The Vixen
Among the taller wood with ivy hung,
The old fox plays and dances round her young.
She snuffs and barks if any passes by
And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly.
The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see,
And turns agen, from danger never free.
If any stands she runs among the poles
And barks and snaps and drive them in the holes.
The shepherd sees them and the boy goes by
And gets a stick and progs the hole to try.
They get all still and lie in safety sure,
And out again when everything’s secure,
And start and snap at blackbirds bouncing by
To fight and catch the great white butterfly.
poem by John Clare

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Badger
The badger grunting on his woodland track
With shaggy hide and sharp nose scrowed with black
Roots in the bushes and the woods, and makes
A great high burrow in the ferns and brakes.
With nose on ground he runs an awkward pace,
And anything will beat him in the race.
The shepherd's dog will run him to his den
Followed and hooted by the dogs and men.
The woodman when the hunting comes about
Goes round at night to stop the foxes out
And hurrying through the bushes to the chin
Breaks the old holes, and tumbles headlong in.
When midnight comes a host of dogs and men
Go out and track the badger to his den,
And put a sack within the hole, and lie
Till the old grunting badger passes bye.
He comes and hears—they let the strongest loose.
The old fox hears the noise and drops the goose.
The poacher shoots and hurries from the cry,
And the old hare half wounded buzzes bye.
They get a forked stick to bear him down
And clap the dogs and take him to the town,
And bait him all the day with many dogs,
And laugh and shout and fright the scampering hogs.
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
He turns about to face the loud uproar
And drives the rebels to their very door.
The frequent stone is hurled where e'er they go;
When badgers fight, then every one's a foe.
The dogs are clapt and urged to join the fray;
The badger turns and drives them all away.
Though scarcely half as big, demure and small,
He fights with dogs for bones and beats them all.
The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray,
Lies down and licks his feet and turns away.
The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold,
The badger grins and never leaves his hold.
He drives the crowd and follows at their heels
And bites them through—the drunkard swears and reels.
The frighted women take the boys away,
The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray.
He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race,
But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chase.
He turns again and drives the noisy crowd
And beats the many dogs in noises loud.
He drives away and beats them every one,
And then they loose them all and set them on.
He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men,
Then starts and grins and drives the crowd again;
Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies
And leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies.
Some keep a baited badger tame as hog
And tame him till he follows like the dog.
They urge him on like dogs and show fair play.
He beats and scarcely wounded goes away.
Lapt up as if asleep, he scorns to fly
And seizes any dog that ventures nigh.
Clapt like a dog, he never bites the men
But worries dogs and hurries to his den.
They let him out and turn a harrow down
And there he fights the host of all the town.
He licks the patting hand, and tries to play
And never tries to bite or run away,
And runs away from the noise in hollow trees
Burnt by the boys to get a swarm of bees.
poem by John Clare

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When the dog barks
When the dog barks
Don’t crack, I remark
Watch your back
Maybe it is about to attack
A dog is commonly your loyal slave
But your master when it is brave
It can be your best friend
It can be your worst enemy
When the dog barks
Get ready on your mark
It senses you in the dark
When the dog barks
And you don’t talk back
It will sense the courage you lack
When the dog barks
You may need to give it a whack
To set it on the right track
Before it embarks
On a mission with its mates in a pack
When the dog bites
You must put up a fight
When the dog bites
Think hard, do what is right
When the dog whines
Even you should know it’s not fine
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi

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Always Remember
always remember that when
a fake dog
takes a poise on your sofa
at the middle of your
living room
or your study
try looking
try listening carefully
it never barks.
it is your silly puppy without a mommy
that barks
in the mirror. barking at its image
waggling its tail
the fake ones
do not bark, remember that, and i know that you know
that i know about this plasticity
between us.
it is you that barks
almost every morning when i begin to write a poem
and all the while for years and years
i have always been silent.
that is the difference between us.
and let me tell the obvious. do not be hurt.
i am fake and you are true.you are angry and i never was once.
you breathe. i don't anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Barks of Trees are best gathered in the Spring, if it be of great Trees, as Oaks or the like, because then they come easiest off, and so you may dry them if you please, but indeed your best way is to gather all Barks only for present use.
quote by Nicholas Culpeper

