Quotes about girth, page 7
An October Evening
1 The woods are haggard and lonely,
2 The skies are hooded for snow,
3 The moon is cold in Heaven,
4 And the grasses are sere below.
5 The bearded swamps are breathing
6 A mist from meres afar,
7 And grimly the Great Bear circles
8 Under the pale Pole Star.
9 There is never a voice in Heaven,
10 Nor ever a sound on earth,
11 Where the spectres of winter are rising
12 Over the night's wan girth.
13 There is slumber and death in the silence,
14 There is hate in the winds so keen;
15 And the flash of the north's great sword-blade
16 Circles its cruel sheen.
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poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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Lonely Angel On Hallow Ground
Little lady laced in the heavenly gown
Caught outside the witching hour
I see your face as a benevolent frown
Lonely angel on hallow ground
Neither friend nor fiend in my apprehension
Who graces this doorway of mine?
Witness I a portal to your dimension
Lonely angel on hallow ground?
All I remember just boyish confusion
Which opens my mind forever
The spirit of your claim transcends delusion
Lonely angel on hallow ground
In your presence an unworthy selection
Such canyon girth before unknown
I err you always past mortal detection
Lonely angel on hallow ground
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poem by Jay Bradley
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Sunny Son
As I was cleaning up some old papers, I found this written by me long back. Not sure if I wrote this for my son or daughter.
***********************
In the depth of darkness sleeps the earth
Peace blanketed all around its girth
Sunlight starts its daily birth
Tickles the earth in its womb basket!
Earth wriggles in its cosy bed
Cool winds blow in its curvy head
Sunlight starts kicking in more
Shudders the Earth; Birds fly in furore!
Earth wakes up; its eyes all red
Pain enters; Peace thrown by the side
Piercing lights make the sun birth due
Pleasant sun emerges; but it is blue!
Time goes by; blue becomes white
Earth smiles at its sun’s sight
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poem by TheBigThinkg Human
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Obesity
With belly like a poisoned pup
Said I: 'I must give bacon up:
And also, I profanely fear,
I must abandon bread and beer
That make for portliness they say;
Yet of them copiously today
I ate with an increasingly sense
Of grievous corpulence.
I like a lot of thinks I like.
Too bad that I must go on strike
Against pork sausages and mash,
Spaghetti and fried corn-beef hash.
I deem he is a lucky soul
Who has no need of girth control;
For in the old of age: 'Il faut
Souffrir pour etre bean.'
Yet let me not be unconsoled:
So many greybeards I behold,
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poem by Robert William Service
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Tempest Tossed
New Year here heralds cares to come, scarce cheer,
In this age of transition where the earth,
New born, is torn protesting at its birth,
Emerging prematurely from the bier
That too well represents the dying year.
Each breath brings death towards us, proves its worth
Eternal yet ephemeral, tears, mirth.
Not in itself, but by an insight clear
Nature gifts bestows on who know dear
Is bought all liberty sought where its dearth
Never seemed so much the rule through wide world's girth.
Enter a clown, whose painted smile masks fear.
The Past is dead. New forces Fate shall steer.
Yet hide-bound minds remain too tied to berth,
Trammelled with ghosts past, whereas the earth
Witness whirlpool, progress drawing near: -
Oh, tempest tossed Tomorrow shall appear!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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My Idea Of Bliss
Explained to my colleague my idea of bliss, giving
up meat, finding the taste revolting, eating butter
on rye crackerbread and drinking milk powder in
coffee - she frowned and told me this would be
fattening, I would grow as round as the earth
Yet before doing this I ate the right food on my
husband's safe food list and had to watch my
widening girth; now I don't fear the enemy in
butter and milk, as long as I have no hunger
pains to plague me all day, no headaches
No allergy symptoms at play, I am content to
leave the meat on my plate, if turning into a
vegetarian is the next step in healing from
aches and pains, I shall rejoice, eating
creatures with higher consciousness
Just seems so wrong - I'm holding thumbs
this healing goes on…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Lights, Camera, Action!
Welcome!
To the greatest show on Earth
Seldom, do the actors study their words
Or review their lines or cue in on time
For stories undefined
The talent is slim or full of girth
It’s got romance and drama and chock full of action!
It’s a show for the ages, a fatal attraction!
Tickets are free, come on in and see
No intermissions and fewer distractions
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poem by P.R. Prosper
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Winding Wool
She'd bring to me a skein of wool
And beg me to hold out my hands;
so on my pipe I cease to pull
And watch her twine the shining strands
Into a ball so snug and neat,
Perchance a pair of socks to knit
To comfort my unworthy feet,
Or pullover my girth to fit.
As to the winding I would sway,
A poem in my head would sing,
And I would watch in dreamy way
The bright yarn swiftly slendering.
The best I liked were coloured strands
I let my pensive pipe grow cool . . .
Two active and two passive hands,
So busy wining shining wool.
Alas! Two of those hands are cold,
And in these days of wrath and wrong,
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poem by Robert William Service
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A Poem
A poem in three stages
Whilst eating a meat pie
She embraced vegetarianism
Hidden under the weight of his opinions
[and ever expandng girth]
He 'PUBLICLY DENOUNCED]
third world poverty and hunger
[as he reached for his KING SIZED MARS BAR]
On the coroners report it stated
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poem by Yvette Smith
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Dumb-Bells
DUMB-BELLS left, dumb-bells right,
Swing them hard, grip them tight!
Thirty fat men of the town
Must sweat their filthy paunches down.
Dripping sweat and pumping blood
They try to make themselves like God.
One and two, three and four,
Cleave the air and smite the floor!
Five and six, seven and eight,
Legs apart, shoulders straight!
Thirty fat men grunt and puff,
Thirty bellies plead, Enough!
Dumb-bells up, dumb-bells down,
Dumb-bells front, dumb-bells ground!
Thirty's God has just the girth
To pull the levers of the earth,
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poem by John Crowe Ransom
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