Bait? I guess a lightning bug
is good for catching fishes,
but what if Kate should want a hug...
or maybe tender kishes?

These purposes are not well served
by an insect's slimy torso.
I am unworthy of fair Kate,
but Bugsy, you are more so.

If you've been paying attention,
you're aware I'm quite the chef;
and I knew Julia well enough
to write a roman a clef.

Thus, I can tell you all that she
was every inch the lady.
Buy sex with food? I don't think so!
She'd do no thing so shady.

(robt)

And as for Kate (sweet Kate!), oh my!
If she's looking for affection,
well... bears are built for hugging, and
I'm heading in her direction.

So lawyers, bugs, all other sorts
of would-be suitors, drop it!
When I see Kate, I'll fling a hug
so vast you'll never top it!

(robt)

------------------
(The former bear_music, in his own name)

The hugs for which a bear is known
are not the kind that Kate
is likely to find welcome when
she goes out on a date.

A man who "takes your breath away"
sounds very good in theory,
but if he does not give it back
I think Kate might be leery.

Don't worry 'bout my kissing, mate,
my lips have pucker power.
And should I get the chance with Kate,
I'm sure that I will wow'er.

It's clear to me you don't quite know
just who the hell your dissing,
But soon enough I plan to show
it's in the wind you're pissing.

To carry on just surely means
that you're completely mental, man.
for I've watched all the kiss-scenes
in An Off'cer and a Gentleman.

If Kate would only let me,
I could give her SUCH a "Gere-er"!
I've studied how he kisses,
then I practiced on the mirror.

So, Rog, there's nothing for you here -
no need for you to linger.
Cause I am Katie's Richard Gere,
and she's my Debra Winger.

- Bugsy



[This message has been edited by Lightning Bug (edited June 05, 2004).]

So Bugsy's learned his tricks from Richard Gere -
Tibetan mysticism, pots of herbal
drugs, and Zen-kissed sex. But what's not clear
is - is it true 'bout Bugsy and the gerbil?

(You think it's easy rhyming gerbil? It was either that or, "Be careful on your skateboard or the curb'll/trip ya..." and the leap from there to Richard Gere was immense.)

[This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited June 05, 2004).]

Did I say Gere?!
Oh, dear, oh, dear!
Please change that note ta
read Travolta!

- Bugsy

Robert, I'm aware that you're
.... truly quite the boaster
but I do not know for sure
.... if you can work a toaster

let alone if you are man
.... enough for Julia Child.
Face it. You're no Jacques Pepin,
.... except perhaps self-styled.



[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited June 05, 2004).]

What the hell is Zen-kissed sex?
Is that what folks do with an ex?



[This message has been edited by Terese Coe (edited June 05, 2004).]

Does it have to
be nonverbal?
Does the gerbil
quite suffice?
Is it an undue
sacrifice?

CHOOSING A PET

Keep your hamsters, rabbits, gerbils.
I don't care much for such furballs.

The only pet I would take freely in
would be a lizard, snake or chameleon.

Keep your goldfish and your guppies.
Keep your parakeets and puppies.

The only pet I would accept I'll
make darn certain is a reptile.

The biggest, most expensive bird'll
please me far less than a turtle.

Reptiles are glum
rabbits are dumb
tarantulas give me the creeps

guppies succumb
lizards are mum
puppies leave icky brown heaps

snakes are satanic
parrots a panic
cats are all psychoneurotics

I'd like an organic
nonmonomanic
servant that's straight from Robotics.

Possums all seep,
Goannas creep,
kangaroos dither and leap.

Koalas sit,
bandicoots nit,
snakes simply slither and sleep.

Parrots are freebirds,
currawongs treebirds,
dingoes just lie in a heap.

Animal owners
had better be loners
or find somewhere better to sleep.
----

I see the cranial thud is still
a stronger force than mere free will.
A kangaroo gives joy unbounded
once its weapons are impounded--
knuckle dusters, steel-capped boots
and pogo sticks. It executes
parabolas and turns to charm
the kanga girls, which can alarm
the wombats gamely plodding past
aware each step may be their last.
Cuddles one day, tucker next,
emus and roos are sorely vexed,
but restaurants in Sydney serve
choice cuts of national symbols. Nerve
like that makes eagles flinch and fly
in case the US has a try
at serving national eagle pie.



[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited June 05, 2004).]

[quote]Originally posted by Roger Slater:
Don't be rude!
The subject was food.
Now let's get back
on track...


Perhaps I was rude, and spoiled the mood,
but I wanted to know more of you than your food.
I wanted to know why you’re happy with this,
if you’ve weathered the bliss of your Zen-filled kiss;
I wanted to read what you’re running towards
or what you are reaping from all your rewards.
Where do you live, and what are you proud of?
Who is it that loves you and whom do you love?

I want you to want to know these things of me;
I know that you know you can pick the degree
to which we acquaint ourselves, obviously.
A versed correspondence meant something to me.



------------------

Zita Z.

