Favorite Poems and Verses - Post your favorites.

[starling]

This one's for Medman re earlier conversation.

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman who’s not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice, 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing ......A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not, Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide, and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn
At fifty once more, once more children play round my knees,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman and nature is cruel
Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, nurse, open and see
Not a crabby old woman… Look closer......see.....ME

[starling]

A Nurse's reply
"To the 'Crabbit Old Woman"

What do we see, you ask, what do we see? Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee!
We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss, but there's many of you, and too few of us.
We would like far more time to sit by you and talk, to bath you and feed you and help you to walk.
To hear of your lives and the things you have done; your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.
But time is against us, there's too much to do -Patients too many, and nurses too few.
We grieve when we see you so sad and alone, with nobody near you, no friends of your own.
We feel all your pain, and know of your fear that nobody cares now your end is so near.
But nurses are people with feelings as well, And when we're together you'll often hear tell
Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed, And the lovely old Dad, and the things that he said,
We speak with compassion and love, and feel sad when we think of your lives and the joy that you've had,
When the time has arrived for you to depart, you leave us behind with an ache in our heart.
When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care, there are other old people, and we must be there.
So please understand if we hurry and fuss -There are many of you, And so few of us.

[tonythorne]

Here's one of mine, written some time ago ... but I still like it!

AVANT GARDE

Be glad for Youth
It disagrees
With many ways
Of our life it sees

This must be good
For our success
How else could we
Ever progress

But it should know
What we forgot
That if we change
Our lifestyle or not

Youth too will age
And come to see
That it again
Will never agree

But maybe in turn
However clever
Will learn these antics
Repeat forever

[starling]

A little poem....So true it hurts!

Another year has passed
And we're all a little older.
Last summer felt hotter
And winter seems much colder.

There was a time not long ago
When life was quite a blast.
Now I fully understand
About 'Living in the Past'

We used to go to weddings,
Football games and lunches..
Now we go to funeral homes
And after-funeral brunches.

We used to have hangovers,
From parties that were gay.
Now we suffer body aches
And wile the night away.

We used to go out dining,
And couldn't get our fill.
Now we ask for doggie bags,
Come home and take a pill.

We used to often travel
To places near and far.
Now we get sore asses
From riding in the car.

We used to go to nightclubs
And drink a little booze.
Now we stay home at night
And watch the evening news.

That, my friend is how life is,
And now my tale is told.
So, enjoy each day and live it up...
Before you're too damned old!

[chifleta]

I'm presuming it will censor automatically, this is a favourite poem by a favourite poet of mine LOL sorry if it offends... well ok ok i'm not sorry, I love this poem, I can even read it with her accent hehehe :

Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me T*ts

By Pam Ayres



Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers,

Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers,

Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers,

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me t*ts.



'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning.

It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning,

And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming,

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me t*ts



'Cos tits can be such troublesome things

When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing.

And although they go well with my Bingo wings,

I wish I'd looked after me t*ts.



When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow,

When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low,

When they're less of a friend and more of a foe,

Then I wish I'd looked after me t*ts.



When I was young I got whistles and hoots,

From the men on the site to the men in the suits,

Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots,

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me t*ts

.

When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters,

Cruising around with my favourite suitors.

Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters,

I wish I'd looked after me t*ts.



When they follow behind and get trapped in the door,

When they're less in the air and more near the floor,

When people see less of them rather than more,

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me t*ts.

- - - - - - - - - - merged double post - - - - - - - - - -

ooops, it didn't censor.... i'll have to do it now LOL sowwy

[hackney58]

A POEM THAT SOME CAN RELATE TO

I think this poem will take us all back to our childhood.
I still say “those were the good old days”.

I remember the cheese of my childhood,
And the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework,
And the men went to work not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge,
And the bread was so crusty and hot,
The children were seldom unhappy
And the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle,
With the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
And not from the fridge; in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with their mates in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,
Where a pen'orth of sweets was sold
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?
Or is it....I'm just getting old?

