Related quotes: Shes a feline tormentor, not...

Pads, Paws & Claws

Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Pads, Paws And Claws

Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smacked

Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle as if in battle...
To match!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.

Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.

Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.

Finding...
No time to rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.

Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And finding,
No time...
To rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Sleep With

I sleep with double pillows since you're gone.
Is one of them for you-or is it you?
My bed is heaped with books of poetry.
I fall asleep on yellow legal pads.

Oh the orgies in stationery stores!
The love of printer's ink & think new pads!
A poet has to fall in love to write.
Her bed is heaped with papers, or with men.

I keep your pillow pressed down with my books.
They leave an indentation like your head.
If I can't have you here, I'll take cold type-
& words: the warmest things there are-
but you.

poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Smell of a Dog

I love the way a dog smells.

Ever since I was a boy,
I have loved the smell of a dog's paws,
leathery pads, edged with fur,
that absorb the rich, musty fragrances
of where the dog and I have been
in our adventures together.

I love the smell of the top of a dog's head,
where the fur is smoother than at any other
part of the animal
and is usually cleaner, too.
The top-of-the-head smell is fresher than the paw,
more like the smell of a little boy's hair
at the end of a summer's day in the sun.

I don't mind
the faint smell of skunk on a dog,
(but only if it's faint) .
Snuggling down for a nap
with my skunk flavored companion
lying next to me
puts me back in another time,
when the world was new,
waiting to be explored and discovered
by my friends and me and our dogs;
when the little lame balloon man
was simply another reason to wonder.

poem by Ken Nye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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340

you begin your story about the birds
walking on telephone wires
or are they just there holding on
with their lives
intact with the clouds at their
claws and beaks

and then you tell your story
about a man walking on top of the water
and the many ways you can really do
it like some miracles they all remember

jesus!

i cannot be beaten. i write a poem
about a drifter who names his two kids
clouds and fog

i bring a cat for you to see to listen
to its paws

how silent they are.
like a cloud. like a fog on the harbor of the city

this crap about Robert
frost. we know them.

so please do not tell me again that it was you
who walk on top of the water
and i will not tell you about my kind of kid
poetry, cat's paws and harbors and fogs

and the silence in my room that i have chosen
as a delicacy for your
kind of escape, to the windmills, and to Miguel
his pony and his Spanish
prison.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My little kitten

I have a little kitten, I stroke it's soft paws
but no one told me that within..were some very sharp claws.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Got You Eye Baths As Well

I've went and dropped my I Pad,
It's really badly bent,
To you I couldn't lie Dad,
It definitely wasn't meant.

My Dad then said, no problem son,
Just leave it all to me,
He acted as if he was having fun,
The bent one he didn't see.

Before I knew it he was off,
He said to buy another,
If that's the case I couldn't scoff,
So I went to tell my brother.

He said Dads head was in the clouds,
The guy just didn't have a clue,
But I protested he had vowed,
That chaos would not ensue.

This then got me worried,
What would he bring me back?
So off to my room I scurried,
For disasters he had the knack.

Just at that his car arrived,
He had a box that was really large,
What in Gods name has he contrived?
What mess did he discharge?

He said I bought you fifty pieces,
They'll last forever more,
They don't have any dents or creases,
For you my son nothing's a chore.

Fifty of what I shouted out,
I Pads are expensive,
He said I had to use some clout,
But my contacts are extensive.

When he finally opened up the box,
Upon my back I fell,
He said, I didn't just get eye pads,

‘' I Got You Eye Baths As Well ‘'

poem by Bri Mar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flight to Catalina

On a darkening planet
speeding
toward our death,
we pierce a rosy cloud
& hit clean air,
we glide above
the red infernal smog,
we leave the mammon city
far behind.

Here - where the air is clear
as nothing,
where cactus pads
are prickly as stars,
where buffalo chips
are gilded by the sun
& the moon tastes like a peppermint-
we land.

'Have we flown to heaven?'
I inquired
(& meant it).
The airport was a leveled
mountaintop.
We took the cloudbank
at a tilt
& bumped the runway
just ten degrees from crashing,
certain death.

If I'm to die, God,
let me die flying!
Fear is worse than death-
I know that now.
The cloudbanks of my life
have silver linings.
Beyond them:
cactus pads,
clear earth,
dear sky.

poem by Erica Jong
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Further he lies silent

When with his long fur coat
he comes and lies on my lap
and look at me with golden eyes
with black pupils,
his front paws tread softly
while he makes a nest for himself.

There’s a purr sound
coming from his throat
and further he lies silent
while my fingers
stroke his head
and woolly ginger stomach
and two paws
gather my hand at times
like only my serval can

[Reference: Ginger persian cat here referred to as a serval.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Busy on our I pads Aug 4th,2012

James Bredin

Ideas for the people and not the party, should be up front,
I can almost hear the party stalwarts as they quietly grunt,
Why are binding referendums never mentioned and forbidden?
And all new democratic ideas are delayed and overridden?

