En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Mouse Killer

I mouse came down from the cane roof
or rather fell down. It was no bigger than my thumb.
The mouse tried to hide in the printer.
Kill it, kill it she screamed and ran into the kitchen.
I picked it up it was so soft, stroked its belly and
it fell asleep. Took the little life into the shed and
just left it there beside the tool box.
Have you killed it, she asked. Yes I smashed its head
in with a hammer, hoping to sound tough.
She smiled and said: “I don’t believe you.”
Fear of rodents, had it been a rat falling from the roof
I would be the first one running into the kitchen.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mouse Is Killed Today

a mouse is killed today
by an artist
who got mad because
the mouse ate his painting
of the nude woman

that evening while he got so furious
the mouse was at his hole
on the floor eating his usual cheese

the artist mumbled and murmured
and grumbled
and the mouse heard it
and called it
slapstick poetry
a doggerel,

the artist was not able to hold his temper
anymore

got an armalite and shot the hole with the mouse in it

in the name of art
the artist invokes his right to kill the mouse

he says it was
' clearly an artistic expression
and protected by the First Amendment.'

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who is the Best..?

Once there was this Rishi
Living under a banyan tree
Meditating on Him, all his life
Alone, without worries or wife..

It was a sunny day, bit hazy
Rishi was relaxed and lazy
A mouse came running and fell at his feet
A cat came chasing to eat

The mouse prayed 'Gimme shelter or u sin'
The cat said 'Protecting my food is no less a thing'
Rishi had to decide one way or other
Rishi blessed the mouse to be his daughter

The daughter grew into a beautiful woman
Time came for Rishi to think of her man.
He asked the daughter for any criteria or test
She said she wanted only the Best

Best of a man is a Rishi, said the father
Not really so, said the daughter
When Rishi said, better than a Rishi is the only Sun
No, said the daughter, not the burning hot one!

Rishi asked the Sun, if he knows anyone better
The Sun said, try the Cloud, it hides my power
When Rishi told her of the Cloud's valor
No, said the daughter, I hate the dark color

Rishi asked the Cloud, who betters it
The Cloud said, surely the Wind, it blows me out
Rishi asked the daughter, if Wind is her choice
No, said the daughter, It just makes noise.

Rishi asked the Wind, for a better person
The Wind said, It is the immovable Mountain
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mountain passes her test
No, said the daughter, full of trough and crest

Rishi asked the Mountain for the best in the land
The Mountain said, It is the Mouse that crushes it to sand
Rishi asked the daughter, if Mouse is her groom
Yes, said the daughter, I love his eyes that zoom..

Rishi made his daughter back into a mouse
They married and lived in a hole as their house
The Best for a mouse is mouse, for Rishi a Rishi, for crook a crook
It depends on what you look out for; your outlook!

poem by TheBigThinkg Human
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleeping Mouse

Sleeping Mouse

In front of me, on the track that leads into the bushes, a tiny field mouse.
Picked it up and put it in the palm of my hand. The mouse was brown and
white, absurdly cute when it curled up and fell asleep in the morning light.
Eyes, lungs and heart, like me, so what’s next? I couldn’t stay here with my
hand outstretched waiting for it to wake up from its slumber, nor could
I take it home. Behind me I heard the shepherd with his sheep and dogs,
Put the mouse in my pocket. When dust had settled and the baaing stopped
I put my hand in pocket to pick it up, only it wasn’t there anymore. To have
a mouse in the palm of my hand, is one thing, but to have it crawling about
inside my pants? I took my trousers off. I took my shirt off. I stood there
naked as Adam in Paradise, no mouse. As I slowly dressed, butterflies flitted
making the woods enchanting.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Red Rose

The rain came down
On the tin roof
Hardly
A sound was left
From the birthday party
The kitchen light
Fell asleep
On the bedroom floor
Me and her were talking softer
Than all the time
Before I lost her
Picture sat on top
Of the chest of drawers
Chorus:
One red rose
In the bible
Pressed between
The holy alphabet
Probably wouldnt believe you
If you told me
But what I never knew
I never will forget
Rainy nites
Get dark real early
Her dress was soft
And her hair was curly
We danced around the table
To the old banjo
Rainy nites
Were made for lovers
We lay there still
Beneath the covers
And I aint never felt
Like that before
Chorus:

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a mouse teaches Diogenes

You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.

So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher? ”

“A mouse was my teacher, ” says Diogenes.

You are quite confused. And you say: 'A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? '

“Well, most exquisite Sir, ” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir, ” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this? ’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem? ’ He would bite…”

You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher? ”

poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scandlious Fear

I fear life,
I fear death,
I fear happiness,

And everything in between.

I fear people,
I fear animals,
I fear rodents,

And everything in between.

I fear what I don't understand,
Shit, I fear what I do understand,
I fear what noone understands,
and everybody believes,

And everything in between,

Most of all I fear tomorrow and whatever it may bring.

poem by Kill or Be killed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fear's taking over

I fear life,
I fear death,
I fear happiness,

And everything in between.

