Persian Blues!
That dog next door gets on one's wick! He's just so juvenile...
He's thrilled to bits to chase a stick - he only stops to smile...
They've got him running all day long! They think he's so sublime!
'Gosh, Fido's cute! Gosh, Fido's strong! He's really in his prime! '
This used to be a quiet street - till 'floppy ears' moved in!
Now all I hear is floppy feet that run and make a din!
One likes one's rest! One really does! One doesn't need his sort!
One treasures calm instead of fuss! He doesn't spare a thought!
How can one sleep when he's around? He barks the whole day through!
Fat Fido's just a common hound, while I'm a Persian blue!
One likes to be a cultured cat surrounded by one's peers...
Instead of which, one's on one's mat, nerves jangling, full of fears!
One's whiskers twitch with every bark with bloodshot eyes to boot!
One used to snooze till almost dark, now life's one constant hoot!
It's Fido this and Fido that! When will this Fido rest?
One likes to be a cultured cat, but F. F. Fido, you're a pest!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
0409 The Postman and the Dog, or Plato's Fido
There has to be a reason:
dogs bite postmen.
It's not just that they jump up the sofa to the window
and bark excitedly even when the postman's invisible down the street;
that's smart; but they don't stop at that. For those of us
who still have letterboxes in our front doors,
every one's a tasty finger-trap...and open the front door
to take the parcel - and all hell breaks loose.
You'd think that they'd catch on, that their owners
mostly like to have a dropp each day - even though
its largely bumf (and you can't even use it for that) :
it's not bills every day; no, postie's not our enemy
that dogs defend us from; or do they pick up thrilling smells
even before he's at noselength, of rival canines
all along his round? Can't the perfume industry dream up
a body-spray for postmen to please the canine race?
A kinda Mini Factor Inc., 'Make-Up To the Curs'...
I wonder if the answer's in the Hindu mould:
that this life is the sweet-sour fruit
of last lives' actions; even our living form:
Was the postman with the hang-dog expression
who won't look me in the eye - as if
we both remember some shared former life -
is he on the up: his last life, noble, faithful, obedient dog
with just one fatal flaw: he couldn't resist a juicy mouthful
of postman's ankle?
So now he's born - eternal justice so decreed -
a postman... tooth for a tooth...but carrying in consciousness
a hang-dog memory of that guilt?
Or (since it's said the number of created animal souls
stays constant) is he on transmigration's down escalator -
a human failure as a postman, who, out of public gaze,
aims a shrewd and secret kick at Fido... and
with that hang-dog expression....
yes, you guessed it.
I wonder if I should mention this to him?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dog's Mistake
He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide,
He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside;
He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair,
With a hint of spaniel parents and a touch of native bear.
He was very poor and humble and content with what he got,
So we fed him bones and biscuits, till he heartened up a lot;
Then he growled and grew aggressive, treating orders with disdain,
Till at last he bit the butcher, which would argue want of brain.
Now the butcher, noble fellow, was a sport beyond belief,
And instead of bringing actions he brought half a shin of beef,
Which he handed on to Fido, who received it as a right
And removed it to the garden, where he buried it at night.
'Twas the means of his undoing, for my wife, who'd stood his friend,
To adopt a slang expression, "went in off the deepest end",
For among the pinks and pansies, the gloxinias and the gorse
He had made an excavation like a graveyard for a horse.
Then we held a consultation which decided on his fate:
'Twas in anger more than sorrow that we led him to the gate,
And we handed him the beef-bone as provision for the day,
Then we opened wide the portal and we told him, "On your way."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Consolation
Darwin.
They say he read novels to relax,
But only certain kinds:
nothing that ended unhappily.
If anything like that turned up,
enraged, he flung the book into the fire.
True or not,
I’m ready to believe it.
Scanning in his mind so many times and places,
he’d had enough of dying species,
the triumphs of the strong over the weak,
the endless struggles to survive,
all doomed sooner or later.
He’d earned the right to happy endings,
at least in fiction
with its diminutions.
