Quotes about toes!, page 8
A Day In The Life Of - Me!
I wake up in the morning and pull back the curtains, wide,
And look out through the window to view the world outside,
To see if the sky is blue or grey, sunny or with rain,
And see if the postman's on his way with letters that contain,
News of family and friends, and more 'bills' by the way,
Attempting to motivate the mind, and start another day.
With all the jobs I have to do before we leave the house,
To get the breakfast going, for self and for my spouse,
To put clothes in the washing machine, make sandwiches for lunch,
And add some fruit and maybe also, some biscuits we can munch.
To load the car with coats and bags, and other odds and ends,
And quickly venture off to work and see what the day sends.
With people wanting this and that and taking orders for
Various kinds of merchandise which we might have in store,
Writing down their preferences for all their different needs,
Sorting out the dates and times, working at different speeds.
Busy as we move along, through the hours set for work,
Having no time to rest awhile, there is no time to shirk.
[...] Read more
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Parrot In Paradise
Parrot in the cyclone eye
spread his sodden wings to dry.
Wall of wind approaching sly
snapped him up and flung him high.
Swept aloft a hundred mile,
dropped on black volcanic isle,
Parrot viewed the ashy pile;
not the jolliest exile.
Parrot flew around the peak,
finding there a pleasing scene.
Brought a smile to his beak,
a little paradise of green.
After roaming full extent
sadly, it seemed evident,
on this fertile lava vent
he alone was resident.
[...] Read more
poem by Diane Hine
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Baby Tortoise
You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.
A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.
To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open,
Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your skinny little neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye,
Slow one.
To take your first solitary bite
[...] Read more
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Eaten In Eden
Eve, the Mother of Mothers,
Woken from her first sleep,
Thoughts coursing through her brain,
Accepting every sight and sound,
Sensing the presence of her humanity...
This form was all she was,
It ended there beyond herself,
Yet there before her some likeness,
Some extra humanity...
Words within her telling her things,
Recognising colours and forms,
Seeing flying birds and crawling creatures,
Seeing eyes looking back at her...
Ears, what were these hidden in her hair?
Detectors of left and right events,
Alert to buzzing of bees, eagles landing,
Her own movements across the grass...
[...] Read more
poem by Denis Martindale
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A Nightmare
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is
taboo'd by anxiety,
I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in
without impropriety;
For your brain is on fire - the bedclothes conspire of usual
slumber to plunder you:
First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes, and your sheet
slips demurely from under you;
Then the blanketing tickles - you feel like mixed pickles, so
terribly sharp is the pricking,
And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble and toss till
there's nothing 'twixt you and the ticking.
Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you pick
'em all up in a tangle;
Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its
usual angle!
Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot eyeballs
and head ever aching,
But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you'd very
much better be waking;
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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Ode to Captain Paery
'By the North Pole, I do challenge thee!'
From 'Love's Labour's Lost.'
I
Paery, my man! has thy brave leg
Yet struck its foot against the peg
On which the world is spun?
Or hast thou found No Thoroughfare
Writ by the hand of Nature there
Where man has never run!
II
Hast thou yet traced the Great Unknown
Of channels in the Frozen Zone,
Or held at Icy Bay,
Hast thou still miss'd the proper track
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poem by Thomas Hood
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Ragas for Sleepy Bee
for Krishna, both of them, god, man
And so we began
the cooking lessons
the first demur approaches
the blushing papayas then
the fires the chilies harvested
curtains drawn
1
Dawn.
Slow him down.
He speaks
his accent thickly
richly Tamil
[...] Read more
poem by Warren Falcon
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The Stones of Gosh
Now, here is a tale of the Glugs of Gosh,
In the end of the year umteen;
Of the Glugs of Gosh and their great King Splosh,
And Tush, his virtuous Queen.
And here is a tale of the Oglike Ogs,
In their neighbouring land of Podge;
Of their sayings and doings and plottings and brewings,
And something about Sir Stodge.
Wise to profundity,
Stout to rotundity,
That was the Knight Sir Stodge.
Oh, the King was rich, and the Queen was fair,
And they made a very respectable pair.
And whenever a Glug in that peaceful land,
Did anything no one could understand
The Knight, Sir Stodge, he looked in a book,
And charged that Glug with a crime called Crook.
And the great Judge Fudge, who wore for a hat
The skin of a female tortoise-shell cat,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Its Snowing Angels
(guest appearance by the dukes of stratosphear)
Its snowing angels, on my front porch
Take a broom and sweep one in
Im such a lucky guy, such a lucky guy
Even though my shoes have broken
I cant deny my toes
The right to fresh air
And the joy of poking through
Its snowing angels
Hope Ill catch me one
Its snowing angels
By my window
Take a net and fish one in
Im such a lucky guy, such a lucky guy
Even though I got no money
This bear wont be hibernating
Or Id miss the sight of all the honey strolling by
Its snowing angels
Hope Ill catch me one
Im such a lucky guy, such a lucky guy
[...] Read more
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bows And Bangles
Born and raised in wilderness
Of suburban shops and schools
How she tried and tried to be satisfied
With a job on the typing pool
She hated the smell of carbon paper
The office so smoky and dry
How she longed for the day she would make her get away
And say her last goodbye
Bows and bangles on her fingers
And silver bells on her toes
That lady has music where she wonders
That lady has music where she goes
Married a guy with prospects
And so became his wife
And that my friend is the end of the story
'Cos that was the rest of his life
She could have been a movie star
She could have made the scene
Right or wrong she still hangs on
Each night to her favourite dream
[...] Read more
song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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