I Watch You From the Window When You Pick Up Poodle Doo
Is that your moody poodle,
You feed heated noodles to...
When I see you,
Rushing home from school?
I want to say to you,
That I could walk your poodle too.
And scoop up all that poo poo just for you.
I watch you from the window,
When you pick up poodle doo!
I imagine if I helped out...
You would not have to rush from school?
To noodle up your poodle.
Then pick up poodle doo.
Is that your moody poodle,
You feed heated noodles to...
When I see you,
Rushing home from school?
I want to say to you,
That I could walk your poodle too.
And scoop up all that poo poo just for you.
If you had a cat,
You wouldn't have to do that.
You would have so much free time.
I had a cat but he got fat...
And died when I chased him,
With a turkey butt he swallowed...
I was thawing.
For some greens I was going to buy!
He was the only cat I had,
That did not have nine lives!
I watch you from the window,
When you pick up poodle doo!
I imagine if I helped out...
You would not have to rush from school?
To noodle up your poodle.
Then pick up poodle doo.
I will do that,
If you want me to?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Teachers Pet
I think that I'm the teacher's pet.
But trust me, I'm no poodle.
I know the answers to the tests
and like to read an oodle!
I always do my homework
and I hand it in on time.
When it's time for poetry,
I like to write in rhyme.
I'd never throw a spit wad,
pass a note or talk in class.
I'd never dream of talking back
or giving teachers sass.
It's true I'm not a poodle,
but there's nothing I regret.
I guess that I'm the perfect one
to be my teacher's pet.
poem by Selam G. Sekuar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sit Around the House to Sing a Blues or Two
All you think about is apple strudel.
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!
All you think about is apple strudel.
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!
Your wish upon a star ain't going to far.
Getting 'drunked up' and sitting at a bar.
The happy hour came to come to a close.
And there you are with a snotty nose.
Thinking you're attractive with a wobble in your pose.
All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
Ooo...
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!
All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
With thoughts to stroll the 'hood' with a poodle.
Ooo...
As you sit reminiscing eating noodle soup!
Believing there is no one who is made for you.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
All you think about is apple strudel.
Ooo...
And sit around the house to sing a blues or two.
Believing there is no one who is made for you.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
Hoping that a knock will prove that untrue.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Descriptive...
the window is open
beside the garage where the white
pick-up is parked and below it
is the white poodle
sleeping soundly
it is 4: 07 in the afternoon
in my house in Katipunan
where the road is empty where
the trees are still
where the wind is as silent
as the grass
well manicured at the
center of the
yard.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's all I have left in my life, caffeine and a poodle.
quote by Brad Garrett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She has turned the British bulldog into a Reagan poodle.
quote by David Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is the emotion that a woman feels always for a poodle dog and sometimes for a man.
quote by George Jean Nathan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart's Day
we went on a picnic to the beach
with samsam, a local dog,
pret, my poodle, kuting, my japanese spitz,
bonbon, our dachshund
emma, my wife brought her favorite househelp named tatang,
marinel and gina, her friends cooked the potatoes
and prepared the sushi
jasmine rice that looked like tiny pearls
and pork barbecue
pret, my loyal poodle went with me walking
while kuting and bonbon played on the grass
barking and chasing some teasing finches
the air is cool
the sun not so bright at ten a.m.
clouds hang like soaked cottons
the sea is crystal clear like a mirror
the corals are visible
with some stone fishes
emma snored while asleep
and tatang excused herself to take a view of the place
i took my plunge alone in that crystal sea: splash!
it is a beautiful life
and on this day of the hearts
i can hear mine singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Near North Side: Chicago
Where will the lovely lady go
on her diurnal walk?
One child in 30 years she bore,
now they do not talk.
Supple, firm, her lithe legs are,
young men wheel and gawk.
A husband left her money, though,
a poodle, too, to walk.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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I liked wearing the '50s wardrobe. It was hard in the beginning. The first shows I wore regular young girl dresses. Then a little later I got to wear the poodle skirts and such.
quote by Erin Moran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dog's Nightmare
even dogs
dream, and the
reverse is true too
they have nightmares
this white poodle
under my feet
is barking
while asleep
and too surprising
when it coughs
it takes the
sound
of sadness....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death Match
Tom the alley cat
took out the possum
the Ray-Ban wearing
bicycle riding
death defying
high wire artiste
met his match
though he left Tom
looking like a badly shorn
poodle.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Pretpret
romantic Rretpret
poodle under my feet
wanting to sleep
with at least a part of his body
touching tenderly
a part of my toe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Laptap (misspelled)
a blue pen
a pair of eyeglasses
a cellphone
a remote control of the TV
a book
a writing notebook
a lap top
and a white poodle sleeping
beside all these things
it is his small world
yet everything and everywhere are inside it
his body and soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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His Small World
a blue pen
a pair of eyeglasses
a cellphone
a remote control of the TV
a book
a writing notebook
a lap tap
and a white poodle sleeping
beside all these things
it is his small world
yet everything and everywhere are inside it
his body and soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Beggar And The Angel
An angel burdened with self-pity
Came out of heaven to a modern city.
He saw a beggar on the street,
Where the tides of traffic meet.
A pair of brass-bound hickory pegs
Brought him his pence instead of legs.
A murky dog by him did lie,
Poodle, in part, his ancestry.
The angel stood and thought upon
This poodle-haunted beggar man.
'My life is grown a bore,' said he,
'One long round of sciamachy;
I think I'll do a little good,
By way of change from angelhood.'
He drew near to the beggar grim,
And gravely thus accosted him:
'How would you like, my friend, to fly
All day through the translucent sky;
To knock at the door of the red leaven,
And even to enter the orthodox heaven?
