A dingleberry
A small thing that clings to a
Place very hairy.
haiku by George Hunter
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Of the Family
Hairy, Hairy, quite contrary
sat upon a stool.
Came the kindly wombat fairy
from the Fairy pool.
Said to Hairy, have a sherrie
makes the bowels loose,
Hairy thought it rather scary
maybe, too obtuse.
Hairy took a wife named Mary
fat she was and round
built a cosy, visionary
log home on the ground.
Home was small but Hairy loved it
'twas a sturdy log.
Found a lichen rug and shoved it
in to warm the frog.
Frog had been cast from his quarters
by his next of kin.
Sealed the wombat home with mortar
and they took him in.
Winter came and snow kept falling,
hibernate they did,
under Lichen there was balling
made another kid.
poem by Hairy Wombat
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Of the Family
Hairy, Hairy, quite contrary
sat upon a stool.
Came the kindly wombat fairy
from the Fairy pool.
Said to Hairy, have a sherrie
makes the bowels loose,
Hairy thought it rather scary
maybe, too obtuse.
Hairy took a wife named Mary
fat she was and round
built a cosy, visionary
log home on the ground.
Home was small but Hairy loved it
'twas a sturdy log.
Found a lichen rug and shoved it
in to warm the frog.
Frog had been cast from his quarters
by his next of kin.
Sealed the wombat home with mortar
and they took him in.
Winter came and snow kept falling,
hibernate they did,
under Lichen there was balling
made another kid.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Feeling lousy
Feeling lousy is seeing this lady laughing
She does her thing with confidence like she
Knows everything; what to do with this
Matter called
Everything,
She knows her place and claims it as hers,
She tells you, you are never like her doing so well
In fame,
Glory, and
Honor,
She has her circle of friends, a nice reliable computer
And an internet facility
To get her on top
On top of shape, on top of everything,
Yes, this everything,
Which she has control of,
And feeling so lousy, I wish how I can be like her,
This great woman of everything
But then, I wonder, I have my place, where she can never be,
This lowly place, this small space she detests,
This is mine, I am small,
This small place I have
Where she can never be
And I own this,
Enough for me,
I am happy.
And, oh well, I do not like everything,
Too big to handle and
I know
I would be unhappy by then.
I simply like myself being small.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Five
Feeling lousy is seeing this lady laughing
She does her thing with confidence like she
Knows everything; what to do with this
Matter called
Everything,
She knows her place and claims it as hers,
She tells you, you are never like her doing so well
In fame,
Glory, and
Honor,
She has her circle of friends, a nice reliable computer
And an internet facility
To get her on top
On top of shape, on top of everything,
Yes, this everything,
Which she has control of,
And feeling so lousy, I wish how I can be like her,
This great woman of everything
But then, I wonder, I have my place, where she can never be,
This lowly place, this small space she detests,
This is mine, I am small,
This small place I have
Where she can never be
And I own this,
Enough for me,
I am happy.
And, oh well, I do not like everything,
Too big to handle and
I know
I would be unhappy by then.
I simply like myself being small.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life Tenacious Clings To Life On Earth
Life tenacious clings to life resolute upon rock of hope
mass extinctions occur but life seed springs back from brink
life endures clings to home small blue life boat planet earth?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A hairy man's a geary man, but a hairy wife's a witch.
Smalltown
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
You say, no one famous ever came from here
When youre growing up in a small town
And youre having a nervous breakdown
And you think that youll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live
Where did picasso come from
Theres no michelangelo coming from pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
Im the part sinking below
When youre growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes, gay and fatty
People look at you funny
When youre in a small town
My father worked in construction
Its not something for which Im suited
Oh, what is something for which you are suited
Getting out of here
I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in new york city
As this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go
Im no dali coming from pittsburgh
No adorable lisping capote
My hero, oh, do you think I could meet him
Id camp out at his front door
There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out
When youre growing up in a small town
You know youll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town
You hate it and youll know you have to leave
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Legend Of Big Foot
A hairy man once roamed the earth,
a hairy thing, was he from birth,
the years would come, the years would go,
each year that passed, his hair would grow,
it grew so thick, his mum dispaired,
yet she kept trimming off his hair,
til sissors worn to nubs one day,
he shucked his clothes, and ran away,
his back, his bum, his chest, his head,
was covered with thick hair, it's said,
no need for clothes, so he wore none,
people would laugh, and he would run,
no runner born on Earth could beat,
this hairy critter with big feet,
he slept by day and roamed by night,
for cruel folk, had made him shy,
quite good in heart was he, bigfoot,
he never stole, he never took,
one day while he munched watercress,
he found a maiden in distress,
amazed, he looked upon her form,
her feet were bare, her dress was torn,
he towered over her and stared,
at all this chick's excessive hair,
he helped her up, not one word said,
he touched her hand, and smiled instead,
hand-in-hand, they walked from there,
to go where people could not stare,
the legend of big-foot began,
the night two hairy people ran,
into the lovely forrest green,
To mostly lived their lives, unseen
poem by Elizabeth Lindberg
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You're So Small
i went to school here in michigan at a place
Called interlochen, and, uh, there's a lot of dancers there.