Politicians have this compulsion to leave things as they are,
They want to stay with the party and avoid saying au revoir,
Because Trudeau's Charter can't be changed or rearranged,
No compulsory voting or death with dignity arranged.

As those who object to an oil pipeline want their voices heard,
Which could put Canada on the same level as the Third World,
We just don't care because less than half of us even vote,
And we're too busy on our I pads to even take note.

Aug 4th,2012

poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Kings Will Be Kings

(m&l - weikath)
All you have said is still in my ears
You must have thought youre infallible
Oh no oh no
Youre not gonna say that much anymore
Welcome to my peculiar dreams
Fact is that here
Im the master of reality
Hard to see?
But its real tand you will read me
So many ways to go
Before were sanctified
Few will be chosen ones
Until we fade and die
Kings will be kings
Paws will bw paws
Aeons of tears wild and severe
Blessed be the young
Strong enought to bear
What before long
Will come, will be, might never desapear
I know hat preides before the fall
How can I fall if theres none left at all
Tell me, tell me
How far can one fall from down below?
Its either time or evryone round
To show us what or who can be
Exchangeable, disposeable
In the game of life were playing
Close to eternity
I spread my wings and fly
Like from a distant age
I rule and you obey
Kings will be kings
Paws will bw paws
Aeons of tears wild and severe
Blessed be the young
Strong enought to bear
What before long
Will come, will be, might never desapear

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most of the hits I take come on top of the shoulder pads.

quote by Eric Dickerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well, for Blow I had to age from 20 to 60, starting out in shape and then later putting on fat pads.

quote by Ray Liotta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Job private

I am in need of a job
But not private.

Private job is like cat
That can cheat
At any moment.

Its paws its claws
All wicked.
It takeaway my roof
And my landscapes.

I do not like cat
I do not like a job
That is private.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It rolls off my back. Ridicule doesn't mean anything - even from people you're supposed to wear knee pads around, like the scientific community.

quote by Dwight Schultz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Of The Forest

When tigers pause, their eyes stare deep,
Across each forest scene...
To scan for creatures that can creep,
No matter, mild or mean...
This tiger searches high and low,
His eyes pan left to right...
And as they wander to and fro,
The tension starts to bite!
In seconds, everything could change,
A false alarm or what?
A broken twig or something strange
To put him on the spot?
That's why his paws are prone to pause,
Sometimes to poise mid-air...
Until his eyes have learnt the cause,
They'll dangle, dainty, there...
Those precious paws hold claws within,
So he can hold his own.
If he must fight, he won't give in...
His heart is cold as stone!
The gentle cub is long since gone,
This adult heart beats now...
Survival instincts carry on,
To them, each soul must bow...
He knows that one mistake and then,
They'll write his epitaph!
Now safe, he treads the ground again...
And carries on his path...

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Eyes Of The Forest'.

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I actually had a Bobby Orr action figure. You could put the pads on him and skates and all that. I was 7, and he was still playing.

quote by Mike Weir
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cat

The wind beats against the window
a cat pads by
it knocks over a bottle
I look up
in hope that it's her
it's not
not anymore
never again

poem by Ben Harlow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Aint Been 'Right' Since

Just throw me any compliment you wish,
With superlatives dripping with adverbs and adjectives.
And don't forget that 'ego' written all over my forehead.
Be sure not to miss that.
That wants to be massaged.

I'm telling you...
Just how 'shallow' is my deepness?

Don't get me wrong...
I am tremendously grateful I am blessed,
But...
Comeon!
I guess some people perceive my head,
To be as big as...
Alaska or Texas.

I'd be stuck on 'uh' if it was.

I just do what I know I do.
Those who 'really' know me,
Know this is no secret.

The only time I was impressed,
Is when my mother followed my every movement...
During my tap dance recital.
She was on my every step.
Better than I was.
And that was 59yrs ago.

And it was more than 50yrs ago,
My sister 'Mimmie' exclaimed...
'Larry? You did 'not' write this! '
Her nosey eyes was all up in my business,
Back then.

Don't get me wrong...
I am tremendously grateful I am blessed,
But...
Comeon!
I guess some people perceive my head,
To be as big as...
Alaska or Texas.

It really isn't.
Although it's expected to be.
And I don't know why.
Not soon after my birth...
I demanded my parents,
Stop by the store...
To pick up some pads an pens!
I had some ideas to jot down...
As soon as we got home!

And wouldn't you know...
They got me pencils instead.
And I aint been 'right' since!
Well...
At least the pads had 'lines'.
Upon which I was prepared to deliver.

I am embellishing a little bit.
But...
Not by much.
Give or take a few years!
I would 'add' at least...
6 or 7.