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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 4:59:43 PM | Hello all...busy night with all the shopping (urgh) and all. All I have time for today is a wee haiku...
=======================
Scratching powdered sweets
My rum balls are quite itchy
Fingers sweaty-sweet
=========================
Blargh! Well, that's all you get tonight. So sorry.
Hi Pickles! Good to see you here in the Olde Barne. Love the Plowman's Revenge poem. Excellent. We have a wonderful municipal program here in Toon Town that clears the sidewalks before the roads, so the road snowplows can put the snow back on them. Very crafty, those city councillors.
Alrighty...see youse guys tomorrow for the sermon! G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 6:03:53 PM | I have lost the cat
Actually..I think the cat is packed
Sealed into 2 cubic feet of cardboard......
They were swift and thorough
Those packers who came here....
If it didn't move they wrapped it
And sealed it
And I think on Monday they will reveal ...the cat | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 8:32:28 PM | Evening all...
Hi ya, Late - - great stuff you left here...
Rory - - always in fine poetic form
Sukari-- Greetings to you and your words.
Pickles - - Cats, damn cats always find their way into boxes!! ;-)
Da Goat - - Y’ar sweet, ya know. Your words are deee vineeeeee , as are you…..
~~
Sweet the taste of scotch
Gentle hints of chocolate
Scent the falling snow
~~
Well folks, tis off to bed…................. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 11:08:04 PM | Hi all ya Barn dwellers!!!!
Hope all is great with everyone!!!
Goat, I gotta do my laundry soon, care if I borrow the holy water basin again, lol
Were having a heat wave
The temps hit 30
The snow still falling
And the streets are dirty
My shoes got all wet
My hair went all flat
But I won the war
In the snowball combat…
 Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 11:20:16 PM | Don't do it, mari. Somebody added their own "holy water" to the basin last Sunday, and Lawd Goat is still fuming about it.
PRELUDE TO THE WEEKLY GOATISH SERMON
Here he comes ! The Goat ascends the dais, at ease.
Reigning icon of this diseased diocese.
He clears his clogged, hoarse, adenoidal throat
And spreads phlegm over the front row of the moat.
Reading from his unique "scriptures", Billy Graham turns in his grave:
The Goat intones: "I have a hangover, so I hope no one needs to be saved
This morning, 'cuz I feel so uninspired.
Hey ! Let's just eat donuts till we grow tired.
Besides, I'm only here to preach to the perverted,
So hop on your pews and show me under your skirt red !" | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/10/2005 11:32:52 PM | 
Yeah ok, I'll just have to borrow a habbit or two, hahahaha, could ya just see it, me in a nuns outfit!!!!
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/11/2005 7:13:39 AM | LMAO Rory
Sheeeeeeit I do believe the Lard has trained his Apostle Rory very well......
Thy Do spew as the Lard doeth
And yet are still turgid
With thy desires so perverted
Nuns whimples are quivering | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/11/2005 9:05:12 AM | Gratings and Lubrications to all on this fine Sunday morning.
Oh, uh...well, it's after 11:00 am...Breathing and I were just sipping coffee and chatting about this and that. She's making rumballs right now. She shooed me out of the kitchen...I find that rather endearing, actually.
So, to the sermon. First, a big ol' wet kiss to Rory (slorp!) for his marvellous introduction. You are Blessed in Thy Lard's sight...now go and get me a beer, eh?
Hello to Mari...you may certainly use the basin for your laundering. I do. You may want to change the water in there and make sure the snails have a place to stay while you do.
Pickles....ah, those whimples give me the dimples and those nuns are a hard habit to break. Say, what kind of women do priests like? Nun! Woot woot...
Alrighty...let's get this all up in it yo:
=============================
Psalm 746 – The Book of Goat
Thy Lard considereth
After a round of channel surfing
They show some real crap on the sports channels
These days
And very little of it concerns sport
Okay, sure but -- poker is not a sport
So, why show it on TSN?
What is sporting about a bunch of sweaty people
Holding cards with blank stares
Or, worse, with blank stares
And sunglasses on?
(which should be banned from poker)
Pool is not a sport, either
Neither snooker
Nor Full Contact Bridge
(Which has surprisingly little contact at all)
Synchronized swimming is close to a sport
But, I’d like to see some more fighting
And wrestling involved with it
And the competitors can still bear their
Cheesy smiles as they pummel
And hold each others’ heads under the water
The wrestling is fake
It is…get over it…
Ice skating is barely a sport
And depending on how many beers I’ve had
It becomes more tolerable to look at
(Thy Lard feels more female nudity is required in that “sport”, however)
There is little sport on the sporting channels
So why can’t they berloody
Show more Soccer?
