Snap (Fun Poem 125)
Woke up and had a shower
felt great and refreshed,
laid my clothes out
and started to get dressed.
Dragged on my trousers
and then pulled on my belt.
Snap!
I stood there with half a belt in my hand
and my trousers around my ankles.
Now I need a length of string
to hold my trousers up.
Looks like it gonna be
a new belt day today.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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Wot a Pair
I waz walking down Wyefront street
When me trousers ran away,
I waz feeling incomplete
But still me trousers would not stay,
When I found where they had gone
De pair addressed me rather blunt,
And they told me they were sick of being put on
Back to front.
I told dem I would treat dem good
And wear dem back to back,
I promised dem protection
From a friend who is a mac,
Me trousers did not believe a single word I had to say,
And me underpants were laughing
When me trousers ran away.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening down there. Who is the real hero?
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soily
People gathered here tonight,
I want you to listen to me!
To your left and to you right,
Youve got some pretty soily company.
Reader, writer, farmer, priest,
Breed controler, born deceased.
Indian, lawyer, doctor, dog,
And a plumber with a fattened hog.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
You know hes right.
Romans, italians, country men,
I want you to listen to me!
Ive said it twice and Ill say it again,
Weve got some pretty soily company.
Liar, cheater, jungle chief,
Saint, believer on relief.
Action painter, hitlers son,
And a commie with a tommy gun.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treadmill
The conveyor belt keeps rolling.
You stare straight ahead to the wall
And trek forward while the world stalls,
Hearing tapping feet repeating.
The conveyor belt keeps rolling.
Through your window, nature might call,
But you don't hear that—not at all.
You're closed in by your surroundings.
The conveyor belt keeps rolling.
Meanwhile, opportunity sprawls,
Begging you to escape the small,
Stationary steps to nothing.
The conveyor belt keeps rolling.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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For Posterity
He fell backwards into quick drying cement.
It was something that he hadn’t meant
to do. For his trousers started setting fast,
and ended up looking like a plaster cast.
A stonemason was found to chip away
at this solid mass of clayey grey.
His legs were feeling not quite his own.
He felt like a statue carved from stone.
Finally his limbs were at last released.
His trousers, surprisingly, were not creased.
Two buttock shapes were in concrete created
Something that made him feel very deflated.
For nobody else with any temerity. could say,
Their posterior was preserved for posterity, this way.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Baggy Trousers
Naughty boys in nasty schools
Headmasters breaking all the rules
Having fun and playing fools
Smashing up the woodwork tools
All the teachers in the pub
Passing round the ready-rub
Trying not to think of when
The lunch-time bell will ring again.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Headmasters had enough to-day
All the kids have gone away
Gone to fight with next-doors school
Every term, that is the rule
Sits alone and bends his cane
Same old backsides again
All the small ones tell tall tales
Walking home and squashing snails.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Lots of girls and lots of boys
Lots of smells and lots of noise
Playing football in the park
Kicking pushbikes after dark
Baggy trousers, dirty shirt
Pulling hair and eating dirt
Teacher comes to break it up
Back of the ead with a plastic cup.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Improved Farm Land
Tall timber stood here once, hee on a corn belt farm along the Monon.
Here the roots of a half-mile of trees dug their runners deep in the loam for a grip and a hold against wind storms.
Then the axemen came and the chips flew to the zing of steel and handle--the lank railsplitters cut the big ones first, the beeches and the oaks, then the brush.
Dynamite, wagons, and horses took the stumps--the plows sunk their teeth in--now it is first class corn land--omproved property--and the hogs grunt over the fodder crops.
It would come hard now for this half mile of improved farm land along the Monon corn belt, on a piece of Grand Prarie, to remember once it had a great singing family of trees.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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A Naked Ape!
Imagine if a Llama wore pajamas
or a Leopard put a cap upon his head.
Just think about a kangaroo in trousers
or a sheep all shorn in little skirt and vest.
Most animals would look a tad alarming
in any sort of formal wear or cloth,
but take a human being wearing nothing
now that would be quite shocking at the shops.
Imagine you or I, all bare and naked,
no underwear, no trousers and no socks.