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y - hole- 9+2=11
Lucky at this hole.
Watchout - they steal holes.
WHO-WHO-WHO
Not them - them.
Flowing sands-sands-sands and man.
Catch infinite vibes - MAN.
HOLES-HOLES-HOLES
Gone hole insane, hole insane - PAINS.
Peephole, porthole, volcano hole.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
HOLES FOR SALE 'smart guy'.
Sells nothing - makes money - SMART.
HOLES FOR SALE
LUCKY, , , bought a hole....SMART.
Donut holes-Bagel holes - *FOR SALE*.
Never thought about holes before.
LUCKY, , , at the, , , , ,11 hole.
LUCKY-LUCKY-LUCKY - 'knows'.
HOLES FOR SALE - {sale day}
SALE DAY - SALE DAY - SALE DAY
HOLES FOR SALE
2/27/2009 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit

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Early Morning
the rain just stops showering.
the leaves are wet and some dews are staying.
the sun peeps.the petals of the flowers open up.
some buds follow. some fruits hang heavily on the mango tree.
a pig is tied under and starts burrowing the muddy ground.
some leaves fall. orange in color.
soft winds from the sea come.
the twigs sway. a ripe papaya falls.
a stone receives it.
a cat comes to check if there is any fish.
a dog barks.a bystander runs to the other side of the road.
the canal is full of rainwater. some leaves clog.
moss thickens on the side of the cemented drainage.
a cockcroach runs away and hides on a crevice.
a rat looks over a railing on the roof of the camarin.
an ylang-ylang flower gets caught on the tin roof.
the white sampaguita opens up finally to the
sunny sky. a butterfly hovers. a bee buzzes near my forehead.
my hand makes a snap. it escapes away.
some fruitflies find a new territory on the rotten apple
which i threw last night in the garbage can.
i start the engine of my car. and then to the office i am gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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When a dog barks at the moon, then it is religion; but when he barks at strangers, it is patriotism!
quote by David Starr Jordan

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Love
with love the stone turns into
a rose
with more love the rose turns
into a butterfly
with love some more the butterfly
turns into a woman
a beautiful woman
with betrayal the woman turns into
a very sad moon
and when it dies
it becomes a stone again
at the end
hate turns it to dust
then grief blows it away
until
it is seen no more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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If the dog barks, go in; if the bitch barks you had better stay outside.
White Town
Its midnight down in sector two
Little girl walkin dressed in innocence and cool
Only fourteen and dressed up for the score
Hold that breath now boy, he(? )
She dances, baby, to the beat
Of breaking glass and running feet
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Oh, she comes home from work and grabs something to eat
Turn the corner and walks down her street
In a row of houses, chic, shiny and dirty and grey
Disappears like the scenery in another mans play
And as she dances, oh, to the beat
Oh the trooper stickin dresses for the number on the sheet
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Down in white town
Yeah, mr. outside, youre walkin so free
If you turn your eyes so you dont see
You act like youre the hand turns the key
And you become the hand that turns the key
And no matter how I try I cannot understand
The way that they will turn a man
Into a stranger in his own land
Down in white town
(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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GINGER SNAPS...by talile ali
ONE OF THE STRANGEST TRUTHS, I GUESS
I ALWAYS KNOW GIRLS THAT I WANT TO UNDRESS
IT SEEMS KINDA STRANGE, BUT WHAT CAN I SAY
IF THEY LIKE GINGER SNAP'S, I KNOW THAT I'LL GET MY WAY
CHORUS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
I AM SUCH A FAN OF THOSE GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
SEND ME THE WOMEN I NEED
I SAID IT WAS STRANGE, BUT I'M NOT MAKING IT UP
IF THEY LIKE GINGER SNAPS, I'LL BE EATIN THEM UP
MAYBE IT'S JUST MY THINKIN, BUT I CAN SAY I FEEL
THE SIMPLE FACT TO ME STEPS INTO THE SURREAL
CHORUS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
I AM SUCH A FAN OF THOSE GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
GINGER SNAPS
SEND ME THE WOMEN I NEED
poem by Talile Ali