Or Rugby?
Or even the Almighty Cricket?
(Which, Thy Lard confesses, seems awfully confusing at times
But it is infinitely better than frigging poker)
There is light here in this sport vacuum
Two cable channels dedicated to the
(Ha ha)
Sport of poker and gambling
Will start up very soon
And perhaps that will bring more soccer
To TSN
Unless they get the hankering for
Televising Extreme Crochet
Or Topless Chess Tournaments
…hmm…that might not be too bad
If Kasparov isn’t involved
More Soccer!!
(Go Scotland!! World Cup 2006!!)
Amen
===================================
Okey-dokey...I'm going to try to get into the kitchen. Breathing is armed but she's focused on something else. I think I can get a rumball away without risking any limbs. Wish me luck.
Later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/11/2005 10:36:56 AM | Thank you Goat for that generous hospitality and that awesome sermon!!!
And hmmmm, what exactly is this in the water here, lol
Breathing, pass those rumballs this way please!!! Hope all is great!!!
The dating dance
Swaying phone tag
He’s it, she’s it
What a drag
Forgot how dumb
This tango could be
Where’s the simplicity
I’m blind to see…….
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/11/2005 3:45:41 PM | ^^^^^^^^^^^^
Oh you are so right on with that......
Ho hum
Tiresome it has become
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| forever
Posted: 12/11/2005 5:38:10 PM | Sit and watch you like a dream
Its what defines us that amazes me
The imperfections I still don’t see
Your smile staring back at me
I miss sleeping on the inside
The way we fit together just right
How your smile ignites all my dreams
Your whispers mean the world to me
I miss the words that never come out right
The ones I keep inside each night
Miss knowing you are by my side
Bringing all these dreams to life
I crawl back inside my mind
Where I see you all the time
My hand remains your to hold
These open arms are always yours
It opens all the doors we close
This love I keep is forever yours | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/12/2005 12:38:36 PM | A little something I composed after viewing the profile of mizbehavin,
but was the wrong age to let her know in a message
4687
Heritage Lost in Pembroke
13 December 2005
If you only knew
what Pembroke
meant in my life
An inheritance may be not
but a line of relativity passed down
This family tree that grew on words spoken
For at times we can feel lost
and that in truth hides away
Then many children live
to hope from spirit life will come
Those choices we do partake upon
not all will lead to a silvery path
Love will visit us - even from far away
then this reality was in meaning
“I love you” - please do stay
Of a family story passed down from generation to generation that says in voice unproven.
That I the poet are descended from the British “Herbert” family of the Earl of Pembroke.
Only because of time and evolution, those vital birth records have either been lost, or were
not required by law at the time, to be registered by birth, until after the birth of my Great
Great Grandfather, born in England, George Henry Herbert. Whose death in New Zealand in
his old age, left behind a mystery that five generations later, continues to be shared in
a tale of true, family origin, passed down by word of mouth to each new child born.
© 2005 Christopher W Herbert (a New Zealand Poet)
a poet who cares | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/12/2005 7:01:48 PM | Evening all. Sorry to break the thoughtful mood that settled over here, but I must post my thoughtless drivel somewheres. Besides, the barn is home for me.
Hello to Mari (thanks for the thanks), Pickles (thanks for being you), Misterez (good to see you back, pardner) and poet (howdy, mate!)
Okay..something fast and spontaneous...lessee...
========================
The Carey-Aguilera Effect
When I hear Mariah Carey
Or Christina Aguilera
Sing some Christmas song
I think of coyotes
Out in the underbrush
Just out of range of the flashlight
Eyeing up the chicken coops
Yelping and chittering away to themselves
In that Carey-Aguilera sound they make
That slips beyond normal octaves
Achieved only by infants
Dangerously and hysterically close
To the "silent crying noise"
That they do only
When there's something
So Dreadfully Wrong
When I hear Mariah or Christina
I think of those coyotes
And I want to stand on the deck
With my trusty .410
Have a beer
And wait for the little barstards
To make a run at the chickens
===============================
The Carey-Aguilera Effect...the point where audible sound vanishes into supersonic octaves. Dread it.
