Bag Of Mice
I dreamt your suicide note
was scrawled in pencil on a brown paperbag,
& in the bag were six baby mice. The bag
opened into darkness,
smoldering
from the top down. The mice,
huddled at the bottom, scurried the bag
across a shorn field. I stood over it
& as the burning reached each carbon letter
of what you'd written
your voice released into the night
like a song, & the mice
grew wilder.
poem by Nick Flynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
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Mice versus rats
I'm not for spending money or traveling abroad, but when I opened
the drawer, at the bottom of my desk, it was full of tiny mice, nesting
on my check- book, since I hadn't opened for years; they had eaten
my passport too, and a couple of poems I thought were too racy to be
published.22 mice smaller than a baby's thumb confused in the glare
of light the creatures thought my fingers were other mice when I tried
to retrieve my check book- and out of date my passport.
Closed the drawer to the mice's delight, thought it had been a deviation,
got hold of a tin bucket opened the drawer again and put them all in there,
yes, even the babies- there are times in life when one can show no mercy-
my intention was to drown them, but could not, their struggle to climb up
the bucket must be honored. At night I let them free on the sandy lane.
When I opened the drawer next day a big rat sat there, bit my finger it had
stolen my credit card…. Now, how do you explain that to a bank manager?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Three Mice Who Hoped
Six mice stared out their door.
The Cat was crouching there.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
“The Dog will come and scare it away! ”
But one mouse ran out, gave up.
In the jaws of Cat he died.
Five mice stared out their door.
Still the feline purred.
“Have hope! ” one cried.
”The Dog will be here soon! ”
But one mouse could wait no more.
In the jaws of Cat she died.
Four mice stared out their door.
The Cat was waiting for them, too.
“Have… hope…” one said.
But one mouse snapped and darted out.
And soon, in jaws of Cat, was dead.
Three mice stared out their door.
The Cat sat ready, claws extended.
“Have… h-hope…” one said.
But one mouse squealed and started –
The one who’d spoken held her down.
“Have hope! ”
For hours more the three mice sat.
The watched, trembling, the mighty Cat.
But still: “Have hope! ” they cried.
Then came the Dog.
The Cat scurried away to hide.
The mice were free at last.
poem by Sophia White
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We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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Three blind mice
Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run!
They all run after the farmer's wife,
And she cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did ever you see such a thing in your life
As three blind mice!
poem by Beatrix Potter
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Sugar And Spice And Fourteen Blind Mice
Sugar and Spice and fourteen blind mice
sat in a room way up in the barn.
the name of the cat was Sugar and Spice
fourteen blind mice, they were spinning a yarn.
As you can picture, the odds were unfair,
though none of the mice had been overly wise
a mad starving hunter to sit there and stare
planning the strategy of a surprise.
How can a cat catch so many at once?
Only with claws and a growling old gut
cats do not utilise swords, spears and guns
this one just sat on her soft furry butt.
The night was soon over and all things were the same
all the mice had been snoozing, unaware of the foe
in the cold of the morning now the cat sought to aim
its formidable powers like a young feline pro.
But a god now took mercy and he told all the mice
that united you stand and divided you fall,
so they jumped on the cat, and they squeezed like a vise
and the end of the frenzy wasn't pretty at all.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Here's to the Mice!
(Written with the hope that the socialists might yet dethrone Kaiser and Czar.)
Here's to the mice that scare the lions,
Creeping into their cages.
Here's to the fairy mice that bite
The elephants fat and wise:
Hidden in the hay-pile while the elephant thunder rages.
Here's to the scurrying, timid mice
Through whom the proud cause dies.
Here's to the seeming accident
When all is planned and working,
All the flywheels turning,
Not a vassal shirking.
Here's to the hidden tunneling thing
That brings the mountain's groans.
Here's to the midnight scamps that gnaw,
Gnawing away the thrones.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Flyswatter
Little field mice
Living under the house
Never eating much
Tough life for a mouse
And if you think youre gonna be spared youre wrong
Field mice, head lice
Spiders in the kitchen
Dont think twice bout
Whatever keeps you itchin
Ice water, flyswatter
Gonna get you trough
The day
Heat is rolling in like
Hells red rug
Stinking like the breath of beelzebub
And if you think you wont walk on coals you will
Field mice, head lice
Spiders in the kitchen
Dont think twice bout
Whatever keeps you itchin
Ice water, flyswatter
Gonna get you trough
The day
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Bunny FOOFOO -?
