En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Ship of Fools

38 poets are sailing across Loch Katrine
Over the city of Glasgow's public water supply
30,000 sheep were cleared from the hills around
To keep Glaswegian plumbing ewe-pee free

Their elders were not consulted in this matter
Driven lamenting off their ancestral pastures
The mutton clearances, a stain on Glasgow's character.

This loch is 500 feet deep
A water bull as large as a Clydeside bus
Stays in its icy depths, waiting
To hole the hulls of oily polluters
In the city of Glasgow's public water supply

Green Tagged Kate McLaren, the Gartmore Palmer.
Black Mini Muddler. Professor Watson's Fancy,
Black Zulu, the Middle dropper
All, have got their hooks in
The city of Glasgow's public water supply.

Meanwhile, above all those jugfuls of pub-mixers,
Throat coolers, juice diluting gallons,
buzzards swoop over the trees
red and roe deer feed on the slopes
pied flycatcher, tree pipit, wood warbler, redstart
soar and dive through the leaves
Occasionally dropping feathers
On the city of Glasgow's public water supply

Not to mention 38 poets, raising an ode or two
Like sails in the wind, as poets do,
Steering by sleight and illusion,
Over the city of Glasgow's public water supply.
Uisge beathe with a smidgeon of Bardic tang

poem by Sheena Blackhall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loch Katrine

Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand,
Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand!
Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen,
Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
And as I gaze upon it, let me pause and think,
How many people in Glasgow of its water drink,
That's conveyed to them in pipes from its placid lake,
And are glad to get its water their thirst to slake.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains on either side of it are beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the steamers sailing on it with their clouds of steam:
And their shadows on its crystal waters as they pass along,
Is enough to make the tourist burst into song.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
'Tis beautiful to see its tiny wimpling rills,
And the placid Loch in the hollow of a circle of hills,
Glittering like silver in the sun's bright array,
Also many a promontory, little creek, and bay.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
Then to the east there's the finely wooded Ellen's Isle,
There the tourist can the tedious hours beguile,
As he gazes on its white gravelled beautiful bay,
It will help to drive dull care away.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains Ben-An and Ben-Venue are really very grand
Likewise the famous and clear silver strand;
Where the bold Rob Roy spent many a happy day,
With his faithful wife, near by its silvery bay.

Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loch Ness

Beautiful Loch Ness,
The truth to express,
Your landscapes are lovely and gay,
Along each side of your waters, to Fort Augustus all the way,
Your scenery is romantic...
With rocks and hills gigantic...
Enough to make one frantic,
As they view thy beautiful heathery hills,
And their clear crystal rills,
And the beautiful woodlands so green,
On a fine summer day...
From Inverneaa all the way...
Where the deer and the doe together doth play;
And the beautiful Falls of Foyers with its cystal spray,
As clear as the day,
Enchanting and gay,
To the traveller as he gazes thereon,
That he feels amazed with delight,
To see the water falling from such a height,
That his heed feels giddy with the scene,
As he views the Falls of Foyers and the woodlands so green,
That he exclaims in an ecstasy of delight -
Oh, beautiful Loch Ness!
I must sincerely confess,
That you are the most beautiful to behold,
With your lovely landscapes and water so cold.
And as he turns from the scene, he says with a sigh-
Oh, beautiful Loch Ness! I must bid you good-bye.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oxfam Stands For Killing Oxen Causes Famine

Oxfam like Heifer International
is distributing animal flesh
to third world countries,
thereby causing animal agony,
spreading human death and disease,
enabling deforesting and continued
global heating, wasting energy.

Oxfam means.... killing oxen causes
famine.

*********

I WILL NOT SAIL WITH SHEEP

- W. H. Davies - (1870 to 1940)

When I was once in Baltimore
A man came up to me and cried
‘Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep,
And we sail on Tuesday’s tide.'

‘If you will sail with me, young man,
I'll pay you fifty shillings down.
These eighteen hundred sheep I take
From Baltimore to Glasgow town.’

He paid me fifty shillings down.
I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep;
We soon had cleared the harbour’s mouth,
We soon were in the salt sea deep.

The first night we were out at sea.
Those sheep were quiet in their mind.
The second night they cried with fear –
They smelt no pastures in the wind.

