|
|
|
|
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 12/29/2006 10:25:14 PM | The email comes, you click the key
and find a missive loverly.
So fine, so sweet, so charming and funny
It takes your breath and love and honey.
He's READ your profile, imagine that!
And likes it too, (the rat, the rat)
Tremble your hands does in replying
Then, wait, wait, wait. Alas. Just sighing. . . .
No answer comes, ever, ever:
Was he just practicing being clever?
Go figure | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 12/30/2006 4:57:19 AM | ooooh! a challenge, julie???? cool. i'm up for it.
bridget jones
walks on cobblestones
her secrets blown
she's all alone
a woman grown
no callers on the phone
eating an ice cream cone
she won't groan
skills ready to hone
very well known
eyeing the zone (perhaps, the throne)
toss her a bone | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 12/30/2006 7:44:25 AM | Swallows...and
The bitterest Pill
the bitterest pill
is hard to swallow
make me a hard mud nest
the barn "ickle" will follow
ickles a word without the tea
but the barn of birds
make the bitterest pill
easy to swallow
they (swallows) are cliff huggers you see
give em a roof and they'll come quiettly
now "ickles", where'd I put my tea?
sipp...guunk...chug...chugggg...i swallow thee | |
|
| |
| |
| |
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 12/31/2006 10:25:32 AM | I liked that ! Humormonger.... Happy New Years to Ya!
Come anytime
it's just a rhyme
sometimes it sleeps
sometimes it needs lime
but I'll drink to that
te quila
my new meala's
just around the turn
tomorrow will be
New Years
lets play
Hay? | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/1/2007 12:23:19 AM | gracias, miturn-mist. i'm hoisting a shot of tequila  to toast you and the new year. tequila!!! 
==================================================================
topics for the week jan 1, 2007 - jan 7, 2007:
1. pet names (thanks, alwaysdreaming2006)
2. funky monkey
3. holiday overkill
4. flashing
5. reckless jerry
6. a close shave
7. refugee river
=================================================================== | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/2/2007 6:47:01 PM | holiday overkill
i’m used to the sales
pay nothing
yes
absolutely nothing
until march
april
may
maybe June
and the escalating interest kills you
i’m used to the crowds
everyone there
avoid
totally eschew
like the flu
the plague
STDs
even AIDS
and an overwhelming need to get THE thing
i’m used to the displays
usually tasteful
simple
honoring faith
a wreath
a tree
a menorah
a festivus pole
and wishing good will to all
i am not used to overwhelming lights
brightening skies
excess
100 figures
all lit
on a small yard
winnie the pooh?
tigger, too?
and this relates to a religious holiday?? | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/2/2007 8:29:57 PM | With the PET NAME of Father Andrew Greely
He states
American Catholicism does not much care for artists. They tend to be a little odd and not to understand the need to indoctrinate the Catholic laity by art that drives home important doctrinal points. They also want to be paid for their work, sometimes demanding exorbitant prices. It is much easier to work with "artists" who do what they are told and do it cheaply. Is their work beautiful? Who cares!
He certainly is a FUNKY MONKEY!!!
It wasn't a xmas celebration for The Nativity which sadly only grossed 5.5million, for the HOLIDAY OVERKILL you got a discriminating advantage for FLASHING
towards the whopping grand prize of a $250.00 gift card for travel on American Airlines.
RECKLESS JERRY was one of five who received the prize pack including a wooden cross necklace.
Certainly A CLOSE SHAVE between the Canadians and Americans only allowed to enter.
I'm still swimming in the REFUGEE RIVER...but hey who cares!!! | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/2/2007 9:16:21 PM | Pet Names
Shall I call you sweet?
Should I like your feet?
Shall I call you honey?
And give you my money.
Shall I call you dear?
Should I nimble on your ear?
Shall I call you baby?
And give you a maybe.
Shall I call you B*tch?
Should I like your nervous twitch?
Shall I call you hoe?
