Your Teeth Are Like Upside Down Mountains
teeth like upside down mountains,
eyes like those of a frog big and bulging,
ears like played with playdo,
freckles are like a parker pen explosion,
forehead large and plain like a desert.
nose is like a melting candle.
your legs like golf clubs,
your the most perfect thing i have ever seen,
and you know it.
poem by Not Long Left
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Phileas the Frog
Phileas the frog was awfully large -
To see the muscle in his thighs -
A sight bedazzling to your eyes!
With plenty there to feed a town -
If you would dare to take him down!
Phileas the frog could tow a barge.
One hefty bound could clear a tree -
A scary sight I'll guarantee!
And something else to make me dread:
Were he to land upon my head!
Phileas the frog was known as 'Sarge -'
Accounted by that massive chest.
No other frog would care to jest
That tidy Phileas!
So if you've sense and know your place -
And hold some value to your face,
Then don't get supercilious
With Phileas!
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved.
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Golf has become so manicured, so perfect. The greens, the fairways. I don't like golf carts. I like walking. Some clubs won't let you in unless you have a caddy and a cart.
quote by Robert Redford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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241st Chorus
And how sweet a story it is
When you hear Charley Parker
tell it,
Either on records or at sessions,
Or at offical bits in clubs,
Shots in the arm for the wallet,
Gleefully he Whistled the
perfect
horn
Anyhow, made no difference.
Charley Parker, forgive me-
Forgive me for not answering your eyes-
For not having made in indication
Of that which you can devise-
Charley Parker, pray for me-
Pray for me and everybody
In the Nirvanas of your brain
Where you hide, indulgent and huge,
No longer Charley Parker
But the secret unsayable name
That carries with it merit
Not to be measured from here
To up, down, east, or west-
-Charley Parker, lay the bane,
off me, and every body
poem by Jack Kerouac
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The Romance Of Patrolman Casey
There was a young patrolman who
Had large but tender feet;
They always hurt him badly when
He walked upon his beat.
(He always took them with him when
He walked upon his beat.)
His name was Patrick Casey and
A sweetheart fair had he;
Her face was full of freckles—but
Her name was Kate McGee.
(It was in spite of freckles that
Her name was Kate McGee.)
'Oh, Pat!' she said, 'I’ll wed you when
Promotion comes to you!'
'I’m much-obliged,' he answered, and
'I’ll see what I can do.'
(I may remark he said it thus—
'Oi’ll say phwat Oi kin do.')
So then he bought some new shoes which
Allowed his feet more ease—
They may have been large twelves. Perhaps
Eighteens, or twenty-threes.
(That’s rather large for shoes, I think—
Eighteens or twenty-threes!)
What last they were I don’t know, but
Somehow it seems to me
I’ve heard somewhere they either were
A, B, C, D, or E.
(More likely they were five lasts wide—
A, B plus C, D, E.)
They were the stoutest cowhide that
Could be peeled off a cow.
But he was not promoted
So
Kate wed him anyhow.
(This world is crowded full of Kates
That wed them anyhow.)
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Clubs For Lonely People
Wouldn't it be enough
To have magic golf clubs
For lonely people
That would get them friends ample
Whenever they went to play
Using those golf clubs any given day?
I am free to dream
Of a simple magical scheme
To solve a hard to fathom,
Serious problem.
poem by Lonely People Champion
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On Some White Corpuscles
your teeth are yellow and you say these are healthy teeth
you must envy
these yellow teeth
your eyes are happy, they are smiling till the last day,
and you are proud saying
look, these are happy eyes why not take a picture
of them and copy them
to be your eyes,
your skins are tight and you are too very proud of them
these skins hold my bones and there are no rattlings
in the house of your body
then i ask what is your problem then, why you too
take the walks in the morning?
