We've got a situation
‘Sit zzuple gijaws
Tatami mamami ttable
Parental meeting in the sky
Pish lavages
Lavoir savoir
Lervouspar lalengue
De Silvestre
I think I thaw a puthycat
The pish just vomed fo and tro
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Morning Baking
Grandma, come back, I forgot
How much lard for these rolls
Think you can put yourself in the ground
Like plain potatoes and grow in Ohio?
I am damn sick of getting fat like you
Think you can lie through your Slovak?
Tell filthy stories about the blood sausage?
Pish-pish nights at the virgin in Detroit?
I blame your raising me up for my Slav tongue
You beat me up out back, taught me to dance
I'll tell you I don't remember any kind of bread
Your wavy loaves of flesh
Stink through my sleep
The stars on your silk robes
But I'm glad I'll look when I'm old
Like a gypsy dusha hauling milk
poem by Carolyn Forché
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Icthus (JS#5)
Epiphany 5
Many fishes
Jesus fishes
Peter no fish
Jesus “pish pish “
Peter empty dish
Jesus full dish
Peter bare dish
Jesus extra dish
Peter one dish
Jesus many dishes
Peter fish
Jesus fishes
B.C. fish
A.D. fishes
B.C. Moses
A.D. Jesus
poem by James Hart
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Epitaph for H - L -, Esq., of L -
Here lies Squire Hugh - ye harlot crew,
Come mak' your water on him,
I'm sure that he weel pleas'd would be
To think ye pish'd upon him.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Delicious Fish's Wishes
Fish, fish, what do you wish?
To each his own,
BUT
I wish
for a fish
on a dish
(mmm... delish!)
'Ah, pish! '
says the darned fish.
'I wish to be
in the sea
swimming free
and...
perhaps...
drinking...
so me...
tea? '
(muttered he,
dreamily.)
'But all in all, just me being me.'
But suddenly!
A bee
stung me
on the knee
(ouch! said I. er, me)
Back to earth with Bree!
And I'm left to wonder
If me the fish would berate
Were he not lying postrate
dead
on my plate...
poem by Breanna Cazalet
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King Borria Bungalee Boo
KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO
Was a man-eating African swell;
His sigh was a hullaballoo,
His whisper a horrible yell -
A horrible, horrible yell!
Four subjects, and all of them male,
To BORRIA doubled the knee,
They were once on a far larger scale,
But he'd eaten the balance, you see
('Scale' and 'balance' is punning, you see).
There was haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH,
There was lumbering DOODLE-DUM-DEY,
Despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH,
And good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH -
Exemplary TOOTLE-TUM-TEH.
One day there was grief in the crew,
For they hadn't a morsel of meat,
And BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO
Was dying for something to eat -
'Come, provide me with something to eat!
'ALACK-A-DEY, famished I feel;
Oh, good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH,
Where on earth shall I look for a meal?
For I haven't no dinner to-day! -
Not a morsel of dinner to-day!
'Dear TOOTLE-TUM, what shall we do?
Come, get us a meal, or, in truth,
If you don't, we shall have to eat you,
Oh, adorable friend of our youth!
Thou beloved little friend of our youth!'
And he answered, 'Oh, BUNGALEE BOO,
For a moment I hope you will wait, -
TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO
Is the Queen of a neighbouring state -
A remarkably neighbouring state.
'TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO,
She would pickle deliciously cold -
And her four pretty Amazons, too,
Are enticing, and not very old -
Twenty-seven is not very old.
'There is neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH,
There is rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH,
There is jocular WAGGETY-WEH,
There is musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH -
There's the nightingale DOH-REH-MI-FAH!'
So the forces of BUNGALEE BOO
Marched forth in a terrible row,
And the ladies who fought for QUEEN LOO
Prepared to encounter the foe -
This dreadful, insatiate foe!
But they sharpened no weapons at all,
And they poisoned no arrows - not they!
They made ready to conquer or fall
In a totally different way -
An entirely different way.
With a crimson and pearly-white dye
They endeavoured to make themselves fair,
With black they encircled each eye,
And with yellow they painted their hair
(It was wool, but they thought it was hair).
And the forces they met in the field:-
And the men of KING BORRIA said,
'Amazonians, immediately yield!'
And their arrows they drew to the head -
Yes, drew them right up to the head.
But jocular WAGGETY-WEH
Ogled DOODLE-DUM-DEY (which was wrong),
And neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH
Said, 'TOOTLE-TUM, you go along!