And ask for a show.
Shall I call you Shnoopy?
Should I like your poopy?
Shall I call you Sugar?
And give you a booger.
Shall I call you tonight?
Should I take a flight?
Shall I call you in Spain?
And find you in the rain.
Shall I call you understanding?
Should I be forgiven my past ranting?
Shall I call beautiful?
And give you another mouth full? | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/2/2007 9:45:51 PM | Refugee river
Flowing in colours brighter than decency
The people didn’t stop pouring in.
You could just make them out
Through the shock mist,
Minus the blood or the sin.
Some you could tell had sent themselves here
When
They realized just what they had done.
They ran to the jungle to release their pain
Hung from ropes
Death escaped by none,
Of those ones.
Guilt too great
To debate
About living with it.
There were women and children huddled as one
As Mothers camouflage instincts held tightly,
Such pity.
Crazed by the terror
Some sit in horror
Relive the blood bath in eternity.
And one lone drummer
An old, old woman
Picks up an imaginary calabash
And plays
The healing song.
It isn’t long
Till they begin to dance.
Together.
“Recognizing the pain of the pursuer
Terror of pursuit diminishes.
And that finishes
That.
After all, we’re here together now anyway”
I hear the old woman say.
And Rivers of refugees keep flowing in
From lands of turmoil
And Corporate sin.
Some hear the old songs and welcome the resurrection and change
And begin to arrange
Themselves
To help the survivors
Of all people.
Some gather by the steeple
In another land
Where the Great White Father, was waiting,
Understand...
He once again promised to defend
His converts.
But his reps
Left
On the first plane out of there.
Depend
On him he said.
Long dead promises that they are afraid to leave
Poor. No money
Except what the church bequeaths
For the rights to your soul.
Preventing you from ever
Becoming whole..
Still, they wait in the homeland he flew to.
And they followed, although new too,
The land of milk and honey.
They had heard about this place
Where all are rewarded for their allegiance,
And due diligence
To God., …at least to his face.
And here they wait for their recompense
For turning their backs on the old woman and the calabash,
Made sense.
So they wait in line to be born here.
Ready to reap their reward
Their promises
From the Lord.
The others,
Follow her home
To help heal the rift
That was born there.
In the gap slashed
Between the life giver
And the refugee river. | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/2/2007 9:57:31 PM | A Close Shave
She held him with her gaze
An awesome feat considering what she was wearing.
Daring
Him to look anywhere
But into her eyes.
He snuck a glance
At her contoured pants
Of thin butter leather
The colour of heather
Wet with dew.
He knew
There was no escape
And he did not make
One complaint
Nor did he feel faint
When naked breasts jiggling,
She came at him
And held him
In the chair
With her intent.
Hell bent,
With razor sharp as he’ll believe
Lather faced he waited to receive
As she dances and groves.
And not a muscle he moves.
Never any fears
As she,
His woman of many years
(Who never would behave),
Makes ready
To give him
A close shave | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 9:03:20 AM | thanks, alwaysdreaming2006 - 7 in one, this time, not at once.  nice.
knightlife - shall i call you lance? joust much, btw??  (i swear...i never use the dancing banana...but, i'm cracking myself up over here.)
lovely posts, ravincause - you've got a handy way of raising images with your words. | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 1:40:00 PM | Perseverance
The morning sun rising majestically in the East
It's splendid rays kissing the horizon with such gentle caress
the warmth of it's light washing over me like a warm shower on a cool winter's day
Still it did nothing to quell the emptiness inside
Alone with this magnificent beast along the cool expanse of sand
I watched as a wind arose and then yet died,overwhelmed by the power of Ra
Or so it seemed
That great eye in the sky
how it watched me,mocked me,yet marvel led at me
For I was alone on this desert
Alone
yet unafraid
Steadfastly I trudged onward
The Beast- my nemesis,my enemy,my only companion
never leaving my side
growing ever stronger,ever more vigilant
ever more
evermore
Then,I feel it
it is weakening
it's hold on me
releasing
it needs it's rest,it seems
even such magnificent Beasts need rejuvenation
I have prevailed , this battle is mine,yet again
I will survive,ready to face another round
And begin the day anew | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 2:37:18 PM | A close shave- inspired by humormonger
I once went to a joust, with many thoughts on the way,
Of how I would win, and bring home the good day,
Grabbing the big trophy, and yelling in glee,
I envisioned being captain, of the general's army.