About 60% of the dancers were either anorexic or bulemic.
And i often blamed it on their boyfriends.
So i wrote this about that.
I didn't agree with that, by the way."
Gonna walk down the street
And seduce every man i meet
Because i'm having a bad day.
I am
Not size six.
My legs are not
Skinny as sticks
And dammit, someone's got to pay.
(that's the power of a woman, ohhhh)
I feel unattractive.
I'm gonna see if it's true.
I'm going to break a heart or maybe two.
I'm gonna put on a sexy red thing
Gonna run very late
I'm gonna pull some strings
Cause my strength is in my
Power over you.
(the power of a woman)
But i'm afraid that i can't satisfy myself
And that my happiness depends on someone else.
I feel weak, so you're gonna take the fall.
You're so small, you're so small, you're so small.
You're so small, i feel fat, you're so small.
You're so small, i don't feel anything, cuz you're so small.
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing I write/ Dreams me as I dream myself
NOTHING I WRITE / DREAMS ME AS I DREAM MYSELF
Nothing I write
Dreams me as I dream myself
Smaller than small small
Is man’s place in the universe
Smaller than small small small
Is my no place in the nowhere
Of forever nothingness
Kindness is all
But who can be kind for long
When all is dying dying dying
Small small small is all
And I have already gone home to nothingness
Forever silent as small which never was.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Hairy Fairy
In life, there are things we never expect to see
and a very large hairy fairy
with Pancho Villa moustache is one of them.
This one flew into my garden and squashed all my roses
on his bad landing on that fateful day.
Every time he waved his supposedly magic wand,
everything went bottom up.
The roses he tried to mend
had their flowers in the ground
and their roots pointing skyward in the air.
It got that bad I had to replant everyone.
I shuddered to think what other magic
he might have up his sleeve.
The big hairy fairy dressed in a short Toto
spread out his wings to say goodbye and fly away.
He never got no more than three feet off the ground
before he again came crashing down
squashing all my tulips this time.
Enough is enough you’re ruining garden.
Do you realise all the hard work I have put in.
The hairy fairy looked at me
and then started to cry.
No body loves me, even the fairies kicked me out
because I am different from them.
Being a soft heated fool I am
I invited him in for a cup of tea,
but everything he sat on broke
and now I was stuck with
a ten ton hairy fairy as a house guest.
As time went on my replacement, furniture
was costing me a packet.
Then one day I woke up and the big hairy fairy was gone,
now I kinda miss him.
However, saying that
I can start to rebuild what was my happy home again
and hope with luck that big hairy fairy does not come back again.
Then in my garden,
I heard an almighty thump
and looked out the window.
In my agony I moaned,
Oh no. He is back again.
poem by David Harris
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Definition of happiness
ITS A place we have all been to:
a place were difficulties are forgotten
were only joyful events are certain
its a place you cant go to everyday
when you get there not long enough you can stay
a place safe and secure
a shield that deflects any bad thing that could accrue
a place were poise and pride are not neglected
a place were negative thoughts, ideas are not selected
a place far away from here
a place that does not recognize fear
a place that needs along time to get to
yet you arrive and forget any negative thing you have been through
a place that effects so deep
a place were you cant fall asleep
a place that does not exist
yet we have all been there I still insist
a place that’s not defined as a dream or a fantasy
a place that is only called happiness and ecstasy
Yet it is the most beautiful place
where sound of laughter and shape of smile race
on ones face like it would be in grace
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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Small Doses
You'd think after fourty
Long days and nights
I'd finally get used to the rain
But until the storm passes
Outta my mind
The only thing I know
To take for the pain is..