I went to Australia once.
The flora made me feel a dunce.

It wasn't just that all the trees
were weird, but the Antipodes

have all that water when it rains
that rushes backward down the drains

until you can't tell left from right
or how and where you spent the night.

Worst of all, Strines get migraines
flowing backward in their brains.

Caveat: the cute koala
isn't cuddly in Whyalla;

furthermore, no extradition
treaty covers crucifixion.

And do not smuggle Veggi-mite
from Sydney to the Isle of Wight.

Though they say it keeps like candy,
Strines like stuff that makes them randy.



[This message has been edited by Terese Coe (edited June 06, 2004).]

It's really rather un-PC
to speak of beasts generically.

Though certain reptiles may be glum,
after all there must be some

misbegotten crocodile
somewhere who prefers to smile,

and I do not believe that all a
vibrant, healthy, cute koala

does is sit as kangaroos
leap and dither where they choose.

Terese your poem’s very clever
I didn’t know that you had ever
visited the Never Never.
I’ll answer later
--for your data
Strine’s the lingo.
What we call the Aussie argot.

Semper Fidelis

A message from your animal companions


We are your dogs,
we are your cats;
we never ever
leave you flat.

When not one human
seems to care,
when lovers fail you,
we'll be there,

warm and purring
by your head,
or curled up there
beside the bed.

Your latest squeeze
has just skipped town?
Your furry friends
won't let you down.

Roger, I live in reptile heaven.
We're known, of course, for our giant gators,
the least of which are at least seven
feet, the big ones, Mr. Slater,
can be five yards or even longer.
I don't believe I've seen one smile;
their charm is slight, their swagger stronger.
Winning friends is not their style.
My yard's a haven for several snakes
who snooze amid the ferns and grass
and wrap themselves around (like fakes)
the irrigation hoses--pass
themselves off as garden accessesories.
The lizards are especially welcome guests:
they're absolutely necessary
for getting rid of West Nile pests.
A couple of them became quite bold
and moved into my house one time.
Chameleons both, their blood was cold,
but their personalities sublime.
One in particular won my heart
by setting up its new domain
on my lovely old Victorian tea cart.
Over the months, it became quite tame.
With a fountain for water and a plant light
for sunning, and some bugs for a snack,
it moved with ease from dull to bright
to brown to green and then right back.
But kittens moved in and I had to spare
my reptile friends an awful fate.
I rescued them with loving care
when I knew we could no longer wait.
The one who had designer knack
has had a comedown, I'm sad to say,
and now lives in a peat moss sack--
I saw it just the other day.



[This message has been edited by Diane Dees (edited June 06, 2004).]

If fishes made wishes
they’d wish that knishes,
so crisp and delicious,
were found on all dishes
instead of nutritious
fishes and vicious
nets that man swishes
were deemed too malicious
and banned as pernicious
and unfair to fishes.

Roger said:


Don't be taken in
By his friendly grin
He's imagining how well you'd fit
Within his skin

("Never Smile at a Crocodile" from Disney's Peter Pan)

On the Crocodile's Smile

If a crocodile
should seem to smile
as if he's saying
"Let's do lunch,"
beware the guile
in such a smile,
lest you're the lunch
on which he'll munch.

The next time you visit a tropical isle
stroll by the ocean but don't put your feet in,
lured by the guile of a crocodile smile.
It ruins a vacation, they say, to be eaten.

*


When you wrestle crocodiles
and don't emerge the winner,
the crocodile always smiles
to have you as his dinner.

When you wrestle crocodiles,
never turn your back.
The crocodile also smiles
to have you as his snack.




[This message has been edited by Roger Slater (edited June 07, 2004).]

When you wrestle crocodiles,
you'd better pray to Heaven.
They'd love to have you for a meal
or snack, twenty-four/seven.

But maybe God's a crocodile
and doesn't really care
what humans wish, but likes to grant
a crocodile's prayer?

Janet, dear, for what it's worth,
I've been to the back of beyond
(at least the part of it near Perth,
on the kooky side of the pond).
I love the way the Aussies tease,
remaining dignified,
and that, in the Antipodes,
you don't need fungicide.
A little dry and no caldera—
really quite idyllic!
Even though, as in Canberra,
Oz is zoophilic.

Terese

Roger, if a crocodile
is godlike and exalted,
perhaps we'll learn to reconcile
with them, not be assaulted.

When God was Man, God gave His flesh
so we could taste His powers,
but if God's now a crocodile
I'm guessing he'll taste ours.

The Theological Discussion Continues


Yes, God might be a crocodile,
I'll grant you, Mr. Slater,
but are those Crocodilists sure
He's not an alligator?

Some believe in Laura
some in poppycock
others in amphora
or even in a croc

One thing is for certain:
God is recognizable
and at the final curtain
I daresay supersizable

But it’s beyond my station
and would be too unreal
to say that croc predation
means I should be God’s meal.

T.

The crocodiliologists
(their proper designation)
do not think that's funny
and reject your alligation!

