Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Tag
I thought today I’d share a few samples of poetry written by children. I love good poetry, but it seems to me that the poems written by the young are much more genuine that some of the not-so-wonderful professional poets. I prefer simple and beautiful poetry like the following. The subject of these poems is SUMMER.
❣️
By Gillian Sellers, Age 9, England
Summer is golden,
Summer is green,
The freshly cut grass.
Down, down, down, we go, from the peak of the hill,
ROLLING
❣️❣️
By Margaret Bendig, Age 10, United States
Inviting rippling waters
Waiting for little toes
Hurry, go get changed!
❣️❣️❣️
By Ian Johnson, Age 9, New Zealand
Lying in the sun
In midsummer
Looking at a blue sheet
Of happiness.
Only a breath of wind
To spoil it.
❣️❣️❣️❣️
By Susan Foreman. Age 7, United States
The grass is a rug for the trees to
dance upon;
The branches of the trees are arms
Gracefully pointing to the blue-pillowed sky,
Waiting for a partner.
❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️
SPECIAL THANKS TO RICHARD LEWIS
This is a perfect day for a truck load of silliness. First let’s look over some truly stupid and published newspaper headlines.
CHILD’S STOOL GREAT FOR USE IN THE GARDEN
SOVIET VIRGIN LANDS SHORT OF GOAL AGAIN
DEALERS WILL HEAR CAR TALK AT NOON
ENRAGED COW INJURES FARMER WITH AX
MAN RUN OVER BY FREIGHT TRAIN DIES
Next are a few actual classified ads that made me smile.
😁😁😁
Joining nudist colony, must sell washer & dryer – $300.00
Tired of cleaning yourself? Let me do it.
Dog for sale: eats anything and is fond of children.
Used Cars: Why go elsewhere to be cheated? Come here first.
Man wanted to work in explosive factory. Must be willing to travel.
Quotes and Malaprops from actual high school and college exams on the subject of Music Appreciation
😜😜😜
- The principal singer of nineteenth-century opera was called the pre-Madonna.
- Agnes Dei was a woman composer famous for her church music.
- A trumpet is an instrument when it is not an elephant sound.
- When electric currents go through them, guitars start making sounds. So would anybody.
- Just about any animal skin can be stretched over a frame to make a pleasant sound once the animal is removed.
And finally, a serious quote from a serious Playboy playmate, Barbie Benton.
(Not PETA Approved)
“I believe that minks are raised to be turned into fur coats and if we didn’t wear fur coats, those little animals would never have been born. So is it better not to have been born, or to have lived for one or two years to have been turned into a fur coat. I don’t know.”
PROMISE TO BE SILLY AT LEAST ONCE A DAY
It’s just another weird and wonderful week here in Maine. So far, we’ve had a snowstorm, then an earthquake, then a windstorm, then some rain, and a dose of black ice for good measure. It’s no wonder I hate to leave the house. Today’s post is yet another visit through the “limerick time tunnel“. These limericks were probably compiled sometime in the mid 1970’s and then published in the early 1980’s. I love looking back to search for a few interesting and funny gems that need to be redistributed to the newer generations. Enjoy!
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There was a young girl from Berlin
Who was screwed by an elderly Finn.
Though he diddled his best,
And banged her with zest,
She kept asking, “Hey, Pop, is it in?”
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There was a young man from Dumfries
Who said to his girl, “If you please,
It would give me great bliss
If, while playing with this,
You would pay some attention to these!”
💥💥💥
There was a young fellow named Goody
Who claimed that he wouldn’t, but would he?
If he found himself nude
With a girl in the mood,
The question’s not would he, but could he?
💥💥💥💥
A pansy who lived in Khartoum
Took a lesbian up to his room,
And they argued all night
Over who had the right
To do what, and with which, and to whom.
🍀🍀🍀
LUVING THE 70’S
Now that the new year has begun and the obligatory resolutions have been posted, I thought it would be nice to return to one of the mainstays of this blog, LIMERICKS! I have a large and varied collection but today I’ll be reaching way back to 1979 for some inspiration. I hope you enjoy them.
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A skinny old maid from Verdun
Wed a short-peckered son-of-a-gun.
She said, “I don’t care
If there isn’t much there.
God knows it is better than none.”