you said your hemoglobin count is low and you sometimes
faint and your lover is worried always taking you limp
in his arms when you kiss in the dark,
i see, this kind of thing to a man of your lifetstyle,
i need not ask if you have been taking large doses
from his white corpuscles,
from the cartilage between his legs,
something too personal you say
there is no envy somehow
you close your mouth hiding your yellow teeth
with some sauce still
about to dry on the gums,
last night, you say, was the best night you ever had,
something new
fresh and you are frank enought to admit
something that you always eat
and swallow
will not last you a life time
love to you, is always, a temporary, fleeting thing,
a fact too tight like your skin
holding all your dangling bones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Friendship Of The Frogs
this the picture of a green frog
with big rolling eyes
like a golf ball
it floats on a lily leaf
beside it a big yellow lily flower
the waters ripple
it is a happy frog of friendship
that my friends sent me an hour ago
and my friend wants it back
in a minute
to assure
that i still want her back
i am thinking like a slimy frog.
shall i send it back or not?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Frog
France and China feed from your demise,
Restaurateurs are not exactly chums,
Oh how they rave about your tender thighs!
Gourmand orders - another frog succumbs…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
frog frog
Frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Golf Walk
Behold, my child, this touching scene,
The golfer on the golfing-green;
Pray mark his legs’ uncanny swing,
The golf-walk is a gruesome thing!
See how his arms and shoulders ride
Above his legs in haughty pride,
While over bunker, hill and lawn
His feet, relentless, drag him on.
And does the man walk always so?
Nay! nay I my child, and eke, oh! no!
It is a gait he only knows
When he has on his golfing clothes.
Blame not the man for that strange stride
He could not help it if he tried;
It is his timid feet that try
From his obstreperous clothes to fly.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Ramdas Choi Chang Poems 2
Isn't it perfect to think everyone is perfect,
Everyone is perfectly fit
to their own place!
The Great Engineer know which spare can fit,
How to fit
where to fit,
that perfect Engineer perfectly fits everything to His own purpose!
Poem2
Whoever we meet, may not be perfect,
Who ever is perfect,
We may never meet,
Life is that strange thing,
Only imperfect can fit into it,
Whether may it be one or any one around!
Poem3
A flower that looks perfect,
Insects surround it and spoil it,
Below that the frogs wait,
And snake can safely find its food there,
Even the eagle has an eye on perfect flower,
Where it can get some thing to eat!
So, is the story of perfected saint,
Some come to him for their own purpose,
Some start service and service turns to business,
And a saint can be food for thought,
Or he may be source or inspiration to worldly man's business!
Poem4
Men wants to praise,
Woman wants to be praised,
so many write on love,
But no one yet met one's perfect love,
As perfect love is that warmth,
All are dolls made of ice,
And can only melt and flow into lap of love!
Poem5
Nothing is perfect,
No one is perfect,
Everyone can be perfect,
until one continues with a perfect thought that he himself only is imperfect,
As perfection is aim and only aim of all!
Poem6
Infinite particles infinite space,
Infinite time,
and infinite
Thoughts,
I can't find the infinite any where than in me,
When that ant climb on my legs,
Ant came to may ears and said, 'on the tip of my legs infinite bacteria lies '
Bacteria about virus and so on..
I learnt that every thing is relativistic,
Even me and my death are close relatives!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I Went To The Mirror
In a voice soaked with euphoria:
I went to the mirror this morning
I looked in the mirror instead
The first thing to come into focus
Was a face wrapped all around my head
Theres something sticking out of the middle
I guess its my nose (I suppose)
I just dont recognize those eyes
All these years Ive been watching from the other side
The voice is now one of brutal stupefication. the underlying question is - if
You went crazy, would you know it?
Uh oh, here I go thinking them crazy thoughts again.
Who is that there? you mean I been walking around
In that all these years? whats it all about?
Wheres it all at? I dont want to get heavy but
What am I doing here? uh
My lip has a dark spot upon it
(the voice of a mature adult whos comprehensive
Capacity has suddenly been reduced to that of a
Cherrystone clam)
My teeth look like plastic in chips
And there on my chin I discover
One lonely red and arrogant zit
I went about my business this morning
You got to get out of bed and make that bread
But try as I may to get away
I wont forget what I seen in the mirror today
Boogie on out to a brand new day.
Get off your back and dance!
I seen my eyes. I seen my nose. my lips. my teeth.
My, my gums. I seen my gums! I looked all the way
Down my throat! I looked at my ears. I looked real
Hard at my ears. I looked at my hair. I think Im going
Bald. I had hair all over the sink or something...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Frog
There stands upon a leaf,
A tiny frog,
With yellow skin,
And large round eyes,
In search of insects-food!
