Quotes about hose, page 9
Childhood Memories One: Great Spirit Of Childhood Adventures
down the rabbit hole
of childhood memories
we tumble into lost world
watching Tobby Grandma’s dog
leap with incredible canine joy
baited by tumbling flowing water
of garden hose patterned fountains
my Father makes beside the path above
grass to entice Tobbies aerial antics
somersaults all viewing smile must
delight in, like magic, Tobby appears
across paddock with elfin liquid speed
always seeming to know when Father
waters the vegetable garden with sixth
dog sense following nose on summer
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Nostril Noise
Do you not know...
you can also operate
on the nose u know...
to eradicate
that irritating
nostril noise
those thunderous claps
those cloudbursts of buzz saws
those bewailing banshee cries
those sirens ill sung upon pillow rocks
where only softly lapping waves should lull
where only silver sands of sleep should fall
where only waterfalls of dream love should flow
where only whispered pillow talk should soft caress
take out the liberating knife by all means...
a practiced cure is open heart surgery
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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O! What a nose!
People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes
Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes
Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!
Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Ballad Of Martin Luther King
Born with a legacy he had to fulfill
his life was constantly marching uphill.
Until he could reach the mountain top,
he realized this was something he never could stop.
His visions for mankind came from his heart.
His visions of brotherhood which he saw torn apart
gave him the drive, the desire, the goal
to teach us the lesson, we're all from one soul.
As always when someone who has great desire
can stir with his words a flame and a fire,
along comes the hose to water it down
and try to make the words go, make them all drown.
But words won't be drowned. They'll always be heard.
The words of this leader will keep the heart stirred,
making an imprint that won't go away
until all of us realize and finally say
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Rain Of Fire Australia [ Feb 2009 ]
Victoria when you cry for us
We did not die in vain,
For we have started a revolution
to ease the pain.
A revolution in communication,
To ease the pain
So this will never ever happen again.
This sunburnt land of tinder bush demands respect,
A drill we must apply past errors to reflect.
As the demons of death exhaled their breath
The devil unleashed his rain of fire.
Which way to go, now, later, east or west,
An explicit exit plan is surely best,
To stay with hose and hope is an also ran.
All public buildings display a fire exit plan,
Teach from early days,
Show to safety all the ways from home,
In every home and office ring alarms
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poem by Ken e Hall
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Our Faces And Our Voices
Dare, care, fare, mare, bare, pare, hare, rare, rare, ware;
Parents have feelings too! !
But just doing it once can also hurt you,
So, try to learn from the positive things in life always.
Extraordinary,
Once is all that it takes;
And like the life of poverty and dependency,
But i am trying to cope with you.
Mope, dope, lope, nope, rope, Pope, hope, cope;
it took me that far! !
But your addiction led to theft;
Shaken,
Collapsed,
Suffered;
And of a copy in black and white,
But she lifted up her voice and wept.
Rose, hose, dose, pose, nose, lose;
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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Pool
The moon leant down, her fingers kindling
the lips of each little wave of the pool,
blue O, with watery fire, til it said 'oh' or 'Oh'.
Tight in the grip of its meniscus the water bound
forms of drowned moths, that wings
outflung, soddenly stalked our gleaming abdomens-
we beat them back in fear and disgust.
From somewhere in the yard there came a light.
How our feet were magnified in the water's glass!
There by the hose head the underwater wrinkled.
Another, flat like a snake run over
Pin-pricked like arteries themselves, shot piddlng arcs
and the night ran on and we ran back onto the stoop
our ankles now stuck with sticky blades of grass
as new-moon colored bands of pale convolvulus,
white un-ringing yellow bells a-swinging,
raced slyly about the cornice of the house.
Everywhere the lawn was alive with little frogs
'Let us in, let us in', all at once shouting.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Good-By Now or Pardon My Gauntlet
Bring down the moon for genteel Janet;
She's too refined for this gross planet.
She wears garments and you wear clothes,
You buy stockings, she purchases hose.
She say That is correct, and you say Yes,
And she disrobes and you undress.
Confronted by a mouse or moose,
You turn green, she turns chartroose.
Her speech is new-minted, freshly quarried;
She has a fore-head, you have a forehead.
Nor snake nor slowworm draweth nigh her;
You go to bed, she doth retire.
To Janet, births are blessed events,
And odors that you smell she scents.
Replete she feels, when her food is yummy,
Not in the stomach but the tummy.
If urged some novel step to show,
You say Like this, she says Like so.
Her dear ones don't die, but pass away;
Beneath her formal is lonjeray.
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poem by Ogden Nash
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Schizophrenic
Each morning as I catch my bus,
A-fearing I'll be late,
I think: there are in all of us
Two folks quite separate;
As one I greet the office staff
With grim, official mien;
The other's when I belly-laugh,
And Home Sweet Home's the scene.
I've half a hundred men to boss,
And take my job to heart;
You'll never find me at a loss,
So well I play my part.
My voice is hard, my eye is cold,
My mouth is grimly set;
They all consider me, I'm told,
A "bloody martinet."
But when I reach my home at night
I'm happy as a boy;
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poem by Robert William Service
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Genoa and the Mediterranean.
O epic-famed, god-haunted Central Sea,
Heave careless of the deep wrong done to thee
When from Torino's track I saw thy face first flash on me.
And multimarbled Genova the Proud,
Gleam all unconscious how, wide-lipped, up-browed,
I first beheld thee clad--not as the Beauty but the Dowd.
Out from a deep-delved way my vision lit
On housebacks pink, green, ochreous--where a slit
Shoreward 'twixt row and row revealed the classic blue through it.
And thereacross waved fishwives' high-hung smocks,
Chrome kerchiefs, scarlet hose, darned underfrocks;
Since when too oft my dreams of thee, O Queen, that frippery mocks:
Whereat I grieve, Superba! . . . Afterhours
Within Palazzo Doria's orange bowers
Went far to mend these marrings of thy soul-subliming powers.
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poem by Thomas Hardy
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