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Butterfly, Butterfly
Butterfly, butterfly
Your colors so bright
Where do you go
When God turns out the light?
Do you find someplace safe
That you can call home?
Or continue to flutter;
Continue to roam?
Through a buffet of flavors
Slurping nectar so sweet
Savoring a myriad of flowers
As their juices you drink.
Until your tummy's content
And you've had your fill
Now let your food settle
Until your next nectar meal.
Butterfly, butterfly,
Your colors so bright
Where do you go
When God turns out the light?
Do you continue to fly
From flower to flower
Or call it a day
Then wait out the hours?
Do you find a cozy
And comfy place
Where you're sure to show
God's beauty and grace?
Butterfly, butterfly
With colors so bright
Where do you go
When God turns out the light?
I've seen you
Many times before
At a picnic, a ballgame,
At the seashore.
Look for the beauty
God gave us to share
And we will find butterflies
Plentiful there.
Butterfly, butterfly,
Colors so bright
Where do you go
When God turns out the light?
poem by Gail Godin

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I seemed to vow to myself that some day I would go to the region of ice and snow and go on and on till I came to one of the poles of the earth, the end of the axis upon which this great round ball turns.
quote by Ernest Shackleton

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Crawls Away
I fall in she sees me and smiles
Then she starts to hate herself again
She screams something under her breath
That I wouldnt know if she said it outloud
She turns over to start a conversation
With a man that noone else can see
She dreams of loving me sometimes
And it makes me see what weve been missing
Its like I never knew anyone so strong before
She brings the man outa me
And she makes me see that they dont matter
I believe
We see her playin with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
She wears white pants a miami sweater
Says that she loves the os
So uncle dean will come by
Her smile is like sunshine
Her tears hurt like leather
She runs the show she lets me know
Says its all about being the only
Its like someone said you could have one good thing in your life
She couldnt be your type
I didnt plan for your smile, but you make me laugh when you stand dreamin
I believe, we see her layin with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
Where were you yesterday
Now that my heart is wild and free
And my lips have room to wander
How can I say your needing me now
When Ive got a plan
I know you dont understand why my heart is sorry know
I believe
We see her laying with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls
I believe
We see her waiting with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Run Home, Run Home Butterfly
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
there’s rain and hail
and the wind blows wild;
what are you doing
flitting idly by?
run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
duck for cover
excuse the expression;
hide under a tree
or go sleep under the leaves;
have you no sense
of impeding danger?
Oh run home
run home
butterfly;
run run
fly fly fly
the wind blows hard
and you’re being blown around;
what happens if
a tiny hail stone
swings a hole in a wing
or worse -
oh fragile butterfly -
I don’t want to be here to see
a hail stone the size of a child’s fist
land smack on your gentle head
so run home
run home
you silly
playful butterfly;
run run run
fly fly fly
poem by Raj Arumugam

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Summer Is Over
(tom springfield / clive westlake)
The night runs away with the day
The grass that was green is now hay
The world goes around without even a sound
And it looks like the summer is over
The rains tumble down in the sky
Young swallows have learned how to fly
The leaves that were green are no longer so green
And it looks like the summer is over
The sun and the moon take turns in the sky
The days drift on by too soon
The meadows are kissed by a cool autumn mist
Far away now is june
The birds fly away to the sun
The leaves touch the ground one by one
The breeze hurries by without even goodbye
And it looks like the summer is over
The sun and the moon take turns in the sky
The days drift on by too soon
The meadows are kissed by a cool autumn mist
Far away now is june
The birds fly away to the sun
The leaves touch the ground one by one
The breeze hurries by without even goodbye
And it looks like the summer is over
And it looks like the summer is over
song performed by by Dusty Springfield