You naughty old dear, go along!'
And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH
Tapped ALACK-A-DEY-AH with her fan;
And musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH
Said, 'PISH, go away, you bad man!
Go away, you delightful young man!'
And the Amazons simpered and sighed,
And they ogled, and giggled, and flushed,
And they opened their pretty eyes wide,
And they chuckled, and flirted, and blushed
(At least, if they could, they'd have blushed).
But haughty PISH-TUSH-POOH-BAH
Said, 'ALACK-A-DEY, what does this mean?'
And despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH
Said, 'They think us uncommonly green!
Ha! ha! most uncommonly green!'
Even blundering DOODLE-DUM-DEY
Was insensible quite to their leers,
And said good little TOOTLE-TUM-TEH,
'It's your blood we desire, pretty dears -
We have come for our dinners, my dears!'
And the Queen of the Amazons fell
To BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO, -
In a mouthful he gulped, with a yell,
TIPPY-WIPPITY TOL-THE-ROL-LOO -
The pretty QUEEN TOL-THE-ROL-LOO.
And neat little TITTY-FOL-LEH
Was eaten by PISH-POOH-BAH,
And light-hearted WAGGETY-WEH
By dismal ALACK-A-DEY-AH -
Despairing ALACK-A-DEY-AH.
And rollicking TRAL-THE-RAL-LAH
Was eaten by DOODLE-DUM-DEY,
And musical DOH-REH-MI-FAH
By good little TOOTLE-DUM-TEH -
Exemplary TOOTLE-TUM-TEH!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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General John
The bravest names for fire and flames
And all that mortal durst,
Were GENERAL JOHN and PRIVATE JAMES,
Of the Sixty-seventy-first.
GENERAL JOHN was a soldier tried,
A chief of warlike dons;
A haughty stride and a withering pride
Were MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN'S.
A sneer would play on his martial phiz,
Superior birth to show;
"Pish!" was a favourite word of his,
And he often said "Ho! ho!"
FULL-PRIVATE JAMES described might be,
As a man of a mournful mind;
No characteristic trait had he
Of any distinctive kind.
From the ranks, one day, cried PRIVATE JAMES,
"Oh! MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN,
I've doubts of our respective names,
My mournful mind upon.
"A glimmering thought occurs to me
(Its source I can't unearth),
But I've a kind of a notion we
Were cruelly changed at birth.
"I've a strange idea that each other's names
We've each of us here got on.
Such things have been," said PRIVATE JAMES.
"They have!" sneered GENERAL JOHN.
"My GENERAL JOHN, I swear upon
My oath I think 'tis so - "
"Pish!" proudly sneered his GENERAL JOHN,
And he also said "Ho! ho!"
"My GENERAL JOHN! my GENERAL JOHN!
My GENERAL JOHN!" quoth he,
"This aristocratical sneer upon
Your face I blush to see!
"No truly great or generous cove
Deserving of them names,
Would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove
In the mind of a PRIVATE JAMES!"
Said GENERAL JOHN, "Upon your claims
No need your breath to waste;
If this is a joke, FULL-PRIVATE JAMES,
It's a joke of doubtful taste.
"But, being a man of doubtless worth,
If you feel certain quite
That we were probably changed at birth,
I'll venture to say you're right."
So GENERAL JOHN as PRIVATE JAMES
Fell in, parade upon;
And PRIVATE JAMES, by change of names,
Was MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Concerning The Synthetic Unity Of Apperception
"Trash, trash!" the king my uncle said,
"The spirit's smoke and weak as smoke ascends.
"Sit in the sun and not among the dead,
"Eat oranges! Pish tosh! the car attends.
"All ghosts came back. they do not like it there,
"No silky water and no big brown bear,
"No beer and no siestas up above."
"Uncle," I said, "I'm lonely. What is love?"
This drove him quite insane. Now he must knit
Time and apperception, bit by tiny bit.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Beware! Grown Up Children!
Children need parental love,
Children utilise parental services,
Children get life with parental guidance,
Children want parental money and property;
As children grow and earn on their own,
Parents get older and senior in their turn,
Parents getting older and lose their memory,
asks many doubts and queries everyday;
Grown up children are not patient
nowadays for every parental query,
They care for their own children only
and blow up their parents to old-age homes!
The history will repeat,
Beware! Grown up children! !
