Turkey?
Only ate one drumstick
At the picnic dance this summer,
Just one little drumstick--
They say I couldn't be dumber.
One tough and skinny drumstick,
Why was that such a bummer?
But everybody's mad at me,
Especially the drummer.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Related quotes
Somebody's In Love
[Chorus]
Fun Fun Fun kick the drumstick somebody's in love kick the drumstick Romeo's got a lady his poppa's goin' crazy [repeat]
I still remember when I met her I could her forget it was cold outside I gave her my sweater walk her from school cause she
wrote a letter that read Romeo lets be friends forever you be my mickey mouse and I'll be your minnie I'm feelin' you even
though your feelin' Jenie her name was Keesha she always sat by the teacher a seat away from Teresa and Lisa Pam
song performed by by Lil' Romeo from Lil' Romeo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Drumstick-Tree’s Growth
Look how the drumstick grows in length each day!
It goes so fast as if our eyes can know;
The fruit though small, grows long in Nature’s way,
And in a few days time, ’tis stick-like, oh!
Incredible it looks when fully grown,
From such a small flower, its present size;
God’s marvel makes man appear like a clown,
And yet, man will not agree God is wise.
The bees and butterflies too play their role;
Seeking nectar, they transfer pollen grains;
What umptine fruits cover the tree-like pole!
The lengthy fruits hang down like giant canes!
The drumstick tree shows God’s work at its best;
How much more wonderful, He’s done the rest!
poem by John Celes
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The Great Drum
The circle of the Earth is the head of a great drum;
With the day, it moves upward - booming;
With the night, it moves downward - booming;
The day and the night are its song.
I am very small, as I dance upon the drum-head;
I am like a particle of dust, as I dance upon the drum-head;
Above me in the sky is the shining ball of the drumstick.
I dance upward with the day;
I dance downward with the night;
Some day I shall dance afar into space like a particle of dust.
Who is the Drummer who beats upon the earth-drum?
Who is the Drummer who makes me to dance his song?
poem by Anonymous Americas
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If people knew how KFC treats its chickens, they'd never eat another drumstick.
quote by Pamela Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The fox which was caught in a snare called: If I shall not get the whole chicken, I will not be satisfied with the drumstick.
a drumstick- pole strut
rootless, soilless, cut long back
leafs and blossoms still
haiku by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The latter part of life
He knows where the journey ends
And he always put his love
For his family first,
The old Man at the passage
Mutters something
And I guessed;
'I am not worried of myself
But the faithful companion
My walking stick,
Once I stopped breathing
Don't know whether they look after that well
Or throw away like a drumstick? '
* A smile happens in a flash, but the memory of it can last a lifetime.
-Unknown
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A new found inspiration.
Every day I make my way
Through your lane
To see you, who are so lean,
So smart, so swift,
With drumstick frame.
Your heedlessness
Is the source of attraction.
In simple night dress,
When you move about
In your fore yard,
You refuse to cross my eyes.
One should take more efforts
To ignore a man
Than to notice him.
Hitherto, I succeeded
To let you know my surge
But you never let me know
That you know of it.
Pretence is stimulation.
25.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet-In Melancholia
'Tis Summer-time this year in its peak form;
There is no sign of leaves green, buds or flow’rs;
One's sweaty-skin could raise exanthems warm;
with water scarce, none can afford good show’rs.
Dry drumstick-fruits hang down from twigs so dry;
Papaya tree has not a single fruit;
The Moon has turned shapeless tonight;
I cry; ' The sky has clouds that look as black as soot.”
The place is airless; there's no noise of Birds;
My Allergy has reached a sorry stage;
And all I eat is rice with pickles, curds;
A battle 'gainst Nature, how can I wage?
Yet, things are settling down in God’s queer ways;
I feel as though these are my last sad days.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Melanoma
‘That's nice, ' I said, as Juno bathed me
In her sun.
Soon, a bronze Adonis - ogling girls!
It must be done!
I rolled over; bared a snowy skin
To bake and burn and sear beneath a din
Of ultraviolet rays…
Now I'm on the ward, I count the days to
Lesser pain, torrential rain; accepting
I'm a fool to be so vain!
I bore an awful mole, you see -
A growth, a blighted entity
Presenting as an ugly melanoma!
