0409 The Postman and the Dog, or Plato's Fido
There has to be a reason:
dogs bite postmen.
It's not just that they jump up the sofa to the window
and bark excitedly even when the postman's invisible down the street;
that's smart; but they don't stop at that. For those of us
who still have letterboxes in our front doors,
every one's a tasty finger-trap...and open the front door
to take the parcel - and all hell breaks loose.
You'd think that they'd catch on, that their owners
mostly like to have a dropp each day - even though
its largely bumf (and you can't even use it for that) :
it's not bills every day; no, postie's not our enemy
that dogs defend us from; or do they pick up thrilling smells
even before he's at noselength, of rival canines
all along his round? Can't the perfume industry dream up
a body-spray for postmen to please the canine race?
A kinda Mini Factor Inc., 'Make-Up To the Curs'...
I wonder if the answer's in the Hindu mould:
that this life is the sweet-sour fruit
of last lives' actions; even our living form:
Was the postman with the hang-dog expression
who won't look me in the eye - as if
we both remember some shared former life -
is he on the up: his last life, noble, faithful, obedient dog
with just one fatal flaw: he couldn't resist a juicy mouthful
of postman's ankle?
So now he's born - eternal justice so decreed -
a postman... tooth for a tooth...but carrying in consciousness
a hang-dog memory of that guilt?
Or (since it's said the number of created animal souls
stays constant) is he on transmigration's down escalator -
a human failure as a postman, who, out of public gaze,
aims a shrewd and secret kick at Fido... and
with that hang-dog expression....
yes, you guessed it.
I wonder if I should mention this to him?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Please Mr. Postman
( stop )
Oh yes, wait a minute
Mister postman
( wait )
Wait mister postman
(*) please mister postman look and see
( oh yeah )
If there's a letter in your bag for me
( please, please, mister postman )
Why's it takin' such a long time
( oh yeah )
For me to hear from that boy of mine
There must be
Some word today
From my boyfriend
So far away
Please mister postman
Look and see
If there's a letter
A letter for me
I've been standin' here
Waitin' mister postman
So patiently
For just a card
Or just a letter
Sayin' he's returning'
Home to me
Repeat (*)
So many days
You passed me by
See the tears
Standin' in my eyes
You didn't stop
To make me feel better
By leavin' me
A card or a letter
Repeat (*)
( why don't you check it and see one more time
For me you gotta )
Wait a minute, wait a minute...
( mister postman )
Mister postman look and see
( c'mon deliver the letter, the sooner, the better )
Mister postman
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Mr Postman
Wait, oh yes wait a minute mister postman
Wait, wait mister postman
Mister postman look and see
You got a letter in your bag for me
I been waiting such a long time
Since I heard from that girl of mine
There must be some word today
From my girlfriend so far away
Please mister postman look and see
If there's a letter, a letter for me
I been standing here waiting mister postman
So patiently
For just a card or just a letter
Saying she's returning home to me
So many days you passed me by
See the tear standing in my eye
You didn't stop to make me feel better
By leaving me a card or a letter
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta check it and see, one more time for me
Wait
Wait
Wait
Deliver the letter, the sooner the better
Wait
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Mister Postman
Wait, oh yes wait a minute mister postman
Wait, wait mister postman
Mister postman look and see
You got a letter in your bag for me
I been waiting such a long time
Since i heard from that girl of mine
There must be some word today
From my girlfriend so far away
Please mister postman look and see
If there's a letter, a letter for me
I been standing here waiting mister postman
So patiently
For just a card or just a letter
Saying she's returning home to me
So many days you passed me by
See the tear standing in my eye
You didn't stop to make me feel better
By leaving me a card or a letter
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta wait a minute, wait a minute
You gotta check it and see, one more time for me
Wait
Wait
Wait
Deliver the letter, the sooner the better
Wait
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Postman
I'd like to be a postman, and walk along the street,
Calling out, 'Good Morning, Sir,' to gentlemen I meet,
Ringing every door-bell all along my beat,
In my cap and uniform so very nice and neat.
