Ennui
sometimes
when I feel like reading
nothing much
but not nothing
just something
I pick up your
gentle fantasies
and start to read
like when the two of you
are sitting in the
dentist's waiting room
making occasional remarks
which you've forgotten
before you said them
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dentist Chair (Fun Poem 99)
Everyone hates the dentist
some much more than me.
Just the thought of the drill
and the light in your eyes
puts the chills up me.
One of my worst encounters
of the dentist chair came in the 1960’s
when a cold in a tooth made my face swell
on one side like a melon
and I could only drink through a straw.
They knocked me out to remove the tooth.
Having no recovery room
they put me back in the waiting room
and sat me in a chair out there.
It was the dawn of the plastic moulded ones
and the one I sat on was so slippery
I kept slipping down.
I mumbled aloud about the dentist being no good.
Some of his patients took one look at me
and decided I was right, then made a hasty exit
from the waiting room.
With the side of my face swollen to the size of a melon
I can understand why.
Another encounter with a dentist
was quite a few years later.
A different dentist with a wholly different approach.
He was having his waiting room decorated
and I was the only one there.
He came in with a Cheshire grin across his face.
“Mr Harris, do you mind if this gentleman
takes out your teeth today? ”
Being I and thinking it was a student,
I said I didn’t mind.
The dentist then said, “He is my interior decorator.”
The smile still implanted on his face.
I nearly ran out of there.
Now the third tale concerns my wife
and she fears the dentist even more than me.
She had an appointment
and when we arrived,
the surgery was closed for lunch.
We went for a little walk
and all the cars we passed had dents in the side.
“See that.” I said.
“Yes.” She replied.
“That’s what the dentist does
when he can’t get his own way.”
As we approached, a corner
there was a church on the other side.
“Why don’t you nip in there for a quick pray
that the dentist doesn’t come back? ”
She thumped me I wonder why.
As we walked back to the surgery I assured her,
that everything was going to be OK.
They calm you as soon as you walk in.
She looked at me suspiciously and asked how?
They have a big mallet just above the door
and bop you on the head as you walk in.
Your teeth fall out in the process
and the job is done.
Now I wonder why she has never asked me
to go to the dentist with her again.
1 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For bed room
My people
Reading
Room is bed room
Read with out
Sleep
Bed is not ok...
Read with sleep
Bed is ok...
Then your bed room
Is reading room
Or sleeping room...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The library of memory
and then in between remarks,
you fall silent, still, the eyes
not far away but rather,
seeing the faraway right here
and those who know you
or who know the feeling of themselves,
know where you are
how describe that place
where a lifetime’s memories are stored,
clean, precise, waiting, neglected, seemingly forgotten?
is it a castle; a linen closet; a box room, that place in the inner mind?
rather, it seems a library, of the books that life writes
and there comes a moment in between remarks
when the present offers nothing, so it seems;
and your mind leaves the assembled company,
walks into that quiet room, its shelves so carefully arranged
by someone unknown to you, a librarian
who knows you better than you know yourself;
I sit down in that green leather armchair, quietly;
but such the power of the memory of you
the pure essence of the memory of memory itself
that I need not reach to take that well-read book down again
but simply glance towards that place; on that shelf; where it rests;
sit, for a minute of eternity; rediscover myself;
then rise; walk, the back erect, dignified;
the stature taller for the memory of whom I am;
turning the smooth handle of the door as it closes, and
beyond all love, the watching;
freedom that makes the whole world live anew
poem by Michael Shepherd
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My Dentist
Sitting in the dentist's chair,
Wishing that I wasn't there,
To forget and pass the time
I have made this bit of rhyme.
I had a rendez-vous at ten;
I rushed to get in line,
But found a lot of dames and men
Had waited there since nine;
I stared at them, then in an hour
Was blandly ushered in;
But though my face was grim and sour
He met me with a grin.
He told me of his horse of blood,
And how it "also ran",
He plans to own a racing stud -
(He seems a wealthy man.)
And then he left me there until
I growled: "At any rate,
I hope he'll not charge in his bill
For all the time I wait."
His wife has sables on her back,
With jewels she's ablaze;
She drives a stately Cadillac,
And I'm the mug who pays:
At least I'm one of those who peer
With pessimistic gloom
At magazines of yester-year
In his damn waiting room.
