December 30
At 1:30 in the morning a fart
smells like a marriage between
an avocado and a fish head.
I have to get out of bed
to write this down without
my glasses on.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Breakfast Of The Old Farts
the old farts
did meet for breakfast
of coffee and cookies
and fish and rice
and a pomelo and camote chunks
and they all fart
and part and meet again
only to fart some more
this lunchtime.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Trinculo [sees Caliban]: What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish. He smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-john.
line from The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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About a poem
You filled the glasses
Words into glasses glass made drops
Golden pots for a thunder-like
‘Drink’ of big silences
You filled the glasses
On the tables across the earth
Meanings laid walking on debris
You filled the glasses
Like hours into a sandclock
The sand upon which
You write up the names
Glass made drops
You write up the scars of a sip
Drunk you plough and keep ploughing
Over the dreams you spill
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Silly; Gross: Fart!
Having just exclaimed 'what can I write about? ' I heard a muffled noise,
...followed by a pungent cheesy smell which FEW of your ilk enjoys.
Now farts have gotten a bad reputation....along with burps and belches.
In our society they are THINGS...which a more 'polite' person often squelches.
And I'd say I'm one of the 'more polite'...in my normal daily life; that is except when I'm alone...with my loving, understanding WIFE.
Why even my wife farts on rare occasions.....Don't let her know I've told.
But she generally does it behind a CLOSED door. Unlike me, …she's not so bold.
So 'FART' is what I'll write about tonight, .... stretched out in this chair.
You'll excuse me please if I let one loose...though it MAY foul the air.
Farts come in at least four varieties. I'm sure you all know THAT.
I could break it down to sub-varieties, but I'll KEEP those in my hat.
First there are farts that are quiet and smelly. Not my cup of tea.
At least one should make some noise....so others won't HAVE TO SAY 'not ME'.
Then there are those quiet but NOT smelly; I think women mostly do those.
They give off nothing obnoxious….. to offend your ears or nose.
There are noisy farts that are also smelly. Some would say they're WORST OF ALL.
There are noisy farts that are NOT smelly, ...some like a bugle call.
I've heard of 'farting posts'....used in competitions, ....and
I've heard of using cigarette lighters...to ignite fart emissions.
I've been around dogs that fart and I guess some cows do too.
Probably lots of species fart (now and then) ...not just a FEW.
I believe what's behind all farts...is simply what we.....eat.
If you eat too much or the 'wrong thing'....you MAY be blown....OFF your feet.
Personally that's never happened to me. I'm not lying; ....it's really TRUE.
No 'Captain Ahab' has ever said of me: 'My god! There he blew! '
poem by Bri Edwards
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On Marriage
Pessimistic views: :
Marriage is a gamble!
Marriage is a punishment;
Marriage is an evil that
Most can’t but accept.
Optimistic views:
Marriage is a gift of God;
Marriage is a blessing;
Marriage is an enjoyment,
We make the best of it.
Truths:
Marriage is so wonderful;
Marriage is so fulfilling;
Marriage is so wholesome;
Marriage is an endless love,
More priceless than all wealth!
Marriage is a way of life;
Marriage is so natural;
Marriage is the better way,
For two, to reach Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-7-2006
poem by John Celes
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He Wore Dark Sun glasses
The sun it was not shining and dark gray were the skies
Yet he wore dark sun glasses for to conceal his eyes
From the gaze of other people what was he trying to hide
Since to the mirror of his soul daylight he had denied.
Or maybe his eyes are sensitive to light so dark glasses at all times he must wear
Since seeing one wearing dark glasses on a cloudy morning is quite rare
In sunny weather many wear dark glasses to save their eyes from the sun's glare
On bright and warm Summer days of the sun one must beware.
This morning in the wind and rain it did seem strange to me
A young man wearing dark sun glasses out walking I did see
On such an overcast day sunglasses did seem out of place
If you cannot see a person's eyes you cannot memorize their face.
He may have eyes sensitive to light and have to wear dark glasses every day
But when I said hello to him he had nothing to say
If you cannot see a person's eyes to you that person a stranger remain
And I would not recognize his face were I to see him again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Write And Write And Cannot Write
I write and write and cannot write
Tiredness overwhelms me
To begin the day at three in the morning is not always wise
Nonetheless I write and write
But I cannot really write
I am just barely typing on-
Perhaps the morning will come soon
And I will wake
But for now I am tired too tired to write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Smells Like Rain
It smells like rain
filling the air
before the first drops break
in quiet splashes on the river.
It smells like rain
musty and fresh at once
warning the birds
to go home.
And the rain comes
water on water
cool rush of sound
quieting insects
teasing fish
drenching boaters
surprised by the storm.
It smells like rain
It sounds like rain
It looks like rain, now
I’ll go outside
and feel the rain.
Hell. I’ll be the rain.
poem by Robert Fort
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At the Altar
Now to take away your life –
Devour your soul afresh upon
The birth of every dawning day
– The spawn of sun and earth –
As of the way Prometheus lost hepatic flesh –
He stole fire! You stole gropes
And f*cks of me; so suffer thee!
Oh yes, perspire! Drizzle down the beads
Upon that crimson, blotchy skin –
I see the once cocksure pose, my man,
Is wearing terribly thin.
Indeed, an absence of repose
Discloses thumping in your chest –
Irregularly rhythmic – like the humping
(When you thought I was a body to molest) .