Perhaps I'd have a parasol in case of rain or heat;
But I wouldn't be a postman if ...
The walking hurt my feet.
Would you?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lightning Strikes The Postman
I got yer letter it had turned to sand, lighting strikes the postman in
His hand, I hope that you remember the things you had to say, its just
A supernatural delay... I got yer package it was all a mess, lightning strikes
The postman in his chest, I hope that you remember the things you
Had to
Say, its just a supernatural delay...
I sent you a postcard and I hope yer fine
But lightning strike the postman all the time
I couldnt really think of anything to say
Its just a supernatural delay,
And its hard to read the writing through the flames...
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A Sick Child
The postman comes when I am still in bed.
"Postman, what do you have for me today?"
I say to him. (But really I'm in bed.)
Then he says - what shall I have him say?
"This letter says that you are president
Of - this word here; it's a republic."
Tell them I can't answer right away.
"It's your duty." No, I'd rather just be sick.
Then he tells me there are letters saying everything
That I can think of that I want for them to say.
I say, "Well, thank you very much. Good-bye."
He is ashamed, and turns and walks away.
If I can think of it, it isn't what I want.
I want . . . I want a ship from some near star
To land in the yard, and beings to come out
And think to me: "So this is where you are!
Come." Except that they won't do,
I thought of them. . . . And yet somewhere there must be
Something that's different from everything.
All that I've never thought of - think of me!
poem by Randall Jarrell
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A Well-wisher offered me a Bicycle!
Dear Friends,
My tumbledown car
Ran to the junk yard!
And a Well-wisher
Offered me a Bicycle!
I start my journey again
Along the gravel roads.
And I changed my resume.
Please do not laugh
And I have submitted my humble application
For the post of Postman with my bike.
That may go to the History
An old Postman with a Bicycle in America!
And I promise you all to deliver New Year greetings
Without any delay,
If everything goes smoothly!
* To the desolated Lion in my dream that requested a poem.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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To England
There are no postage stamps that send letters
back to England three centuries ago,
no postage stamps that make letters
travel back until the grave hasn't been dug yet,
and John Donne stands looking out the window,
it is just beginning to rain this April morning,
and the birds are falling into the trees
like chess pieces into an unplayed game,
and John Donne sees the postman coming up the street,
the postman walks very carefully because his cane
is made of glass.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Postman
My eyes are ticking towards door
I am restless and rolling on floor
I have spent sleepless night
So much to loose without any fight
In olden days, the postman was prime figure
We will run towards him for making it sure
The letter must be delivered in our hand
Else it would be love failure with tragic end
She had promised me to write in return
I had seen in her eyes clear positive turn
She was very much willing and eager
I too felt the same and became anxious either
I heard the footsteps of old man with post bag
He was inching forward by wearing the postman’s tag
He was addressed as postman uncle
Very honored figure and known in circle
He is fortune teller for all
Good smile comes at letters arrival
No one ignores this gentleman but always welcome
As he is the medium for all good or bad things to come
He is the only one man in entire village
Known as calm person having come off with the age
Has spent entire life and ably managed
You can depict him as most wanted man on page
There may be many more waiting for good news
Some may be very eager to receive the dues
Some may be waiting for the quick reviews
As a whole he wanted by all and not by few
I still remember his mild smile
He had brought a letter which had traveled from miles
It carried my soul mate’s sentiments
How happy was I when received with those comments?