I would be General, one day I just knew,
If only I could win, the big golden shoe,
I would put it on my foot, and trample around,
That would show them all, I'm no longer a clown.
I walked into town, a smile upon my face,
To the registration booth, saying I'd win first place,
Alas my turn came up, I mounted my horse,
I went down the row, quickly of course.
I approached the other rider, ready to dance,
And suddenly realized, I'd forgotten my lance,
Not sure what to do, I decided to wave,
He knocked me clean off, but it was such a close shave. | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 5:28:25 PM | trying this again - thanks for dropping in, and for leaving that magnificent poem.
knightlife - glad to be of assistance, and nicely done 
-----------------------------------------------------------------
pet names
there was ????, the boxer (guarded my crib)
there was siska, the husky (ate mom’s couch - -> gone)
there was daiquiri, the miniature poodle (only liked mom...me, he bit)
there was beau cheval dazzle mardoug (“brandy”), the saint bernard (my own dog. heh! screw daiquiri!)
martha had olga, the standard poodle (the matriarch, she loved me best)
martha had cherie, the standard poodle (from the first litter, she loved me best)
martha had puppy, the standard poodle (they were thinking about a name, meanwhile called her puppy, and it just stuck...but she still loved me best)
martha had george, an orange tabby (never stopped eating...recalling kittenhood on the mean streets, and he loved me best)
martha had priscilla, a grey puss (quite the mouser...I inherited her years later, and she loved me best)
martha had squeaky, a mostly white cat (who bore the brunt of george’s bullying, and she loved me best)
natalie had heidi, the standard schnauzer (a regal looking terrier)
natalie had schnappes, the miniature schnauzer (a playful pet)
laura had ????, a long-haired cat (I lived with that cat for a few years...and it bugs me that I can’t remember her name)
martha had willie, a golden retriever-irish setter mix (he’d play fetch as long as you’d throw the ball, stayed with me three months and, of course, he loved me best)
there was sasha, the husky (adopted this 16 year old pooch named princess; that name had to go, but she learned her new name in no time)
there is samson, the standard poodle (the canine gourmet...can find something to eat on any street, especially on garbage day)
martha has uly, the standard poodle (realllly long legs, and he loves me best)
martha has mouse, the standard poodle (never met her, but I’m sure she loves me best)
natalie has barney, a dachshund mix (from standing still, he can jump up about six feet)
karen and paul have captain, the pit bull (and he’s the biggest mush)
karen and paul have chloe, the white german shepherd (never wear black around her)
rob and mel have dudley, the wheaten terrier (keeps biting sam for no reason, but didn't last time)
arlene and ted have marshall, a chow mix (he’s a licker)
ally and rob have molly, an indeterminate mixed breed (very well behaved)
alan has amy, the golden retriever (one of sam’s harem; she just loves me)
george has bear, the akita (looks fearsome, but is a sweetie)
george has eric, the akita (he likes to playfully nip you or your sleeve)
robert has jack, the chocolate lab (can’t be let off the leash, he won’t come back)
amy has ty, the pit bull (a little wild, and liable to pull her arm off one day)
len has booger, the chocolate lab (after a couple years it was shortened to boo)
len has missy, the yellow lab (another of sam’s harem)
john has otis, the fox terrier (he likes dogs better than people)
jamie has ripley, the border collie (also in sam’s harem)
maryanne and frank have oreo, the****r spaniel (just a really stupid dog...a breed disadvantage)
flo and john have isis, the pit bull (poor baby’s rear legs are wasting away from disuse caused by arthritis; again, in sam’s harem) | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 6:40:34 PM | Reckless Jerry.