If you would care to know this joy,
I will surrender my employ,
And take your ills, collect your pelf,
An humble beggar like yourself.
For ages you these joys may know,
While I shall suffer here below;
And in the end we both may gain
Access of pleasure from my pain.'
The stationary vagrant said,
'I do not mind, so go ahead.'
The angel told the heavenly charm,
He felt a wing on either arm;
'Good-day,' he said, 'this floating's queer
If I should want to change next year--?'
'Pull out that feather!' the angel said,
'The one half black and the other half red.'
The cripple cried, 'Before you're through
You may get fagged, and if you do,--'
The angel superciliously--
'My transformed friend, don't think of me.
I shall be happy day and night,
In doing what I think is right.'
'So so,' the feathered beggar said,
'Good-bye, I am just overhead.'
* * * * *
The angel when he grasped the dish,
Began to criticize his wish.
The seat was hard as granite rocks,
His real legs were in the box.
His knees were cramped, his shins were sore,
The lying pegs stuck out before.
In vain he clinked the dish and whined.
The passers-by seemed deaf and blind.
As pious looking as Saint Denis,
An urchin stole his catch-penny.
And even the beggar's drab-fleeced poodle
Began to know him for a noodle.
'It has an uncelestial scent,
The clothing of this mendicant;'
He cried, 'That trickling down my spine
Is anything but hyaline.
This day is like a thousand years:
I'd give an age of sighs and tears
To see with his confectioned grin
One cherub sitting on his chin.
That cripple was by far too sly--
I wish he'd tumble from the sky,
That things might be as they were before;
I really cannot stand much more!'
* * * * *
The beggar in the angel's guise,
Rose far above the smoky skies.
But being a beggar, never saw
The charm of the compelling law
That turned the swinging universe:
'Twas gloomy as an empty purse.
Often with heaven in his head,
He blundered on a planet dead.
And when with an immortal fuss,
He singed his wings at Sirius.
He plucked the feather with his teeth,
The charm was potent and beneath,
He saw the turmoil of the way
Grown wilder at the close of day,
With the sad poodle, can in hand,
The angel still at the old stand.
'My friend,' said the angel, hemming and humming,
'Truly I thought you were never coming.'
'That's an unhandsome thing to say,
Seeing I've only been gone a day.
But there's nothing in all your brazen sky
To match the cock of that poodle's eye.
Take your dish and give me my wings,
'Tis but a fair exchange of things.'
* * * * *
The beggar felt his garment's rot,
The horn ridge of each callous spot;
He clinked his can and was content;
His poverty was permanent.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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The White Poodle
the white poodle rushes inside
the living room
this early morning when i
first open the door
for the air and light
to come in
as i stand by the window
to see the world again
it wags its tail
asking for a little attention
which i so willingly give
and then
with all affection it sits
near my feet
i put my hand on its head
and it rubs its head
warmly on my palm
as usual
we mark this day
with friendship
and then another day unfolds
like a bud blooming for happiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Miss Judys Farm
(ronnie wood, rod stewart)
Miss judy she was moody
Owned a sweaty farm in old alabam
I was just 18, crude and mean
All I needed was to get my own way
Get out of my way
Miss judy she could have me
Any hour of the working day
Shed send me in the corn field mid afternoon
Said son its all part of your job
Miss judy had a cross eyed poodle
That I would kick if I was given the chance
Never was amused by the kindness I used
I was whipped in the barn until dawn
It hurt me
Last summer we was restless
Were gonna make a stand and burn down your farm
But it was all in the head
Cause out in the yard
Miss judy had the national guard
We was beaten, before we started
Miss judy she was moody
And she always didnt get her own way
Just state the facts, get it right
Kick her when shes down
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Humph' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over a poodle in the drawing-room, and squirted a bottle of porter right into a lady's face. 'Who's goin' besides ourselves' asked Romford, wishing to know the worst at once. 'Better be killed than frightened to death,' thought he.
quote by Robert Smith Surtees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poodles
So many love to spoil their pets.
Especially those poodles.
With pedicures and silk worn vests.
Especially those poodles.
Some can be seen,
Adorning precious gems as necklaces.
Especially those poodles.
And people 'ahh' and 'ooo' too...
Whenever they see a pampered moving poodle.
Why,
Oh why...
Few are heard to brag about their cockatoos?
Those noisy Australasian crested parrots.
And,
Why oh why...
Do some prefer cats?
Even appearing to nap those cats will scratch back.
Love people do their poodles.
No matter what those poodles do.
And finicky are those poodles too.
Whining to be carried in their owner's arms...
As they choose to coo like a lovebird.
So many love to spoil their pets.
Especially those poodles.
With pedicures and silk worn vests.
Especially those poodles.
Why,
Oh why...
Few are heard to brag about their cockatoos?
Those noisy Australasian crested parrots.
And,
Why oh why...
Do some prefer cats?
Even appearing to nap those cats will scratch back.
Why do people choose to brag about their poodles.
Some can be seen,
Adorning precious gems as necklaces.
Especially those poodles.
And people 'ahh' and 'ooo' too...
Whenever they see a pampered moving poodle,
Flaunt and strut while cruising.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Night When You Are Fast Asleep
i do not care much if you do not care about what i do at night when i am alone in my study
(actually writing poetry)
all i need is only a little warmth from the silky, curly hair of my poodle
sleeping beside my bare feet contented with the touch of my toes.
the two of us, just the two of us,
against the rage of the cold, dark night
the light from a study lamp
mingling with the glare of the monitor
a miniature of life
an islet of my nocturnal universe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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