Doodles
When your mind is full of concentration,
but your hand maybe busy too,
drawing something
on the edge of the page,
because doodling is what you do.
Many people doodle,
with numbers, characters and swirls.
It does not matter,
what kind of doodle that you do.
This little poem was written,
for doodlers, and only just for you.
10 June 2006
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Yankee Doodle
Yankee Doodle had a mind
To whip the Southern traitors,
Because they didn't choose to live
On codfish and potatoes,
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And to keep his courage up
He took a drink of brandy.
Yankee Doodle said he found
By all the census figures,
That he could starve the rebels out,
If he could steal their niggers.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
And then he took another drink
Of gunpowder and brandy.
Yankee Doodle made a speech;
'Twas very full of feeling;
'I fear,' he says, 'I cannot fight,
But I am good at stealing.'
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
Hurrah for Lincoln, he's the boy
To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle drew his sword,
And practiced all the passes;
Come, boys, we'll take another drink
When we get to Manassas.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
They never reached Manassas plain,
And never got the brandy.
Yankee Doodle soon found out
That Bull Run was no trifle;
For if the North knew how to steal,
The South knew how to rifle.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
'Tis very clear I took too much
Of that infernal brandy.
Yankee Doodle wheeled about,
And scampered off at full run,
And such a race was never seen
As that he made at Bull Run.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
I haven't time to stop right now
To take a drop of brandy.
Yankee Doodle, oh! for shame,
You're always intermeddling;
Let guns alone, they're dangerous things;
You'd better stick to peddling.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy,
When next I go to Bully Run
I'll throw away the brandy.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doodlin
(h. silver/j. hendricks)
Usin? the phone booth/makin? a few calls
Doodlin? weird things/usin? the booth walls (yeah!)
Got me a big date/waitin? for my chap
A-puttin? his fine on/so he can look dap
I enjoy procrastinatin? cause Im busy while Im waitin?
Doodlin? away/yeah!
Sittin? and dinin? dinner beginin?
Started refinin? usin the linen
Talkin to my man/doodlin? my bit
Waiter got salty/told me to please quit
Told the waiter, dont be dizzy/cause you see Im very busy
Doodlin? away? oh yeah!
Those weird designs
They only show whats goin? on in weirdy minds
cause when you doodle then your noodles flyin? high
Everything rushes by might just be a thought
That you caught while coppin? a wink
Doodlin? takes you beyond what you think
And then you draw what you think, yeah!
Later the waiter/had me arrested
Took me to belleview/where I was tested
Had me a doctor/bought him a noodle
Boy he was handsome/taught him to doodle
Showed him hidden thoughts that linger/find an outlet through your
Finger
Doodle away!/oh yeah yeah!
Doctor was real nice/told me to be cool
Looked at the waiter/called him a real fool (yes he did)
Looked at my baby/told him to feel free
Got him to doodlin? so he could bug me
When he put his arms around me/quite to his surprise he found me
Doodlin? away/yeah
Oh lets doodle baby yeah
A-doodle to the left now
Doodle a little to the right yeah
Alright, doodle to the right, left, right, left
Doodle away! doodlin? takes you beyond what you think...
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cooped and Booted
Those slayed by capers and duped!
Finger pop and bop.
Raked and scraped up to be dropped.
Hip hop.
Hip hop.
And pooped by a looping that scoops.
Easily snooped,
As they holler with a hooping hoot,
Cooped.
Those slayed by capers and duped!
Finger pop and bop.
Raked and scraped up to be dropped.
Hip hop.
Hip hop.
And pooped by a looping that scoops.
Easily snooped,
As they holler with a hooping hoot,
Cooped.
Those...
Slayed by capers and duped!
Finger pop and bop.
Raked and scraped up to be dropped.
Sing,
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
While cooped and booted.
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
Cooped! .
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
And booted.
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
Those slayed by capers and duped!
Like roosters trained,
To boost the hens...
To,
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
Those slayed by capers and duped!
Like roosters trained,
To boost the hens...
