The Swan Song
Now I'm getting all fluffy for Bedtime Stories, this is how I see the Ugly Duckling in a Poem form, and I hope I do justice to the timeless classic by Hans Christian Anderson.
Do you remember?
The story of the
Ugly little bird
It was picked on
And trodden on because
Its plumage was plain
It grew up alone
Thinking it was
To clumsy to play
It watched with a tear
Alone and afraid
As winters and summers
Passed its lone life
It grew up with fear
And lived all alone
Accepting its life
It grew up that way
In the reeds of the marsh
But then one day
Hiding behind
The reeds of the marsh
It watched a swan land
In migration to pass
Graceful and pure
It bowed its handsome head
With grandeur and pride
He cocked his head held high
He swam to thro
To attract a new wife
And then just beyond
Behind the tall marsh reeds
He spotted the beauty
Alone and afraid
And it stopped in its wake
To bow its head
Just once more
At the confused ugly duckling
Behind the reeds of the mash
Taken by surprise
It cried in confusion of fear
Why do you mock me?
With your head so low
That only happens
When taking a wife
Said swan to the duckling
Its head still bowed low
Your beauty is wonder
Come now be my wife
Shaking its head
In cried in its rage
I am not a beauty
I cannot be your wife
Slowly it lifted
Its fine handsome head
Then said to the duckling
Look yonder my beauty
At your reflection ahead
Then looking at ripples
Where its teardrops fell
The ugly little duckling
Saw a swan instead
The handsome young swan
Once more bowed its head
I beseech thee my beauty
Be my wife, be my friend
Now a young swan
And duckling no more
It ruffled its feather
Its plumage snow white
Then bowing with tears
Her beauty so bright
Together they flew
As husband and wife
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Can't Judge Beauty
Truth is beauty and lies are ugly but what about the in between, can justice exist without injustice and what about the jury they say there is a little truth to every lie beauty seen in just the right light. In the eye of the beholder we can never really predict what they'll see, no one day is ever really the same, can a lie become truth in the future? an ugly duckling that will transform into a swan or will a hungry predator eat it before it can reach it's final stage. Only time will reveal eventual truths if they can survive that long if the jury finds it not guilty and the judge is not so harsh
poem by Jeremy Rascon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ugly Duck's Independence
and so the story goes
the ugly duckling turns out to be a swan
to regain its
independence from those
contemptuous
ducks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And So They Have Again Teased The Ugly Duckling
having forgotten the story
of the ugly duckling
here we are again retelling
it to children, that once
there was this ugly duck
who turned out to be the
most beautiful swan at the
end of the hopeless lines.
that we must stick to the
beautiful self that nature
gives us; it knows the ripe
season for a very beautiful
unfolding; that there is always
a perfect time for everyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Better an ugly duckling from your own village than a beauty from foreign parts.
The mirror
what wonder you give, where everybody, looks at you with
a very smiling beauty, a feeling of something, where
every one have never experience being one in your
dream of ecstasy
you have though us to looks young, dazzling charm, where
every hearts be calmed, you always play like an angel, who
brings us to the wonderland
telling the truth is what you want, even an ugly duckling you
turn into handsome one, in your might, the kingdom becomes
lonely. such alluring power you posses, comes to envy
where even death you deceive, life it gives you preserve, and
turned terrible happening into a happy one, in every home you
are there sheltering their faces as it gone, your the magic
where everybody wants, in the land we fondly called
Annabel Lee
life is a mirror, where we wanted too, of the Narcissus's we all
knew, doubt no one for in our faces, never changes, though
each one, wants to be pieces
if only we knew, even ugly faces we want to be pretty, at home
we wanted to be, little mind always thing of easy, just to lure
others that we are better than thee
the tale is ready to unlock the secret of majestic beauty, for
a thousand years Narcissus is lock in the mirror he will be free,
now try your luck in the mirror you see and see what happen
to your whole family.... be aware!
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dying Gamblers Story
In a little secret Gambling house in a city known for fame
There sits a man of tender years his head bowed down in shame
That young man told a story as sad as can be
And if you will but listen this is what he said to me.
