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  #81  
Unread 02-08-2003, 07:38 AM
eaf's Avatar
eaf eaf is offline
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Wrestlemania

Greasy bodies shine;
They swing like muscled puppets
in spandex, divine
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  #82  
Unread 02-08-2003, 06:14 PM
ROLFE DERV ROLFE DERV is offline
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The Gift Wrapper

It takes some of your time
to judge who among us,
aspiring beauty queens,
stand-out.

Then – you pick me as the winner,
choose the crown that suits me,
a sash of tiara’s hue,
and a plaque that bears your name.

Too soon, my reign’s over
those accolades are set aside,
not by my successor,
but by eager hands
enthusiastic to know what
surprise I bring forth.
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  #83  
Unread 02-16-2003, 07:53 PM
cookala cookala is offline
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Let's see, I haven't seen one for crabs yet sooooooo......

Crabs

Crabs will come and crabs will go
all I know is they itch me so
now I've got to shave it bare
before they spread up my derriere




[This message has been edited by cookala (edited February 17, 2003).]
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  #84  
Unread 02-21-2003, 07:41 PM
tramp tramp is offline
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Location: new york, new york
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This is truly a great poem.
Quote:
Originally posted by diprinzio:
Print the book---I'll send the money.
Hugh, your poetry is funny!

The Difficult Art

There is a hobby I have found
to be difficult surviving,
called: taking my eyes off the road
to read a book while driving.

This evil game, (and so it is)
is quite a sport to master,
for when the story's tension builds
I can't help driving faster

And when the author traffics in
collisions of description,
line by line safe braking distance
quickly turns to fiction.

My car becomes a reading chair
on roads as tales unfold,
"Of mice and men" is layman's fare,
"Ulysses" for the bold.

Cervantes is a laughing gas:
such mirth and charm and wit;
I'm unaware of streets I pass
or who I might have hit.

And when I'm lost amid the Psalms
and David's godly fervor
I pray you never cross the streets
that my car runneth over.

I confess it's bad behavior
and bordering on crime,
but often it is time well-spent
instead of wasting time.


Greg

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  #85  
Unread 03-06-2003, 06:24 PM
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Well, since crabs are already taken....

BABY TALK

What syllables are these?
I watch the pudgy little shapes of words

emerge from my brother's mouth.
A sentence ago he spoke

of calculus, the diminishment of x and y
as they approached infinity.

Now the burblings of a madman
dribble from his lips. They infiltrate the room

like a smell. Soon others join in
and I am surrounded by nonsense,

sounds flowering like a cloud of talcum.
And she in her crib with soft blue swaddling.

I think of poetic sentiments
twisted into jewelry,

of phrases and heights sublime, of emotions
beaten featureless, honed into a thin sharp edge

and polished. Yet even they can't emulate
the delight in this child's eyes.
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