The Dancing Socrates
I roast in the sun, old wretch...
I lie, and yawn, I stretch.
Old am I, but full of pep:
When I take a slug from the cup
I sing.
My ancient bones bask in the sun's glow,
And my curly, wise, grey head.
In that wise head, like woods in spring
Hums and hums a wiser wine.
Eternal thoughts flow and flow,
Like time.
poem by Julian Tuwim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Her Ornament
never really meant to volunteer
felt the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally raised my hand
i just want to be her special
someone who will never pioneer
i prefer to watch the mudd break off her heels
and turn into cement
i just want to be her ornament
her shadow seems much cooler
camouflage myself
and plan a splendid entrance
i just want to be her situation pending expectation...
i just want to be her ornament
i never really meant to volunteer
i fought the urge to stretch after a yawn
and accidentally lost my head
i just want to be her exploitation and abbreviation...
i just want to be her ornament
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canto VII — Sad Souvenaunce
What's this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"
I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt
If it was worth his while to go —
And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,
To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,
It's possible," I said,
"He won't be over-pleased to be
Dropped in upon at half-past three,
After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow —
Squeaking and all the rest of it,
As he was doing here just now —
I prophesy there'll be a row,
And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring
The friendly Phantom back,
It seemed to me the proper thing
To mix another glass, and sing
The following Coronach.
'And art thou gone, beloved Ghost?
Best of familiars!
Nay then, farewell, my duckling roast,
Farewell, farewell, my tea and toast,
My meerschaum and cigars!
The hues of life are dull and gray,
The sweets of life insipid,
When thou, my charmer, art away —
Old Brick, or rather, let me say,
Old Parallelepiped!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,
I ceased — abruptly, rather:
But, after such a splendid word
I felt that it would be absurd
To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way
To seek the welcome downy,
And slept, and dreamed till break of day
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay
And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited
By any kind of Sprite;
Yet still they echo in my head,
Those parting words, so kindly said,
"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
poem by Lewis Carroll from Phantasmagoria
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Slug And The Ladybug
The sad, silly slug said to the lovely ladybug,
“Why are you pretty while I have this ugly mug?
I live under a rock since I don’t have a shell.
Because no one likes me, I don’t feel very well.
I’ll just keep living underneath this dirty stone,
All by myself so sadly alone.
The lovely ladybug shook her head and said,
“Sad, silly slug, get out from that awful, stony bed!
Just remember each of us has a place on this earth.
We’re put here for a reason so each of us has worth.
The one to make you happy has to be yourself,
But you’ve put your best friend on a forgotten shelf.
Start by being proud that you are the best slug you’ll ever see.
Don’t compare yourself to others that you’ll never be.
Love yourself, smile and always be kind.
You’ll be surprised how many friends that you’ll find.”
The sad, silly slug had never thought that way before.
He considered himself only a sad, silly slug and nothing more.
When he looked into the brook and smiled, what did he see?
It was a miracle that changed his face so he said happily,
“This smile has found a home in my once sad, lonely heart.
I’m proud of myself and look to each new day’s start.
I’m now happy with myself and proud to be free.
I’ll work hard to make myself the best that I can be.
Just a note of gratitude from this happy, hopeful slug:
He shouted, “With all my heart, thank you, lovely ladybug! ”
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phantasmagoria CANTO VII ( Sad Souvenaunce )
"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.
"No need for Bones to hurry so!"
I sobbed. "In fact, I doubt
If it was worth his while to go -
And who is Tibbs, I'd like to know,
To make such work about?
"If Tibbs is anything like me,
It's POSSIBLE," I said,
"He won't be over-pleased to be
Dropped in upon at half-past three,
After he's snug in bed.
"And if Bones plagues him anyhow -
Squeaking and all the rest of it,
As he was doing here just now -
I prophesy there'll be a row,
And Tibbs will have the best of it!"
Then, as my tears could never bring
The friendly Phantom back,
It seemed to me the proper thing
To mix another glass, and sing
The following Coronach.
'AND ART THOU GONE, BELOVED GHOST?
BEST OF FAMILIARS!
NAY THEN, FAREWELL, MY DUCKLING ROAST,
FAREWELL, FAREWELL, MY TEA AND TOAST,
MY MEERSCHAUM AND CIGARS!
THE HUES OF LIFE ARE DULL AND GRAY,
THE SWEETS OF LIFE INSIPID,
WHEN thou, MY CHARMER, ART AWAY -
OLD BRICK, OR RATHER, LET ME SAY,
OLD PARALLELEPIPED!'
Instead of singing Verse the Third,
I ceased - abruptly, rather:
But, after such a splendid word
I felt that it would be absurd
To try it any farther.
So with a yawn I went my way
To seek the welcome downy,
And slept, and dreamed till break of day
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay
And Leprechaun and Brownie!