To,
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
And booted.
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
Cooped!
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
And booted.
Cockadoodle doodle doodle doo.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doodle Traced
I can do a doodle traced.
And be careful not to waste space.
Showing somewhat of an artistic origin.
To maintain a flow most would call talent.
With an assurance any doodle done I do,
Does that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ratcatcher's Daughter
Not long ago, in Vestminstier,
There liv'd a ratcatcher's daughter, -
But she didn't quite live in Vestminstier,
'Cause she liv'd t'other side of the vater; -
Her father caught rats, and she sold sprats,
All round and about that quarter;
And the gentlefolks all took off their hats,
To the putty little ratcatcher's daughter.
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
She vore no 'at upon her 'ead,
No cap nor dandy bonnet,
The 'air of 'er 'ead all 'ung down her back,
Like a bunch of carrots upon it;
Ven she cried 'Sprats!' in Vestminstier,
She 'ad such a sweet loud woice, sir,
You could hear her all down Parliament Street,
As far as Charing Cross, sir.
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
Now, rich and poor, both far and near,
In matrimony sought her;
But at friends and foes she turn'd up her nose,
Did the putty little ratcatcher's daughter.
For there was a man, sold lily-vite sand,
In Cupid's net had caught her;
And right over head and ears in love
Vent the putty little ratcatcher's daughter!
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
Now lily-vite sand so ran in'er 'ead,
As she vent along the Strand, oh!
She forgot as she'd got sprats on her 'ead,
And cried, 'D'ye vant any lily-vite sand, oh,'
The folks, amaz'd, all thought her craz'd,
As she vent along the Strand, oh!
To see a gal vith sprats on 'er 'ead
Cry, 'D'ye vant any lily-vite sand, oh!'
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
Now ratcatcher's daughter so ran in his 'ead,
He couldn't tell vat he was arter,
So, instead of crying 'D'ye vant any sand?'
He cried, 'D'ye vant any ratcatcher's darter?'
His donkey cock'd his ears and laughed,
And couldn't think vat 'e was arter,
Ven he heard his lily-vite sandman cry,
'D'ye vant any ratcatcher's darter?'
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
They both agreed to married be
Upon next Easter Sunday,
But Ratcatcher's daughter she had a dream
That she wouldn't be alive on Monday;
She vent vunce more to buy some sprats,
And she tumbled into the vater,
And down to the bottom, all kiver'd up with mud,
Vent the putty little ratcatcher's daughter!
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
Ven Lily-vite Sand 'e 'eard the news,
His eyes ran down with vater,
Said 'e, 'In love I'll constiant prove;
And - blow me if I'll live long arter.'
So he cut 'is throat vith a pane of glass,
And stabb'd 'is donkey arter!
So 'ere is an end of Lily-vite Sand,
Donkey, and the ratcatcher's daughter.
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
The neighbours all, both great and small,
They flocked unto 'er berrein',
And vept that a gal who'd cried out sprats,
Sould be dead as any herrein'.
The Corioner's Inquest on her sot,
At the sign of the Jack i' the Vater,
To find vat made life's sand run out
Of the putty little ratcatcher's daughter!
Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
The verdict vas that too much vet
This poor young voman died on;
For she made an ole in the Riviere Thames,
Vot the penny steamers ride on!
'Twas a haccident they all agreed,
And nuffink like self-slaughter;
So not guiltee o' fell in the sea,
They brought in the ratcatcher's daughter!
*Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
*Well, ladies and gentlemen, - arter the two bodies was resusticated - they buried them both in one seminary - and the epigram which they writ upon the tombstone went as follows - Doodle dee! doodle dum! di dum doodle da!
poem by E. Bradley
Submitted by anonym
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Yankee Doodle Never Went To Town
Arthur freed / bernie hanighan
Yankee doodle never went to town
I just discovered the story was phony
Let me give you all the real low-down
He didnt even own a pony
He was really very short and fat
While in the story so skinny and moany
And so hungry that he ate his hat
And called the felt macaroni
Underneath the chestnut tree
He and the blacksmith would sip that tea
Then hed bring out his uniform down
Thats how he went to town
Yankee doodle tried to leave one day
Took his belongings and mounted his saddle
But he never got it on his way
Cause he didnt have a pony
And the fairy tale is phony
How could yankee doodle go to town?