I fear people,
I fear animals,
I fear rodents,

And everything in between.

I fear what I don't understand,
Shit, I fear what I do understand,
I fear what noone understands,
and everybody believes,

And everything in between,

Most of all I fear tomorrow and whatever it may bring.

poem by Kill or Be killed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last night

Last night your skin
was warm and soft
and I could feel your breath
against my cheek.

The winter wind
was rattling the roof
and sand was blown against the window
like a burst of rain.

Somewhere a neighbours’ dog howled
at the moon and I could hear,
the big old avo tree
whipping on the roof.

Every now and then
a avo fell with a bang
against the roof,
but you slept on.

The big bed was hot
and fire flamed in my blood
and as you twisted and turned
to sleep on,
your scent filled my head.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Santa Claus Is Back In Town

Ooh yeah mmmhmmm
I was walking home on christmas eve
The whole neighborhood was fast asleep
The snow was falling, coming down hard
The place looked like a picture post card
And when my house came into view
I noticed something up on the roof
You cant imagine my surprise
When I looked up and realized
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
He had one foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
I tried to get home right away
But I was just a little too late
The gifts were laid out under the tree
But no sign of mr. sc
I ran over to the fireplace
But there was nothing but an empty space
Got everybody up out of bed
Their eyes opened wide when I said
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
He had one foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
Some people think the mans a myth
I had my doubts, I admit
Theyll laugh and criticize
When somebody says with that look in their eyes
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
One foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree yeah
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
Oh yeah
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
Whoa
When I said I saw santa on the rooftop
I saw santa
Santa on the rooftop
Hello mr. saint nick (santa on the rooftop)
Why dont you come on down and gimme some ho ho ho (I saw santa)
Come on santa (santa on the rooftop)
Bring it over here (I saw santa)
Lay it on me! (santa on the rooftop)
Santa on the rooftop...

song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cat and Mouse

I am the mouse running from the cat,
or am I the cat chasing the mouse?
According to Chinese astrology I'm a Rat,
so who is the boss of the house?
Cat and mouse, chasing in my head.
Who I am? I don't know. It's better to forget...

poem by Jacqui Broad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Barn owl

Like a ghost somewhere from a tree,
sometimes from the roof
it calls out and people shiver
believing that death
is associated with its voice

they hear the chilling noise
and I
a fluttering of wings,
the sound of snatching claws,
a startled peep from a mouse or rat
and in reality it is only that
and nothing more
than a hovering predator
calling out before a kill
to some with a thrilling voice
full of death.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Looking Good

I remember big soft flakes
falling all the way home
Streets filling with snow
the trolley plowing through it
like a big red bulldozer

I remember sitting at the table
in the kitchen looking out
at the falling snow
It snowed all night long

Ma and I sat there watching
streets and sidewalks and rooftops
disappearing in a white blanket
of snow that fell and fluttered down
and the snow fell along the Rhine
in Germany and in the dark Ardennes-
fields and woods in France filling
with gently falling snow
and my Pa lying dead
somewhere in France
as snow fell all the way
across Europe

poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace Dies From Bullet Wounds

The warrior killed;
pulled the trigger
dropped the bomb
and when asked why
he said
'it's my job.'

The militant fighter
planted the bomb
and when asked why
she said
'it is my beliefs
my values
I am committed
and therefore
am doomed to kill
and die.

The politician
sought the war
and when asked why
he said
to protect my people
I must kill,
and order men and women
take up arms and die.

The son
leaving for war
was asked
if he would kill
and why
he said
Yes, I would,
its expected
and I do it to protect
my home,
my wife
my kids.

We all would be better
off
if we didn't
kill
for
peace.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Missing

Has anybody seen my mouse?

I opened his box for half a minute,
Just to make sure he was really in it,
And while I was looking, he jumped outside!
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried....
I think he's somewhere about the house.
Has anyone seen my mouse?

Uncle John, have you seen my mouse?

Just a small sort of mouse, a dear little brown one,
He came from the country, he wasn't a town one,
So he'll feel all lonely in a London street;
Why, what could he possibly find to eat?
He must be somewhere. I'll ask Aunt Rose:
Have you seen a mouse with a woffelly nose?
He's just got out...

Hasn't anybody seen my mouse?

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Legal Mouse

A lawyer had a legal mouse,
A naughty one they say,
That took possession of his house
And papers ev'ry day,

His books and records it would gnaw,
Without regard for loss,
Its disrespect and lack of awe
Just kept the owner cross.

When no revenge the man could get,
His anger blazed so high,
Till he declared when next they met,
The mouse would surely die.

The murder, all the world should know,
He planned with ire intense,
To strike the mouse a fatal blow
And call it self-defence.

One day the desk he opened wide,
The mouse in regal state,
Sat in a pigeon hole, inside,
In style the scene was great.