The little frog can camouflage,
And appear dead,
Or look like flowers,
To escape foes,
And predators that strike.
Like energized spring-box,
The frog can leap;
The frog can fly;
The frog won’t fall,
As they hold on
To weeds and stalks of plants.
Oh, what a queer Amphibian
Are frogs born free!
Some are big too;
Their tongues are long,
And so sticky;
They flick it out and catch their prey.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Skippy the Frog
Skippy the frog alone on his pad,
Admiring his reflection as if his dad.
His frog legs are strong as he jumped so high,
Landing on a turtle he missed the fly.
Thomas the turtle, scared half to death,
As he plunged under the water with barely a breath.
Skippy the frog, laughing, as hard as he could,
Thinking Thomas the turle was a piece of wood.
But laughing at someone he had hurt,
Thomas the turtle ate green desert!
poem by Keith Foley
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The Desert Fathers
As far from men, as near
to God, as they could achieve, living
where the desert met the mountains;
their sustenance
beyond our supermart imaginings,
alone or with a few devoted
kindred spirits, they lived a life
of hard work, ascesis, prayer –
with all the urban wit of the best
gentlemen’s clubs, all the perception
of consultant psychiatrists:
observing in themselves in solitude
all the ills of man, before, then, since:
‘We have rejected the light burden
of condemning ourselves, and
we have chosen the heavy burden
of justifying ourselves, and condemning others…’
touché, Abba John!
They, a little lower than the angels,
between the desert and the mountains,
between the hard place and the rock,
between human tragedy and
the divine comedy;
on their face,
above rough cloth, rough hands,
humility; bright eyes; compassion’s smile.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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No Distrust
Then the eyes distrusted the other parts,
The solution was that the eyes could see,
Then ready were the ears to be sweethearts,
Tomorrow our nose desired an ability.
When sentences are made to offer new meaning,
I decide so many are given to the face,
To submit them I see how I am cleaning
My nose and eyes, and my ears in case.
Tense are the breaths we command,
To disregard the pleasure and demand.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I guess what was going to come back came back on Monday. Of course now I've played a different golf course. I've played two practice rounds and two tournament rounds all kind of the same and now today I've played a different golf course.
quote by Raymond Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can keep the clubs and the fresh air.
quote by Jack Benny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greenface
A warrior down to the depths of my soul
I terrorize evil that's out of control
On land, in the air, at sea
On danger I feed
My warpaint, the last thing my enemies see
Their teeth and their ears are trophies for me
On land, in the air, at sea
I'll be where the metal meets the meat
Greenface
Greenface
Lagoons deep in jungles are home for me
The desert nor mountains, they can't hide from me
On land, in the air, at sea
I'll be where the metal meets the meat
Greenface
Greenface
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gullible, The Bear
A Dachshund who was long of hair
met in the forest an old bear.
The bear was sitting on a log
and held in his huge paws a frog.
The hound adored all frogs and toads
and always scanned the fields and roads
for something green that blended in,
it gave him a contented grin.
'What did you have in mind, Big Bear? '
Hound asked, his voice now full of flair.
'Frog legs', the bear said, 'are for me,
my snack to have with the green tea.'
'How could you eat the spark of life? !
He may have children and a wife!
Do you not know, you big bad mug
that I could make from you a rug? '
He spoke, as Dachshunds are so prone
as if the subject were a bone,
then showed his teeth, let out a growl
which then alerted Mrs. Owl.
'Oh, yes', said Mrs.Owl, 'it's true,
a hound can really finish you.
So let the frog go home I say,
that way, your hide will be okay! '
The bear looked at the frog and then
down to the dog and counted ten.
He did not need a bad surprise
and knew that owls are very wise.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Like That Other Girl
im sorry im not perfect
like that other girl
with the bright blue eyes
and the pin straight blonde hair
that girl with perfect skin
that skinny girl
with all the money
im sorry im not perfect
like that other girl
i was born with green eyes not blue
blondes not mi couler
im sorry if that dissapoints you
i think mi freckles are beautiful
anorexia is not mi diet
im only vegetarian
i dont need money to be happy
im sorry im not perfect
like that other girl
and fake is not mi style
but hopefully youll accept me and the reasons why..
poem by Shelby De Coff
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