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly, Butterfly
Hoping to catch your eye
Circling around you, oh my
Butterfly, butterfly, come into the light
Oh, what a beautiful sight
Flying so gracefully
Into the sky, the butterfly
Trying to catch a butterfly
Fly, fly, fly, butterfly
There he sets upon the mums
I'm having so much fun
Here's another on the sill
Your standing so still
You go to touch him
There he goes, the butterfly
I hear a tapping on the window
It's the butterfly, fly, fly, fly
There he goes into the sky
Flying so high, the butterfly
I'll see you another day
Butterfly, butterfly, away
poem by Sharon Adamson

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Lies About Tall Guys
Just seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys seem to get executive jobs
Shorter guys work mostly as clerks
Taller guys never seem to be slobs
Shorter guys always seem to be jerks
Taller guys seem to get all of the action
Shorter guys seem to be quite invisible
Taller guys always seem to deserve satisfaction
Shorter guys are lonely and miserable
Just seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys just seem born to play sports
Shorter guys kinda seem to like tennis
Taller guys certainly look better in shorts
Shorter guys look like Dennis the Menace
Taller guys are usually at the top of their class
Shorter guys seem to fail quite a lot
Taller guys always seem to kick ass
Shorter guys want to, but simply cannot
sure seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys get better grades and such
Shorter guys seem to barely scrape by
Taller guys seem to do better, pretty much
Shorter guys always wonder why
Taller guys seem to have eyes like a hawk
Shorter guys seem to wear glasses a lot
Taller guys cover more ground when they walk
Shorter guys, to keep up, have to trot
Sure seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys and their friends look like N.B.A players
Shorter guys look more like cheerleaders
Taller guys seem to look like dragon slayers
Shorter guys look a lot more like bleeders
Taller guys seem to have more gear to protect
Shorter guys wear more protective gear
Taller guys, more confidence seem to project
Shorter guys have less confidence, more fear
Really seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys appeal to the female gender
Shorter guys always seem to choke
Taller guys carry a lot more legal tender
Shorter guys always seem to be broke
Taller guys seem to drive high dollar cars
Shorter guys drive toyotas
Taller guys seem to reach for the stars
Shorter guys reach for diet sodas
Taller guys are obnoxious, let’s neuter them all
Shorter guys are great people, always a delight
Taller guys are an abomination against mother nature’s law
If you think I’m a short guy….well, you’re right!
Really seems like the way it should be
poem by David Whalen

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Butterfly Buffet
Butterfly, butterfly, your colors so bright
Where do you go when God turns out the light?
Do you find some place safe that you can call home?
Or continue to flutter, continue to roam?
Through a buffet of flavors, slurping nectar, so sweet
Savoring a myriad of flowers, as their juices you drink
Until your tunny's content and you've had your fill
Now let your food settle till you next nectar meal
Butterfly, butterfly, your colors so bright
Where do you go when God turns out the light?
Do you continue to fly from flower to flower
Or call it a day then wait out the hours?
Do you find a cozy and compfy place
Where you're sure to show God's beauty and grace?
I know I've seen you many times before
At a picnic, a ball game, at the seashore
Look for the beauty God gave us to share
And we will find butterflies plentiful there.
Butterfly, butterfly, colors so bright
Where do you go when God turns off the lights?
poem by Gail Godin

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In the spirit of Rumi: 55: Patience
Patience
turns mulberry leaves into silk
through the silkworm
Patience
turns water into wine
through the grape vine
Patience
turns a man into a beloved teacher
through stillness
poem by Michael Shepherd

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