Young Dog
crickety teeth
my left slipper
gets taken somewhere
my right slipper bitten
urine on the sofa
poo poo on the garage
sliding through
the kitchen door
chasing in the yard
scattered books
in the living room
licking my feet
playing bites with my hands
this young dog
is the star of the house
no kids, eh.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Opposites
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Walked out into the street
And splashed in all the pubbles till
She had such shocking feet
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Stayed quietly in the house
And sat upon the fender stool
As still as any mouse.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Her hands were black as ink;
She would come running through the house
And begging for a drink.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Her hands were white as snow;
She did not like to play around,
She only liked to sew.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Lost hair ribbons galore;
She dropped them on the garden walks,
She dropped them on the floor.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
O thoughtful little girl!
She liked to walk quite soberly,
It kept her hair in curl.
The Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
When she was glad or proud
Just flung her arms round Mother's neck
And kissed her very loud.
The Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
Was shocked at such a sight,
She only offered you her cheek
At morning and at night.
O Half-Soled-Boots-With-Toecaps-Child
Your happy laughing face
Does like a scented Summer rose
Make sweet the dullest place.
O Patent-Leather-Slipper-Child
My dear, I'm well content
To have my daughter in my arms,
And not an ornament.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Glass Slipper
She flounced into his private rooms
without a 'by your leave' to woo
and fluttering long eyelashes
had him by her side: News Flashes!
Hot young damsel woos the prince,
she with honeycombed plump lips
sweeter than most sugar candy
dressed in 'Tantalizing Pink'
Roll up, roll up read all about it,
hot young damsel and the Prince,
going out for a late supper.
It's the latest off the press.
They were spotted in a restaurant
small glass slipper in his hand
as he lent across the table
really, do I need expand?
Honeyed damsel tried the slipper
and by Jove, I say, it fit her!
'Marry me' said handsome prince
for the magic slipper fits.
Oh kind sir, said hot young damsel
then I would be Queen sweet man
I will wed you and be married,
P'haps you ought to meet my mam.
Mummy thought she'd caught a good'n
now she's talking to the press
which is how we got this story
Editor was most impressed!
poem by Ruth Walters
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A lolly walk and our slippers
I never like to have a new slipper from you
And never like to go to a rain
And neverwish to bring a bottle of beer
and not make up night to fall on us
the sobriety of our youth never want to shed down
Now I wish to wear my own slipper
I like to go out in my own slippers in this moon
And wish to pick flowers in our gardens....
poem by Thampi KEE
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Gary Granada’s definition of a house
A shanty of cartons as walls
Some tin for roof
Several cuttings of tin
And some worn out rubber tires
To keep the tin roofs
In place
Ten persons reside there
Too crowded
Smell of dead fish
Smell of decayed fish
And dried urine
Rodent and human urine
Hotter than the
Temperatures of
An Arizona desert
Patches of wasted wood
Planks of leftovers
Undefined window frames
There is no comfort
Room or living
Room or bed or
Sala
Every floor
Every patch
Is a bed, a room,
A kitchen
All in one
For ten people or more
Is this what you call a house?
Gary Granada is singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cinderella
Written by j. kimball and d. vidal, 1984
Found on perspective.
I was out last night having a ball
And comin home, I wasnt thinkin nothin at all
And there on the sidewalk what did I see
A little glass slipper starin back at me
Cinderella (cinderella)
Well Im not superstitious but Im smarter than I seem
And I knew it was love, if you know what I mean
When I saw that slipper it occurred to me
The shoe fit her and she fit me
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
When I find her it will be
A fairy tale for her and me
I will never let her go
Cinderella
Now the other girls hold no fascination for me
I just think of her wherever she may be
I will search my whole life through
cause no one else will ever do
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
When I find her it will be
A fairy tale for her and me
I will never let her go
She will give my heart a home
Until that day Ill be alone
With just a slipper and a dream
Cinderella (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
Oo (cinderella)
Cinderella (cinderella)
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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32 - Cinderella
Running towards her pumpkin
At the stroke of midnight
Her lost slipper upon the stair
In the silver majestic moonlight
The fairytale turns to dust
As the witching hour begins
Down in the forgotten cellar
Her sorrow and pain she sings
So not to loose her memories of this night’s enchantment
She tearfully produces ink of thoughts onto peasant parchment
Recumbent but weary on her bed of mice invested hay
Crying her self to sleep still and alone Cinderella lay
The next morning prince charming comes round
With the clear glass slipper he had found
A gentleman he lowers down on one knee, while Cinderella sits
Drawing eloquent smiles as the slipper perfectly fits
poem by Nicola Burkett
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When I Talk And Think About Albert
sometimes
(did i tell you that this is my
favorite word?)