Oh! how tricky life can be
When unprotected by the sea, to
Sizzle with a barbecue aroma!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
All rights reserved
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
summer summer summer summer summer
summer summer summer summer summer - what a bummer
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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4 Seasons
How will I stand the summer
When spring was such a bummer
How will I weather my winter
When my fall was such a ballbuster
Its spring and therell be no spring fling
When my winter was what a winner
And I am taking a fall
cause if I aint got you I got nothing at all
How will I stand the summer
When the spring just made me dumber
How will I fare my fall
Will I lose my mind in the wintertime
Its spring and Im a spring ding-a-ling
Its summer and Im just a little dumber
And I am taking a fall
cause if I aint got you I got nothing at all
Thru the 4 seasons
Im searching for reasons
Im not gonna take the spring
cause the spring dont mean a thing
Im not gonna take the winter
My winter is a splinter
Im not gonna take the summer
Summer is such a bummer
But I am taking the fall
cause if I aint got you I got nothing at all
Thru the 4 seasons
Im searching for reasons
Vivaldi, the 4 seasons
It seems to me to be a theme of love
With no variations of aggravations
Spring, summer, winter and fall
Spring, summer, winter and fall
Spring, summer, winter and fall
If I aint got you I got nothing at all
Gordon gano: vocal, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocal
Guy hoffman: snare, tranceaphone, vocal
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwuakee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Older Than dirt, Dumb As A Rock
Older than dirt
Dumb as a rock
That’s what I’ve been called
And it comes as no shock
Cause I have gotten older
And I have gotten dumber
And I possibly could have seen
My very last summer
But I don’t regret getting’ dumber
And I know getting’ older is tough
What I do regret tho’…
is not getting’ enough
poem by David Whalen
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Sonnet: the Drumstick Tree
The drumstick-tree I thought was dead and gone
Is fully clothed by green leaves and flowers;
The bees are active and some fruits are born;
The tree awaits August’s Monsoon showers.
I see the tree growing so fast each morn;
My eyes perceive not the blossoming act;
How well does Nature heal its parts much torn;
Human beings are blind with eyes- the fact.
So, numerous small birds visit the tree,
To eat the flowers that gets dropped nearby;
The tree makes the backyard look so lovely;
Some Millipedes remain and will not die!
The tree looks resurrected, simply great!
God gave a new lease and a newer date.
7-31-2000
poem by John Celes
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On Getting Old
when i was a child
i don't really know how significant is the
mona lisa
smile, at first glance nothing in it is delicious
like a chocolate cake
or a red lollipop
or magnolia drumstick
i remember
how you snub the red wheelbarrow
what is it in a rusty wheelbarrow that stirs mankind
into deep thinking?
now things have changed
the sigh has a lot to say to the wind
the air has a heart of its own
the sea becomes a body of a woman
the moon a beautiful face
the night is not a place for fear
but for desire
romance spreads in the air
and the flowers that we pluck for play
may better be
staying to bloom at their stalks
we watch things rot
flowers that wilt and give up their gnarled petals
time indeed makes us different
when the sunset comes we become too cautious
we choose the words
we place our hands properly on the table
our eyes sharp now
to every detail
inside the labyrinths of our hearts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sticky and Wet
When one runs up a heat,
No sweat drips sweet.
And salty come the comments,
With humidity peaked.
A temperature rising,
Is wished to be left alone.
A temperature rising,
Is not welcomed in one's home.
And Summer is a bummer,
When the air conditioner is gone.
Yes Summer is a bummer.
Sticky and wet,
Is not what one condones.
Yes a humid Summer,
Can be a big bummer.
When one runs up a heat,
No sweat drips sweet.
And salty come the comments,
With humidity peaked.
A temperature rising,
Is wished to be left alone.
Yes Summer is a bummer.
Sticky and wet,
Is not what one condones.
Yes a humid Summer,
Can be a big bummer.
When one runs up a heat,
No sweat drips sweet.
Yes a humid Summer,
Can be a big bummer.
When one runs up a heat,
No sweat drips sweet.
Yes a humid Summer,
Can be a big bummer.
Sticky and wet,
Is not what one condones.
And Summer is a bummer,
When the air conditioner is gone.