Hence the indispensable
silver lining,
the lovers reunited, the families reconciled,
the doubts dispelled, fidelity rewarded,
fortunes regained, treasures uncovered,
stiff-necked neighbors mending their ways,
good names restored, greed daunted,
old maids married off to worthy parsons,
troublemakers banished to other hemispheres,
forgers of documents tossed down the stairs,
seducers scurrying to the altar,
orphans sheltered, widows comforted,
pride humbled, wounds healed over,
prodigal sons summoned home,
cups of sorrow thrown into the ocean,
hankies drenched with tears of reconciliation,
general merriment and celebration,
and the dog Fido,
gone astray in the first chapter,
turns up barking gladly
in the last.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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She Likes The Dark
She likes the dark
It keeps her sane
She likes the dark
It makes the maddness go away
She likes the dark it keeps her calm
It makes the anger disappear
She likes the dark
It's just like night
when the owls come hoot in fright
for there is a man
they, even fear
who wears a mask
of gostly haunts,
of tied up children
when he's drunk from beer,
of scars that come from the old mans knife
that keeps stabbing into her life,
the pain, he says, its just a game
win or lose you will still play
She likes the dark
It keeps her sane
It makes the maddness go away
She likes the dark
It keeps her calm
It makes the anger dissappear
but what happens
oh tell me when
the light comes on
giving equal advantage
will she sit and play the game
or will she lose her senses?
poem by Ashley Meier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Va Be'
Va be se proprio te lo devo dire
Non che tu mi faccia poi impazzire
Dio, ci resisto
Se non ci sei non muoio
Non penso solo a te tutte le sere
E anche se non telefoni riesco a dormire
Va be se proprio te lo devo dire
Le calze nere non mi fanno morire
Sar strano
Ma se non le hai non muoio
E poi ti prego non esagerare
Se fai l'amore non ti devi sforzare di urlare
Va be se proprio te lo devo dire
Fisicamente non sei fatta male
Ma non esageriamo
Non sei la Cardinale
E non sopporto che lo fai notare
Con quel tuo modo, ti prego, di camminare
Ma si se proprio te lo devo dire
Non mi dispiace che tu vada a sciare
No, si con gli amici, ho capito
Non non sono geloso
E, perch mi fido naturale
Ah ma allora vuoi litigare
Tu vorresti a tutti i costi farmi ingelosire
Guarda se proprio te lo devo dire
Non che tu mi faccia poi impazzire
Dio, ci resisto
Se non ci sei, se non ci sei non muoio
Me la cavo
Non penso solo a te tutte le sere
Se non telefoni, ti giuro, che riesco a dormire
song performed by by Vasco Rossi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, The Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she can't afford to sit
She likes to be
She likes to be
She likes to be
She's into guilt
Go
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time and has to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has to alter it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Guilt
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh The Guilt (Outtake '93)
She seems to think
She seems too weak
She takes a week to get over it
She likes the sea
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sound
She likes the sand
She likes to stand, she cant afford to sit
She likes to be
Shes into guilt
Guilt
She likes to think
She likes to drink
She seems too weak, she takes all the rent
She likes the time
She owns the time
She borrows time to self-invent
She seems too weak
She likes to see
She likes to think she has all of it
She likes the sand
She likes to stand
She likes to sit
She likes to go
Go
She likes to be
She likes to go
Go
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Likes To Roll
(carly simon)
Why do I try to win the love
That Ive already wooed and won
(chorus)
cause he likes to roll he likes to roll
He likes to roll he likes to roll
He takes the flower from his button hole
When he likes to roll, he likes to roll
I tend to lose my self control
When he likes to roll, he likes to roll
Here in this little sunny bay
Once a day he comes and goes
(chorus)
He likes to roll...
The moon is down but the odds are high
That seeming me, he wont pass me by
(chorus)
He likes to roll...
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am the one of those.....
I am one of those who likes to live,
to be a friend and to forgive.
I am one of those who hates a lie,
if it were for me a war I would deny.
I am one of those who likes to dream,
if to play games then in a family team.
I am one of those who likes to sing
and listen to the bells ring.
I am one of those who likes to laugh,
the time with my dear ones is not enough.
I am one of those who likes fairy tales
and I know that even a hero sometimes fails.
I am thankful to my God and ask our Lord
to prolong my days
so that to look for the new ways.
I am one of those who tries to find the door
leading to more happiness,
I always try to avoid loneliness.
I am one of those who likes to give,
I am one of those who likes to live.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Like Poetry
Some -
thus not all. Not even the majority of all but the minority.
Not counting schools, where one has to,
and the poets themselves,
there might be two people per thousand.