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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No Freedom of Parental limits
Freedom of expression
Freedom of art
Freedom of life
Freedom of speech
They come with their prices
Parental limits on love
Parental limits on styles
Parental limits on souls
Parental limits on thought
It leaves you crying
From strangling in
backfired justice
Tears gushing
Can't we leave the
labels and live?
Breezing by is happiness
Approaching is darkness
poem by Wensday Wood
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The Steadfast Shepherd
Hence away, thou siren, leave me,
Pish! unclasp those wanton arms,
Sugared words can ne'er deceive me
Though thou prove a thousand charms.
Fie, fie, forbear, no common snare
Can ever my affection chain.
They painted baits and poor deceits
Are all bestowed on me in vain.
I'm no slave to such as you be,
Neither shall that snowy breast,
Rolling eye and lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest.
Go, go, display thy beauty's ray
To some more soon enamoured swain,
Those common wiles of sighs and smiles
Are all bestowed on me in vain.
I have elsewhere vowed a duty,
Turn away that tempting eye,
Show me not a painted beauty,
These impostures I defy.
My spirit loathes where gaudy clothes
And feigned oaths may love obtain.
I love her so, whose looks swear no,
That all your labours will be vain.
poem by George Wither
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Parental Guidance
You say I waste my life away
But I live it to the full
How would you know anyway
You're just mister dull
Why don't you get into the things we do today
You could lose twenty years right away
So we say
We don't need no
No no no
Parental guidance here
We don't need no
No no no
Parental guidance here
Every day you scream at me
To turn the music low
Well if you keep on screaming
You'll make me deaf you know.
You always chew me out
song performed by by Judas Priest from Turbo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing Rods, Guns And God
Some say: Give me a fishing rod
so when I start to wish
for food I needn’t pray to God:
I’ll catch myself a fish.
Some think that rifles or revolvers
may solve their problems better,
becoming with such problem solvers
to God a lifer debtor.
All fishing rods are just like guns
in any fish’s eyes,
but I feel merciless when one’s
my dinnertime fish prize.
A bank account won’t save a fish
from dying, but with one
you may prepare a sauce that’s pish,
and not be forced to run
away from cops or into church
or synagogue for aid,
for it won’t leave you in the lurch,
demanding debts be paid.
Inspired by Nicholas Kristof’s Op-Ed in the NYT, December 31,2009 “Sparking a Savings Revolution”) :
There’s an old saying about poverty: Give me a fish, and I’ll eat for a day. Give me a fishing rod, and I’ll eat for a lifetime. There are many variations in that theme. In Somalia, I heard a darker version: If I buy food, I’ll eat for a day. If I buy a gun, I’ll eat every day. But these days, there’s evidence that one of the most effective tools to fight global poverty may be neither a fishing rod nor a gun, but a savings accounts. What we need is a savings revolution. Right now, the world’s poor almost never have access to a bank account. Cash sits around and gets spent — and, frankly, often spent badly.
12/31/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Sharpened [s]words fall flat,
heart he art fully pulses
to tatami mat.
haiku by Jonathan Robin
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Unkown Savoir
A hero with an invisible face
A hero with unimaginable heart
A hero lost without a trace
A hero who was straight and true from the start
You were always there for me
The one who strayed from the dark
You’re the one who set me free
The one who had that certain spark
You the one with the power to stop time
Will you do me one more favor
Even when you’re no longer in your prime
Will you always be my unknown savoir
You’re the one who taught us to soar
The one who taught us to learn
The one who helped me perfect my roar
When will it finally be my turn
When I cried for help you were there
When trapped in the darkness, I tried to flee
Why o why did you even care
After all this, I finally understand, you are the key
You the one with the power to stop time
Will you do me one more favor
Even when you’re no longer in your prime
Will you always be my unknown savoir
I wish that I could repay you
For all that you have done for me
You taught me things I never knew
Why are you the only one to hear my plea
I promise that I won’t do you any wrong
I won’t make a move until you say “it’s ok”
Why can’t I just be strong
Without you, I feel I’m going to wither away
You the one with the power to stop time
Will you do me one more favor
Even when you’re no longer in your prime
Will you always be my unknown savoir
poem by Marcus Hazelgrove
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Nativity only is not loyalty
Your mother is the Queen to reign in your home,
Not born though was she in your home.
With her blood drawn from her parental home,
She breathes your air, prides with a parental air.