If you’re a poet, show it
and if you’re not, so what.
Certainly an alligator’s
not my worst repudiator
For bites, hexylresorcinol
remains the unsurpassed cure-all
But if my poetry you bite,
Brain septicemia you incite.
Though I’ve not studied morphophonemics
I’m pretty good at econometrics.

[This message has been edited by Florence Campi (edited June 17, 2004).]

If God's a crocodile, can we tell
the rest of the world it's going to hell
not in the familiar handbasket, but in
a handbag, hand-crafted of crocodile skin?

Sally

If God's a croc, (or perhaps a 'gator)
don't let the thought fill you with laughter;
especially if you like lizard-wear -
it could bite you in the here-after.

Terese - Swagman thanks you for the compliment *grin*

My theologian husband's raising an eyebrow.
"How many heresies? Let me count them all."
He never knew his beloved had such highbrow
tastes. "Dear, hide goeth before a fall."

(Note: in real life my tastes are low;
I prefer my croc pelts faux.)

[This message has been edited by Sally Thomas (edited June 24, 2004).]

On a different note, I wonder whose voice you'd lend to your poems. Anyone game to post your own verse letter.
***************************************

Dear Morgan Freeman,
read my poems, please lend your mellow voice to smooth my wrinkled meter and disguise my awful choice of words that fill the pages. When I read they sound pathetic, but you could read a shopping list and make it sound poetic!

I go to see your movies just to hear your southern drawl. I loved "Shawshank Redemption," it’s my favorite one of all. I try to imitate your voice’s pitch and intonation. All I get is laryngitis from my screaming in frustration.

I’m sending you this package in hope that you’ll record your voice on the cassette I sent with what I could afford to pay for your kind services, it’s all that I can spare. I hope twenty bucks will do. (The check is good, I swear!)

The poems are alphabetical. (there should be 34) And when you’re finished with this batch I’ll send you 30 more. You know I have a deadline, so you’ll have to start tonight! Make sure that when you read them that you set the volume right.

Return the package right away, as soon as you are through. I’m running out of time because there is so much to do. I need to practice lip-syncing to match the way you speak, so I can win the contest at the Reading Room next week.

I plan to read my favorite poem, the one I’ve titled “Lotus.” And if I practice hard enough, I’m sure no one will notice that my physical appearance doesn’t match my voice at all. I’m female, white and little, but you’re male and black and tall.

So thank you Mr. Freeman for the prize you’ll help me get.

Sincerely,
Your devoted fan (and poet!)
Lori Yette

By Jerry: Terese - Swagman thanks you for the compliment *grin*


Swagman, is the compliment
that you are zoophilic,
or simply that you are a tease
and I'm an Ozophilic?

My dear Terese, I must admit
as a teaser, you're terrific-
especially since my claim to Oz
is simply honorific-

yet still you play the game with me
you bloomin' Aussie-phile
though I'm only a faux-substitute;
but you've known that all the while.

So zoophile or Ozziephile?
Neither one is true.
But if I were the former one
I'd surely go for ewe.

*groan*



[This message has been edited by Robert Swagman (edited June 30, 2004).]

Why, Jerry, I had no idea
that you were not from Oz!
Despite the bring-down, thank you, Swag,
for all your kind hurrahs.

The ewe you mention has a true
affinity, my lamb—
though you are not a zoophile,
an Aries lamb I am.

Oh, for Oz! Without these poison
sumac neighborhoods—
my bloomin' East Coast countryside
is lush with toxic woods.

Still there are small mercies, though
the woods I dare not cruise:
this poison sumac can't compare
to oak and ivy's ooze.

Oz without ooze!
That's what I choose!
Any dorm
in a storm.
Any pizzen?
Prison.

I don't know whether you guys, still,
are making conversation,
but I just thought I'd like to fill
a post with my narration.

It's been a couple months, since I
first posted to this forum.
I've found most posters ain't too shy,
to say my poems bore 'em.

Still, shyness isn't what I want,
when someone is critiquing
my doggerel. That's why I haunt
this place. You're what I'm seeking.

I know I haven't read much stuff
that other folks have written
since Poe. I guess it's not enough.
to simply want to fit in.

So if you folks could recommend
some poetry that's recent,
I'll read it, since what I have penned
seems not to be too decent.

You see, I need to figure out
what works. What makes good writing?
What should a poem be about?
Should it be soft or biting?

I thought the only thing I had
to do was give some rhythm
to thoughts I thought about. The bad
news is, I can't word-smith ‘em.

I guess I figure that you know
more than I'll ever hope to
although, by saying that, I show
I'm trying to soft-soap you.

Okay, I see I'm running on,
as is my normal habit.
But if you can suppress a yawn
and name a book, I'll nab it.

-- Larry

Larry, I enjoyed your rhyme.
You seem the sort of fellow
who might enjoy Espaillat or
Catherine Tufariello

or Murphy, Gwynn or Moore Moran.
I do sincerely wish ya
lots of joy in reading them
(and don't forget Alicia).