Like -
but one also likes chicken soup with noodles,
one likes compliments and the color blue,
one likes an old scarf,
one likes having the upper hand,
one likes stroking a dog.
Poetry -
but what is poetry.
Many shaky answers
have been given to this question.
But I don't know and don't know and hold on to it
like to a sustaining railing.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I'm the Girl
I'm the girl
That doesn't like mornings,
Only showers at night
It's so hot, it's scalding
I'm the girl
That likes butterflies and fairies
Chocolates and ice-cream
But doesn't like berries
I'm the girl
Who says she has to tinkle
When she needs the ladies
And likes to be fickle
I'm the girl
That loves to read and write
Doesn't like makeup
And always puts up a fight
I'm the girl
Whose imagination runs wild
Likes to try most things
Scary or mild
I'm the girl
Who writes poems in the shower
Then forgets them
In less than an hour
I'm the girl
That wrote this twice
Yesterday it was great
Today it's just nice
poem by scarlette Phoenix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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McCoy
McCoy is a boy,
he doesn't annoy
as he is my pet.
Let's have a bet
he is not fat.
He looks so stout
without any doubt
because of his hair,
it looks so fair,
it's white like snow,
it quickly grow
for me to make a pillow.
I love him so much;
his gentle touch
makes me smile,
it's just his style
to ask for a walk.
That's his way to talk.
When we go out
he becomes a scout,
he wants to know all
though he is small.
He is so curious,
he is never furious.
He likes to be warmed,
he likes to be combed,
he doesn't like to be washed,
and certainly to be bossed.
My home is never empty,
he always waits for me,
when I come back he shows
how much he missed me;
he wags his tail,
that's his way to hail;
he looks into my eyes,
he wants to get a prize.
I will never offend
my devoted friend.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Growing Up
Folded in your fleshy purse
I am floating once again
While the muted sounds are pumping rhythm
All the walls close in on me
Pressures building wave on wave
til the water breaks and outside I go, oh
One dot, thats on or off, defines what is and what is not, one dot
Two dot, a pair of eyes, a voice, a touch, complete surprise, two dot
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
Three dot, a trinity, a way to map the universe,
Three dot
Four dot, is what will make a square, a bed to build on, its all there,
Four dot
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
All the slow clouds pass us by
Make the empire state look high
As you take me in your sea-stained sweetness
It spills, it tingles and it stings
All the pleasure that it brings
til the door has let the outside inside here
Well on the floor theres a long wooden table
On the table theres an open book
On the page theres a detailed drawing
And on the drawing is the name I took
My ghost likes to travel so far in the unknown
My ghost likes to travel so deep into your space
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
Growing up, growing up,
Looking for a place to live
My ghost likes to travel
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside
My ghost likes to travel
Moving inside of your space
The breathing stops, I dont know when
In transition once again
Such a struggle getting through these changes
And it all seems so absurd
To be flying like a bird
When I do not feel Ive really landed here
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's only one thing worse than a man who doesn't have strong likes and dislikes, and that's a man who has strong likes and dislikes without the courage to voice them.
quote by Tony Randall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MY BABY LIKES TO.......by Talile Ali
MY BABY LIKES TO GET BANGED
MY BABY LIKES IT A LOT
DO IT ALL DAY LONG
WITH JUST AS MANY STIFF DONGS
MY BABY LIKES TO GANG BANG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
5,19,15,29
BIG, STRONG, HANDSOME, UGLY
MY BABY WANTS TO FEEL THE MONKEY'S COME
BACK TO BACK,2,3 & 4
MY BABY CAN DO SO MANY MORE
MY BABY LIKES HER SOME
MY BABY LIKES HER FUN
MY BABY LIKES TO GET BANGED
MY BABY LIKES IT A LOT
DO IT ALL DAY LONG
WITH JUST AS MANY STIFF DONGS
MY BABY LIKES TO GANG BANG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
SHE CAN DO IT IN THE MORNIN
SHE CAN DO IT NOON AND NOGHT
SHE CAN DO'EM EATING HER LUNCH
EVEN WHEN SHE DON'T FEEL RIGHT
MY BABY LIKES TO GAND BANG
EVERY SINGLE KIND OF WAY
IF SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORK
WE'LL SHE'D BE DOING ALL, OK?
