Posted on 09/18/2003 1:01:45 AM PDT by paulklenk
Freepers,
Poetry is the soul of our hearts. We can converse, pontificate, and rally til the cows come home, but we really show our humanity, wit and truest selves in our poetry.
Doug From Upland is a fine example of such an artist. In his poems, we feel -- but we not only feel, we feel each other.
Let's show our true colors and show the world the Conservatives are not just lovers of freedom -- we're lovers of words, heart and feelings as well.
Post your original poem here. It need not rhyme. If you see a poem you like, vote for it by bumping it to the top. If you think you can do better, post a poem of your own.
Let's get the ball rolling with a poem of the silly variety -- remember, we don't have to be serious ALL the time. Here goes:
Plastic pie, plastic pie,
Shot a spastic in the eye.
Jesus heal'd that spastic's eye!
Pretty, pretty plastic pie!
Pretty, pretty plastic pie,
Much more fun than just plain pie!
Me oh my, oh why can't I
Have a pretty piece of pie?
Warning! do not let the Bar Crowd take over your gun club.
BALLAD OF SHERWOOD FOREST
In the days of King Heilmann there was a number of men who occupied Sherwood forest. These men feared the evil king and his henchmen. That is all but a small band of brave man who defied the e-e-evile King. The leader of this band of brave men... Robin Hood. The King was so agitated buy the thought of the men having fun in his forest that he ranted and raved constantly about it. After much bellyaching and many attempts to just make these men go away by drinking himself to death he finally gave up, summoned his favorite dark underbellies and vehemently told them to deliver this statement to Robin Hood and his very brave men.
"If we steady our sway
With a six pack a day
And a twelve pack makes us shoot better
In any old season
Regardless of reason
We see no problem with that
In the utmost of haste
We consume a whole case
We feel so much smarter but stat!
If we should tilter
Shoot way off kilter
We'll purchase padded beanies and mats
We'll cover one eye
Who cares if some die
We'll keep shooting our shotguns" he spat.
"You know this is true
We are bigger than you
If you don't like it we'll just give you a bat
If you should reason
Then we'll call it treason
And treat you like some alley cat
And if we should spew
Its no reason to stew
We'll put lumps upside of your hat
We'll then crawl to the bar
And put brew in our jar
Cus' we know just where it's at
If you must disagree
I call that blasphemy
I commence the inquisition you rat
It is my decree
I am BETTER than thee
I hold this position, NOW SCAT!"
Need I tell anyone how terror stricken poor Robin was? My gosh, he trembled and he quaked he could hardly spit out his own proclamation!
"OH, yessirree
It's easy to see
How many brain cells are dead
And if you should lose
Your precious booze
You"ll be singing the BLUES instead
Your vision is hazy
Your method half crazy
Not like someone well read
I'm sure most agree
By how often you pee
There's no wisdom in what you have said
Hither and dither
In alcohol tither
Your henchmen around you will spread
Accuse us of treason
For alcohol reasons
May lead to lopping our heads
You like to threaten
Well, I'm not forgettin'
Your role in making this bed!
Strap yourself in
Cover your chin
This ride will end with you shred!
In writing I'll slice you
I promise I'll dice you
Evil lawyer aside you'll know dread
He cannot save you
Or comfort or aid you
He'll be counting his rubles instead!
I often will daze you
Simply amaze you
You have squandered your life so it's said
And if you should hurt me
Try to chase me or waste me
Remember there's always the lead."
Robin
Hither! Hither! Shall I call the Moon?
Whose pallid face approves no human eye?
Who innocent bemusement greets with Death;
And changing, alters not in chastity?
Broad Ocean's tide shall wane upon the shore,
No more to wax; obeisant to this hand,
And Phoebus gilded carriage rest complaisant,
Yet undeflowered will the Moon remain.
* * *
Who is that fool which breathes his restless sighs,
Upon the frosty air and sees them smoke?