Small, small doses,
A sip at a time
A little whiskey and water
I'll sit here all night
Some live with heartaches
But I'm killing mine
With small, small doses
A sip at a time.
My doctor said son
Aint a thing I can do
To help you get on with your life
So till I find a way
To forget about you
Me and your memory
Will have a big time.
Small, small doses,
A sip at a time
A little whiskey and water
I'll sit here all night
Some live with heartaches
But I'm killing mine
With small, small doses
A sip at a time.
With small, small doses,
A sip at a time
A little Jim Beam and water
I'll sit here all night
Some live with heartaches
But I'm killing mine
With small, small doses
A sip at a time.
With small, small doses
A sip at a time...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Someone once threw me a small, brown, hairy kiwi fruit, and I threw a wastebasket over it until it was dead.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Question
O bird with heart of wassail,
That toss the Bacchic branch,
And slip your shaken music,
An elfin avalanche;
Come tell me, O tell me,
My poet of the blue!
What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?--
Here's MY thought of you.
A small thing, a wee thing,
A brown fleck of nought;
With winging and singing
That who could have thought?
A small thing, a wee thing,
A brown amaze withal,
That fly a pitch more azure
Because you're so small.
Bird, I'm a small thing--
My angel descries;
With winging and singing
That who could surmise?
Ah, small things, ah, wee things,
Are the poets all,
Whose tour's the more azure
Because they're so small.
The angels hang watching
The tiny men-things:-
'The dear speck of flesh, see,
With such daring wings!
'Come, tell us, O tell us,
Thou strange mortality!
What's THY thought of us, Dear?--
Here's OUR thought of thee.'
'Alack! you tall angels,
I can't think so high!
I can't think what it feels like
Not to be I.'
Come tell me, O tell me,
My poet of the blue!
What's YOUR thought of me, Sweet?--
Here's MY thought of you.
poem by Francis Thompson
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The daily press, the immediate media, is superb at synecdoche, at giving us a small thing that stands for a much larger thing. Reporters on the ground, embedded or otherwise, can tell us about or send us pictures of what happened in that place at that time among those people.
quote by Bruce Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture for Me
I have a picture.
It's a fairy
That I want to mount
..in a frame...
To capture
That hairy fairy.
Hey! !
Don't accuse me of being bent.
Nairy a fairy.
Even one less hairy
And scary
Will ever get their way with me.
So you see
I just want to mount
...my fairy...
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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A strong Bear, a poor cave
A quarrel took place,
Between a tight, narrow cave,
and a huge, black, hairy bear.
the poor cave was afraid of,
her narrowness,
the bear had no fear.
Actually, the bear was
in search of a cave,
where he could spent
his night merrily,
his mission was to hide himself,
by all means, fair or unfair.
The bear begged the shelter,
from the cave to get entered,
but cave denied.
she said, ' I am not wide.
if I take you in,
you may get me in trouble,
every thing mine get in disorder.
how can you stay in me quite?
seek other place to-night.'
The bear snored a loud,
as if, thunders of big cloud.
huge bear tried getting forcibly in,
smiled and said, 'I have to win.
O' poor cave, see my strong body,
look at my height!
I am quite black,
while you are white.
you are unaware of facts,
you are mine, my cave,
you are made for me.
I know, you think yourself too small,
If I enter, you will be torn,
and might get burst,
but it is nothing like this,
surrender yourself
before me silently.
or I will react violently.
the little cave said nothing,
but tried to scape herself,
with all her might.
thrusting the bear out.
Bear so huge, no doubt.
He tried utmost entering forcibly,
getting success a little bit.
until the cave burst,
the bear continued to hit.
At last, a hot bloody stream,
blew out of the cave.
It couldn't itself save.
It was torn and oozing sweat.
the huge bear was running,
in and out very smoothly,
Poor cave, in this struggle,
has become out.
the bear has come first, no doubt.
....................................... ............
poem by Rani Madhubala
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Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let everyone know that you have a reserve in yourself that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it.
quote by James A. Garfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let everyone know that you have a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it.
quote by James A. Garfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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