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Tarantella - Sour Grapes
I admitted that I am utterly charming;
my specialty is to feed sour grapes,
to femmes causing a total disarming,
from this entrancing, none escapes.
After we jumped on the sand dunes,
and fighting against untamed sharks,
twas the hour of listening to tunes,
vented by an orbiting of love quarks.
I danced barefooted on the grapes,
on vigorous must-making tarantella,
thus I approached your curvy shapes,
hmm.. I knew your name was Stella! !
Was it not? While dancing I kissed,
those sour grapes you were holding,
and you insisted that I had to feed,
one by one the grapes on beholding.
What was that name; maybe Maria?
(stiff memory never helped my brain)
O, sour grapes! I called you Allegria,
singing Rossini's 'La Danza' refrain.
You stated you loved only the must,
your vine crown spelled 'Angioletta';
it did not? This loss made me aghast,
I thought Rossini called you Giulietta!
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bragging Modesty
Why boast modesty? Wasn't handpicked
Bragging seems silly, when was obligation strict.
Posing wise on patterns borrowed by others
Followed a code & custom, or advise by mothers.
Justifying tartness, when Grapes felt sour
Choice will be different, when given some power.
Sour now bad and 'the grapes weren't mine'
Go with flock, is their new punch line.
Decency is out; it's Vanity that's in
Advance WE are, hold up the chin.
(Dear) Modesty is a virtue but its flaunting isn't smart
Simple or Not, be honest with all heart.
poem by Samima Shah
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Sour Grapes
I dont care if the sun dont shine
But it better or people will wonder
And I couldnt care less if it never stopped rainin
cept the kids are afraid of the thunder
Chorus:
Say sour grapes
You can laugh and stare
Say sour grapes
But I dont care
I couldnt care less if I didnt have a friend
cept people would say I was crazy
And I wouldnt work cause I dont need money
But the same folks would say I was lazy
Repeat chorus
I couldnt care less if she never come back
I was gonna leave her anyway
And all the good times that we shared
Dont mean a thing to day
Repeat chorus
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Day A Hungry Fox
One day, a hungry fox,
Saw a high vineyard.
It was full of sweet grapes,
He might not have, he feared.
They were hanging in such
A height, that he jumped
And jumped, but couldn't get.
He had to remain starved,
Again he jumped, and jumped,
And went on jumping ever.
But all his efforts were in vain,
He failed to touch that cluster.
Being upset, he got angry
As he wasted his hour.
Before leaving out of pain,
He said--Grapes are very sour!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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The grapes are sour, said the fox, when he could not get at them.
A Sad Melody From An Old Vineyard!
There are no standards of taste in wine, cigars, poetry, prose, etc. Each man's own taste is the standard, and a majority vote cannot decide for him or in any slightest degree affect the supremacy of his own standard.' -Mark Twain,1895
Though the ripen sour grapes sleep in the moonlit night
Yet the Landlady awakes with a solitary song.
Her fiance sleeps in another vineyard beyond the hills
Those grapes are sweet it seems?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.
The television critic, whatever his pretensions, does not labour in the same vineyard as those he criticizes; his grapes are all sour.
quote by Frederic Raphael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Milo
Yeah it was ten years in the making
But they finally got to tour
I bought all their albums, I got their sticker on my door
?????She was with some guy named stan
She drank Bud Ice from a can and got her rocks off with the band
And she would sing to me
She's all over me
This girl is scarin' me
Oh, yeah
When they call her silly girl they were right on
Dirty sheets and sour grapes, she kept on dancing on and on
Just like so many girls, she just wants to go home with the band
Maybe if she makes us practice(?), one of us will hold her hand
Graduated art school and she read of clockwork orange
She asked me if I had any drugs and she laughed when I said no
She ? for a CD, and he thought that he might score
Next thing ya know her minds on Hubert(?), he was passed out on the floor
And she would sing to me
She's all over me
This girl is scarin' me
Oh, yeah
When they call her silly girl they were right on
Dirty sheets and sour grapes, she kept on dancing on and on
Just like so many girls, she just wants to go home with the band
Maybe if she makes us practice, one of us will hold her hand x2
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was probably never going to get to do the kind of things dramatically that I really wanted to do, so I returned to theater from time to time, and to write, and produce. It's by no means sour grapes.
quote by Larry Hovis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most people hew the battlements of life from compromise, erecting their impregnable keeps from judicious submissions, fabricating their philosophical drawbridges from emotional retractions and scalding marauders in the boiling oil of sour grapes.
quote by Zelda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contemporary Poetry (2)
contemporary poetry
is nice to read since they are
not cliches, very much unlike
shakespeare or
mary oliver
i 've seen one and read it
over and over again
it feels like
trickling rain from
my forehead to my
spine
like this:
rain
rain
go
away
come
back
an
other
d
a
y....
i am amazed
i think i will write about jack and jill went up the hill to get a pail of water.
jack forgot and
what is that? jill come rolling after?
the pail.
i am bitter.
sour i mean.
i don't belong
i am one kind of a frustrated contemp...
orary wri
ter.
well, i will try next time
i have to reread
bukowski's advice
i will wait
till the next tick.
oh well,
i got other things to do.
the grapes are sour anyway.
(cliche duh!)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Winning Philosophy
when life handed me
sour lemons
I made lemonade
when life handed me
sour grapes
I made rich red wine
when life was a dangerous
roller coaster
I refused to get on for the ride
when life offered
a shit sandwich
I refused to eat it
did not the great
philosophers
promote positive
states of mental being?
did not the great
philosophers
promote moderation
balance self denial?
happiness is a question of choice
choose wisely live in rewards of wisdom
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Are They Real?
Your grapes are so real
I can smell it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I can almost taste it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I reach out to touch it from here,
Really? I'm not sure they are not real.
I have some green grapes at their best
I have some green grapes at their best
And I am waiting for you to pass by
For these grapes are of such great taste
It is the truth so I swear and so I sigh
They were raised upon mountains high
where the wind softly blow
and a herd of wild horses feeds nigh
on tall grass blades rooted grow
So this is why my grapes are so sweet
The mountain spring by them lead
Tall reeds guard the gates
To keep out the ugly crow’s gait
Quietly my green grapes wait
For the clock sounds the hour late
What makes you hesitate?
What makes you not keep your date?
Therefore my grapes are so sad
And I am waiting not have gone yet to bed
But here I hear approaching steps from the south
My green grapes are full of hopes for your mouth
But still I am so lonely and sad
Since to bring flowers you forbade
May be next year you change your mind
And to my request you be more kind
And I will bring you flowers from the bowers
Wet with rain of rainbow showers
copy rights 2010
Disappointment in Old Age
The days drag by. I fritter
Them away. Old and bitter,
I call my fellow humans apes
And live on a diet of sour grapes.
But what did I expect? Did I think
I'd earn my living with pen and ink?
That everything would be handed to me on a plate?
I'm wiser now but it's too late.
I realise I've missed the boat,
And now my enemies can gloat
While I'm searching for what I'll never find,
That elusive treasure, peace of mind.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Ode to A Sour Pickle
Ode to a sour pickle,
To pucker up your puss.
Lay down a shiny nickel,
Come on, don't be a wuss.
The heck with kosher dills,
And sweet little pickles too.
It's sour pickles for your gills,
Can't take a thing in lieu.
A big ole sour pickle,
Will bring on a grimace.
Where they're concerned I'm fickle,
Please bear me no malice.
12/23/10 Alton Texas
poem by by unknown author
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