They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields.
They cried so loud I could not sleep:
For fifty thousand shillings down
I would not sail again with sheep.

poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The City Of Poets,12/26/09

in the city
of poets
all men
are equals
and stride about
congratulating
one another
on their genius.

in the city
of poets
the statistics
of attentive readers
exceed
all expectations
and the bookstores
burst
like fat silos
with their harvest
of rhyme.

in the city
of poets
passports
to immortality
are issued
with abandon,
frontiers
evaporate,
and customs gates
are thrown open
by exuberant
and trusting
guards.

The city of poets
is a classless
society
where no one
dares admit
the existence
of aristocrats
or kings
and everyone
shamelessly
lays claim
to successful
expression.

In the city of poets
bad verse
drives out good
or rather
drowns it
in a sea
of mediocrity,
a conspiracy
of equality,
a brotherhood
of banality,
and every man
is his own
best
bard.

poem by Percy Dovetonsils
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful Aberfoyle

The mountains and glens of Aberfoyle are beautiful to sight,
Likewise the rivers and lakes are sparkling and bright;
And its woods were frequented by the Lady of the Lake,
And on its Lakes many a sail in her boat she did take.

The scenery there will fill the tourist with joy,
Because 'tis there once lived the bold Rob Roy,
Who spent many happy days with his Helen there,
By chasing the deer in the woods so fair.

The little vale of Aberfoyle and its beautiful river
Is a sight, once seen, forget it you'll never;
And romantic ranges of rock on either side
Form a magnificent background far and wide.

And the numerous lochs there abound with trout
Which can be had for the taking out,
Especially from the Lochs Chon and Ard,
There the angler can make a catch which will his toil reward.

And between the two lochs the Glasgow Water Works are near,
Which convey water of Loch Katrine in copious streams clear
To the inhabitants of the Great Metropolis of the West,
And for such pure water they should think themselves blest.

The oak and birch woods there are beautiful to view,
Also the Ochil hills which are blue in hue,
Likewise the Lake of Menteith can be seen far eastward,
Also Stirling Castle, which long ago the English beseiged very hard.

Then away to Aberfoyle, Rob Roy's country,
And gaze on the magnificent scenery.
A region of rivers and mountains towering majestically
Which is lovely and fascinating to see.

But no words can describe the beautiful scenery.
Aberfoyle must be visited in order to see,
So that the mind may apprehend its beauties around,
Which will charm the hearts of the visitors I'll be bound.

As for the clachan of aberfoyle, little remains but a hotel,
Which for accomodation which will suit the traveller very well.
And the bedding thereis clean and good,
And good cooks there to cook the food.

Then away to the mountains and lakes of bonnie Aberfoyle,
Ye hard-working sons and daughters of daily toil;
And traverse its heathery mountains and viewits lakes so clear,
When the face of Nature's green in the spring of the year.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Am I a Sinner or a Saint?

I will supply pure heroine
To all the hopheads on the street
And then the clean up will begin
I’ll rid the city of dead beats.

A drastic plan but effective.
The have free choice they need not use.
It is their choice to live or die.
I doubt that many will refuse.

Am I sinner or a saint?
to contemplate mass homicide
To rid the city of this taint.
It’s up to you, you must decide.

Am I murderer or not.
They choose to use what I supply
Some use a little some a lot.
Is it my fault if they all die.

I am the last man they’d expect
to even think of such a plan.
For after all who would suspect.
such tactics from a clergyman.

My plan proved to be a great success
The city streets are safer now.
I have some doubts I must confess.
But I feel justified some how.

I do believe in mans free will.
To choose to use or not use
A substance which will likely kill.
I don’t believe in drug abuse.

17/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The society which scorns excellence in plumbing as a humble activity and tolerates shoddiness in philosophy because it is an exalted activity will have neither good plumbing nor good philosophy...neither its pipes nor its theories will hold water.

quote by John W. Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The society which scorns excellence in plumbing as a humble activity and tolerates shoddiness in philosophy because it is an exalted activity will have neither good plumbing nor good philosophy: neither its pipes nor its theories will hold water.

quote by John W. Gardner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sailing

(gavin sutherland)
Producer for bonnie: steve hackett
Recorded in 1990 as a charity single against the repatriation of the vietnamese boat people. lyrics taken from careful listening.
I am sailing, i am sailing
Far away, across the sea
I am sailing, stormy waters
To be near you, to be free
I am flying, i am flying
Like a bird, across the sky
I am flying, passing high clouds
To be near you, to be free
Can you hear me? can you hear me?
Through the dark night, far away
I am dying, forever trying
To be with you, who can say?
We are sailing, we are sailing
Far away, across the sea
We are sailing, stormy waters
To be near you, to be free
To be near you, to be free
To be near you, to be free
To be near you, to be free
To be near you, to be free
I am flying, i am flying
Like a bird, across the sky
I am flying, passing high clouds
To be near you, to be free
Oh lord, to be near you
To be free
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?
Through the dark night
Far away
I am dying, forever trying
To be with you, who can say
To be with you, who can say