I am a Christian Scientist;
I don't believe in pain;
My dentist had a powerful wrist,
He tries and tries in vain
To make me grunt or groan or squeal
With probe or rasp or drill. . . .
But oh, what agony I feel
When HE PRESENTS HIS BILL!
Sitting in the dental chair,
Don't you wish you weren't there:
Well, your cup of woe to fill,
Just think of his infernal bill.
poem by Robert William Service
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Turn Me On
Like a flower
Waiting to bloom
Like a lightbulb
In a dark room
I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring
Im just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
My poor heart
It's been so dark
Since you've been gone
After all you're the one who turns me off
You're the only one who can turn me back on
My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune
My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes
I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
song performed by by Norah Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between The Lines
Verse 1:
Ive been searching
Ive been thinking
Ive been searching so long
What I am looking for
Ive been hearing love will hit you
But everybodys wrong
Cause I just happen to notice
That certain look in your eye
Chorus:
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
But now I really do
Verse 2:
Nothing major ever happened
But its the greatest feeling Ive ever had
Strong emotions all have left me
Just a tenderness inside my heart
Just happened to notice a knowing smile
Chorus
(now I really do)
Just happened, I noticed
That certain look in your eyes
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need no neon signs
To notice baby
I never before had you on my mind
Im reading between the lines
I didnt need, didnt need no neon
To notice baby
I never before, never before
I knew it, I knew it
Bridge:
Started dreamin about you baby
Now I know just what Im feeling
Can it be you are my baby?
Never gonna let you go
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
Never gonna-never gonna let you go
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need no neon signs
Oh it took so long to feel it
(so very long to feel it)
But it was worth the waiting baby
(read between, read between the lines)
Didnt need, didnt need, didnt need no neon
(notice baby)
(read between, read between the lines)
I didnt need no neon signs
I knew it, I knew it
(read between, read between the lines)
Between the lines
(read between, read between the lines)
Im reading between the lines....
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My little book
blind as I was, deaf as my friend yet! have
gone as furthest as the universe, I thought
that was only a great dream of my past
laughing me seems to easy, for once I was
a little child is always a child, it was the day
where my father and mother hold me so tight,
closing my bulging eyes as they read, telling
some fabulous stories and then gradually falls
my attentive ears down to my sight and there
no more
all comes to meet my fantastic imagination,
making my childhood memories filled it all, with
what is all remembered is not what it makes, for
what ever is heard now has gone as it is done
books tells me different stories, that relates my
ways, for I taste of what is the past and today, simply
I know that hearing is not reading and reading is
always remembering
my little book paved me the way that in my little
room I will be free....read and read and read...the
only way to visit and see, of what is yesterday for
the future belongs today.....and reading always
become part of me
poem by Antonio Liao
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Rest To Read
Read any...
Any thing read...
Read...
Day with night...
Read...
Reading is
Happy...
Reading
Is boor...
Reading
Is Knolage...
Read...
Reading is
One of body
Rest...
Rest is
One of the reading
Time...
Read daily
Take rest daily
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Sitting Alone
sitting alone
waiting for change
you notice it won't
so you turn to free
to be free
it's all we need
but we hold on
to what we feel we need
some need love
and others need faith
there's a lot we
think we need
yet at the end
we start to relize
we wasted our days away
for a far - fetched dream
we pick our poison
how we choose to be
remembered it's on us
so what'll it be?
poem by Katherine Bryce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crocodile's Toothache
Oh the Crocodile
Went to the dentist
And sat down in the chair,
And the dentist said, 'Now tell me, sir,
Why does it hurt and where?'
And the Crocodile said, 'I'll tell you the truth.
I have a terrible ache in my tooth.'
And he opened his jaws so wide, so wide,
That the dentist he climbed right inside,
And the dentist laughed, 'Oh, isn't this fun?'
As he pulled the teeth out, one by one.
And the Crocodile cried, 'You're hurting me so!
Please put down your pliers and let me go.'
But the dentist just laughed with a Ho Ho Ho,
And he said, 'I still have twelve to go --
Oops, that's the wrong one, I confess.
But what's one crocodile's tooth, more or less?'
Then suddenly the jaws went snap,
And the dentist was gone right off the map.
And where he went one could only guess...
To North or South or East or West...
He left no forwarding address.
But what's one dentist more or less?
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Stifle not the reader
Reading is an art,
reading is a tool.
Those who think it dumb,
must be such a fool.