Little Bunny FooFoo,
hoppin' thru the forest.
Pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
(fairy comes)
Little Bunny FooFoo,
I don't wanna see you
pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
(fairy gives him 3 chances)
(he wastes them, im guessing, cause i dont really know)
Little Bunny FooFoo,
hoppin' thru the forest.
Pickin' up field mice,
and boppin' 'em on the head.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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Live Not Being Bothered
Mice cannot live where cats will not enter.
Mice do not abandon feeding and mating
Because there's a threat from the predators.
Let me live my life, not being bothered.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, 'Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice.'
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, 'O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Mice take over the Bundestag
Mice take over the Bundestag
Seeking refuge from the cold snap
In the country's parliament building
Here the mice have found a safe haven
Elsewhere in the city
More than a hundred brave hardy people
Enter a hole cut from the crust
Of Lake Oranke
All part of an annual tradition
Is this Ice-Swimming celebration
During the chill of an arctic wind
Which embraces all of Berlin
Meanwhile the Bundestag mice
Forthwith have been advised
To abandon their newfound haven
Or else face extermination
© Calac
In Berlin, even the mice were desperate to escape the cold: swarms of them have taken over the Bundestag, the country’s parliament, the daily newspaper Bild reported.
But more than 100 people jumped into a hole in the ice at Oranke Lake as part of an annual Berlin ice-swimming festival
poem by Chris Lane
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Love From Trees
Cut into pieces and spread
over the thoughts,
Love demands to be no longer
dead, stagnant and diluted.
Trees can now be
travelling inside the head.
If you see them with pupils
you can hate.
The brain is hated like mice
needing no beautiful tree.
Hungry mice rally and festoon
the place of the trees.
My love is dilute now.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Here! Here...You Take The Cheese
Mice like rats and slick napping cats,
Only appear to do as they please...
When it is believed the coast is clear,
To re-energize their determined activities.
Only when they are unmistakably trapped,
Do mice and rats feel the penetrating claws...
Of those one eye opening awakening cats,
With a squealing of their innocence.
'Here! Here...
You take the cheese.
I'm on a diet anyway.
I was only in your neighborhood,
Seeking a way to cement new friendships.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Solitude [Singurătate]
With the curtains pulled together
At my table made of wood
Near the fire burning slowly
I am in a thinking mood.
Through my mind are swiftly passing
Many thoughts that it recalls,
Chirping like a group of crickets
Among black and ancient walls.
In the soul then they are falling,
Breaking less and sometimes more,
As the burning wax is dripping
On the church's marble floor.
In the chamber, at the corners
Spider webs hang all around,
While the mice are slowly sneaking
On the shelves and on the ground.
In this peace reigning all over
I am casting bitter looks
When I hear the mice are crunching
The hard covers of my books.
Oh, how many times I wanted
To reject the lyre's call,
To forget my desolation
And my rhymes once and for all.
But then come the mice and crickets,
Walking slowly all the time,
Bringing back my gloomy feeling,
Which becomes again a rhyme.
Sometimes... but not very often...
When the lamp burns and I rest,
Suddenly, I hear the door knob
And my heart leaps from my chest.
It is her and in a moment
All my desert house looks right
And my dusky life is lighted
By her icon in the night.
I'm upset that time still passes
And at such a hurried pace,
When I'm talking to my darling
Hand in hand and face to face.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Of Mice And Men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
Back when I was just 17
I thought that I knew everything
I could make it in this scene
To be a rising star that only gleamed
When all the answers disagreed
With the questions held for me
I was legal now at 21
I knew the way the world should run
My God, just look what I had done
Simply drunk and having fun
Looked for friends but I found none
All alone at 21
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
At 25 I was suprised
That I was even half alive
somehow I managed to survive
I found my bodys' doing time
In my back a hundred knives
All from my friends at 25
And now as Gabriel sounds my warning bell
I'd buy your life if you would sell
and you would too if less compelled
So live your life and live it well
Theres not much left of me to tell
I just got back up each time I fell
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scarecrow
The black and green scarecrow as everyone knows
Stood with a bird on his hat and straw everywhere.
He didnt care.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
His head did no thinking
His arms didnt move except when the wind cut up
Rough and mice ran around on the ground
He stood in a field where barley grows.
The black and green scarecrow is sadder than me
But now hes resigned to his fate
cause lifes not unkind - he doesnt mind.
He stood in a field where barley grows.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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