Cheap socks
oh, these chinese socks
spic and span at the store
they have the touch of
a hubby's smartness
and shilling cheap
now after two wearings
and one washing
they perch on the floor
each a mouse
small, black and round
turning rebels
refusing to take
any of your errands
fingers or foot
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Round The Corner
The mouse run 'round the corner
The mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
an' straight off down the hall.
Pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
pretty much dun all over
by the light of day, she run.
Her putty tail aflying
a putty tail aflyin'
her putty tail aflying
dividin' the hurryscurry air.
She vanish in the floor shine
he vanish in the floor shine
they vanish in the floor shine
and into the puddle sun.
We laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
we laugh all day Black Friday
and all the day before.
And all the day before, now
and all the day before, now
and all the day before, at how
folk will flock to sales.
The mouse run 'round the corner
the mouse run 'round the corner
a mouse ran 'round the corner
and straight off up the hall.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like Birds
I cant look at the rocket launch
The trophy wives of the astronauts
And I wont listen to their words
cause I like
Birds
I dont care for walkin downtown
Crazy auto-car gonna mow me down
Look at all the people like cows in a herd
Well, I like
Birds
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
I cant stand in line at the store
The mean little people are such a bore
But its alright if you act like a turd
cause I like
Birds
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
If youre small and on a search
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
Ive got a feeder for you to perch on
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gold-tipped Boots, Black Jacket & Tie
Im banered and bruised. I got lines I cant use.
My head wont deliver. well, Im sold down the river.
But Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Well, Im turning again.
And Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, Ive been second to none:
This horse was ready to run.
Now Im has-been and used:
Disarmed and de-fused
But Im turning again.
And Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Im egg over-easy
And Im washing-up squeezy.
Appliance for sale:
Fat wind in my sail
And Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Well, Im turning again.
Yes, 'n Im turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, Im turning again.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being Tall
Those men who are considered tall,
defined as more than five foot nine,
are smarter than the ones who’re small.
that’s less than five foot nine. That’s fine
by me, for I was, in my prime,
a little more than five foot ten,
and though I’ve shrunk, it’s not yet time
for me to join the little men
who’re under five foot nine, becoming
less smart than I was when I stood
as tall as smart men, not down dumbing
myself so I’d be understood
by those who are so tiny that
they cannot follow mighty minds
of those who’re tall. Nobility
of soul I claim so long as I
retain with my virility
the size that girls like in a guy,
not small but smart. I’ll deal with fat
in my next poem. Big behinds
don’t correlate with smartness but
that topic is on my agenda
in what I'll call 'Of Brain and Butt, ”
which is a head and tail rear-ender.
poem by Gershon Hepner
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A Friend In New York Shot In An Art Exhibition
big round glasses
chinese eyes framed in black
curly black hair
pigtailed
protruding scarlet lips
closed
mustache untrimmed
you are the mouse of modern art
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gold-Tipped Boots, Black Jacket And Tie
I'm battered and bruised. I got lines I can't use.
My head won't deliver. Well, I'm sold down the river.
But I'm turning again.
And I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I've been second to none:
this horse was ready to run.
Now I'm has-been and used:
disarmed and de-fused
but I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
I'm egg over-easy
and I'm washing-up squeezy.
Appliance for sale:
fat wind in your sail
and I'm turning again.
Well, I'm turning again.
Yes, 'n' I'm turning again.
Wearing gold-tipped boots, black jacket and tie.
Well, I'm turning again
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laundry Spirits
Laundry spirits all around
Stealing things without a sound
When I hang my washing out
Something missing there’s no doubt
An odd sock here an odd sock there
Drives me almost to despair
I wonder if in days gone by
Did my great gran have this, if not why?
Is my washing machine possessed?
Eating socks I do not jest
Doesn’t matter where I look
There’s certainly a mysterious spook
So laundry spirit in the sky
Please give me a reason why
A pair of socks I can understand
But just for one what is your plan?
I’m buying socks that look the same
So I can make up pairs again
So I will have one fewer grey hair
And stop you driving me to despair
08 03 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As Time Goes By
In our town there were many small shops, one selling
buttons the other socks; and a hardware store should
you need a hammer and nails to hang up a picture of
your mother -in- law, in the living room.