I remember the 'loo' was the lav
And the bogy man came in the night,
It wasn't the least bit funny
Going "out back" with no light.
The interesting items we perused
From the newspapers cut into squares,
And hung on a peg in the loo,
It took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper,
With plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
As Mum pressed everyone's 'duds'.

I remember the slap on my backside,
And the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table
And I think life was better enjoyed.

[Tshirt]

Daddy's Poem

----------------------
Her hair was up in a pony tail,
Her favourite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.

But her Mummy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.



There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.

'Where's her daddy at?'
She heard a boy call out.
'She probably doesn't have one,'
Another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
'Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day.'

The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.


And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.

'My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my Daddy,
And how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.

'Cause my Daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
He'll forever be in my heart'

With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favorite dress.



And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.

'I love my Daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.

You see he is a British soldier
And died just this past year
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught Britons to fear.



But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away.'
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.

And to her mother’s amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.

'I know you're with me Daddy,'
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.



And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far.

[starling]

Home to Roost (extract) by Owen Sheers

I don’t remember any of what happened.
Just those howls, like dogs, as we drove out.
The fields and trees all black and green.
Perhaps some of the very first rounds.
But nothing else.

I had to pick it all up second hand,
as my hearing came back in the chopper,
and then again in Bastion.

How when my driver had reversed
he’d hit a roadside IED.
How the explosion had hit a fuel tank, or ammo tin
right under me.
Shot me out, like a Jack-in-a-box,
sixty feet. And then how it had all kicked off.
Rockets, grenades. The lot.

They took me straight to Rose Cottage.
A special room in the medical centre
deep among the tents and containers of Bastion.
A room for the lads and lasses who’d taken a hit,
which even the surgeons on camp couldn’t fix.

It was manned back then by two blokes,
staff sergeants Andy and Tom. It was them
who took me in, off the ambulance,
and into their room. It smelt of sweet tea.
‘That scent,’ Andy said to me. ‘It’s the Eau de Toilette. Rose.
The Afghans insist we spray it on their guys.’
‘Don’t worry though Arthur,’ Tom added on my other side.
‘You’ll soon get used to it. We did.’
And they laughed. Not for themselves
but for me, I could tell. And they carried on talking too,
chatting me through all they’ll do,
as they put what they’d found of me on a shelf,
saying ‘sorry its so cold Arthur,’
which it was, like a fridge.
Then they said ‘sleep well’ before sliding it shut.
My first night of three in Rose Cottage.

I saw them again just before I left.
When they slid me out into the light again,
still passing the time of day
as they placed me in the coffin
that would carry me home.
Always calling me by my name.
‘Not long now, Arthur.’
‘You’ll be back home in no time.’
Gently they lowered the lid
then, like two maids making a bed,
they unfolded, smoothed and checked for snags,
before draping me in the colours of the flag.

[starling]

Memory lane for golden oldies

I remember the cheese of my childhood
And the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework
And the men went to work - not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge
And the bread was so crusty and hot.
The children were seldom unhappy
And the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle
With the yummy cream on the top.
Our dinner came hot from the oven
And not from a fridge in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,
They didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with their mates in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner
Where a pen'orth of sweeties was sold.
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic?
- Or is it .... I'm just getting old?

I remember the 'loo' was the lavvy,
And the bogey man came in the night.
It wasn't the least bit funny
Going "out back" with no light.

The interesting items we perused
From the newspapers cut into squares,
And hung on a peg in the loo -
It took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper
With plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
As Mum ironed everyone's 'duds'.

I remember the slap on my backside
And the taste of soap if I swore.
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
And we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table
And I think life was better enjoyed.

But a huge fact not hereto mentioned
In this tale of nostalgic rejoice
The reason we all “enjoyed” our lot
Is because there was simply NO CHOICE!

[ciderhunter]

Soldier Freddy

Soldier Freddy
Was never ready.
But Soldier Neddy
Was always ready and steady.

