If Feeling a Bit Uncomfortable
To tell many of them,
They have been programmed...
To self destruct.
Would be like telling ducks,
To not accept what other ducks do.
If some waddle...
Perfect strutting like a peacock.
Or crow like a rooster.
But whatever is done,
Research identities...
If feeling a bit uncomfortable.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ducks On The Wall
After dinner norman becomes depressed.
Star:
Normans office got on my nerves to-day.
Wife:
What do you mean? you are norman!
Star:
(shouts) I am a star!
Wife:
Youre not a star norman. youre
Just a plain ordinary little bloke and
Even if you walked down the street in
A silver suit people still wouldnt
Recognise you. youre dull, ordinary
And uninteresting! youre a drag!
Star rises from his chair and smashes
The dinner plates to the floor.
Star:
I hate this house and I hate you, but
More than anything else I hate those
Ducks!
Wife:
Dont you touch those ducks norman!
They were a present from my mother.
Look, norman, Ive had enough of you
And your ridiculous fantasies. first of
All you wanted to be a painter, then
You wanted to be an astronaut, then
A footballer and now youre playing at
Being a rock singer. if you touch those
Ducks Im leaving!
Ducks on the wall
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
My ladys got a sort of strange fascination,
An obsessive fixation
For cheap decorations
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, hanging on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I love her so but if she doesnt move the ducks,
I think my mind is gonna go.
Ducks ducks on the wall.
Ducks ducks, hanging on the wall.
I leave the office and I want to relax.
Dont want to stare at a wall
And look at a duck that cant quack.
I love you baby but I cant fall
For those ducks on the wall.
I start to snuggle up and squeeze her so tight.
Then out of the corner of my eye
I see those ducks in flight.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Wo-wo-wo I can sit through your gossip and your soap opera shows,
But those ducks have got to go.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
And when I went to a cocktail party
With the bores next door,
What was the first thing that I saw?
Ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
My babys got the most deplorable taste,
But her biggest mistake
Is hanging over the fireplace.
Shes got ducks, ducks on the wall,
Ducks, ducks hanging on the wall.
Ill sit and look at all the soap operas with her
Ill play all the panel games and watch all the quiz shows,
But those ducks theyve got to go,
Those ducks are getting up my nose.
If those ducks can fly, well so can i.
And if those ducks have got to stay
Then Im going to fly away.
I love you baby but I cant ball
When I see those ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Ducks, ducks, ducks on the wall.
Oh those ducks on the wall are beginning to move
Theyre talking to me
Ive got to get away from those ducks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Easter
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do,
The clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
'Happy Easter'
~Do you notice anything different about those eggs? ~
'Yeah!
They are colored.
Why? '
~They are for the Easter Egg Hunt.
Put them back.~
'Oh!
I must be dreaming.
I thought I heard a rooster crow.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Want a Poem?
You want a poem?
Toss a coin.
Near a pond of wading ducks.
When the ducks begin to waddle out...
Put goggles on,
And thrash about!
And if you find your coin...
No longer will your sentiments,
Be found annoying.
And you will find the experience of this,
Worthy of staging for listeners to hear...
Your schtick,
As it drips from pond drenched lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ducks love Chocolate!
Ducks love chocolate anytime everyday,
They buy it, eat it, especially in May,
One day the ducks ate it in the class,
Then the teacher hurt them which was a lark.
The next day the pupils sued him as he used a spank,
The money went to the pupils which put it in their bank,
The wanted to spend it but then they thought twice,
Then spent it on chocolate which is very nice.
poem by Dotty Ducks
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The surrogacy
Surrogacy has come to stay,
Shedding any shame of qualm.
Delegate women escape delivery.
Hired mothers gather money.
Ducks lay but don’t hatch eggs.
Hens, instead, do the job for ducks.
Ducklings grow attached to ducks,
With their genes and habits intact..
A woman can beget her child
Without pain of pregnancy,
Within or without marriage
And can remain like a virgin.
24.01.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Muscovy Duck
The rooster is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,
The hen’s an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;
She’ll flutter, cackling, anywhere save through a gate or door,
And try to hatch a door-knob, too, for forty days or more.
The turkey is of small account, we’ll let it go in peace,
And other fowls are ornaments, and geese are simply geese;
But over all that cackle, hiss, or gobble, quack, or cluck,
My favourite shall always be the quaint Muscovy duck.
I’m fond of Mrs Muscovy, I think she knows the most
Of all the different kinds of fowls that poultry-breeders boast.