There was also a shop selling scarves, another selling
ladies hats, and a third one, quite posh, selling suits and
ties. I mustn’t forget the shoe shop, leather footwear
black or brown and white tennis shoes.
In our street of trade most shops have shut, those still
open are run by the Orientals where you can buy all
you need for a very small price. If your shoes wear out,
no point going to the old cobbler, buy Chinese instead.
Red lanterns sway in the fiscal breeze of decline where
wistfulness has no price tag. But you must remember
this, a shop is just a shop, yet, for us sentimental fools,
are remembered as a sweet memory of times gone by,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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My Daily Ritual
On waking and rising
First foot to touch the floor
Thank you thank you thank you
Second foot to touch the floor
Thank you thank you thank you
Such is my daily ritual
in respect, adoration and honor
of my creator
Without daily thanks
we cannot move forward
we will remain as we are
Without daily thanks
we cannot appreciate
what we are or who we can become
Without understanding this fact
we remain trapped in our own
limiting abilities
Gratitude can set us free
poem by Janice M Pickett
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Missing
Has anybody seen my mouse?
I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?
Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?
Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...
Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Turning Japanese
Ive got your picture
Of me and you
You wrote, I love you.
I love you, too
I sit there staring when theres nothing else to do
Oh, its in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when theres no one else around
Ive got your picture, got your picture
Id like a million of em over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Ive got your picture, Ive got your picture
Id like a million of them over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder its dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
Everyone
Thats why Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so)
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so...)
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nameless Emotion
Scared of being happy,
Too happy to be sad.
Heart just keeps leaping
crazy and wandering,
so can't be sad!
Wrapped in your
Little finger,
Dances my soul
But reigns feel tighter
Around
refusing to go with the flow.
In surrender,
Absolute surrender
Something wants to bow,
Yet another thing in the spine
Refuses to go.
This nameless emotion
Too scared to be happy
Too happy to be sad.
Touch my brow,
magic fingers,
Tears might just flow
Erasing all
That holds back,
refusing to let go
and wrapped in your
little finger
my famished soul might glow.
Pray magic fingers
just....
Touch my brow.
poem by Anjali Kakati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Portis and Coco
Where the hell are my socks?
I have no more
Portis and Coco
are at it again
all are torn, I can't wear them
Portis, the pit
Coco the Shepoo
playing tug of war
with my socks
so it's back to the store
I'ts never enough
to play with a toy
they still get the joy
for some reason, to sniff with my jocks and
tear up my socks
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dime Store Lover
Pulled into town just to check out the sites
Chantilly lace was head to toe in these tights
I smell that perfume now here she come again
I cant believe this chick and a check out that grin
The way that you come yeah the way that you drool
Dont give me no nevermind I aint yesterdays fool
You buzzin round my hive some and reek of self conceit
Rubbin up and down my leg like a dog in heat
Youre a dime store lover
A dime store lover
Just a back page cover
Yeah a dime store lover....
Now some object when I throw down my cool
But Im judge and jury so uh... objection overuled
She did her best just to put on the charm
She said I dare you, I said twist my arm
Donnez-moi un break honey then I paid the cheque
To some psycho chick whos talkin out the side of her neck
I...i...i tipped my hat, she winked her scandle eyes
And cracked a smile - I was mofo suprised
Shes a dime store lover
A dime store lover
Yea a back seat shover
Just a dime store lover....
We was rollin round and round and round
Chantilly took my breath away
Yeah when push came to shove
She gave me all the love
That she was savin for a rainy day
We was rollin round and round and round
Chantilly was my cream brule
I was ooh and ahh, she was ooh la' la'
Un do me baby....
We did the wild thing, it was good stuff cheap
She made some promises she couldnt keep
I think Im fallin for this dime store lover
Cant help it yeah I just got to have it
Youre a dime store lover
A dime store lover
Just a back page cover
Yeah a dime store lover....