💥💥
There was a young fellow named Sweeney
Whose girl was a terrible meanie.
The hatch of her snatch
Had a catch that would latch –
She could only be screwed by Houdini.
💥💥💥
I sat next to the Duchess at tea.
It was just as I feared it would be:
Her rumblings abdominal
Were simply phenomenal,
And everyone thought it was me.
💥💥💥💥
Nymphomaniacal Alice
Used a dynamite stick for a phallus.
They found her vagina
In North Carolina,
And her asshole in Buckingham Palace.
😜
GOTTA LUV THEM 70’S
There are times that self-reflection can be a dangerous and disappointing endeavor. As you get older you will tend to spend a great deal of time reviewing your life. If you’re a truthful person (at least to yourself) you may discover a number of things that aren’t all that wonderful. I thought for most of my life that I was quite the romantic. I was never going to be a Don Juan, but I thought I was able to hold my own in that department. I’ve finally came to the realization that I may have been mistaken. After all my years of reading, writing, and talking with thousands of people, it finally became clear that I was somewhat lacking in that area. Today’s post is a short collection of poetry by some well-known people whose romantic writings put mine to shame.
By Franz Kafka, “From A Letter to Milena Jesenska”
I am just walking around here between
the line (of my letter), under the light
of your eyes, in the breath of your
mouth as in a beautiful happy day.
❤️❤️❤️
By Lorrie Moore, 1957
Need: Something to lift you from your boots
out into the sky, something to make you like
little things again, to whirl around the
curves of your ears and muss up your hair
and call you every day.
❤️❤️❤️
By Elizabeth Jennings, 1916, from “Absence”.
It was because the place was just the same
that made your absence seem a savage force.
For under all the gentleness there came
an earthquake tremor: fountains, birds
and grass were shaken by my thinking
of your name.
❤️❤️❤️
By Ralph Waldo Emerson, from “Thine Eyes Still Shined.”
When the red bird spread his sable wing,
and showed his side of flame;
When the rosebud ripened to the rose,
in both I read thy name.
💕💕💕
THATS WHAT I CALL ROMANCE
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really dislike Christmas, but I certainly dislike the never-ending and relentless commercialization of what is supposed to be a religious celebration. I have to credit Amazon for doubling down on the holidays like never before because they’ve made it entirely too easy for people to overspend which in turn requires me to discipline myself like never before. Just too many gadgets, too many commercials and an endless supply of scammers who may be the hardest workers of all during the holidays. For every email I get from friends and family members, I get 100 from scammers and spammers. I’ve slowly been turned into a paranoid person like never before. It feels good to have the holiday over so I can get back to what I call normal (and I use that term loosely).
The post today will be taking a sharp left turn from the holidays to celebrate three things I love: poetry, young children, and Winter. Here are a few samples of great poetry by a few up-and-coming young poets.
By Gilliam Humphrey, Age 10, New Zealand
Winter stalks
At a steady pace.
Being sullen in choosing
The weather of tomorrow
The sour, chilly breeze
Sweeps the showery sky
The pods of rain
And minced mud
Bring forth a wintry day.
❄️❄️
By Thea Boughton, Age 11, United States
Fluttering helplessly
Buffeted, the bewildered starling
Pecks and shivers.
🏂🏻🏂🏻
By Harji Patel, Age 11, Kenya
It was a silent day, the trees didn’t move
Nobody bowed to the wind, the sun didn’t rise
The cold breeze blowed.
It was a naughty day that didn’t wake!
⛄⛄
By Diane Hill, Age 11, England
Slowly melting, slowly dying
My heart drops with the drips
The long finger of ice stretches out
And its tears roll off its tip.
🎿🎿
By David Lippu, Age 13, United States, a Haiku
First snowstorm romp . . .
Her puppy’s wet kiss
Froze on my sister’s glowing cheek.
❄️❄️❄️
A GREAT WAY TO START THE NEW YEAR
(Special Thanks to Richard Lewis)
I’ve spent most of my day dealing with a belligerent computer program that refuses to do its job. I shouldn’t be too upset since it’s a program I purchased about 10 years ago. I suspect that it has finally gotten to the point where my new computer is more than it can handle. It was a program used to write what I spoke. Now I’ll be forced to step back a few years and begin typing everything myself. I suppose I’ve gotten a little lazy over the years relying on that software. That being said I’m posting a few limericks today that were originally written sometime prior to 1960. Enjoy them unedited.