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleventh Avenue Racket
There is something terrible
about a hurdy-gurdy,
a gipsy man and woman,
and a monkey in red flannel
all stopping in front of a big house
with a sign “For Rent” on the door
and the blinds hanging loose
and nobody home.
I never saw this.
I hope to God I never will.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Hoodle-de -harr-de-hum.
Nobody home? Everybody home.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Mamie Riley married Jimmy Higgins last night: Eddie Jones died of whooping cough: George Hacks got a job on the police force: the Rosenheims bought a brass bed: Lena Hart giggled at a jackie: a pushcart man called tomaytoes, tomaytoes.
Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.
Hoodle-d e-harr-de-hum.
Nobody home? Everybody home.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time
I am time who knows
Who knows but
I am what I am
The shadows are thin
The nights have veiled in
Like a turkey cock
Like a doodle I am doodling
In your
Life there is lack of timing
I have wits, what a razor sharp wit
Monolithic culture have been flowering
I remained runners up and all encompassing
Circumnavigating you became a laughing stock
Stunning to see my caliber like a rock
Whatever will you do?
I have least inclination
I am jaunty
You are skinny
Who will eat the booty?
Time is moving scandalously
A world full of bankruptcy
How and why I glamorize it all
Is least potent and more finicky
I am the dowry for the women
And evangelist moving slyly
poem by Hafiz Qasim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wear Out The Turnpike
Written by - Jim Croce & Ingrid Croce
There's ice and snow on the northern roads
And the Jersey Pike is closed
Have to go and do some drivin' tonight
They say I'd be a fool if I would ride those icy roads
But a little storm ain't stoppin' me tonight
Chorus:
I'm gonna wear out the turnpike
Rack up those miles
Keep this rig a rollin', I'm in it every mile
'Cause she's in Oklahoma and
I'm up in Maine
So diesel sing a song that will bring me home again
Doodle doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doodle doo doo doo
There's a red light turnin' behind me
There's a trooper on my tail
I can tell I won't get to New York town on time
If he decides to pull me over
And if he get's me on the scale
I'm gonna have to tell a tale or take a fine
Chorus
With the snow against my windshield
I will run on through the night
There's not stoppin' me once I hit the road
Cause the turnpike's like my second home
And I know it like my hand
So diesel sing a song that'll bring me home again
Chorus
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Defenselessness
Doop
Doodoo doo doo doo
Doop doodum doodum doo doo doo.
Doo doodum...
Doo doo doo doo doodle.
Doop
Doodoo doo doo doo
Doop doodum doodum doo doo doo.
Doo doodum...
Doo doo doo doo doodle.
Yep,
That's it!
My baby...
Amazes me.
She's there...
Whenever I may be,
In between.
She's there...
And my baby is everything!
My baby...
Kisses me,
And I,
Get 'hungryness'
For her kiss!
And I know...
What defenselessness can mean!
Doop
Doodoo doo doo doo
Doop doodum doodum doo doo doo.
Doo doodum...
Doo doo doo doo doodle.
Yeah...
Doop
Doodoo doo doo doo
Doop doodum doodum doo doo doo.
Doo doodum...
Doo doo doo doo doodle.
My baby...
Kisses me
And I,
Get 'hungryness'
For her kiss!
And I know...
What defenselessness can mean!
Yes, I know...
What defenselessness can mean!
Who better shows...