No more! my little man, for I shall wrest
The living essence from your
Paling, quivering form! –
You’ve had your gentle calm
Before the rumblings of the storm!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Love Poem #1
I really like
To write you
A love poem
Someday
One that
Looks like the
Shadow of
A young man
Fishing out
To the sea
And spreads
His net and
Paddles his
Way around
A school of
Fish and then
He waits
For a while
Dreaming
Only about
You
Then he
Sees a seagull
Encircling
Above his
Head flying
Over him
And then
Hovers
On the side
Of his
Boat like
Looking for a
Fish
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Light Without A Switch Off
one best thing is this:
we write from the bottom of our hearts,
guessing that perhaps this is what others feel too.
we simply describe our state of mind,
in the most simple way understandable by that common man on the street
a fish vendor if he reads that we are feeling like rotten fish
if you tell him, how rotten fish smells and what a wasted feeling is
it when it is there unsold
look at his face? make him understand that we are all vendors of
our feelings, that our feelings sometimes do not sell,
he will understand that,
everything is classified as a commercial act
writing, speaking, wooing,
what a humiliation of what we really are
hawkers of beliefs, ambulant chasers of emotions
what a demeaning purpose,
this must stop, it is not real, it is a prostitution of our
faith,
we write from the bottom of our hearts
and you feel it, that is why you are following the sounds of drums
at the center of the island
where we grow a bonfire, where smoke rises to the sky
where evenings become so lighted, where dance assumes true meaning
our shadows are pure, our bodies own them
and the moon at night makes them all alive
you are telling me that this fire is invisible
and it has not switch for you to put it off.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What those marriage worth, I am already yours
What those marriage worth, I am already yours
We have marriage by heart not by rituals.
Our marriage is pious then those done by priests
And those other who are eyeing are big fool
Those who tell that I have no right on you
Don’t know that we are lovers by heart
Our children have already started to play
Not those physical children but our love has passed third anniversary.
Is physical marriage bigger then natural?
Even god believes in original heart marriage
Who dare to discard my say can anyone tells me?
If not then why dismay in her physical marriage
I am already husband of yours and you my wife
That crimson in your head, necklace in your neck has not value.
poem by Sambidhan Acharya
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Qualified Apologies
QUALIFIED APOLOGIES, HONESTY, RULES, AVOCADOES AND PILSNER URQUELL
Any qualified apology is no
apology. If it comes with defense,
the moral high ground always turns into the low,
weighed down because you're sitting on a fence.
If being honest is the goal, you must unzip
to what you reckon is the deepest level;
but say tomorrow what you say today; don't flip
or men may rightly think you are a devil.
You must restructure rules to fit your deepest need,
for rules are made in order to be broken.
Any person who to stupid rules pays heed
to reality has hardly woken.
Avocado's like a perfect argument,
providing all a back-up that is great.
Both of them appear to be from heaven sent,
though both when rotten tend to nauseate.
I don't expect all people to appreciate
my work, although I never write a dud.
Some people don't appreciate what's really great,
instead of Pilsner Urquell drinking Bud.
Cal Fussman interviews Mary Louise Parker in Esquire,12/15/10, and tells him, inter al:
'I'm sorry, but...' — no. A qualified apology is not an apology. I can forgive most anything. But I won't forgive anything if it's defended. That's just weakness.
If being honest is the goal, I can unzip to a pretty deep level. But what you get today is not necessarily what you'll get tomorrow.
I like to restructure the rules to make them fit my own needs.
Avocado is the perfect food. It's so substantial. So rich. There's something sensual about an avocado. You peel it and then you have to scoop out the rest and kind of lick it. Avocado makes everything better. A burger. A sandwich. It's support. It just backs everything up.
I don't get tired of hearing that somebody liked my work. I'm not for everyone. If I were a beer, I definitely would not be a Budweiser.
5/16/12 #10240
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Isaac Newton
Isaac Newton
For years he fished in the nearby lake,
but the fish would never take his bait.
So he baited his hook with crusty-bread,
but even that didn’t turn their head.
He changed the bait to a lump of cheese
and thought this would tempt and tease,
but alas no bites from dusk till dawn,
so he changed the bait to boiled corn.
With no success with boiled wheat
Newton would not accept defeat.
So he put a juicy worm upon the hook,
but even this got no second look.
He cast aside his tackle and thoughts of fish,
and became a mathematician and physicist.
One sunny morning beneath an apple tree
he sat reading a book of philosophy.
From the lake a fish leaped high above his head,
but an apple fell down and hit him instead.
He looked up for the fish and it fell onto his lap,
so he ate the apple and put the fish back.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Thieves Look Holy
To fart is, of course, unpleasant.
To fart silently is to steal
The wind and escape as a thief.
A thief fights thieves to hide his thefts.
(26.06.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
strength enfold, the fish is in the running
water waiting for us to carry in every heart,
please prepare the place, the net is
empty …… come and fish the fish
poem by Antonio Liao
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A marriage of two
A marriage of two
is for love that is true
A marriage of two
is always something new
A marriage of two
happens sometimes out of the blue
A marriage of two
is worth it when its due
A marriage of two
is a marriage of trust
Many can find themselves lost
It can be an expensive cost
They are only very few
who have a clue
of when love accrues
A marriage of two
is about love making
It is not about
money raking
A marriage of two
can be bad
A marriage of two
can be sad
You should only be glad if
A marriage of two
is for love that is true
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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