For year I've not been visited
By any kind of Sprite;
Yet still they echo in my head,
Those parting words, so kindly said,
"Old Turnip-top, good-night!"
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever Glow
I wanna watch you glow
I love to see you glow
I wanna see the sun shine out
And heal the aching bones
I wanna set you free
Find sweet harmony
Cause I can see a rainbow now
Smiling through the trees
Glow, glow, forever glow
Glow, glow, forever glow
I wanna let you know
Let the river flow
Find that place to be
Set your spirit free
Lighten up the shade
Bring color to the day
A perfect kind of you
A perfect kind of me
Glow, glow, forever glow
Glow, glow, forever glow
Glow
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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To a Prospective Cook
Curly locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
Thou shalt not wash dishes, nor yet weed the flowers,
But stand in the kitchen and cook a fine meal,
And ride every night in an automobile.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, come to us soon!
Thou needest not to rise until mid-afternoon;
Thou mayest be Croatian, Armenian, or Greek;
Thy guerdon shall be what thy askest per week.
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, give us a chance!
Thou shalt not wash windows, nor iron my pants.
Oh, come to the cosiest of seven-room bowers,
Curly Locks, Curly Locks, wilt thou be ours?
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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The Pan Of Sorrows
I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.
Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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The Fury Of Beautiful Bones
Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
Oh sing, bone bag man, sing.
Your head is what I remember that August
you were in love with another woman but
that didn't matter. I was the guy of your
bones, your fingers long and nubby, your
forehead a beacon, bare as marble and I worried
you like an odor because you had not quite forgotten,
bone bag man, garlic in the North End,
the book you dedicated, naked as a fish,
naked as someone drowning into his own mouth.
I wonder, Mr. Bone man, what you're thinking
of your fury now, gone sour as a sinking whale,
crawling up the alphabet on her own bones.
Am I in your ear still singing songs in the rain,
me of the death rattle, me of the magnolias,
me of the sawdust tavern at the city's edge.
Women have lovely bones, arms, neck, thigh
and I admire them also, but your bones
supersede loveliness. They are the tough
ones that get broken and reset. I just can't
answer for you, only for your bones,
round rulers, round nudgers, round poles,
numb nubkins, the sword of sugar.
I feel the skull, Mr. Skeleton, living its
own life in its own skin.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Retirement
O, let me be alone a while,
No human form is nigh.
And may I sing and muse aloud,
No mortal ear is by.
Away! ye dreams of earthly bliss,
Ye earthly cares begone:
Depart! ye restless wandering thoughts,
And let me be alone!
One hour, my spirit, stretch thy wings,
And quit this joyless sod,
Bask in the sunshine of the sky,
And be alone with God!
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The King and The Wise Man
A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart hot?
Full of energy and blood
Or should my heart cold?
Full of calculation and plot'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart warm
So everybody could feel calm
In your arms'
A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart black?
Rules my kingdom with fear and dark
Or should my heart white?
Always lives in the world's bright side'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart grey
The color of human that wants to seek
What's wrong and right'
A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart hard?
Strong like steel that can't be beaten by anyone
Or should my heart soft?
Harmless like cotton that easily touched by everyone'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart flexible
Mold like rubber that could protect people you love'
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like The Weather
[ natalie merchant ]
The color of the sky as far as I can see is coal grey.
Lift my head from the pillow and then fall again.
With a shiver in my bones just thinking about the weather.
A quiver in my lips as if I might cry.
Well by the force of will my lungs are filled and so I breathe.
Lately it seems this big bed is where I never leave.
Shiver in my bones just thinking about the weather.
Quiver in my voice as I cry,
What a cold and rainy day. where on earth is the sun hid away.
I hear the sound of a noon bell chime.
Now Im far behind.
Youve put in bout half a day
While here I lie
With a shiver in my bones just thinking about the weather.
A quiver in my lip as if I might cry,
What a cold and rainy day. where on earth is the sun hid away?
Do I need someone here to scold me
Or do I need someone wholl grab and pull me out of this four poster dull torpor pulling downward.
For it is such a long time since my better days.
I say my prayers nightly this will pass away.
The color of the sky is grey as I can see through the blinds.
Lift my head from the pillow and then fall again
With a shiver in my bones just thinking about the weather.
A quiver in my voice as I cry,
What a cold and rainy day. where on earth is the sun hid away?
I shiver, quiver, and try to wake.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maladjusted
On this glorious occasion ... of the splendid defeat
I wanna start from
Before the beginning
Loot wine, be mine, and
Then lets stay out for the night
Ride via parkside
Semi-perilous lives
Jeer the lights in the windows
Of all safe and stable homes
(but wondering then, well what
Could peace of mind be like ? )
Anyway do you want to hear
Our story, or not ?
As the fulham road lights
Stretch and invite into the night
From a stevenage overspill
Wed kill to live around
Sw6 - with someone like you
Keep thieves hours
With someone like you
...as long as it slides
You stalk the house
In a low-cut blouse :
Oh christ, another stifled
Friday night !