That impeded not her taking you under her wings.
A woman of virtue is worth ruling her children’s home.
So is Sonia Gandhi, worth ruling her children’s country.
28.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The First Day
I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand! - Did one but know!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Extra Savoir-faire
When I walk down the street, most guys look like elves
I dont mean to put them down but they do
Its hard to understand me from the language I use
Theres no word in english for my style
Whats a man like me supposed to do
With all this extra savoir-faire
What is left for me to prove, dear
I know just what to do when the ladies come round
You can try to copy me but youll fail
Now, you might think youre different but time will prove me right
When you wake up from your dream Ill be gone
Whats a man like me supposed to do
With all this extra savoir-faire
What is left for me to prove, dear
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am o.k. you are o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘Don’t worry, I shall get you one’
A child like question
And an expected parental reply.
I am o.k., you are o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘I know you will do only that’
Parent reply belied the question.
I am o.k. You are not o.k.
‘I lost my pen’
‘You can borrow from me’
A child-like question.
An adult like answer.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Is the bus late?
‘Which bus comes in time?
An adult seeking an adult
But received a parent reply.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘Is the bus late? ’
‘Yes, heard only ten minutes’
Both responded as adults.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘Yes, let me hide first’
A child sought from a child
And received it.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘No, this is not the time’
The reply is parental
And belied the question.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘Let us play hide and seek’
‘Yes. Then we should read’
A child and an adult reaction
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘You should not smoke’
‘Yes. I shall cut it’
A parental question.
An adult reply.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘You should not smoke’
‘First, you cut your chewing’
A parental question
Seeking a child answer
But was belied.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘She should be taught a lesson’
‘ Yes, otherwise she will worsen’
A parent seeking a parent and got.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
‘I love you.’
‘I can’t forget you.’
Both are adult,
Expecting and receiving
As adults. I and you are o.k.
‘I love you’
‘Shh.. Others may watch”
A child’s reply to a child
Both are o.k.
‘I love you’
‘Bitch! Go to hell; I’ll report’
A parental reply, instead.
I am o.k. You are not.
‘I love you.’
‘I think you misunderstood.’
Both behaved as adults.
I am o.k. You are o.k.
You be the way you are expected.
You are then o.k. to others.
When others fail to be the way
You expected, you reason for it.
Others will be o.k. to you.
Then where is the individuality?
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Meeting Again
Meeting again when time goes fast,
meeting again when time won't last.
A look at the wrist to check the time,
a glance in the mirror to see if I'm
alright from this.
Already I miss the time that will crawl.
Keep the memory alive. You must not fall
into a saddened, depressed state.
You will continue to wait and wait
for a meeting again when time goes fast,
a meeting again that will not last.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Epilogue
The stubborne author of the trifle crime,
That just now cheated you of two hours' time,
Presumptuous it lik't him, began to grow
Carelesse, whether it pleased you or no.
But we who ground th' excellence of a play
On what the women at the dores wil say,
Who judge it by the benches, and afford
To take your money, ere his oath or word
His SCHOLLARS school'd, sayd if he had been wise
He should have wove in one two COMEDIES;
The first for th' gallery, in which the throne
To their amazement should descend alone,
The rosin-lightning flash, and monster spire
Squibs, and words hotter then his fire.
Th' other for the gentlemen oth' pit,
Like to themselves, all spirit, fancy, wit,
In which plots should be subtile as a flame,
Disguises would make PROTEUS stil the same:
Humours so rarely humour'd and exprest,
That ev'n they should thinke 'em so, not drest;
Vices acted and applauded too, times
Tickled, and th' actors acted, not their crimes,
So he might equally applause have gain'd
Of th' hardned, sooty, and the snowy hand.
Where now one SO SO spatters, t'other: no!
Tis his first play; twere solecisme 'tshould goe;
The next 't show'd pritily, but searcht within
It appeares bare and bald, as is his chin;
The towne-wit sentences: A SCHOLARS PLAY!
Pish! I know not why, but th'ave not the way.
We, whose gaine is all our pleasure, ev'n these
Are bound by justice and religion to please;
Which he, whose pleasure's all his gaine, goes by
As slightly, as they doe his comaedy.
Culls out the few, the worthy, at whose feet
He sacrifices both himselfe and it,
His fancies first fruits: profit he knowes none,
Unles that of your approbation,
Which if your thoughts at going out will pay,
Hee'l not looke farther for a second day.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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