Sticky and wet.
Sticky and wet.
Sticky and wet...
When humidity makes one moan.
Yes a humid Summer,
Can be a big bummer.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ashes of Stick
Down by my home lies an old street.
A young maid cries please buy it.
Lightful street, they head to see shows.
They smile, we play and passerby bows.
We run, we stumble and sometimes we click.
Come on, watch out, woman who's got ashes of stick.
She adverts, these woods smell better than fresh foods.
Come on, watch it, pay it, for what it suits.
With wallet of puppet, kid, it costs ten cents.
Woods were best, they could be good gifts.
Woman with boots, they've got adorable looks.
They greet hello boy, its awesome but no chance too hook.
Street guys and band, rock with their drumstick.
Don't ignore, come on, watch out women with ashes of stick.
They compliment, she is a nice fudge.
Cool, i would love to make a judge.
My puppy run, it thrashes and loves to lick.
Come on, watch out, woman with ashes of stick.
poem by Diplove gautam
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Bayonet Song
Fire away, fire away, boys must have their play,
There'll be hard work yet
Before sunset:
But what of the day when the boys have had their play?
When the boys have played, why then,
Aha!
'Twill be time for the men,
Hurrah!
And the bayonet!
But, men, as we've nothing to do till then,
And the match is on out there,
I think you and I may as well stand by
And see that the game goes fair.
No drummer! no tambourettes,
The earth is our drum wherever we come,
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets,
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets,
Where's the drumstick that ever could beat,
Where's the drumhead that ever could drum,
Like the mighty foot of our thousand feet,
And the earth that is dumb till we come and come?
Come and come and come and come
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets.
'Love your enemy'-yes, 'tis the Briton's grace!
I love him so well that I'd see his face.
Yon little ninepins all in a row,
How can I tell if I love 'em or no?
So hurrah, lads, up we go!
Here's to our nearer meeting,
And if when we come within greeting
I see my own special foe,
I'll leave him to Tom or John,
And find my work further on,
And perhaps he and I will shake hands by and bye
Side by side as we lie
(To-night on the gory slope of the hill
As the dew-tears drop from the sky above
At the silent thought
Of the friends whom we love
Better still),
And wait for the surgeon's cart
That's always coming and never comes,
And when a couple of bearers pass
I'll give him my turn,
Tho' the flesh-wounds smart,
And the bone-wounds burn,
And the life-tide's running dry
Because he's my enemy.
But that's when I've spiked up John's and Tom's
And Rosie's and Poll's and Marjorie's
And little Jack's and todlin May's
And the victory's won and the bloody day's
Done, and of flesh that is grass
Along the braes the bloody hay's
Made, that is made, hurrah!
With the bayonet.
For till you show me the Sacred Word
I'm for Peter and his good sword,
Only I hope if we'd drilled him here
He'd not have missed the head for the ear.
Gods, I'd give a Life's delights
To have been there that night of nights,
With ten such men as I see here now,
When they spat their sin on the Sinless Brow
And struck Him without let,-
And have heard the ten steels clash at my call
And seen the ten steels flash in the hall
As we did them all up to the wall,
High Priest, low Priest, Romans and all,
Great and small up to the wall,
Up to the wall with the bayonet.
I would keep or lose my right hand
By the love of every man here
For the dear native land.
There is not a man here this day
Of whom come what come can
I could speak with an accent of scorn.
Who feels his courage grow colder
At sight of the foe,
Whose conscience is bolder
Because we are shoulder to shoulder,
Who goes up the hill because we are men
And not because he is man,
He shall serve his country yet
But not with the bayonet.
Well done-I like your eyes,
Neither sunrise
Nor sunset.
Well done-I know the grips
That will tell to barrel and stock
What the beard hides on the lips:
No strain on the rein, no tug on the slips.
No drummer! no tambourettes!
The earth is our drum wherever we come,
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets,
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets,
Where's the drumstick that ever could beat,
Where's the drumhead that ever could drum,
Like the mighty foot of our thousand feet,
And the earth that is dumb till we come and come?
Till we come and come and come and come,
Bayonets, bayonets, bayonets, bayonets!