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mine Katrine

You vouldn't dink mine frau If you shust look at her now, Vhere der wrinkles on her prow

Long haf been,
Vas der frdulein blump und fair, Mit der wafy flaxen hair, Who did vonce mine heart enshnare—

Mine Katrine.
Der dime seems shord to me Since ve game acrosd der sea, To der gountry off der free Ve'd neffer seen;
Bud ve hear der beople say Dhere vas vork und blendy bay, So I shtarted righdt avay Mit Katrine.

Oh, der shoy dot filled mine house Vhen dot goot oldt Toctor Krauss Brought us "Leedle Yawcob Strauss,"

Shveet und clean; Vhy, I don'd pelief mine eyes Vhen I look, now, mit surbrise, On dot feller, shust der size

Off Katrine!
Den "dot leedle babe off mine," He vas grown so tall und fine— Shust so sdrait as any pine You effer seen,
Und der beoples all agree Sooch fine poys dhey neffer see. (Dhey looks much more like ine As Katrine.)

Veil, ve haf our criefs und shoys, Und dhere's naught our lofe destroys, Budt I miss dhose leedle poys

Dot used to been; Und der tears vill somedime sdart, Und I feels so sick at heart, Vhen I dinks I soon must part

From Katrine.
Oldt Time vill soon pe here, Mit his sickle und his shpear, Und vill vhisper in mine ear Mit sober mien:
" You must cooin along mit me, For id vas der Lord's decree; Und von day dhose poys you'll see Und Katrine."

poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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October on the Sheep Range

There ain't no leaves to turn to gold-
There ain't a tree in sight-
In other ways the herder's told
October's come, all right.

Jest like ten thousand souls, all lost,
The wind howls-ain't it nice!-
The water-hole is froze acrost
With crinkly-crackly ice.

The sheep bed down before the sun
Has hit the rim of hills;
The prairie wolves are on the run
To make their nightly kills.

But kyards are sayin', 'Solitaire,'
The bacon's fryin' prime;
The old sheep wagon's free from care
In late October time.

poem by Arthur Chapman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Released From The Academy Of Acne

Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free.
They're pimple free.

Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free.
They're pimple free.

And released from the academy of acne.

Teenagers now texting their pictures onto facebook.
And pimple free.
They're pimple free.
Teenagers now texting their pictures onto facebook.
And pimple free.
They're pimple free.

These are priorities of our young people.
Cleared of blemishes to download to save.
These are priorities of our young people.
Physically attached and that's the rage.

And released from the academy of acne.

These are priorities of our young people.
Cleared of blemishes to download to save.
These are priorities of our young people.
Physically attached and that's the rage.

Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free.
They're pimple free.

Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free and cleared of blemishes.
Pimple free.
They're pimple free.

And released from the academy of acne.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ngong Hills

A group of seven,
Magnificently stand at seven,
These inspired Karen Blixen.
With their face towards the city,
They smile and give a backdropp to the city.

Legend goes that back back in the days of yore,
A giant set foot at the plains and tripped,
And when he fell his fists left the prints in their shape.
And the locals named the hills Enkong'u
Which literally means knuckles in Maa.

Now, the white folks found that hard to say
Like they did with all the Kenyan names
And instead of Enkong'u they said
That, Ngong is what we call it, I say.
Didn't deviate much, now, did they?

Today these hills they still stand,
And beautiful Maasai cows, goats, and sheep
Graze and find their solace there
As they admire the greatest city on earth,
Even they call it the green city in the sun.

poem by Kimani wa Mumbi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Glasgow

Beautiful city of Glasgow, with your streets so neat and clean,
Your stateley mansions, and beautiful Green!
Likewise your beautiful bridges across the River Clyde,
And on your bonnie banks I would like to reside.

Chorus --

Then away to the west -- to the beautiful west!
To the fair city of Glasgow that I like the best,
Where the River Clyde rolls on to the sea,
And the lark and the blackbird whistle with glee.

'Tis beautiful to see the ships passing to and fro,
Laden with goods for the high and the low;
So let the beautiful city of Glasgow flourish,
And may the inhabitants always find food their bodies to nourish.

