
And there is no proof
Meet a spider lad
Who lives up our roof.
Sammy's home is a web
Of clean measured strands
Numbered lines does he have
Lots of room in his hands.
He can count the distance
Each web from the other
Skills learned by chance
Obviously from his mother.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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