 Poetry: June 22, 2005 Issue [#434] |
 
Poetry
This week: Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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This is poetry from the minds and the hearts of poets on Writing.Com. The poems I am going to be exposing throughout this newsletter are ones that I have found to be, very visual, mood setting and uniquely done. Stormy Lady
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Oh the summer has started off with everything piling up on me. I spent the weekend trying to think of someone to write about and I drew a blank. I looked through some of my old newsletters and remembered reading a funny poem by Alfred Noyes. I spent the next three hours looking through all my poetry books trying to find where I read the poem from. Finally I found it! Figuring I was not the only one who needed a good laugh or two, I decided to share these poems, which have never failed in giving me a good chuckle. I hope you like them as well.
Daddy Fell into the Pond.
by Alfred Noyes
Everyone grumbled. The sky was grey.
We had nothing to do and nothing to say.
We were nearing the end of a dismal day,
And there seemed to be nothing beyond,
THEN
Daddy fell into the pond!
And everyone's face grew merry and bright,
And Timothy danced for sheer delight.
"Give me the camera, quick, oh quick!
He's crawling out of the duckweed."
Click!
Then the gardener suddenly slapped his knee,
And doubled up, shaking silently,
And the ducks all quacked as if they were daft
And is sounded as if the old drake laughed.
O, there wasn't a thing that didn't respond
WHEN
Daddy fell into the pond!
The Old Gumbie Cat
T S Eliot
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots.
All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat;
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
And when all the family's in bed and asleep,
She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep.
She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice
Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice;
So when she has got them lined up on the matting,
She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting.
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots.
All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet,
She is sure it is due to irregular diet;
And believing that nothing is done without trying,
She sets right to work with her baking and frying.
She makes them a mouse--cake of bread and dried peas,
And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese.
I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;
The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots.
She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat:
She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat!
But when the day's hustle and bustle is done,
Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun.
She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment
To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment.
So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts,
A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts,
With a purpose in life and a good deed to do
And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo.
So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers
On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.
Afternoon in School
The Last Lesson
D. H. Lawrence
When will the bell ring, and end this weariness?
How long have they tugged the leash, and strained apart
My pack of unruly hounds: I cannot start
Them again on a quarry of knowledge they hate to hunt,
I can haul them and urge them no more.
No more can I endure to bear the brunt
Of the books that lie out on the desks: a full three score
Of several insults of blotted pages and scrawl
Of slovenly work that they have offered me.
I am sick, and tired more than any thrall
Upon the woodstacks working weariedly.
And shall I take
The last dear fuel and heap it on my soul
Till I rouse my will like a fire to consume
Their dross of indifference, and burn the scroll
Of their insults in punishment? - I will not!
I will not waste myself to embers for them,
Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
Shall have raked the embers clear: I will keep
Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
It all for them, I should hate them -
- I will sit and wait for the bell.
Oh yes and a personal favorite of mine. 
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I bought a book
“Simple Organization”
It’s buried under papers
and bills and miscellany
there in the desk.
I bought a book
“Cleaning Everything”
I think it fell behind
the couch against the wall.
Last time I checked
it was moving on its own
or were those “dust-bunnies”
taking it away?
I bought a book
“Stop Procrastinating”
But unfortunately,
given my circumstances,
I haven’t read it yet.
I bought a book
“No T.V. for Kids:
It’s bad for them”
I figure I’ll read it,
Right after “Star Trek.”
It’s the season finale,
you know!
I bought a book
“Gourmet Cooking”
What on earth is
Polpette con capperi e limone?
Oops...
Don’t have the ingredients
Guess we’ll go out again.
I bought a book
“Health and Fitness”
Now that one
certainly I read
while sitting on
my recliner
wearing pajamas
drinking soda and
eating ice cream!
There are many different kinds of poetry out there. Poems that make you laugh, some that make you cry, poetry that will chill you to the bone or make you want to fall in love. Whatever your style is, keep writing, we are reading.
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
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A day to remember
As fire upon the water
she stretches forth her hand,
as I lie here on the beach
in this hot summer sand.
-
With fingers she caresses
and shows herself to be,
the highlight of creations
extensive family.
-
Other songs of other days
I'll doubtless sing again,
once this patriotic sun
has finished with my skin.
-
But now I will be happy
for living is so grand,
lying here upon the beach
in this hot summer sand.
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These are the rules:
1)You must use the words I give in a poem.
2)They can be in any order and anywhere throughout the poem.
3)All entries must be posted in your portfolio and you must post the link in this forum "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] by July 15, 2005.
4)The winner will get 3000 gift points and the poem will be displayed in this section of the newsletter the next time it is my turn to post. (July 20, 2005)
The words are:
darkness, mystical, haunting, shiver, shadow, lightning, shatter, red |
This printed copy is for your personal use only. Reproduction
of this work in any other form is not allowed and does violate its copyright. |
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Good luck to all 
I found some happy poetry, so yes I think happiness can work too. I think that so many of us find it easier to make things sound painful and sad so that is what we build on. Happy works for talented poets 