i am shocked by my own
ingenuity
(sometimes i equate it with
shallowness
a loquacious mouth of the river
falling upon
a rock and smashing its
hands on the
floor of the
earth)
i blame myself for
changing the meaning of a word
like the way
i am changing the meaning of
my life
(or perhaps the lives of
other people
around me)
creating landscapes
putting trees where there are
no mountain
putting talkative women
in the house where
the house is still a
thought
(a student wants to say
i am crazy
but there is also a doubt
whether i am
one
she has the wisdom of
keeping her
mouth in the silent
mode)
i am not stupid
not crazy i still know what right
is,
i can still tell you
who are those in the left
side of the
equation
one day
i redefined a poem
it need not be a house
with a door and
windows
i can simply be stairs
or path
it can simply be a star
on the roof
it can simply be a conversation
without a direction
like a Freudian dialogue on
the sofa
where comfort is actually
moving the paths
of meteors
with a broom and
light
(do you always talk
to achieve
fulfill a mission?
what is your mission?
what is your
purpose?)
women go to the market
buy some things
for the kitchen
they do not linger upon a
talk
men go to their work
thinking about their kids
most of the time
they do not bother about
work really
they also dwell in the bodies
of other women
about those nights away
from the eyes
of their wives
people have scattered minds
unto each other
they pretend that they are devoted
into something
worthwhile
kids go to school
carrying bags filled with books
that they do not bother really reading
if they have to be honest
about who they are
the only care for the games of their
minds in those
playgrounds and
play stations
what kind of world is this
there are only so few
that live
so many people are going to
the places of death
without really knowing
each step
the famous man (you know his name)
discovered the bomb
and from then own
they own all these countries of this world
he is the real meaning and so they claim
him to be
the only meaning of this world
a nuclear god
who cannot die in that history of pain
and misery
may his soul (if he has one)
rest in peace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death Of A Cockroach
I opened wide the bath-room door,
And all at once switched on the light,
When moving swift across the floor
I saw a streak of ebon bright:
Then quick, with slipper in my hand,
Before it could escape,--I slammed.
I missed it once, I missed it twice,
But got it ere it gained its lair.
I fear my words were far from nice,
Though d----s with me are rather rare:
Then lo! I thought that dying roach
Regarded me with some reproach.
Said I: "Don't think I grudge you breath;
I hate to spill your greenish gore,
But why did you invite your death
By straying on my bath-room floor?"
"It is because," said he (or she),
"Adventure is my destiny.
"By evolution I was planned,
And marvellously made as you;
And I am led to understand
The selfsame God conceived us two:
Sire, though the coup de grâce you give,
Even a roach has right to live."
Said I: "Of course you have a right,--
But not to blot my bath-room floor.
Yet though with slipper I may smite,
Your doom I morally deplore . . .
From cellar gloom to stellar space
Let bards and beetles have their place.
poem by Robert William Service
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So Much Depends On This Experience
one night when you arrive home
it is you that opens the garage
you have to step out of the car
and expose yourself to this inevitable coldness of a nightfall
no one is home
tonight
when you open the door using your own duplicate key
you switch on the light
no one is home tonight
the garage and house is now well lighted
you close the door and all the windows
you go straight to your bedroom
&
switch on the air-conditioner
you feel the arrival of a very cold packet of wind
from the tip of your feet
and it arrives like a jackal
as you begin to imagine it to be like
the one that you read in those horror books
it howls so loud trying to break the tympanum of your ears
and it is going to bite you
with its sharp eyes and teeth
but there is something so wrong with you:
you are not afraid, you do not mind jackals,
and now you are ready to bite this crazy one
you like this cold, and you smell the frost
you lick it
there is something so wrong with you:
you are aroused, and you do not like to sleep at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tarantella for Cinderella - Parody Hilaire BELLOC - Tarantella
Do you remember the Ball, Cinderella, do you recall the Ball?