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There once was a fellow named Abbott
Who made love to girls as a habit.
But he ran for the door
When one girl asked for more,
And exclaimed “I’m a man, not a rabbit.”
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There was a young lady named Frances
Who suffered embarrassing trances.
She stripped to the skin
Before Father Flynn
And made him indecent advances.
💥💥💥
A naked young tart named Roselle
Walked the streets while ringing a bell.
When asked why she rang it
She answered, “Gol dang it!
Can’t you see I something to sell?”
💥💥💥💥
To Sadie the touch of a male meant
An emotional cardiac ailment.
And acute shortness of breath
Caused her untimely death
😛😛😛😛😛
OLDIES BUT GOODIES
Here are a few limericks concerning food. They aren’t that bawdy, but they should still be considered “food for the soul”. So, enjoy them all especially the one with those juicy cantaloupes.
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By Ed Cunningham
As the natives got ready to serve
A midget explorer named Merv,
“This meal will be brief,”
Said the cannibal chief,
“For this is at best an hors d’oeuvre.”
💥💥
By Charlotte McBee
A greengrocer’s wife, named Yvette,
Took her cantaloupes out (for a bet).
A couple of felons
Made off with her melons,
And they’ve not apprehended them yet!
💥💥💥
By Val Pohler
A young lady too fond of meringue
Let concerns for her figure go hang.
She consumed them in tons,
Along with cream buns,
Until she went off with a BANG!
💥💥💥💥
By Frank Richards
There was an old man of Peru
Who watched his wife making a stew.
He said, “It’s too thin.”
So, she pushed him right in,
Saying, “Nobody’s thicker than you!”
💥💥💥💥💥
TA DA!
I thought today would be a good day to post some poetry by youngsters. I’ve read all of the most famous poets, but they don’t give me the same kind of rush that poetry by younger people gives me. These were obtained from various English-speaking countries around the world. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.
✍🏻
THE GRASS by Warren Cardwell, age 8, United States
The grass seems to dance,
It seems to walk,
It seems to talk,
It seems to like to
Have you walk on it,
And play with it too,
It seems to be stronger than you or I.
✍🏻✍🏻
THE JELLYFISH by Glenn Davis, age 11, Canada
Dome-like top, speckled, comets converging.
Gold-green flesh, wave edges urging.
Jellylike globules, soft lattice arms,
Spiked fury, leather lash meting out harm.
Golden-smooth rods, waving whiplike with water,
Beauty and danger, the jellyfish slaughter.
✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻
DEW ON A SPIDER WEB by Michael Capstone, age 10, New Zealand
Two twigs acting as a loom
Hold a wonderful weaving.
Silver threads, simple but beautiful against the
bright blue sky.
Who would ever think this was woven by an ugly
old spider?
How I would like to have a wonderful evening like
that.
My one would never fade away.
✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻
THE BEACH by Stephen Hopkins, age 10, Australia
A gull’s ghostly call.
Fish dive to deeper water
flashing down like leaves.
*****
SPECIAL THANKS TO RICHARD LEWIS
I thought I’d start the month of October with a bang. Over the years I’ve posted thousands of limericks, and I hope I live long enough to post 10,000 more. I tried to pick a topic today to make these limericks a little more interesting. So, the topic for our October limericks is MOTHERHOOD. I’m sure all of you mothers out there, both male and female, will appreciate them.
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There was a young girl of Claridge’s
Who said, “What a strange thing marriage is,
When you stop to think
That I’ve poured down the sink
Five abortions and 50 miscarriages!”
💥💥
There was a young lady named Flo
Whose lover had pulled out too slow.
So, they tried it all night
Till he got it just right . . .
Well, practice makes pregnant, you know.
💥💥💥
There was a young lady of Maine
Who declared she’d a man on the brain.
Much you knew from the view
Of the way her waist grew,
It was not on her brain that he’d lain.
💥💥💥💥
There was a young lady of Louth
Who suddenly grew very stout.
Her mother said, “Nelly,
There’s more in your belly
Than ever went in through your mouth.”
💥💥💥💥💥
DEDICATED TO ALL OF YOU MOTHERS OUT THERE
everyuselessthing.com 