Sitting in his usual spot at the cafe
Where he can watch the woman go about her day
Without seeming to ogle
He is discrete.
He likes them petite
And lady like.
A book of Yeats well read,
Some cheese and good French bread
A Cappuccino Grande in ceramic mug.
He’s got the poetry bug,
And he’ll sing to her.
If she’ll join him here
Where he waits.
Imagining dates
With her.
But Jerry, he knows
That chances are if he shows
Interest in this hot blooded young girl
Who so enduringly froths his coffee, adding a swirl
Of cinnamon, he could loose his place
Be asked to leave in disgrace
When she reminds him of the fifty odd years between them.
But with an appreciative glance,
He imagines a dance
With her in moonlight
Some night.
And Freud, he slips,
And dips
Into the forbidden
The hidden
That pretty women pretend isn’t there
When they don’t want to be aware
Of intentions.
Or pretensions.
She asks so sweetly, pinning back her hair,
“Jerry, Can I get anything for else for you?”
And Reckless Jerry, Freud caught unaware
Blurts “I just want to have sex with you.” | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 6:50:37 PM | Flashing
Lights
Panic, terror,
Scent the air
I am too aware
Of his pain.
Drawing through me like a knife
Spilling blood along the highway.
The other presence, his wife.
Is already leaving.
I reach………
Flashing
Lights
To catch the awareness of
The guardians, the keepers, the love.
“Go”, I say/pray aloud.
“Help them through” I intently intend.
And I hold, in prayer
Right there
Flashing
Lights
Just passing through
Doing the best I knew
As so many, many of us all do.
Flashing
Lights | |
|
| |
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 7:37:45 PM | Holiday Overkill
So sue me!
Do Ra Me!
One two three!
Awwww Geeeee!
Still got on my crown
From New Years Eve
And I ain’t quite done
That case of wine I won
At the community bingo game.
So even if your name
Sounds the same
If your people came,
I’ld just plead not guilty
Just a fit of insanity
Making rhymes about Jerry
And his Freudian flirty ways, very
Riskay of me, but I plead not guilty
Because I’m still technically mid Party
Carryin’ New Years Eve on untill
It’s Holiday Overkill | |
|
| |
| |
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 8:37:17 PM | Funky Monkey
That Funky Monkey, he was a Hi Ho kinda guy
Looks sly,
But was as honest as daisies in the rain
Caused no pain
Never pretending to be what he’s not!
Sunshine in the middle of his face
Always.
Knew the Beatles forwards and back
And you could never lack
For conversation
Or song.
Been sick for a long
Long
Time.
Always askin’ when he could go home.
Funky Monkey, high on Morphine
So we could move him in a dream
And take him home.
Funky Monkey died when we asked him to.
Couldn’t stand his pain one more day or night.
Told him it was alright
To go.
Stood beside Funky Monkey
As he said “Goodbye” to his body.
Asked him how it was in the light.
“Alright,
Not too shoddy
For a lapsed Catholic”, he said.
Being dead
Isn’t so bad.
I can look after them better from here,
Than a hospital bed.
Funky Monkey comes around some times,
Leaves us silver dimes. | |
|
| The Daily Poet (EXTRA! EXTRA! get your daily muse here!)
Posted: 1/3/2007 8:54:47 PM | ravincause - a very nice series of poems.
alyosha - i must be psychic, because i was thinking the same.
poetfriend - thanks for dropping in. maybe you'll grace us with a poem next time (****don pardot intones***...if there is a next time... )
i didn't spot the censor getting me on my last post...the line should have read
"maryanne and frank have oreo, the c0cker spaniel (just a really stupid dog...a breed disadvantage)" | |
|
|
| Page 2 of 48
|
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41 |
|
Home
login 