Reading is enjoyment,
reading is a blast.
Reading is a separate entity
from the future and the past.
Reading is done in present,
though written in a tense.
Reading is about life,
in surprise or suspense.
Reading is a place of joy,
full of hope and song,
Reading is a place I feel
that I truly do belong.
A trapdoor to a fantasy,
A world thought lost to us,
Reading is a place of wonder,
a place that we can trust.
Why read about reality,
when I can delve into magic.
Why stifle my own happiness,
with scenarios so tragic.
Stifle not the reader,
for it is their choice alone.
Reading is an outlet,
for hearts that turned to stone.
A Poem
i like to read your poem
and i like to say it is a poem
there is a difference
of course
between the two statements
i like to read
it is your poem but i may
after reading
that
saying that i am honest though
and can distinguish a poem
from one that is not a poem
that your poem is one that i only
like to read
and may
say that it is not your poem
but it is yours you are sure of that
but what i am saying is that
i am reading your poem
but i feel that it is not
a poem after all
i can say one when i read one
so i just say i like reading your poem
which could not really be a poem
not even prose
i just like it
but it is not anything about what
i feel i like it to be
a poem or prose
i am reading it, it isn't
like this one for instance
you know that
now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just My Luck (Fun Poem 73)
I went to the dentist
for the first time in twenty years.
Sat in the waiting room
waiting to get my call.
Finally, it came
and I reluctantly went in,
hand shaking and nervous as can be
and was surprised to find
the dentist looked
like she had just walked out of the centrefold
of a Playboy magazine.
She was blonde
and dropp dead gorgeous.
Instead of a man looking like,
he had just walked out of a rugby scrum.
Trust little old me to gets this beauty.
I sat in the chair
took out my false teeth
knowing she wouldn’t want to see them
and opened my mouth wider
so she could have a peek inside.
“I’m going to have to take an X-ray at those.”
“No problem.” I replied.
After the X-rays were taken,
she asked me what pills I was on.
“The one you put in your shoe to make you go limp.”
I replied jokingly.
Sadly she didn’t get the joke I’m afraid.
However, because of the pills, I was on
and the way the tooth
was embedded in my gum.
I have to go to the hospital
to have the darn thing out.
Just my luck.
Here I get the prettiest dentist
to fool around with my teeth
and she then refers me to the hospital.
Doesn’t that just take the cake.
Just my luck.
There is a small consolation when I go.
They will knock me out
and I won’t see who is pulling out my teeth.
25 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When you feel lonely
There goes my excellent lover,
In her room or in her garden of roses,
In your house or in your yard,
But when you feel lonely,
Just pick up the phone and call me
You take away the sorrows,
Reading novels or my poems,
Seating alone or with your friends,
Thinking present or the future,
Babe when you feel lonely,
Tell me i will come
There you are my queen,
Vanishing your face or otherwise,
Treating your hair and nails,
I ponder with amusement,
But when you feel lonely,
Pick up the phone and call me
Watching the rain fall,
Feeling the sun heating,
Or hearing the wind blowing,
But when you feel lonely,
Tell me and i will come
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Bird Of Texas
The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died
She was describing to me this incredible owl
That was sitting in a tree
It meant nothing to me
But it means a lot more now
Because Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Im waiting, Im ready, I know it is my turn
All those cigarettes, alcohol, this bodys through
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you
And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died
It was the very same week, but one year before her
He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone
When a giant hawk flew by
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
I didnt expect to be noticed or heard.
Oh, elizabeth, help me, I cant find the room,
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you.
And, oh, it is scary
And, oh, it is cold to the bone
My bodys not ready for my mind to learn
I have just been consigned here to rot in the earth
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
It comes in and takes you away from this world.
Gate twenty-seven, I cant find the room.
Youre free to board now, theyre waiting for you.
Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Ive seen it three times now, theres nothing to learn
And dont be surprised if the skys bright and blue
And the white bird of texas comes barreling through
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0009 Favorite Poem
and you can’t remember much
about the first time you read it except
that it held you to the end, but most of all
this one line, which seemed to hold
the key to the whole poem
as if you were opening the closet of your mind
to bring out something which you knew was there
but instead something way at the back
called to you and you remembered
a moment from way back you thought
you had forgotten
and then you read the poem again
in company with the poet and
yes that’s it, and the two of you
became friends for life, almost
related.