She knows best how to build her nest when laying time is past,
And you should see the knowing pride with which she sets at last.
She waddles out for food and drink—she’s not afraid of us,
And if we fix her now and then she doesn’t make a fuss;
No frantic flaps of useless wings, no cackle, hiss, nor cluck,
She’s queen of all philosophers—the quaint Muscovy duck.
It is a wondrous thing to see, and a wondrous thing to tell,
Her ducklings know as much as ducks the day they leave the shell.
That she is proud as proud can be, is plain to any dunce—
The little ducklings set to work to grow up ducks at once;
And, on a sunny winter’s day, ’tis a good thing for the eyes
To see her waddle round and watch her ducklings catching flies,
I love her for her waddle, and her patience, and her pluck,
Her wag of tail and nod of head—the quaint Muscovy duck.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
Why can't America be
more like the
dark brown-black ducks
and the
light gray-white duck
floating on the waves
of acceptance and equality?
poem by Charlotte Riddle
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A Duck Point Of View
when a man feeds a number of ducks
on the river
he thinks of the money and the meat
and the eggs
setting aside the noisy quacks
and the pestering constant
call for attention,
i wonder how the ducks see the man
his demonstrative care and charity?
did they see him as God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Go Ducks!
Ducks are fast and ducks will win,
Once you're a duck, you're not human again,
You are a football machine,
You learn how to bite back, and get mean!
And once you quack,
You never go back!
poem by Jade Blaydes
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Two Shots
This song was first released on the windsong album. it is the only album it has been released on.
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Last night while I was out drinking
Trying to have a good time
The lady with whom I was speaking
Thought I was feeding her some old line
When I spoke of a cold winters morning
A duck blind and a river of gray
The sound of the snow softly falling
When I thought I heard somebody say
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
I could tell by the gaze of my comrades
That I was the one who had spoke
Their eyes held a message of patience
The thrill of the hunt and of hope
But when I spoke again how they listened
For the wisdom of what I might say
If the good lord had meant us to shoot one
Hed surely send more ducks our way
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Well the lady with whom I was speaking
She laughed lightly and she wandered away
My heart, like the snow in my story
Fell silent, Id hoped she would stay
Its so nice to talk to somebody
To find someone whos willing to share
I know that this life is worth living
But sometimes it just isnt fair
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainy Days at the Apartment
Rainy days are special times...
The clouds wash the sky clear
and perfect moments trail them,
consuming me...
\The sky is the perfect shade of gray,
a clean and cool color.
The world is subdued around me...
holding its breath as the drizzle coats it
\One of the lovely things about rainy days,
my cats will not wander far outside.
So I can leave the door open to the world
and listen to the gentle whisper
of rain on poured stone.
\Even the noise of traffic seems lessened
and the birds all huddle in their places
even ducks...Yes I said ducks.
\A mallard and a female stand together
at the edge of the apartment pool
wanting nothing more than to be left alone
until they decide this place is too lonely.
poem by Poet Dragon
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The poor ducks
A duck was given a place among geese
For its brain; fellow ducks beamed with that.
The exalted duck behaved like a goose
And severed ties with its fellow ducks.
Don’t exult some one your tribe
Or religion has been elevated
15.03.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Friends (Ducks)
I recently went to the small town of Arundel,
And visited the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust.
I spent a relaxing few hours there strolling around.
If you haven’t already been, then you simply must.
After a while of strolling around,
I sat down to relax on a bench.
There were ducks under and around me,
Who had settled down and seemed quite content.
I sat watching tourists being taken
On a boat trip around the reed beds.
I was happy enough to sit watching the ducks:
Some, as they rested and some as they fed.
Sat there, I reached into my bag for a snack,
And, suddenly, dozens of pairs of eyes were on me.
The ducks dared to venture a little closer,
And made it obvious that they were extremely hungry.
I did feel rather guilty and apologized to them,
But there’s notices saying not to feed the ducks.
So, I very respectfully obeyed the rule,
Although, I suspect they think that rule really sucks!
As I strolled around the extensive site,
I could hear webbed feet following in my wake.
Another give away to the identity of my pursuers,
Was that I heard the quacking sound which ducks make.
But, when I turned round to look at them,
They panicked and quickly ran away.
It was if they were asking me,
‘Are you accusing us of following you? No way! ’
I turned away from them and carried on,
And the sound of slapping feet began again.