Even if I have to pay any special homage
I shall do it for him and inscribe as sage
No one can deliver the happiness and smile
As he does it for society and village as well
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please Mr. Postman
(georgia dobbins/robert bateman/william garret/brian holland)
Oh yes, wait a minute mister postman
Hey, hey, hey, hey mr. postman
Just a little bit soul
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
Stevie wonder and fingertips
Yes
Gladys knight & the pips
The four tops
Martha reeves & the vandellas
The temptations
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now Life or death didn’t matter to me
I wrote a letter to her
Filled it with choicest words
Expressing
My love and desire for her
Full of hope
Kept waiting for days
Lost my peace, lost my sleep
Waiting for the postman
To bring a message from her
My heart pained
Anxiety increased
I did not hear from her
I didn’t know what to do
Kept praying to god
One day the postman came
The address was not correct he said
Returned the letter back to me
I decided to give my life away
Ran towards the river bridge
To jump into the river beneath
There I saw somebody jumped
Before I could
A letter was lying on the ground
I picked the letter
Read it with a heavy heart
To learn it was written by her
She ended her life
Waiting to hear from me
She could not contact me
As I had changed my house
I became a living, dead
Now Life or death
Didn’t matter to me
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Divided By Zero
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
Lets not go home, well catch the late train
Ive got enough money to pay all the way
When the postman calls, hell deliver the letter
Ive explained everything; its better that way
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) its better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
Well catch a plane to new york, and a cab going down
Cross the bridges and tunnels, straight into town
Tomorrow morning well be miles away
On another continent and another day
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) or call it a day
(divided by, divided by) you wont be alone
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
(d...d...d...d...d...divided by)
(divided by, divided by)
(z...z...z...z...z...zero, zero)
(divided by)
(turn of that noise...)
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by zero, zero)
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
So why hang around for the deed to be done
You can give it all up for a place in the sun
When the postman calls well be miles away
On a plane to new york and another day
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by) and someone has to pay
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suburbia
Lost in the high street, where the dogs run
Roaming suburban boys
Mothers got a hairdo to be done
She says theyre too old for toys
Stood by the bus stop with a felt pen
In this suburban hell
And in the distance a police car
To break the suburban spell
Lets take a ride, and run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
You cant hide, run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
Break the window by the town hall
Listen, the siren screams
There in the distance, like a roll call
Of all the suburban dreams
Lets take a ride, and run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
You cant hide, run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
I only wanted something else to do but hang around
I only wanted something else to do but hang around
I only wanted something else to do but hang around
I only wanted something else to do but hang around
Its on the front page of the papers
This is their hour of need
Wheres a policeman when you need one
To blame the colour tv?
Lets take a ride, and run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
You cant hide, run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
Take a ride, and run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
You cant hide, run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
Run with the dogs tonight
In suburbia
You cant hide
In suburbia
In suburbia
In suburbia
In suburbia
In suburbia
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lonely old lady
She sits in her favourite chair
her dog lies by her slippered feet
a cup of tea in an arthritic hand.
The television is on in the corner
she sees it as a very close friend
talking to the newsreader about her day.
She stares over at the telephone
praying that someone will call
it hasn't rung for a long time.
The postman has just been
she wishes he'd come in for a chat
but people are so busy these days.
The pretty weather girl is talking
it's going to be a hot and sunny day
the old lady tells her she looks nice.
Struggling to get to her aching feet
she looks out of her living room window
people and cars go quickly by.
Sitting back down in her favourite chair
she bends to pick up her little dog
and stroking him she starts to cry.
The old lady died in her favourite chair
her little dog sat for weeks by her slippered feet
the postman kept pushing the mail through.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Camouflage
Beside the bare and beaten track of travelling flocks and herds
The woodpecker went tapping on, the postman of the birds,
"I've got a letter here," he said, "that no one's understood,
Addressed as follows: 'To the bird that's like a piece of wood.'
"The soldier bird got very cross -- it wasn't meant for her;
The spurwing plover had a try to stab me with a spur:
The jackass laughed, and said the thing was written for a lark.
I think I'll chuck this postman job and take to stripping bark."
Then all the birds for miles around came in to lend a hand;
They perched upon a broken limb as thick as they could stand,
And just as old man eaglehawk prepared to have his say
A portion of the broken limb got up and flew away.
Then, casting grammar to the winds, the postman said, "That's him!
The boobook owl -- he squats himself along a broken limb,
And pokes his beak up like a stick; there's not a bird, I vow,
Can tell you which is boobook owl and which is broken bough.
