Quotes about puppy, page 5
While You Skate
You can't break my heart and run,
Believing that will stimulate...
Since you've done it to invigorate,
While you skate.
Oh no!
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
You can't do what's been done before,
To pat and scratch like a puppy begging for more.
Ooo oh no.
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
Hold up on that locomotive.
With motives to bowl me all over...
Or roll in granola.
I'm much wiser...
Older.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Godliness
Riffling through the dictionary
of the mind - or, as the Anglo-Saxons
named it, ‘word-hoard’ -
for a word that exactly matches
what needs to be said,
a word may call out from the page
like that kitten or that puppy
in the pet-shop, which devastatingly
looks you straight in the eye and mutely says
‘Master, treasure me…’
so, the other day, ‘godly’ called to me: as
abbreviated in former times from ‘godlike’;
not a word to suit, say, those fine-minded Hindu pundits
who would want to classify its degrees
of nearness or of distance from the state
of god or gods..
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ballad, on a Late Occurrence
Ungodly papers ev'ry week
Poor simple souls persuade
That courtiers good for nothing are,
Or but for mischief made.
But I who know their worthy hearts,
Pronounce that we are blind,
Who disappoint their honest schemes,
Who would be just and kind.
For in this vile degen'rate age
'Tis dangerous to do good;
Which will, when I have told my tale,
Be better understood.
A puppy, gamesome, blithe, and young,
Who play'd about the court,
Was destin'd by unlucky boys,
To be their noonday's sport.
With flatt'ring words they him entic'd,
(Words such as much prevail!)
And then with cruel art they tied
A bottle to his tail.
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poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
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April Ate
April 2012 is National Poetry MOnth
April Ate
Late for my own Funeral twice denied my citezen rights becoming blind online the power cord they sold me at wal mart is not the right kind for my machine is in need of a screen refused service and gouged hard a P C Outlet is a joke they must have seen me coming over worked and trying despiritdly to type between the cracks of Jesus on my broken LED screen it is almost hopeless unless eye get the right cord or a refund from Wal Mart nothing can be done quickly eye must ride like the wind to be free again the song video at least keeps playing in my mind as April Ate my time. The chord is made for a home computor a tower plugs in the monitor they simply got it wrong. Meanwhile there is a movie at the Bijou Eastern Theatre called the Western SKy is King it is in the Southern Hemisphere of the Northern Lighting is very dim. The Easter Holiday will not prevent me from most things that need to be procrasstinated then putt off the buss then the wal mart then back to the Alamo eye wish to see the pawn shop offerings and then prehaps the Movie iff its not raining in the Ampitheater Saint Anthony must be willing now to help me all these schedulings on a Holiday notwithstanding as eye vainly pen this ode to predestination people who help me only take from the things they need they seek the power and the edifice it all belongs in the pockets of the thieves there is only a few people who actually help me for me to have these things are mine to them it is still fine they fleece the innocent and dine my macho friend is two macho for eye think someday to get him in trouble he will be too macho to someone who is not the dog the little puppy is what he has called me for not fighting at the dropp of a hat it is not something to be enjoyed as they must think to wish to fight all the time yet he shows me only talking no bruises eye think he must think eye am not very macho in his eye think it fits my theme to be the little puppy dog is to be tied to all the living and it is better to be alive then dead a hero on Good FrYday dont you see it April Ate
poem by Charles Hice
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Young and Youthful
She wanted her babies early.
This is what I manage to hear...
As I coincidentally passed,
My neighbor's kitchen window.
During my evening power walk.
And also to be neighborly...
With any neighbor that might happen,
To see me resting...
On the side of their homes!
Rubbing a leg or two.
And I am far from nosey!
I'm just one of those rare,
Touch and feely types.
'You're going to make the same mistakes,
I made...
Young lady.
But unlike my mother...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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0331 How to Wait Doggedly
I’ve never seen him just like this before.
Crouched at the entrance to the largest run,
the burrowed-out soil in front of it
ground to dust by many eager legs
hopping, skipping out of the dark warren -
he’s totally silent, totally still. It's awesome.
This isn’t the puppy who goes wild at rabbits
in a frenzy of excitement, wet nose intoxicated by
a thousand trails of scent, scattering
white tails into burrows, barking wildly
(are they friends or enemies, in this joy?)
at the sheer excitement of the chase,
puppy paradise; but now..
this is serious stuff.
at first sight, you could think he’s resting, he’s so still;
his back legs haunched down under him, looking
like the sphinx itself, immobile, waiting for the question
it’s waited for through thousands of wise years;
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Loot
If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,
You will understand this little song o' mine.
But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred,
For the same with English morals does not suit.
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!)
W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber
With the --
(~Chorus~) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot!
Ow the loot!
Bloomin' loot!
That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot!
It's the same with dogs an' men,
If you'd make 'em come again
Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot!
(~ff~) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life,
You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell;
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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Other Chinee Cook
Yes, I got another Johnny; but he was to Number One
As a Satyr to Hyperion, as a rushlight to the sun;
He was lazy, he was cheeky, he was dirty, he was sly,
But he had a single virtue, and its name was rabbit pie.
Now those who say the bush is dull are not so far astray,
For the neutral tints of station life are anything but gay;
But, with all its uneventfulness, I solemnly deny
That the bush is unendurable along with rabbit pie.
We had fixed one day to sack him, and agreed to moot the point
When my lad should bring our usual regale of cindered joint,
But instead of cindered joint we saw and smelt, my wife and I,
Such a lovely, such a beautiful, oh! such a rabbit pie!
There was quite a new expression on his lemon-coloured face,
And the unexpected odour won him temporary grace,
For we tacitly postponed the sacking-point till by-and bye,
And we tacitly said nothing save the one word, “rabbit pie!”
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poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Variations At Home And Abroad
It takes a lot of a person's life
To be French, or English, or American
Or Italian. And to be at any age. To live at any certain time.
The Polish-born resident of Manhattan is not merely a representative of
general humanity
And neither is this Sicilian fisherman stringing his bait
Or to be any gender, born where or when
Betty holding a big plate
Karen crossing her post-World War Two legs
And smiling across the table
These three Italian boys age about twenty gesturing and talking
And laughing after they get off the train
Seem fifty percent Italian and the rest percent just plain
Human race.
O mystery of growing up! O history of going to school!
O lovers O enchantments!
The subject is not over because the photograph is over.
The photographer sits down. Murnau makes the movie.
Everything is a little bit off, but has a nationality.
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poem by Kenneth Koch
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Play wid puppy, Puppy lick yu mouth.
Jamaican proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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