A year ago I had a wife but she was called one day
And as she lay so near to death she pressed my hand to say
I'm giving you my wedding ring to cherish all your life
And with these words the reaper called away my loving wife.
Soon I started gambling til I never had a thing
And on a hand I thought would win I bet my dead wife's ring
I drew the card and looked at it, Oh God I cried aloud
I've lost my dead wife's wedding ring to this drunken jeering around.
When he had finished speaking he bowed his head and sighed
And we who heard his story knew that he had died
But that dying gamblers story didn't mean a thing
Too bad they said, dealt the cards, and bet his dear wife's ring.
poem by Kenneth T. Schofield
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Ugly Sunset
It wouldn't rise to become the sun
Afraid of shinning it's true beauty
Hiding in the horizon about to cause night
Bringing fear and causing evil to come out
So this once beautiful sunset that was the world to me turned ugly
Look at it! What do you see that is so beautiful about this ugly sunset
Is it how it causes fright to parents
Or how slowly it goes down with everyone's happiness like sucking the life out of you like a black hole
You ugly sunset with your beautiful shades of color and your reflection on the ocean, why are you hiding from beauty? we were once the world me and you but now look at you, your a mess.
Now all you are is one ugly sunset sucking up all the beauty this world has.
So keep hiding in the horizon ugly sunset!
But in the end you'll regret not showing you true beauty.
poem by Celia Hinojosa
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Get It Together
One shot to your heart without breaking your skin
No one has the power to hurt you like your kin
Kept it inside, didnt tell no one else
Didnt even wanna admit it to yourself
And now it just burns in your backaches
From 15 years of holding the pain
And now you only have yourself to blame
If you continue to live this way
[chorus:]
Get it together
You wanna heal your body
You have to heal your heart
Whatsoever is so you will reap
Get it together
You can fly fly
Talk future ahead of me
Thats what they say
Id be starving if I ate all the lies they fake
Cause Ive been redeemed from your anguish and pain
A miracle child Im floating on the clouds
Cause the words that come from your mouth
Youre the first to hear
Speak of words of beauty and you will be there
No matter what he devices
What matters is matters what you think of yourself
[chorus]
The choice is yours
No matter what it is
To choose life is to choose to forgive
You dont have to try
To hurt him and break his pride
To shake that weight off
And you will be ready to fly
One shot to your heart without breaking your skin
No one has the power to hurt you like your friends
Thought it will never change but this time moved on
An ugly duckling grew up to be a swan
And now it just burns in your backaches
Because now beads are showing upon your face
But youre never really happy
And you never behold
Until you see the beauty in growing hope
[chorus]
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I was very young I was the ugly duckling. I had a lot of complexes. My sister was wonderful and I was nothing.
quote by Nana Mouskouri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty Contest
Damsel in distress is quite submissive
Look how somber my vanity is
A feminine human creature
Superficial, seducing detour
Im going to the mall for the cookie cutter
The ugly duckling will always suffer
Contaminated standards, I try to fight it
I better get back on my diet
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Beauty contest
Im obsessed
Reduce myself, I got the strict restrictions
Not sexy enough without the regulations
A melting point countdown the fading features
Born to blossom and bloom to perish
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Oh, Ive got to get out of this mess
Beauty contest
Im obsessed
And Ive fallen, I cant help myself
Im feeling envious of all the rest
Youre bringing out the lemming in me
A victim of the cattle call disease
Not easy to be me
I feel swollen
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Ive got to get out of this mess
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Obsessed with the beauty contest
Beauty contest
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
Caught up in the beauty contest
And I feel swollen
Howd my vanity get such a mess?
My vanitys a mess
song performed by by No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Cried Again
Writer: autry inman
Artist: hank williams
Contributed by: felton hall
This song is hard to pick out on the copy I have. it is pretty scratchy
And a couple of the words I have for lyrics in here may be wrong but i
Think they are right. email greg if you see a problem with it.