So, now you’ve read all their poems,
feel some more than others but
as if you wrote them all in the same room
where you read them together
and you wait for their new book with
a sorta family pride
and like family,
you leave the poems for a spell,
grow up a little, then
come back to visit -
they mean more;
can it be,
you've both grown?
each time you come back to them
you carry them more close to you
in fact you feel that you could write
poems very much like theirs
as if you’d inherited, too,
the family gift
and though you wouldn’t of course
seek them out in person except
in a reading where you’d
have to share their warmth
with the rest of their extended family
but not say much since
you are a, well, close relative,
if you happened to be driving a route
not far from them, you’d detour,
park a little distance from their house,
but have it in your sight,
hope you might catch a movement,
wait a few minutes, then
start the car with almost a sigh
half relieved that you didn’t have to try
on their cautiously polite doorstep
to find words to say
you love them in their words,
which you almost wrote together,
lived them together;
love them like life itself,
love them
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This is a shouting poem
This is a SHOUTING poem.
Not a gentle wildflower poem
not a whispering-of-love poem
A SHOUTING POEM.
This is a POSTER poem.
Not a subtly persuading poem.
not a think-about-it poem
A POSTER POEM
This is a HARD OF HEARING poem.
What?
I said a HARD OF HEARING POEM
This is a LOST SPECTACLES poem
to test your sight.
No no not LAST TESTICLES
NO TRY THE NEXT LINE -
A LOST SPECTACLES POEM
This is a HAVE YOU SEEN MY? poem.
I know I put it down somewhere.
Are you sure you haven't seen it?
Oh no, you didn't use it for THAT...?
Why are you laughing it's not funny.
I hadn't even finished it...
This is an ACROSS THE ROOM poem.
Read it while you're in bed
watching TV
doing the ironing
reading the newspapers
putting the new wallpaper up
combing the cat
having a bath
washing the car
talking to the neighbours
gardening
this is an ACROSS THE ROOM POEM
This is a BLOWN ACROSS THE STREET POEM
no need to run after it
and pick it up
just watch it blow
maybe wonder
if you missed anything
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0005 a SHOUTING poem
This is a SHOUTING poem.
Not a gentle wildflower poem
not a whispering-of-love poem
A SHOUTING POEM.
This is a POSTER poem.
Not a subtly persuading poem.
not a think-about-it poem
A POSTER POEM
This is a HARD OF HEARING poem.
A what?
I said a HARD OF HEARING POEM
This is a LOST SPECTACLES poem
to test your sight.
No no not LAST TESTICLES
no try the next line - -
A LOST SPECTACLES POEM
now where did I put them
This is a HAVE YOU SEEN MY? poem.
I know I put it down somewhere.
Are you sure you haven't seen it?
Oh no, you didn't use it for THAT...?
Why are you laughing it's not funny.
I hadn't even finished it...
This is an ACROSS THE ROOM poem.
Read it while you're in bed
watching TV
doing the ironing
reading the newspapers
putting the new wallpaper up
combing the cat
having a bath
washing the car
talking to the neighbours
gardening
this is an ACROSS THE ROOM POEM
This is a BLOWN ACROSS THE STREET POEM
no need to run after it
and pick it up
just watch it blow
maybe wonder
if you missed anything
(revised)
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writers Block
The worst thing any writer can experience
is the most dreaded writers block.
Sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper
waiting and waiting for the words to come.
It is the curse of all writers
whether they are good or bad.
The frustration of trying to unblock their mind.
We try it with reading others words or soothing music
hoping to stimulate the little grey cells into working.
However it is never as easy as it sounds
as a writers block can sometimes last for years,
I know that from experience as
I have been down that road before.
Then the inexplicable happens and you pick up a pen
and that blank page is not blank anymore,
it is filled with words galore.
The torture is over and a new start begins.
You give a big sigh of relief as your writing begins again,
but being always weary in case that block comes back again.
14 January 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary Street
(s. hoffs/v. peterson)
Susanna & vicki
Times up girl now
No more excusing you
And those books you read
Oh girl, you better review
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
You thought that cool
Was in someone elses shoes and makeup
Sitting in your room
Waiting for the moment to come
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
You got no tears for
All the guys who passed you by
All the girls who shut you out
They wont recognize you now
Youre a good girl now
No more excusing you
And those books you read
Oh girl, you better review
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Oh yeah, oh yeah
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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