Our faces would turn pink to think about it
but a monkey really couldn't give a toss.
poem by Ruth Walters
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I have *PRIDE* in myself
I tripped
I fell
Into a massive dirty puddle
I ran home embarressed
I accidently ripped my trousers
on the back
my pink hearted pants were showing
I ran to the toilets in shame
My bag broke and fell on the floor
All my books flew everywhere
and I had to chase them
I lowered my head in disbelieve
But still I have pride in myself
the next day I came to school smiling
I walked around the puddle
I wore shorts under my new trousers
And I got a new bag
Today was the day that I got to
walk with my head held high and a massive
grin across my face
I still have pride in myself
poem by MeganOlivia Maxwell
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Nowhere Fast
Id like to drop my trousers to the world
I am a man of means (of slender means)
Each household appliance
Is like a new science in my town
And if the day came when I felt a
Natural emotion
Id get such a shock Id probably jump
In the ocean
And when a train goes by
Its such a sad sound
No ...
Its such a sad thing
Id like to drop my trousers to the queen
Every sensible child will know what this means
The poor and the needy
Are selfish and greedy on her terms
And if the day came when I felt a
Natural emotion
Id get such a shock Id probably jump
In the ocean
And when a train goes by
Its such a sad sound
No ...
Its such a sad thing
And when Im lying in my bed
I think about life
And I think about death
And neither one particularly appeals to me
And if the day came when I felt a
Natural emotion
Id get such a shock Id probably lie
In the middle of the street and die
Id lie down and die ...
Oh, oh
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wapping Old Stairs
'Your Molly has never been false, she declares,
Since the last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs;
When I said that I would continue the same,
And I gave you the 'bacco-box marked with my name.
When I passed a whole fortnight between decks with you,
Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew?
To be useful and kind to my Thomas I stay'd,
For his trousers I washed, and his grog too I made.
Though you promised last Sunday to walk in the Mall
With Susan from Deptford and likewise with Sall,
In silence I stood your unkindness to hear
And only upbraided my Tom with a tear.
Why should Sall, or should Susan, than me be more prized?
For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne'er be despised;
Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake,
Still your trousers I'll wash and your grog too I'll make.'
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Extinct Family
Say lovely lady, can you help a gentleman safely cross the street?
Escort him home at night, treat him to dinner by romantic candlelight
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Say, whats for dinner honey?
No, he will never say those words again
Be quiet when she gets home
In this feminine system youd better leave her alone
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Men extinct finally, gone
She wears the trousers, Kate Bush for president
song performed by by Undeclinable Ambuscade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ride On
I got something in my pocket that makes it hard for me to stay
When I lay down I can feel it, every night and every day
It's a dream I can't get hold of, it's a certain way to be
Lord knows I try to lose it, but it will not let me be.
Ride on, ride on
Is it something that I'm needing, is it something that I fear
Am I chasing or am I running? do I want it to be here?
So strap your scars up, pull your belt in tight
Tell yourself it's worth the pain, 'till that something in your pocket
Ain't never felt again
Ride on, ride on, keep riding on.
Are you looking out, for what's missing inside
You can scream and shout, but you can never ever hide
So strap your scars up, pull your belt in tight
Tell yourself it's worth the pain
To let something in your pocket
Ain't never felt again
Ride on, ride on, keep riding on.
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thugz R Us
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
Wearing hoods and baggy trousers on the bus
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
We don't want no trouble u
Unless you make a fuss
Out in the suburbs
Life is gettin' tough
Me and my posse
Necks are gettin' rough
Down in the Boy's School
Life is getting hard
Know what I'm sayin'
Fightin' in the yard
We got wide-arsed hippie moms
We look smart but we wanna be dumb
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
Wearing hoods and baggy trousers on the bus
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
We don't want no trouble u
Unless you make a fuss
I got some mash-ups
With Snoop and Dr. Dre
I play 'em louder
When my dad's away
We got a Volvo
And plastic chandeliers
Know what I'm sayin'
It's boring me to tears
We got tight-arsed drippy dads
We look good but we wanna be bad