I cried again key: g
(g)teardrops (c)fell the night you (g)said
I love you dear but you are (d)wed
I (g)watched you (c)as you held his (g)hand
Then I turned (d)away and cried again
(chorus)
I (c) cried again when I reached (g)home
There sat your picture all a(d)lone
I (g)thought of (c)things that might have (g)been
I bowed my (d)head and cried a(g)gain
I took your letters from the shelf
Then read aloud just to myself
But just before I reached the end
I bowed my head and cried again
Chorus
And heres the reason why I say
Dear, I must throw your things away
For they would only bring me pain
And Id bow my head and cry again
Chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Swan
When the swans turned my sister into a swan
I would go to the lake, at night, from milking:
The sun would look out through the reeds like a swan,
A swan's red beak; and the beak would open
And inside there was darkness, the stars and the moon.
Out on the lake, a girl would laugh.
"Sister, here is your porridge, sister,"
I would call; and the reeds would whisper,
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, little swan."
My legs were all hard and webbed, and the silky
Hairs of my wings sank away like stars
In the ripples that ran in and out of the reeds:
I heard through the lap and hiss of water
Someone's "Sister . . . sister," far away on the shore,
And then as I opened my beak to answer
I heard my harsh laugh go out to the shore
And saw - saw at last, swimming up from the green
Low mounds of the lake, the white stone swans:
The white, named swans . . . "It is all a dream,"
I whispered, and reached from the down of the pallet
To the lap and hiss of the floor.
And "Sleep, little sister," the swan all sang
From the moon and stars and frogs of the floor.
But the swan my sister called, "Sleep at last, little sister,"
And stroked all night, with a black wing, my wings.
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)
Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tale of the sparkling white river
At the sparkling white river
that cuts its way through the earth,
some green reeds grew in bushes into the water.
Tranquillity and the magic
of water, sun and wind
was the spirit that dwelt in the reeds.
a Really ugly god appeared and started to cry,
as no beautiful nymph
would set an eye on him.
He washed his face in the water
to try and transfix some of its healing magic
to himself and washed his face again,
but the image reflected upon the gentle pool
remained the same
and deeper into the water he went.
Half blind by his crying,
he stumbled into the reeds
and walk still deeper in,
to hide away from the creatures
that lived upon the water
and dwelt in the sparkling stream.
There was power in his tears
and where they fell upon the reeds,
they were cut from the stems.
To Pan on that day,
the river and the reeds
came as a blessing.
With reeds in his hands
he walked to the shore
and the setting and sounds did something to him.
He cut the reeds into pipes
of different lengths
with notches and holes
and blew life in to them
and to this very day,
that instrument bears his name.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Honey Biscuits And Gravy
My wife and I sat down one day
to honey biscuits and gravy
and when the last of it was on my plate
what did she say to me
She said, 'my dear devoted husband
husband of many years
would you give the last of that breakfast treat
oh would you please, my dear? '
I said, 'my wife, my darling wife
wife of many years
of biscuits and gravy I cannot part'
so with my fork I began to start
But before I could reach the plate
I was stopped by my hungry mate
She said, 'I'll give you silver and gold
all the fortunes yet untold
if you'll give what's on your plate
the still standing honey biscuit and gravy'
I said, 'my dear, darling wife
wife of many a day
nothing short of a great earthquake
can make me part with my plate'
And then she grew desperate
a horrid fiend intemperate, she said
'You'll be the sole head of the estate
for that last serving of biscuits and gravy! '
I said, 'dear, devoted wife
wife of many a day
you don't know that with what you give
so willingly away'
She said, 'a small price, a small price
I eagerly will pay
for that last remaining morsel
left standing on your plate'
So I did the deed, I confess
and now I must say
my wife's head tasted just as good
as honey biscuits and gravy
poem by Kevin Howell
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Pictures
The thoughts in my head are about as certain as the weather
I always want them witty but they don’t come out…
Like that
And I gotta go back to the drawing board, sharpen my pencil
Cause I can’t buy metaphors
Like I can buy stencils
So the sand keeps falling 'til my mind is all clear
And ideas stop spinning
Like I’m drunken off of beer
Then I stare and I leer in the direction of nothing
Soon ugly comparisons look
Like that little duckling
The swan looks great but must still fly to paper
And stick...