Chorus

The statue of the Prince of Orange is very grand,
Looking terror to the foe, with a truncheon in his hand,
And well mounted on a noble steed, which stands in the Trongate,
And holding up its foreleg, I'm sure it looks first-rate.

Chorus

Then there's the Duke of Wellington's statue in Royal Exchange Square --
It is a beautiful statue I without fear declare,
Besides inspiring and most magnificent to view,
Because he made the French fly at the battle of Waterloo.

Chorus

And as for the statue of Sir Walter Scott that stands in George Square,
It is a handsome statue -- few with it can compare,
And most elegant to be seen,
And close beside it stands the statue of Her Majesty the Queen.

Chorus

And then there's the statue of Robert Burns in George Square,
And the treatment he received when living was very unfair;
Now, when he's dead, Scotland's sons for him do mourn,
But, alas! unto them he can never return.

Chorus

Then as for Kelvin Grove, it is most lovely to be seen
With its beautiful flowers and trees so green,
And a magnificent water-fountain spouting up very high,
Where the people can quench their thirst when they feel dry.

Chorus

Beautiful city of Glasgow, I now conclude my muse,
And to write in praise of thee my pen does not refuse;
And, without fear of contradiction, I will venture to say
You are the second grandest city in Scotland at the present day!

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Ship and I

O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,
Of a ship that goes a sailing on the pond;
And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;
But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret out
How to send my vessel sailing on beyond.

For I mean to grow a little as the dolly at the helm,
And the dolly I intend to come alive;
And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,
It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blow
And the vessel goes a dive-dive-dive.

O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,
And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;
For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,
To land upon the island where no dolly was before,
And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Legend In My Spare Time

Ashes to ashes and funks to funky
Daddy Long Legs is a mean ass honky
And Jimmy Pop ain't no heiny hobbit gaybe
Ain't no big meaty chunks in my thick brown gravy
Cause I'm a Loch Ness a Loch Ness a Loch Ness monster
Jerry's Kids are knockin' at my door

song performed by by Bloodhound Gang
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hills That Surround A City

There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,

There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,

Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,

Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,

Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,

The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.

poem by Batibchar Mocculta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We're Alive

I'm feeling free Across the ocean
we go sailing on an on into the sunshine
On our way life is so good to us now
Feeling good feeling free we're alive
Blue skies above Everything's right
As we're going on our way the future looks bright
You and me together at last
Feeling good feeling free we're alive
Lovely feeling the wind blows through your hair
As we're sailing through life without a care
Look around and feel the freedom
All around us It is ours just for the taking
Nearer now to the island we go
Feeling good feeling free we're alive
chorus
Faster now across the surface
Of the water Keep on head
All life will catch up
Everyone would like to feel like we do
Feeling good feeling free we're alive
Feeling good feeling free we're alive
Feeling good feeling free we're alive

song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loch Leven

Beautiful Loch Leven, near by Kinross
For a good day's fishing the angler is seldom at a loss,
For the Loch it abounds with pike and trout,
Which can be had for the catching without any doubt;
And the scenery around it is most beautiful to be seen,
Especially the Castle, wherein was imprisoned Scotland's ill-starred Queen.

Then there's the lofty Lomond Hills on the Eastern side,
And the loch is long, very deep, and wide;
Then on the Southern side there's Benarty's rugged hills,
And from the tops can be seen the village of Kinross with its spinning mills.

The big house of Kinross is very handsome to be seen,
With its beautiful grounds around it, and the lime trees so green
And 'tis a magnificent sight to see, on a fine summer afternoon,
The bees extracting honey from the leaves when in full bloom.

There the tourist can enjoy himself and while away the hours,
Underneath the lime trees shady bowers,
And listen to the humming of the busy bees,
While they are busy gathering honey from the lime trees.

Then there's the old burying ground near by Kinross,
And the dead that lie there turned into dusty dross,
And the gravestones are all in a state of decay,
And the old wall around it is mouldering away.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Amorica

The sun always shine in the city of Amorica
But the city of Amorica is the city I love the most
And everytime that I come to the city of Amorica I feel so welcome
Because the people that lives in the city of Anorica welcomes me with Open arms and I am a tourist in the city of Amorica
Also I love to go browsing in the public market of the city of Amorica
Because there are so many local artists that sells their crafts made by Them
And the crafts that the local artists of the city of Amorica sells are very Affordable
And the last time I was there was in 1979 and I bought a beautiful Water Color painting that hangs in my living room at home
And I am very proud of it also

poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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