Favourite Poems

I told him I loved him
with my tongue in his cheeks


To be fair to the great McGough the original was

I told her I loved her
with my tongue in her cheek

OK, here's a funny one that most people should be able to relate to!


Wonderful Spam

I got sent a hundred emails, all from just today
I settled down to read them
To find out what they say
Imagine my annoyance
My mouse clenched in my palm
Not one of them was really for me
An inbox full of spam

“My friend and I are lonely, come watch us while we play”
“We’ve got our webcam ready”
“Got a credit card to pay?”
But they hadn’t done their research
That one’s not meant for me
I’m sure Candy and Tammy are lovely girls
But they’re not my cup of tea!

And if I could really pop a pill, and watch my penis grow
Wouldn’t they be in the shops by now?
Wouldn’t everybody know?
And what’s this “herbal viagra”
On sale at just half price?
I’m starting to feel quite insecure
Small and floppy? That’s not nice!

And then there’s poor little Jimmy, brought a tear to my eye
He wants a million business cards
“My last wish before I die”
But Jimmy’s either dead and gone
Or was never actually real
It’s just another internet scam
Exploitation is the deal

Another one, which I must send to all my friends and kin
Or else bad things will come to me
To repay me for my sin
“It only takes a minute, you know”
“To show them that you care”
It takes less than that to hit delete
One less email sitting there

And so my trawl through internet hell comes abruptly to an end
But I’ll get the same old shit again
Cos every day they’ll send
Another hundred emails soon
Will line up on my screen
Someone’s making lots of money off this
But for now my hard drive’s clean

Oh, fun topic (I enjoyed that Mohammed Ali "Me. We." reference in another topic you created Lordpendragon, by the way - never heard/heard of that before)

... a personal favorite of mine. I always enjoyed poetry in school, even if I wasn't always the best at interpreting them.

For me it's always either Frost day or Nash day. Today is Nash day.

Further Reflections on Parsley
by Ogden Nash

Parsley
Is gharsley.

The lover's food is the love of the bread
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.

Lovers have nothing to do with existence
lovers have the interest without the capital

Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball off the field.

That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave baskets even though his hand had been cut off.

Lovers have pitched their tent in nonexistence
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.

-Rumi


I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

that this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

NIGHTFALL

We have taken the night
like a Persian black cat
into bed with us;
your fingers stoking my body's heat
are the glittering red
glassware of my childhood,
are scents suddenly
remembered and pungent;
dark rivers under your hair
as under remote bridges.
I feel with my hands
The cool rain bark of your limbs.

Afterwards lying on our backs
like pillowed sovereigns
we decree space
and allow thought and the room's objects
to separate us;
abstract and personal
we turn
in the round cavity of sleep

IRVING LAYTON




————


ATLAS

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

JEANETTE WINTERSON




—————


WORDS


Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous ones we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
and leave not a sting but a kiss.
They can be good as fingers.
They can be trusty as the rock
you stick your bottom on.
But they can be both daisies and bruises.

Yet I am in love with words.
They are doves falling out of the ceiling.
They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap.
They are the trees, the legs of summer,
and the sun, its passionate face.

Yet often they fail me.
I have so much I want to say,
so many stories, images, proverbs, etc.
But the words aren't good enough,
the wrong ones kiss me.
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
but with the wings of a wren.

But I try to take care
and be gentle to them.
Words and eggs must be handled with care.
Once broken they are impossible
things to repair.

ANNE SEXTON

I woke up one morning and everything was still
I saw a little Robin on the window sill
I gently opened the window
To give it some seed
Then gently closed he window
And crushed it's fucking head ( Pronounced Heed with a North East UK accent).

Seriously though this is my favourite:

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
' He chortled in his joy. '

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

How cute..the cutest little things...

I've never seen a purple cow,
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one.

A Winter's Poem :






Fuck its cold!!!!!!

In England once there lived a big
And wonderfully intelligent pig.
To everybody it was plain
That Piggy had a massive brain.
He worked out sums inside his head,
There was no book he hadn't read.
He knew what made an airplane fly,
He knew how engines worked and why.
He knew all this, but in the end
One question drove him round the bend:
He simply couldn't puzzle out
What LIFE was really all about.
What was the reason for his birth?
Why was he placed upon this earth?
His giant brain went round and round.
Alas, no answer could be found.
Till suddenly one wondrous night.
All in a flash he saw the light.
He jumped up like a ballet dancer
And yelled, "By gum, I've got the answer!"
"They want my bacon slice by slice
"To sell at a tremendous price!
"They want my tender juicy chops
"To put in all the butcher's shops!
"They want my pork to make a roast
"And that's the part'll cost the most!
"They want my sausages in strings!
"They even want my chitterlings!
"The butcher's shop! The carving knife!
"That is the reason for my life!"
Such thoughts as these are not designed
To give a pig great piece of mind.
Next morning, in comes Farmer Bland,
A pail of pigswill in his hand,
And piggy with a mighty roar,
Bashes the farmer to the floor…
Now comes the rather grizzly bit
So let's not make too much of it,
Except that you must understand
That Piggy did eat Farmer Bland,
He ate him up from head to toe,
Chewing the pieces nice and slow.
It took an hour to reach the feet,
Because there was so much to eat,
And when he finished, Pig, of course,
Felt absolutely no remorse.
Slowly he scratched his brainy head
And with a little smile he said,
"I had a fairly powerful hunch
"That he might have me for his lunch.
"And so, because I feared the worst,
"I thought I'd better eat him first."

For my LDS friends.

As I was going to St Ives
I met a man with seven wives
Said he, 'I think it's much more fun
Than getting stuck with only one.