MY BABY LIKES TO GET BANGED
MY BABY LIKES IT A LOT
DO IT ALL DAY LONG
WITH JUST AS MANY STIFF DONGS
MY BABY LIKES TO GANG BANG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
THATS WHY I WROTE THIS SONG
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Likes It Too
(jack turner/tim nichols)
I got my first motorcycle when I turned sixteen
I remember my mama raisin cane with me
She said, son tell me why you want to ride that thing
She didnt know about the blonde at the dairy queen
I got my own reasons why I do what I do
I like to ride motorcycles
She likes it too
I like to ride motorcycles
She likes it too
I always wore my hair just a little too long
Daddy didn;t like it and he made no bones
If Id have gotten it cut like he wanted me to
She wouldnt have had nothin left to run her fingers through
I got my reasons why I do what I do
I like to wear my hair long
She likes it too
I like to wear my hair long
She likes it too
I remember ridin around with my buddies back home
Listenin to some country on the radio
When they tried to change the startion to some rock n roll
Id turn the opry up just as loud as it would go
I got my reasons why I do what I do
I like country music
She likes it too
I like country music
She likes it too
I got my own reasons
Why I do what I do
I know what I like
She likes it too
I know what I like
She likes it too
Yeah I know what I like
And she likes it too
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look, I'm Not In Love!
No, you've got it wrong! I don't love her.
Yes, she's cute. Yes, she's nice. God, she's nice...
OK, OK, I admit it! Big deal!
You happy now?
Loads of lassies out there just as cute, just as nice!
Why would I pick her?
Why not the girl across the road?
Why not the girl around the corner?
I don't have to pick wossername.
Yes, I know her name! It's Lucy.
Now you're bound to want to say, I love Lucy!
It rolls off the tongue!
Then you'll start to thinking I'm having a ball...
You can't help playing the matchmaker!
Just let things be, eh?
Just try your luck with someone else. Why pick on me?
Yes, I'm single. OK, she's single... what of it?
She'll probably marry some guy!
He doesn't have to be me, does he?
What... she said she likes me?
That's natural. I'm easy-going.
She likes my eyes? What for?
They're just teeny weeny eyeballs.
She says I've got kind eyes? Well, she has, too!
They're quite blue, actually, like sapphires...
Or topaz or soft amethyst... A bit like mother of pearl...
Yes... she IS a lovely girl... and every now and then,
When she smiles, I get this warm feeling, all over...
But that can't be love, can it? Not real love?
Does she really like me? What... REALLY?
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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MIGHT QUEEN OF KONG.....by Talile Ali
MY BABY LIKES TO DO IT
DOES IT ALL DAY LONG
MY BABY LIKES TO DO IT
THATS WHY I'M WRITIN THIS SONG
SHE LOVE'S A FREQUENT SHAGGIN
LIKE'S EM NICE AND STRONG
DON'T YOU JUDGE MY BABY
SHE'S REALLY GOOD TO ME
DON'T BE JUDGIN MY BABY
BECAUSE OF HER NEED FOR EXSTASY
SHE HAS THE SAME WANTS AND DESIRES
JUST LIKE BIT MORE FREQUENCY
SOME LIKE IT ONCE A DAY
SOME LIKE IT ONCE A WEEK
SOME LIKE IT ONCE AN HOUR
AND THERE ARE SOME WHO DON'T EVEN SEEK
SHE'S MY HARD POUNDIN BABY
LIKE IT WHEN SHE'S FEELIN GEEKED
SHE A DOIN ALL NIGHT WOMAN
AND SHE AIN'T DOIN NOTHIN WRONG
THEY WAY SHE LIKES TO DO EM
SHE MAKES THEM WANT TO SING ALONG
MY BABY LIKES TO DO IT
SHE IS THE MIGHT QUEEN OF KONG
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He's Sad
Seems he's there again knows where to begin it helps him carry on
And he likes the way it feels, for awhile he is happy then he fades away..
But he's sad cos he's running out on you
Running out on you
Running out on you
Running out on you
He's a boy up in a tree and the wind has begun to blow
And its useless standing there
And he looks up at the stars and he feels like he's going home
and he likes the way it feels...
But he's sad cos he's running out on you
Running out on you
Running out on you
Running out on you
Running backward, falling over, knowing I can't be there for you
Running out on you (x9)
Seems he's there again knows where to begin it helps him carry on
And he likes the way it feels
song performed by by Zed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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