A stroke the lawyer at it gave,
A star it made to flee,
Into a hole its life to save,
To find security.

When he had guarded well the hole,
It scrambled for the floor,
Again he kept it from the goal,
Its life endangered more.

The door of hope he seemed to close
Upon the enemy;
Its feelings then, nobody knows,
Its longings to be free.

Up through his sleeve it made a break,
In search of freedom sweet;
His arm he then began to shake,
To bring it to his feet.

His cuff was thrown away, no doubt,
The button had to go;
His coat and vest he tore about,
The mouse had scared him so.

All o'er his body, too, he felt
The mouse, though such a prig,
Himself he then began to pelt,
To yell and dance a jig.

His thoughts he threw around his will,
The same he had not made;
He felt uncertain which would kill,
Such terror was displayed.

The neighbors and the police heard
The noise of that affray;
And to the spot, without a word,
They quickly made their way.

Upon his back, between his shirts,
The little mouse was found.
'Twas hard, amid' so many flirts,
To bring it to the ground.

Out of his coat, upon advice,
He came, with haste replete.
The room-door opened in a trice
And made good his retreat.

The mouse was taken from its place
Of hiding and of dread,
So painful was the last embrace,
It fell down by him—dead.

Then to the crowd the lawyer said,
'Of such, my friends, beware,
Mine enemy, the mouse, is dead,
Such things we all can spare.

'The killing, in my case, was one
Of self-defence, 'tis true;
And, on the whole, I've only done
As other men would do;

'But still, my hands are red with blood!
That mandate, 'Do not kill,'
Prevents the waters of the flood
From washing off the ill.'

To all who shall the story read,
And many will, I trust,
Don't kill a helpless mouse, I plead,
Unless the killing's just.

poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man can…

I don’t feel I kill when I take
Antibiotics to kill germs.
I don’t feel I kill when I kill
Rodents, mosquitoes and serpents.
I kill fowls, goats and fish for food.
This’ the way I’ve been brought up
And I do it for my survival.
Terrorists don’t feel that they kill
When they kill innocent people,
Without which too they can survive.
Man’s mastered all his predators.
Terrorists are his predators.
It is time he annihilated them.
31.11.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let’s Annoy Dad

I have a plan, I have a plan
I said as I washed my paw
Dad will come home and we'll all want some grub
He'll just walk by our dishes
And say, 'No yet.'
If we do it, right
He'll give us some grub
Maybe even some crunchies as well
The two boys raised their heads
'How’s all this going to happen? ' Arthur asked.
'If we annoy dad, I'm sure he'll give in.'
I replied with a grin.
'How do you suppose we annoy him? ' Arthur asked again.
'First I take his pencil and get him out of his chair
And he'll follow me.
We'll plant a toy mouse
So he can tred on. Barney can cry
Say look at my wagger
Dad being soft will give him a cuddle.
He will then give him some treats.
Knowing Dad, he will give us all treats.

Nipping away, I planted the mouse.
Barney curled up and lay to one side.
I pinched Dad’s pencil and ran.
Dad stepped on the mouse and stopped.
Barney cried on queue.
Dad reached down, picked him up,
gave him a cuddle.
Barney sang as he tickled him under his chin.
He carried him to the bed and put him down.
“There you go Barney, ” and stroked him again.
I dropped the pencil and fled down the stairs.
Dad picked up his pencil, ignoring me,
went back to his writing his poetry.
The plan didn't work the way I expected.
No treats, no crunchies, no nothing.
The boys looked at me as I entered the room.

“So much for your plan.” Barney said.
“Watch how mine goes and learn.”
Jumping off the bed, he went in Dad’s room.
He sat beside Dad, raised a shredder to his knee.
Dad moved him away gently time and again.
Finally Dad gave in, came down stairs.
He picked up our dished one, two and three.
Went to the cupboard where crunchies are kept.
Brought out a tin and put mush in each dish
Food at last.
I must remember how Barney did it.
Might just work for me.
Instead of pinching his pencils, I might sit on Dad's knee.
If Barney can show a shredder and get meal.
Maybe I can annoy Dad that way too.
I will wait until tomorrow. Then try the ploy.

poem by David Harris
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Recollection - First Poetic Impulse

my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle

out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day

its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws

it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?

i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky

i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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And The Snow Fell

I remember big soft wet flakes
falling on the tracks all the way
streets filling with that wet snow
the trolley I was riding plowing
through fields of city snow
like a big red bulldozer

I remember clear as day
sitting with Ma at the table
in the kitchen looking out
at the snow falling

Ma and I sat there
streets and rooftops
disappearing in the falling snow
that covered all
and the snow fell along the Rhine
in Germany
and in the dark woods of the Ardennes

we sat there and watched
as the fields and woods in France
filled with gently falling snow
and my Pa lying dead
somewhere in France

and snow fell softly
all the way
across Europe

poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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