That defenselessness in me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wang Dang Doodle
Tell Automatic Slim
Tell Razor Totin' Jim
Tell Butcher Knife Totin' Annie
Tell Fast Talkin' Fanny
Tonite we're gonna pitch a ball
Down to that union hall
Gonna romp and tromp 'till midnite
We're gonna fuss and fight 'till daylight
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Poodle I'll tell him here
Tell Albert I'll see him near
Tell old Pistol Pete
Everybody gonna meet
Tonite we need no rest
We're really gonna throw a mess
We're gonna break out all the windows
Gonna kick down all the doors
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Fats and Washboard Sam
That everybody's gonna jam
Just shake it Boxcar Joe
We got sawdust on the floor
Tell Chicken Head Till I Die
We're gonna have a time
When the fish head fills the air
Be snuff juice everywhere
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art of Paper
something to be read
something to be adored
something to be touched
the smell of fresh ink
the smell of old book
something to be written
something to be drawn
something to be memorized
the plain blank page
the tiny naughty doodle
though it can be burned
though it can be torn
though it can be fragile
it's not enough re-tell stories
it's not enough replaced by flat monitor
any colors of heart's change
any crazy lines and letters
any cuts and any adds
mark my words
like paperholic lover
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Somewhere At The Edge Of A Poem
SOMEWHERE AT THE EDGE OF A POEM
Somewhere at the edge of a poem
Is another poem
And that poem too leads to another
And poem after poem
The whole of a life is written.
And when not one single line of that poem is read
It goes down into the ground as if it never were.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Poem Which Is Not A Poem
THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM
There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
Its heart is too much in thought.
It does not sing us to somewhere else.
There is a poem which is not a poem
Prosaic confessional flat,
Its says its single thing from the soul
And leaves the page without implication.
How many such poems have I written
As I write this one now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gagged
upon this page
a very important poem is
written
but the writer
fears
that it is not appropriate
for all of you
and so this page
was once
a place of that very important poem
that could have
changed the lives of some
lonely people
said poem
is deleted
it is inside my head
and it is
screaming.
it is a bad poem
claiming its own importance
if you know
conceit, pride, bias,
if you were once its servant
then you also have
that poem
in your head
it is screaming
and so i gag it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Edge Of My Old Age
ON THE EDGE OF MY OLD AGE
On the edge of my old age
A strange calm comes to me
I have done what I have done
Whatever it be.
On the edge of my old age
Anger is my soul
I have not climbed the mountain
And now I’m far too old.
On the edge of my old age
I still wait to see
What will become
Of all I dreamed.
On the edge of my old age
Joy in my life
I have written for years
And still love to write
On the edge of my old age
Still striving to be
I must strive with more courage
No matter what be
On the edge of my old age
The omnipresent fear
A pained burden forever
A mind unclear.
On the edge of my old age
Enjoying my little life
Praying for grandchildren
For my children and wife.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cock-a-doodle-do
Cock-a-doodle-do
Sings the cock in the morning
To wake up people!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Victorian Superstar
A literary genius was born this day
Charles John Huffam Dickens was he
two hundred years ago in 1812
he wrote great classics like Nicholas Nickleby.
Writing by candlelight using quill and ink
he created stories that will never end
great characters like Oliver Twist and Scrooge
and novels such as Little Dorrit and Our Mutual Friend.
On his shoulder perched Grip his pet Raven
at his feet his dog Timber Doodle would sit
as Dickens wrote for hours and hours
about the exploits of Edwin Drood and Martin Chuzzlewit.
If he was alive today he'd be bigger than Elvis
then again he was way ahead of his time
living in the harsh Victorian era
he would write about corruption, poverty, and crime.
He liked to give his characters wacky names
inspired by people on the streets and in the pub
like Jerry Cruncher, Mr Fang, Horatio Fizkin,
Toby Crackit, Mrs Spittletoes, and Gabriel Grub.
So happy birthday Mr Dickens and many thanks
for your great books and characters full of fun
these novels are still being enjoyed today
so long live A Christmas Carol and Dombey and Son.
Charles Dickens born 7th of February 1812.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My job 'cock-a-doodle-doo'; from then on, it may not dawn.
I know only two tunes: one of them is ""Yankee Doodle,"" and the other isn't.
quote by Ulysses S. Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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