"And that's the thing he calls his nest -- that jerry-built affair --
A bunch of sticks across a fork; I'll leave his letter there.
A cuckoo wouldn't use his nest, but what's the odds to him --
A bird that tries to imitate a piece of leaning limb!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Panic
Panic on the streets of london
Panic on the streets of birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again ?
The leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the grasmere
But honey pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town
But there's panic on the streets of carlisle
Dublin, dundee, humberside
I wonder to myself
Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music they constantly play
On the leeds side-streets that you slip down
Or provincial towns you jog 'round
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Thankyou ...
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kick The Chair
Dawn breaks evenly today
On the truth and the lie
All rise, court's in session
We're hanging someone high
Justice means nothing today
Now that the courts are for sale
Pick a crime from the menu; pick a sentence and defend you
And pay up the down payment called bail
The system's for sale
Kick the chair, the rope's tight
Just like one quick wrench, the tooth is out
Friend or foe, I gotta hang em dead
Or they'll come back around
Kick it!
The court's wrong when it keeps track
Of victories and defeats
The press that never rest just waits
For somebody's soul they can eat
Justice means nothing today
Now that the jury's for sale
Guilty or not, the verdict's a lie
You're going to jail
The system has failed
Kick the chair, the rope's tight
Just like one quick wrench, the tooth is out
Friend or foe, ya gotta hang em dead
Or they'll come back
[Solo-Mustaine]
[Solo-Mustaine]
[Solo-Mustaine]
[Solo-Poland]
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I receive a I love you
I receive a I love you
ending with a
SWANK
and life is greater and better,
than it was
a moment ago.
I love you too
and the feeling
is more intense,
than anything
I have know to now
and that is how
I want it to stay
is what I say back
by SMS
to the one that’s near
and very dear to me.
Outside I hear children playing,
the noise of dogs barking
at the passing postman
and some cars driving by
and life is really great
although I am ill in bed
and I just cannot wait
for the evening to come
and to have her
back from work.
[Reference: SWANK=> Send with a nice kiss.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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All In A Days Work
You climb out of a nice and warm bed,
and the word “work” will enter your head.
So you start to clamber down the stairs,
but trip over your kids carefully set snares,
landing at the bottom you let out a cry,
sprawled out in a heap, to get up you try,
then you shake your head in total disbelief,
amazed that you are still in one piece.
You then sit down to eat your breakfast,
your stomach rumbling “food at last”.
Eating a bowl of milk soaked cornflakes,
your ears picking up each crunch they make,
while your stomach shouts out a boast,
that it wants twelve rounds of buttered toast,
washed down with twenty cups of coffee,
but it will have to settle for cornflakes and tea.
Looking at the clock, it says quarter to one,
so you think about putting some clothes on,
and find them on the floor in a heap,
full of creases and cat hairs what a treat!
You get out the iron and ironing board,
strangling yourself with the electrical cord,
as you trip over the cat, landing in one its trays,
oh yes, you’re going to have one of those days!
Then you hear the front door knock,
open the door and the Postman’s in for a shock,
for you’re stood there all naked and pink,
now what the postman supposed to think?
He’s thinking what a small one you’ve got,
then gives you your letters and is off like a shot,
the only relief, while you’re brain is on the blink,
is at least he did not blow you a kiss and wink!
So you quickly slam the door shut,
before one of the neighbours cops a look,
and go back to ironing your shirt,
how could so much happen, before work?
Now you’re ready and willing to go out,
you look and check that no one is about,
now you’re dressed and having calmed down,
happy that you’ve covered your jewel and crown.
Seeing the man across the street called Dave,
who smiles and give you a gay little wave.
Wide-eyed you run to your car, open the door,
and sit in the seat, thinking you can’t take much more,
you turn the key and it just won’t start,
now your world, and car, is falling apart,
now try and explain to your boss why you’re late,
oh yes work, just like life, is so damn great!
poem by Dale Mullock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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