Nah that’s too easy, I’ll think of something later
An hour has passed and I see the top half of the glass
I’ve got two good lines now
But I’ll save ‘em for last
What I need is some inspiration
That’ll get the ball rollin’
From still frames to animation
Now the feature’s goin’
*This is a peek, a sneak look around
On how I take my thoughts and process them down
From a thousand different pictures with one thing in common
This is how I translate the world that I’m in
I can hear the sound effects and see the movie playing
Cross out words like an editor
As my lead gets to slaying
Every single word that’ll make you think twice
Like an anagram racecar throwin’ snake eyes?
Now the sands reverse with the opposite effect
And I see every line
Like it’s satellite direct
That’s how my thoughts beam down
Didn’t mean to barrage ya
But these words are my own
Kind of like Natasha
poem by P.R. Prosper
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Thru The Eyes Of A Spouse
I recall the nights that I laid in bed
With the pillow propped under my head.
Looking at this woman lying next to me
And how our love came to be.
Problems we have had our share
But for each other we’ve always been there.
Life makes love difficult to cope with
It pulls and yanks at your heart
Trying to tear the walls apart.
You struggle every day to make a life
You just want things easier for you and your wife.
There are times you feel like you’re drowning
And gasping for air, and people
see you but they don’t care.
They are going thru life the same as you
And they don’t know just what to do.
So you resign yourself to the fact
That the clock, you can not turn back.
So you pick up your head and look
Deep into the eyes of your wife
And thank GOD that you have someone
With whom to share your life.
The beauty and love in her eyes
Never seem to fade away
And it gets stronger every passing day.
poem by Louis Rams
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Remembrance
As a child I saw the sun
hanging over the marsh,
when it caught the first red rays.
In that marsh land
long-tailed widow-birds
glided deeper into the reeds.
Plover’s pretending
to have broken wings,
tried to entice me away
from their nests.
In life’s marsh
there were enemy soldiers
that was stone-dead,
while I had hidden deeper
into the reeds.
Groups of enemy patrols
cut past following the river,
to find my comrades and I.
Every time that the sun
hanged new over the reeds,
the enemy became less
and the chance to catch us diminished
and mosquitoes swarmed around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The New Duckling
'I want to be new,' said the duckling.
'O, ho!' said the wise old owl,
While the guinea-hen cluttered off chuckling
To tell all the rest of the fowl.
'I should like a more elegant figure,'
That child of a duck went on.
'I should like to grow bigger and bigger,
Until I could swallow a swan.
'I _won't_ be the bond slave of habit,
I _won't_ have these webs on my toes.
I want to run round like a rabbit,
A rabbit as red as a rose.
'I _don't_ want to waddle like mother,
Or quack like my silly old dad.
I want to be utterly other,
And _frightfully_ modern and mad.'
'Do you know,' said the turkey, 'you're quacking!
There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye;
And, if you're not utterly lacking,
You'll make for that duck-pond. Good-bye!'
'I won't,' said the duckling. 'I'll lift him
A beautiful song, like a sheep;
And when I have--as it were--biffed him,
I'll give him my feathers to keep.'
Now the curious end of this fable,
So far as the rest ascertained,
Though they searched from the barn to the stable,
Was that _only his feathers remained_.
So he _wasn't_ the bond slave of habit,
And he _didn't_ have webs on his toes;
And _perhaps_ he runs round like a rabbit,
A rabbit as red as a rose.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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The Marsh Land
The nearer I come to the wild marsh land
the more I hear red-knobbed coots carolling
where a swarm of tiny weavers twitter,
rocking and balancing on the long reeds,
cheerfully the meandering stream jabbers
while it shines in the bright morning light
next to the big old hanging willow tree,
where a symphony of nature resounds.
Marsh bulrushes rocks plumed in the wind
that blows softly through the bushes of sprouts,
somewhat blinded by the natural beauty
I wander like a child through all the reeds,
drops of water jet when wild ducks fly up,
with rushes suddenly rocking up and down.
poem by Gert Strydom
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