And the prancing, glancing, dancing
of blissed eyes Do you remember the Ball, Cinderella, do you recall the Ball?
And the prancing, glancing, dancing
of blissed eyes Chance kissed romancing;
and the breeeze teasing sneeze when I fell to my knees with a bawl,
winter freezing causing wheezing, seizing me just when advancing,
causing you to forestall!
shining goblets fine wine full, lining guzzling gullets, free for all,
the vicious suspicious looks of ambitious
matrons with delicious daughters on call!
supercallifragilisticexpialidocious withal!
Do you remember the Ball, Cinderella, do you recall the free-for-all brawl?
Then the clock that twelve struck when luck ran amuck
when the slipper slipped ‘mid many
that it didn’t fit, - not any, neither Terri, Tonie, Jenny, -
And the hammering on the doors and the din?
And the hip! hop! hap! of the clap
of the reins on the rump on the pump-
kin’s horses clancing, prancing, fading hooves distancing.
Waiting not, with forceful trot they went, with wings lent,
and tlic! tloc! knock echoed far...
Do you remember the Ball, Cinderella, do you recall the Ball?
Never more, Cinderella, what a bore! Only the fairy foresaw
the slipper left standing at the door. No trace! – none at all,
in the walls of the Hall where falls the face
of the Prince rincing eyes, for the foot-falls
echo like the boom of doom in an empty room
while the footman horsing around with the kitchen maid
made merry with the sherry on the fly which wasn't very
prim and proper till p'lice copper came and played
on his whistle calling order be obeyed
with his siren shrilling, silver badge displayed.
In this New Year now I'm chasing shadows everywhere retracing
Cinderella's steps my heart can't bear replacing,
pacing here and there and up and down unlacing
treasured slipper pleasure's promise acts as casing,
spacing out without her footloose pulse a-racing,
only pain remains it seems, vain dreams embracing...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Housewifes Revenge
Seems like that man took my heart
[feels]
Laid it neatly out before him on the floor
Then he put on the biggest
Heaviest winter boots he had
And stomped on it for three hours,
Maybe four
And I hope his sorrells are ruined forever
Cause you know he knows how to push my every button
Get down to my last nerve
Like the other day he forgot to put his beer can
In the recycling bin
And he meant to do it on purpose Im sure
So I might just have to tell him
Why his dog, ralph, that ran away three years ago
Wont be coming home again
Cause you know he walks around the house
In his underwear
Whenever my girlfriends come around
And perhaps if he were good looking
I might feel a bit jealous, overzealous
But all I feel is embarrassed
Looking at him standing there
And I hope he never finds his left slipper
And my psychiatrist says I should tell him how I feel
He says, oh great, I gotta listen to her snivel again
So I have these little unfulfilled fantasies
Of putting arsenic in his teacup
Wed see whod be laughing then
If only he was the type to drink tea
Now I hear him come up the driveway
In his el camino
With its black with a red-flame firebird on front
He keeps the keys to himself
He wont take me out to the movies
Cause of football
So Ill just hold out on something else
Ill never cook him another single hungry man tv dinner again
I say, listen man, you better treat me with some
R-e-s-p-e-c-t
Cause I gotta a whole lotta what you need
Then a whole lot besides, and then still a whole lot more
He said, yeah, if you were talking about your weight
That might be true - but otherwise all you give me is
Headache and heartburn
So I took his hungry man tv dinner and his sorrels
So I took his left slipper and his hungry man tv dinner
And I spit on his sorrels as I walked out the door.
And I spit on him as I walked out the door
By the way, your dog ralph wont be coming home again
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don’t Leave Your Teeth on a Tray or the Cat Will Play with Them (Fun Poem 44)
This is a cautionary tale,
but I must add that it is true.
Last week my wife after eating an evening meal
decided to remove her bottom plate and put on a tray.
It seemed that it was rubbing against her gums.
Our next-door neighbour came in
and she and Vera retired to the kitchen
to play a game of cards.
After a couple of hands they heard
our youngest cat Charlie playing with something,
they thought it was just one of her toys.