Okay...see youse guys tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/13/2005 5:52:39 PM | Hi Goat...Gawd you stink!
Hello all. You all smell pretty good today -- all nice and flowery and all...
Here's the daily (ahem) poem:
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Sleighbells Ring…Are you Frigging Listenin’?
Snow’s a fallin’, zipping past the window
Snowplows are a-running, pushing away the snow
See them make precious little progress
Their amber lights causing motorists to depress
The morning will bring rush hour fun
Cars skidding and sliding into all and one
‘Tis the season for being joyful and happy
And a shovel in the trunk will keep you free
==========================
It ain't much, but I'm tired. And lazy. And I smell bad. And I have a rash on my butt. And my scotch glass is empty. And I don't wanna work tomorrow.
Wah!
G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/13/2005 8:35:23 PM | TANKER IN FALLING LIGHT
The ocean tanker's twilit lights-- two--
blink above one another to the hum
of the idling Camaro, impatient, gaudy, rumbling,
with emergency brake disengaged-- sight and sound
connecting through dumb space while the darkening evergreens
like austere sentinels chaperone wayward symbols
over orange-pink sky, now rose, now purple....
the sea a flood of harmonious blue, rippling
into blackness covering the stark, unclear alley
where the ghosts of stabbings talk to couples
striding to theaters, and the faceless cement siding
awaits an encore for an aborted performance of the mind,
a performance reckoned in fear and transmitted to the casual
flight of gulls disappearing effortlessly
to the tanker now bedecked with a raft of electricity
like an exaggerated, phosphorescent band
expanding seaward with greetings of a crossboned smile. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/14/2005 5:35:03 PM | Ahh...Rory...every time I read your poems, I can hear them. Excellent, excellent, excellent!
Now I'd hate to follow up with one of my meandering ramblings, but I must. Terribly sorry:
=========================
Two Bits of Fluff and a Scotch
O, how I love a good scotch
It warms my gills, comforts my crotch
When partaking of it, I never look at my watch
I’d even share some with a sasquatch
But he’d have to stand in the hall
Because his smell would appal
And make one’s senses crawl
Not to mention feel small
But, then I would have the Blessed scotch
A gently numbed and warm crotch
Not consulting my unchecked watch
Glass in hand with a sasquatch
Who could fill the outside hall
With his a*** and armpits in full appal
No bugs or children will crawl
His knowledge of hygiene is small
=============================
More scotch for m'sieur Goat! Garcon!
Frigging garcon...lazy kid...where's me scotch, you French-Canadian pillow-biter? Anh?
Ah, merci...
Good night all. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/14/2005 6:26:34 PM | hello......
Good to see everyone hanging their words here.... The writes are great as always
~~
Life begins
The sun
Bows to greet the night
With gentle hands
Blankets of snow
Cover the moon
Scents of Jasmine
Awaken fields of wild flowers
Leaves at rest in the grass
A heart silent in the crowd
A soul sleeps quiet
Memories alive
Descending from above
~~
Night all................ | |
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| media.....
Posted: 12/14/2005 11:42:07 PM | Ok.... so i usually (always) run with the theme of missing my Ex..... and now for something completely different..... god I love Monty Python for giving us that saying....
it might be a little weak..... but these are the growing pains
********************************
It’s not the problems that we see
Nor the children that we feed
An averted disaster
Or a storm that stayed at sea
It’s not the good book that we read
Nor the terrorist we left to bleed
An assassination attempt
Or the capture of a thief
It’s not the United Nations mission
Nor the soldiers duty
A fire that left them homeless
Or a politicians scheme
It’s not the system that failed you
Nor the rapist we believe
A Hollywood finale
Or champion caught doping
Its everything we can’t see
because its not on the tv
the media won’t portray it
because its not front page worthy | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/15/2005 1:35:57 AM | Merry Xmas to all Barn dwellers. It's been a treat to swap verse with all of you for the last ten months. Back after Dec 25th. Best wishes, stay safe and satisfied.
===================================================================
AGAIN
Again, again, again, and again
my entire body's a flurry
of virgulate ambuscades
into the sweet recesses of your forests.
Keep shining, bathe, provoke me
with your ocher, candle-lit limbs,
smoking like incense burning
in a high wind. Stroke,
and lash back; dip into
my dark fire; spread out,
pull me down to your soft quarries.
Open yet more; reveal deeper
stored-- till now hoarded-- treasures.