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
Wearing hoods and baggy trousers on the bus
Thugz R Us, Thugz R Us
We don't want no trouble u
Unless you make a fuss
We got beer but we want some crack
We look white but we wanna be black
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Belt Buckle (live)
RED, RED LIPS
SWIVELIN?HIPS
MOVIN' IN SOME NEW BLUE JEANS
SHUFFLIN' SWEET RIGHT WITH THAT BEAT
SHE CAN REALLY SHAKE THAT THING
BELT BUCKLE
SHININ' DAY AND NIGHT
WHEN SHE SHAKE THAT THING
HOPE IT'S NEXT TO MINE
I SAID, LORD HAVE MERCY, MY O?MY
YOU BEEN LOOKIN' TOO GOOD
I THINK YOU WANNA SHAKE WITH ME
BABY I THINK YOU SHOULD
BELT BUCKLE
SHININ' DAY AND NIGHT
WHEN YOU SHAKE THAT THING
HOPE IT? NEXT TO MINE
PLEASE, PLEASE BABY, I WANNA SAY
YOU LOOKIN' SO FINE
AND IF YOU HOLD MINE NEXT TO YOURS
I'LL HOLD YOU NEXT TO MINE
BELT BUCKLE
SHININ?DAY AND NIGHT
WHEN YOU SHAKE THAT THING
HOPE IT'S NEXT TO MINE
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Barefoot Boy
A barefoot boy! I mark him at his play --
For May is here once more, and so is he, --
His dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,
And his bare ankles grimy, too, as they:
Cross-hatchings of the nettle, in array
Of feverish stripes, hint vividly to me
Of woody pathways winding endlessly
Along the creek, where even yesterday
He plunged his shrinking body -- gasped and shook --
Yet called the water 'warm,' with never lack
Of joy. And so, half enviously I look
Upon this graceless barefoot and his track, --
His toe stubbed -- ay, his big toe-nail knocked back
Like unto the clasp of an old pocketbook.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boyhood
Boyhood Remembered
Mother and her sister played poker when I came out of the bedroom looking
for my trousers, but mother had just lost them to Aunt Gabriella who refused
to give them back. I sat by the coal fire and warmed my knees; winter with frost
roses on windows. Without long trousers I could not go to school, the idea of this
pleased me, I began reading a Robin Hood book. I didn’t care so much for him,
he was in love with a girl, but I liked the other ones in his gang. “Here, ” mother
said, “I have won back your trousers, your shoes as well; go to school now.” I was
going to take the bike out of the shed, but a monster rat sat there.
” Mother” I yelled, “There is a big rat in the shad it is eating the tires off my bike.”
Mother dropped the cat out of the window, from our third floor flat, just caught it.
“Put the cat in the shed, ” walk to school, it is good for you biking makes you lazy.”
My sister came with a crate of beer she had bought at the supermarket, ” you are
just like little girl frighten by a tiny rat, ” she said, took the bike out, put the dazed
cat on top of the crate and walked in. I was one hour late for school, but there was
no use telling the teacher why, he would only say I was telling tales as usual.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Disgrace There Is No Escape
Disgrace, there is no Escape.
There was this Norwegian, a gifted violinist he had won prizes in Moscow
and Warsaw, His debut was held in Oslo community hall, yes, the same
place the Nobel committee glad hands peace prizes to the mostly unworthy.
He played an Edward Grieg piece. Everything went well the public gasped
at his ability, then an accident, his trousers fell down, he wore pink lady
knickers. A shocked silence, then a titter, but soon laughter rolled around
the hall. The unlucky fiddler stopped playing couldn’t understand way
the audience laughed, till he looked down, saw his trousers rest on his shoes.
He tried to pull up his pants, lost his violin, stumbled and fell. The laughter
was merciless and never ending. He fled the country as a second cook on
ship bound for Argentina. There he got a job as a cowhand on a ranch in
the deepest pampas and grew a beard. Two years later thinking all was
behind him a newcomer came to the ranch, looked at the violinist and said:
” aren’t you the bloke who lost his trousers? ”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Mario's Pants
I wrote this one for a Friend who now lives in Belgium. She teaches English to Foreign students. One day A student walked in with 'Purple' trousers. Prompting this.....
For the younger ones amongst us
I’ll take you on a trip
Where flower power was the fashion
And beehives made you “Hip”
This came back in an instant
When Mario walked in
With his purple drainpipe trousers
So allow me to begin
Teddy boys and rockers
Were looked upon as thugs
And Mods rode round on scooters
while Hippies played with drugs
Put your hand into your pocket
And look out for a knob
And turn the volume down please
I need to do my job
To say they’re on the little
LOUD side for us all
Is a massive understatement
So I had to make the call
Now all I see is purple
All I think is “Purple rain”
And purple headed trouser snakes
I’m at it once again!
So Mario I thank you
For the memory of the past
You may be first as lovers
But as trend setters, you’re last!
poem by Simon Gowen
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