Or dreams those dreams Reality belies,
And waking would his Genius invoke?
Like Tantalus his hand must ever reach,
Above, to pluck the fruit from hanging tree,
The angry gods his folly will impeach,
Forever more to feed his agony.
And still the Moon sits lofty in the sky,
To tantalize, and ne'er to be possessed,
She rapes the souls of men, and still they cry,
In futile rage; with vanity obsessed.
Return, thou dog! Her ravishment is sweet,
And though she kill me, yet will I entreat.
.
The impeccably natty Dan Rather
Shaves close ‘fore the camera-folks gather
But when his image came back
From his chat in Iraq
The stuff ‘round his mouth wasn’t lather.
Sorrow
Softly they came at first
The gentle rains of March
Sorrow laden clouds gently wept
And the ground took their tears
What the sky could not know
And what the Winter could not restrain
Was that Spring was born of the rain
And the ground listened to the sadness
And verdant fields was it’s response
Winters tyranny ended at last
And the flowers of May was the view
Given to the sky to look upon
For through the sadness of the sky
Winter was conquered and the land refreshed
So it is that sorrow leads to a life well-blessed
Journey Through a Garden
From lilac to daisy to lily
Softly flitting along the path
Pausing as in surprise as I watch
Then carefree continuing on
My garden is my refuge and reprieve
But to the small butterfly it is the world
Life is short but hers shorter still
Yet resplendent it is for her
To each a different path is walked
And to smell the roses is a chore for some
Others find that everyday is a journey through a garden
And their lives are blessed whether short or long
The Smell of Jasmine
The smell of jasmine still lingers
When the mists have risen from the valley
The night has fled behind the mount
And bright blue day greets him now
Sweet water from the stream
Refreshes his thirsty body
Fertile fields with ample game
Gives fun chase and tasty morsels
He has no fear, he has no stress
For he truly knows of nothing
Except that which he aught to know
That he is lord of all he watches
And so as night creeps back in place
And the mists return again
Another day completely lived
The tiger purrs contented
He has lived his life as was foreseen
And worries not who he offended
These are part of what I categorize as part of my Meditations on Contentment.
"The Wreck of the Cruz Bustamante"
The legend lives on from the Pechanga on down
Of California's First Mate Bustamante
A tax-hiking swine, Cruz looked as refined
As Quixote astride Rocinante.
With the recall bein' signed, Cruz thrice had declined
E'er to run on the ballot himself, see
For to do so would be, surely, disloyalty
To Cap'n Gray Davis's party!
And Cruz was the pride of la MEChista side
Who longed por la reconquistada
As big politicos go he was bigger than most
And sounded muy disparatada [nonsensical].
The news on the wire set Cruz's ambitions afire
As the recall broke past Davis's defenses
Every Democrat knew, as Cap'n Davis did, too,
Californians had come to their senses!
The crew wired Dianne it'd really hit the fan
And their Democrat ship's beams were a-groanin'
but Admiral Dianne wouldna' go; she shut off her radio
When the ship was broadsided by Conan!
It was then, Cruz did say, Davis was dead anyway -
"So what's the point keepin' mi promesa?"
He backstabbed ol' Gray but, that very same day,
apologized por la sorpresa!
October 7 she came with Gray pullin' up lame
while Tom and Bill threw help to Conan
Bustamante we're told never rose in the polls
despite 75 days of his phonin'
And so he went, political capital spent
To his party, he was repugnante
And so down went Gray, and, the very same day,
came The Wreck of the Cruz Bustamante!
*** instrumental ***
Orange County rolls, Sacramento sings
Of the cuts in the Davis - Cruz taxes
California she steams with the Terminator's dreams,
As regulation falls under the axes!
*** instrumental ***
The legend lives on from the Pechanga on down
Of that double-crosser muy gigante
That Election Day, Californians still say,
brought Tthe Wreck of The Cruz Bustamante!
This line spoke to my heart. Thank you for sharing, Fawnn. Lovely words.
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