It made me smile at the apparent disinterest,
Which my pursuers were badly trying to feign.
I especially liked watching the diving ducks,
Who dive underwater, completely out of sight.
It’s usually many seconds before they reappear,
And bob back up into the daylight.
I enjoyed my trip to the nature reserve,
And I made new friends, albeit only for a while.
But I will always remember their funny antics,
And the fact that they managed to make me smile.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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An old Peacock meets a Crow in a Cuckoo's wedding
'Hello! Brother we met after a long time.
Isn't it? ' Peacock greeted.
Then the crow said; 'Certainly, do you remember when we met last time at one eyed scavenger's funeral.'
'Oh! You have a good memory,
He drowned in the Mayor's sewage line if I am not mistaken.
What's going on in your proud city limits? ' Peacock gossiped.
'As usual, We get a scanty meal in the garbage bins on their pay days only.' Crow replied.
Cuckoo introduced his bride to old Peacock.
Then crow interrupted; 'She is my niece.'
Peacocks, Crows and Cuckoos sing the national anthem when the chief guest Mr.Anopheles.Mosquito Minister of Health who arrives with his
bodyguards.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Ducks Are Such Fun
Ducks on the pond a delightful sight,
Pretty and beautiful,
this warm summer night.
Moonbeams dancing and playing,
watch the ducks' antics too.
Swimming and diving and
splashing to the beautiful
Full moon in view.
As the morning breaks
breakfast will be served.
They heed my call and
answer, Quack, Quack, Quack.
poem by Florence Weaver
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Gloria, Can You Waddle
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby can I dance with you?
I will show you something very good
Im your gander youre my goose
And this is something new for you, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby come and dance with me
Its an old dance of the early sixties
All the guys and all the girls were freaked
By this dance of our gees, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Hey, baby can I dance with you?
I will show you something very good
Im your gander, youre my goose
And this is something new for you, oh hear me!
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Can you (gloria) waddle, ah, ah?
Can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria, can you waddle, ah, ah?
Gloria
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shooting Ducks In Space
Dancing arrests belief in wonderful planets,
Worlds of open enemies control the realm.
My oblivion is like the void so blank,
Agony and ducks contrive more of the void.
Dancing ducks are afloat in certain horizons,
From the eggs, from one side of the die roll.
Let us be friends, and let my enemy live,
Then this void shall reach beyond conception,
And I call this Space, where the looting is on.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Little Red Rooster
All right, listen now. at this time I would like to introduce a friend of ours,
A very talented guy named john sebastian. come on man.
Man, thats what I call a new york joint, man!
You can pick your teeth with a new york joint!
Well, Im the little red rooster
Too lazy to crow the day.
Little red rooster
Too lazy to crow the day.
Keep everything in the barnyard
Upset in every way.
Dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Dogs begin to bark and
The hounds begin to howl.
Look out strange cat people
The roosters on the prowl.
Yeah, dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Look out strange cat people
Yeah, the roosters on the prowl.
If you see my rooster
Come on man, drive him home.
See my rooster, babe
Come on man, drive him home.
Aint been no peace in the barnyard
Since my little red rooster been gone.
Well, Im the little red rooster, babe
Too lazy to crow the day.
Well, Im the little red rooster, babe
Too lazy to crow the day.
Keep everything in the barnyard
Upset in every way.
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reading Writing Rich
Always after reading
poetry
I fly like ducks for life
poetry is my season for love
a fat girl goes by and
I wonder what it is like
to walk so full
as she must wonder what it is like
to run so empty
(what do our bodies mean?)
I cant tell her: read poetry
you will see a boy with spiky hair
and a gallant stride
and it won’t matter
about full or empty
or if you are tired
or that words in migration
are only emulation:
you will love
simply
that he exists
and that the secret moment
you kissed
has flown like ducks into Poetry
Even Those Paid to Be Biased
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
Eyes all over the place,
Are opening wide to see...
Exactly who those victims are.
And recognizing everyday,
The identity of the wolves.
And knowing they've been branded as sheep.
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
And the ones who tremble and shake in their limousines,
Find they feel desperate not to be revealed, caught or seen.
Afraid their deceiving and greedy days,
Rapidly lose in snob appeal and popularity.
And in their social circles they sweat, yes!
All of them are suffering in nervous regret!
People are awakening to realize,
They've been played.
Even those paid to be biased,
To spy on others...
Find they've been set up,
To sit and quack like feathered ducks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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