And the fulham road lights
Stretch and invite into the night
Well, I was fifteen
What could I know ?
When the gulf between
All the things I need
And the things I receive
Is an ancient ocean
Wide, wild, lost, uncrossed
Still I maintain theres nothing
Wrong with you
You do all that you do
Because its all you can do
Well, I was fifteen
Where could I go ?
With a soul full of loathing
For stinging bureaucracy
Making it anything
Other than easy
For working girls like me
With my hands on my head
I flop on your bed
With a head full of dread
For all Ive ever said
Maladjusted, maladjusted
Maladjusted maladjusted
Never to be trusted
Oh, never to be trusted
Theres nothing wrong with you, oh
Theres nothing wrong with you, oh
Theres nothing wrong with you, oh
Theres nothing wrong with you
Theres nothing wrong with you
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skeletons In The Closet
Woah-oh, woah-oh
Skeletons in my closet
Woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my shoes
Skeletons I can only see
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons I can lose
Skeletons in my basement
Loitering on my streets
Wearing my best pajamas
Sandwiched between my sheets
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, icy bones
Ooh, I see bones
Say say bones - say boys don't you see them bones?
Rattle them bones at midnight
Shaking my bed, no sleep
I find fingers in my coat pocket
Skeletons from the deep
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, s-see bones
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones
Say boys don't you see them bones?
No?
Heart bones, leg bones, ankle bones, arm bones,
finger bones, dogie bones, head bones
Skeletons in my closet
They even know when I'm in my closet
It's my.. my closet
Not your closet
My closet
You can have it though
Alice we want you
Alice
Alice
A-Alice
What?
Whaddya want
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My dad says he likes to bask in my glow.
quote by Robert Pattinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Got Chocolate?
Snowflakes the size of marshmallows fall to the earth;
Frosty icy winds play havoc with her red curly hair.
She delights in frolicking in snow so deep;
Bundled up in bright green coat and leggings,
pink hat, scarf and gloves
she brightens up the gray day.
Grandpa dons his own snow gear, dark brown coat,
black ear muffs, gloves and red Santa hat;
shovel in hand he begins to clear the path
when 'she' playfully jumps into it re-snowing it
to Grandpa's chagrin as he grins
pretending to be annoyed.
but he re-shovels again with great patience.
The worst of the storm has passed. The white stuff
is the perfect setting this day, this Christmas Eve.
Cold, wet and tired Grandpa and granddaughter
come in to warm up to hot chocolate with marshmallows
and it reminds curly head of the snow fall today.
Grandpa's white mustache is chocolate dyed.
Curly Head's mouth says: 'Got chocolate? '
Bedtime has evolved, Santa's on his way.
Curly head has left him a treat in a cup.
Santa arrived;
he put Curly Head's presents under the tree
Santa's white mustache gave him away;
he looked at himself in the mantle mirror
and laughed a hearty, 'HO, HO, HO'
His white mustache was chocolate dyed
and he cried aloud:
'GOT CHOCOLATE?
'HO, HO, HO! '
© Mel Patterson,11-2011
poem by Mel Patterson
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Morning Glow
Morning glow morning glow
Starts to glimmer when you know
Winds of change are set to blow
And sweep this whole land through
Morning glow is long past due
Morning glow fill the earth
Come on shine far all youre worth
Well be present at the birth
Of all faith looking new
Morning glow is long past due
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
You should have started long ago
Morning glow all days long
For we sing tomorrows song
Never knew we could be so strong
But now its very clear
Morning glow is almost here
Oh oh morning glow
Id like to help you grow
We should have started long ago
Morning glow all your life
We can make the new day right
All the bad songs of the night
Will fade into the past
Morning glow is here at last
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I See You In The Spring
I see you in the Spring.
So full of life...
And enjoying it.
I see what happiness to you can bring.
With a renewed rejoicing,
As your eyes as express...
Such a fulfillment you get.
Take me with you this I wish.
To dance and sing with inner bliss.
Your radiance is there when the sun appears.
And it is clear to me...
You choose to be trouble free.
I see you in the Spring.
So full of life...
And enjoying it.
I see the commitment you have made...
To bask in Sunshine.
And not wallow in gloom,
Expecting a blooming done in the shade.
I see you in the Spring.
So full of life...
And enjoying it.
I see you there,
As a fresh flower budding.
And I admire your smile.
Along with your strutting!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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morning Call for frien Marvin
The morning sun explosively.
Soars aloft from beneath the sea
as though afraid he might be late.
So full of joy he cannot wait
to tell the world its time to rise
and rub the sleep from out their eyes.
Then stretch their stiffened joints and yawn.
The night has flown so greet the morn
Dependent on their attitude
some men express their gratitude.
While others bitterly complain
because it’s time to work again
Which makes no difference to the sun.
He travels on his duty done.
23-Jun-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Haircut.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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