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -32
Chase (Rondeau Redoubled)
I won't let you go out o' little mouse
Shall see to it once and all for today
You run run-I run run-round round the house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today
Here I keep the trap to trap and dismay
Sugared magic sure you're fooled o'poor mouse
Cunning you think? brainy you think? ..today
I won't let you go out o' little mouse
Fought, caught, taught to rot petty petty mouse
Bitter squeaks, what a pest, what a hell, hey
Snouty mouse, messy beast, out from this house
Shall see to it once and all for today
May foe feline be fed on you today
Be hooked and thrown-that I shall venge you mouse
Ha, ha, ha then shall all end just today
You run run-I run run-round round the house
No reason, no season, no taste o' mouse
krrkk, krrkk-nibbling all things, all time whole day
Like thief hide and steal you do in my house
But I win, you're caught and lost just today
Here is the trap for your best goal today
Slip in soundless for the 'masaal' o'mouse
I'm sure you will tempted fall but at bay
Thrown awed by foe feline outside the house
I won't let you
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Mouse Is Killed Today
a mouse is killed today
by an artist
who got mad because
the mouse ate his painting
of the nude woman
that evening while he got so furious
the mouse was at his hole
on the floor eating his usual cheese
the artist mumbled and murmured
and grumbled
and the mouse heard it
and called it
slapstick poetry
a doggerel,
the artist was not able to hold his temper
anymore
got an armalite and shot the hole with the mouse in it
in the name of art
the artist invokes his right to kill the mouse
he says it was
' clearly an artistic expression
and protected by the First Amendment.'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Red House
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I once played in that red house
Shy was I, like a little mouse
Tippy toed I went looking around
Giggling, without making any sound
Happy was I to run around and play
My very own home to live and stay
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Darkness came swiftly one night
A sense of something was not quite right
The shadows came across the wall
Covering my eyes, ready for my fall
The sounds of whips and chains dragged
against the floor
The sheer terror numbed me from looking
passed that door
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The darkness slowly turned to grey
The black clouds lifting away
No longer trapped, I did not need to stay
Free was I to let go and make my own way
So ever slowly, opening that door
I could see the light and so much more
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Changing and always moving
Never stopping and always wanting
Step by step, I shed all those tears
One at a time, I climbed up those stairs
Moving closer to where I want to be
No longer a child but an adult me
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I came home today
The Red House, same as it was yesterday
Slowly, walking up that hill
Everything seems to be in a stand still
I could only stay for a while
Before the darkness comes within a mile
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The breath of life you gave to me
But took away the child within me
No longer a pawn to your destruction
I have found my peace and resolution
Turning away towards the path of light
I see a very beautiful sight
My Red House
There is no longer a mouse
poem by Miu Miu Ayushi
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Cat and Mouse
I am the mouse running from the cat,
or am I the cat chasing the mouse?
According to Chinese astrology I'm a Rat,
so who is the boss of the house?
Cat and mouse, chasing in my head.
Who I am? I don't know. It's better to forget...
poem by Jacqui Broad
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A Shilling In The Meter (Fun Poem 76)
Quick
put a shilling in the meter
let the sun come out to play.
The sun being expensive
that shilling won’t last that long
and soon the rain will come back
and the sun will fade away.
I searched my pockets,
and hunted high and low
for another shilling for the meter,
but there wasn’t one there.
So we are stuck with rain
from Monday and Sunday now,
unless someone out there
has another shilling for the meter
somewhere.
28 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only When I Sleep
You're only just a dream boat
Sailing in my head
You swim my secret oceans
Of coral blue and red
Your smell is incense burning
Your touch is silken yet
It reaches through my skin
Moving from within
And clutches at my breast
But it's only when I sleep
See you in my dreams
Got me spinning round and round
Turning upside down
But I only hear you breathe
Somewhere in my sleep
Got me spinning round and round
Turning upside down
But it's only when I sleep
And when I wake from slumber
Your shadow's disappeared
Your breath is just a sea mist
Surrounding my body
I'm working through the daytime
But when it's time to rest
I'm lying in my bed
Listening to my breath
Falling from the edge
But it's only when I sleep
See you in my dreams
Got me spinning round and round
Turning upside down
But I only hear you breathe
Somewhere in my sleep
Got me spinning round and round
Turning upside down
But it's only when I sleep
But it's only when I sleep
It's reaching through my skin
Moving from within
And clutches at my breast
But it's only when I sleep
See you in my dreams
Got me spinning round and round
Turning upside down
But I only hear you breathe
But it's only when I sleep
Got me spinning round and round
Up to the sky
Where angels fly
I'll never die
Hawaiian high
song performed by by The Corrs from Talk On Corners
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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