You are not dogs but Lions, and who
Holds Lions in leash? Hurrah,
My Lions! with just such a pack
I'd hunt down the gods of Olympus! Alack,
This mount is all an Olympus. Up there
You see the bird-popping goddikins-ten
To one I'll warrant you-bah!
What then?
Who cares while theirs is the ten to the one
And ours is the one to the ten?
Were't one to twenty which of us would shirk
The odds or the glory? You see
How the land lies?
This fox-cover up the long rise,
Then fifty paces of open, and then the breast-work.
Scatter the pack in cover, make them cast wide,
From wood-side to wood-side.
Go in like hounds and come out
At the top like men and lions-full swing
Up the wood, but when it's grey-blue
Overhead come together like men.
A halt for breath,
Slow-time and still as death
To the covert-edge, and then
The rush and the roar and the spring!
Hunt's up, my Lions, hie in, hurrah!
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Near Non-sense Poem
When Michael Jackson did his debut,
A Donkey cried, 'Ho, Hee, I can do much better, pal! '
And I'm more child-friendly too,
So, children tie an empty tin to my tail and I run with fright,
Faster than the hare!
Just then an Wood-pecker, walked upwards a drumstick-tree
And pecked a hole in a trice with a few quick shots of his pointed beak,
And said, 'pea-nuts, who can do better than me? '
And flew onto the Cherry-tree.
And Jimi Hendrix eating pop-corn,
Was working on his key-board on his lap,
No, my buttocks hurt when I sit so long,
trying to concoct a new number!
So does my stomach too with the cheesecake, fruit-loops,
Crabs, Apple-juice and Sphagetti-O's!
And my ears hurt by the Amplifier noise,
Take revenge on me by destroying my sleep!
The Bumble-bee that buzzed past by
had a deja-vu after sucking on the glue!
'Happy flamingo, 'he said, 'With all my experience,
This is much better than a cream-pie! '
But no one cared about Weiner, the villain,
Admitted in the General-ward
of a Hospital with an abdominal binder,
Except for eleven Flying purple Monkeys
Who popped through the window
And stole away his bat-mobile,
finding nothing to eat near-by!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-05-2004
(a contest poem based on an array of unrelated words)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heavy Metal Drummer
I still miss those heavy metal bands
She used to go see on the landing in the summer
She fell in love with a drummer
She fell in love with the drummer
She fell in love
Shiny shiny pants and bleach blonde hair
A double kick drum by the river in the summer
She fell in love with a drummer
Another & another
She fell in love
I miss the innocence Ive known
Playing kiss covers
Beautiful & stoned
Unlock my body and move myself to dance
In long liquid flowing blowing glass
Classical music blasting
Thats still ringing in my ears
I still miss those heavy metal bands
She used to go see on the landing in the summer
She fell in love with a drummer
She fell in love with the drummer
She fell in love
I miss the innocence Ive known
Playing kiss covers
Beautiful & stoned
I miss the innocence Ive known
Playing kiss covers
Beautiful & stoned
Playing kiss covers
Beautiful & stoned
Playing kiss covers
Beautiful & stoned
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crew Nights
Tear it down in double quick time
To get the eighth truck shifted bout midnight
The locker rooms are empty but the [strobo tickers? ][strobe boats? ]
Still spin with their pitching lights
And someone with a yellow pass
Gives out precise directions as to where and when
And here am I with a drumstick,
While young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again
Tomorrow is an off-day,
Be in baltimore by thursday is the only law.
Theres a suite down at the hotel
Reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting mans already improvised a bar,
And printed invitations to the ball.
Off duty cops line corridors wearing tull [two? ] t-shirts proudly
On the bands [...] wall
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to
Temporarily belong to the p.a. man [men? ]
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being
Undressed with no suntan
His polaroid is snapping
The head carpenter is rapping on
The gates of dawn
Sitting lonely with a warm beer
The girl with dental braces wishes that she hadnt gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or [feeders? ] [veeders? ] wives
Thin walls and late [blade? ] calls and nine lives.
[ken stitzel writes: still no clue on the first line, but I think
''late calls is definitely correct for the second line. it makes
Sense from a stagehand terminology perspective. I know that it
Sounds like theres a ''b sound in there, but I think its just a
Minor flaw in ians diction. (its really tough to sing clearly,
Especially in rock music.)]
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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