It wasn’t until the next morning
when she went to put her teeth in
that she realised that the toy
Charlie was playing with
were actually her bottom teeth.
The moral of this story
is if you have false teeth,
always put them away
or some passing cat might think
they are a new toy
to have a game with and play.
(12 November 2007)
poem by David Harris
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5: 31a.m.
i am again listening to the sound
of the cock crowing
the silence of the jalousie window
still closed from the morning light
the faint sound of the radio in
the kitched where the housemaid does
the cooking and the cleaning
the sound of the broom
cleaning the garage and the sliding
of the rags wiping the car
the little brown dog arrives
from a kitchen door that just opened
letting it in and here it comes
as i write this
licking my lap and wagging
its short tail
i am feeling like i am the master
of my world and i am not letting
it go like some sand slipping
through my fingers
i will take a bite of my own day
like the way i take the slice
of the sweet papaya
laid on a glass table
beside a toasted sandwich
a slice of bacon and a hot
black brewed coffee.
inside a chocolate porcelain cup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Once they're lost
Old books piled
every dusty room
notebooks scattered
on every stack.
Some full others not
just gathering poems
on pages most bad
a few worth typing.
Can't find half finished sonnet
start throwing
filled notebooks in boxes
as they fill
put in garage
a couple years before rereading.
Only then will half-finished poem
let itself be found,
muse playing games.
poem by David Howerton
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors
and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sound Bites
Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!
Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.
Sound bites bitten to scoop the news.
To dropp a little bit to confuse.
Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!
A buffet that's meager,
For a taste to choose.
With a tease that's given.
And a hope what's nibbled makes good news.
Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!
Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.
Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!
And that's what sound bites bitten,
Done...
Do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nasty Bath Room
The bustand
Bath room
Was not for
Clean...
Urine sumeel
Cut the nose...
Some budy pass
Urine...
No for water
But
Colected money
For indian rupees
Onr for urine pass...
Rupees two for
Motion pass...
I was give
One rupee
I went the
Bustand bath room...
Not passed
The urine...
Urine was my self
Very urgent...
But i did not pass urine;
I was pay the one rupee
For indian money
Nasty bath room...
You also go and see
The bustand that bath room
Very care full...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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cousin Gig
i thought
it was a metaphor
when she said
'please remain
your slipper'
(i smiled and
she corrected herself
as we entered
the Japanese house
that she meant
to leave my slippers)
we had saki
watching kabuki
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If This Were a Fairy Tale
you say that you like me
but you say that we cant
be together for now
but lets take a chance?
in the book titled 'your life'
im just another chapter
this isnt a fairy tale
so i cant promise a 'happily ever after'
but if this were a fairy tale
it would be alice in wonderland
so much craziness going on
can you really understand?
she fell into a sleep and
escaped from the world she knew
i wanna BE that outlet
help you find something totally new
probably your hurting
like totally confused
from a past-time with someone
that left you feeling worthless and used
so then youll be like cinderella
screw the evil stepsisters
sneak out at night
come and get your glass slipper
he will be waiting for you
clasping the other slipper in hand
like the start of a new begininng
the other shoe helps you stand
and even at the midnight stroke
when your riches vanish into thin air
he still chases after you
no matter how sloppy you clothes, he doesnt care
so you say you like me
but you say that we cant
be together for now
but when your ready, lets take that chance
Crickety-Crack, the boat went!
My prayer goes to those who lost their loved ones,
With my face in my palm
The sea angry, far from being calm
Crickety-Crack, Crickety-Crack,
The boat went
And in that moment
I was very scared
Crickety-Crack, Crickety-Crack,
The boat went
And in that moment
I feared for our lives
All that was on my mind was
How we were going to survive
Unlike the doomed Egyptian ferry
Nothing happened, though I was very weary
And far from being merry
I could feel the power of its engine
If this boat went down
No one would win
No one would know where to begin
Everything on the ferry was shaking
People were just sitting and faking
Or perhaps I was mistaking
Because of the looks of unconcerned faces
If there were scared
There were no significant traces
Crickety-Crack, Crickety-Crack,
The boat went
And in that moment
I became very nervous
With the complete knowledge
The sea is such a powerful force
A reassuring hand
Made me understand
What is to be, will be
I suddenly realised the Sea
Is far more superior to the Land
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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