Hot moving truth, it's this time I know
death is unreal. Nothing now can ever die.
This is it. The leaves still smash
silently, piously, igniting the pavement. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/15/2005 6:56:47 PM | Merry Christmas, Rory...take care out there and we'll see you back here in a week or two. And your poem was top-drawer..as per usual.
Hello Misterez...good to see you again. Something completely different? Yup, it was...always good to throw some curve balls once in a while and then a slider and a knuckleball. Change it up. Keep it fresh. I try to do that myself, but quite often I get stuck with throwing spitballs. C'est la vie, non?
Speaking of spitballs...
=============================
What is Poetry?
Think of an unbroken line of beer bottles
Or a block of cheese
In a rhombus-like cube shape
An old outhouse
With several old copies of Mad Magazine
And no toilet paper
Think of pickled sausage and eggs
In a dirty jar in a pub down the street
Only a buck for four
Tastes like death
Think of that knotty pine fence
With that one suspicious knothole
About crotch-height
Think of a fat man in a little coat
With leather elbow patches
And that “party-waiting-to-happen” look
Poetry is all this
And maybe more besides
It’s the wart you play with
That lives in the fold of your armpit
It’s that unidentifiable smell
In a hockey rink
And it isn’t the rink burgers
===========================
Ball four! Take a walk!
I'm heading to the showers...g'night, ya'll. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/15/2005 7:18:32 PM | Poetry to me is multifaceted
Some write of love some of pain
Some proselytize in the hope
That they will prevail.
For me.....it is cathartic
Some that I write is pathetic
But the highlight of my poetic affiliation
Is the Barndwellers association
Bless you all....you are awesome
And though I may not be P.C.
May all your Christmasses be Merry!
To all.....
Peace and Joy...and thanks for lifting 2005 from "sucks" to YAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Love you all
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/16/2005 8:50:04 PM | Pickles, Pickles, Pickles...what would this place be without you? Don't answer that yet -- a barn without Pickles is like a warm beer on a hot day. Merry Non-PC Christmas to you as well..
A quickie today because it's late and I'm tired:
================================
Battle Stations!
A conversation about
Stations of the Faith
Took place
Over fries and chicken fingers
Perplexed for the most part
Deeply considered
As the gravy congealed
And the fries became limp
The chicken eaten
The faith misplaced, like the fork
Coffe ready, like the Word
Paused with folded hands
Six stations in all
Pause to reflect
Cause to inflict
Another cup of coffee
==============================
Good enough...me tired. Me sleep. G'night. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/17/2005 4:25:21 PM | Hi Goat. Cold day in Saskabush, too many people in the malls. Makes me feel all cranky n' stuff.
Breathing is chilling with an egg nog. Another quiet Saturday night here on the prairies.
What does come to mind for a poem?
======================
Mall Food -- An Oxymoron
A dried-out burger with cheese
Could be the only food at hand
But what really made me wheeze
Was the muffin from Petland
========================
Burp. Ick. I go now. Hugs and handshakes to all. G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/17/2005 5:02:36 PM | I just luv this Barn!
Smelly Goat - You have just acquired a new fan. 
I am new to POF and I have only ready the first couple of pages...Will be back often when my own perspective on life isn't warped enough.
Some of my not so serious poetry is about critters...
DREAMY BLUE EYES
I feel the warmth of you body next to mine
Your hot breath on my shoulder sends chills up my spine.
I look into your eyes so dreamy blue
And search the depths of my soul for ways to say “I love you…”
I caress your face, your ears, your shoulders strong;
Knowing that others have doubts and say that our love is wrong.
We exchange only a few words into the night
No matter what you say, it always comes out right.
We are both free spirits, free to live as we choose
And that we do without a care, we have nothing to lose.
Together we gaze at the moon, so full and so pale,
If your love is true, please show me and wag your tail.
(About a blue-eyed Husky named ANOUK.) | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 12/17/2005 9:53:32 PM | Whoa Nellie....
Violettestar....Welcome...welkomen..wilkomen...bienvenue....bienvieneda, mi casa su casa, blah blah.... and all the other greetings that are appropriate
You are just in time for the Sunday sermon..a time of burped bits of buccolic wisdom and/or
side wrenching gut busting fart making hilarity.
For those of us who have canine friends
Who lick their balls and their a$$es
While a dog is man's best friend
Beware of close tongue encounters
doggie doo
doggie poo
doggie did it
doggie knew
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