That's why
When Soldier Neddy
Is outside Buckingham Palace on guard in the pouring wind and rain being steady and ready
Freddy
is home in beddy.

~Spike Milligan~

[starling]

YEAH ... WE'RE A ROMANTIC LOT ...........

Australian Love Poem

Of course I love ya darlin
You're a bloody top-notch bird
And when I say you're gorgeous
I mean every single word

So ya bum is on the big side
I don't mind a bit of flab
It means that when I'm ready
There's somethin' there to grab

So your belly isn't flat no more
I tell ya, I don't care
So long as when I cuddle ya
I can get my arms round there

No Sheila who is your age
Has nice round perky breasts
They just gave in to gravity
But I know ya did ya best

I'm tellin' ya the truth now
I never tell ya lies
I think it’s very sexy
That you've got dimples on ya thighs

I swear on me nanna's grave now
The moment that we met
I thought you was as good as
I was ever gonna get

No matter what u look like
I'll always love ya dear
Now shut up while the cricket’s on
And fetch another beer..

[ Brings a lump to your throat doesn't it.. !! ]

[Ecky Thump]

martincrabb99 put this lovely poem on Facebook......


6270

[Medman]

martincrabb99 put this lovely poem on Facebook......


6270

Cool !!

My Dad's favourite limerick was:

There was a young man from Tralee
Who got stung on the neck by a wasp
When asked if it hurt
He said no not a bit
It can do it again if it likes

[willo-the-wisp]

Favorite Poems and Verses - Post your favorites


(One from my childhood)
Dandelion down

The simple dandelion down sails off like a balloon
I wish that I could ride on it this breezy afternoon
For it will float o'er hills and dales, where I may never stray
And then will anchor soft as dreams in meadows far away


.................................................. ...


Abou Ben Adhem
By Leigh Hunt


Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

[Medman]

Favorite Poems and Verses - Post your favorites


Dandelion down

The simple dandelion down sails off like a balloon
I wish that I could ride on it this breezy afternoon
For it will float o'er hills and dales, where I may never stray
And then will anchor soft as dreams in meadows far away

Ah, the nice .. :liar:

[willo-the-wisp]

Ah, the nice .. :liar:

Eh are you being rude MM?

[Medman]

Eh are you being rude MM?
willo-the-wisp

Oh my dear Willo, please don't think I am rude
It's safe to say that I'm usually so good
All my banter would be such a waste
If it wasn't all done in "the best possible taste" :inlove:

[willo-the-wisp]

If it wasn't all done in "the best possible taste"

"The best possible taste" Medman I'm sure
Is the only way to affect the cure
In future your words will not offend
I trust that I will remain your friend
And our friendship will endure :crazy:

[Medman]

If it wasn't all done in "the best possible taste"

"The best possible taste" Medman I'm sure
Is the only way to affect the cure
In future your words will not offend
I trust that I will remain your friend
And our friendship will endure :crazy:

:c2::bowdown::hello:

You must always know
I won't offend my Willo
With true Scottish wit
That hasn't failed yet
With banter to and fro

PS .. Ah the nice .... :crylaughing:

[Ecky Thump]

This is a short poem that I'm sure that will appeal to LindaD 's sense of humour.....


Friend

You and I are friends
You laugh, I laugh
You cry, I cry

You scream, I scream
You run, I run
You jump, I jump

You jump off a
bridge, I'm going to
miss you my friend.

[LindaD]

This is a short poem that I'm sure that will appeal to LindaD 's sense of humour.....


Friend

You and I are friends
You laugh, I laugh
You cry, I cry

You scream, I scream
You run, I run
You jump, I jump

You jump off a
bridge, I'm going to
miss you my friend.

Aw, what can I say to that Ecky - :cry:

[Ecky Thump]

Aw, what can I say to that Ecky - :cry:


Missing you already!:devil2:

[starling]

Happy New Year, happy new year,
A purse full of money and a cellar full of beer,
A horse and a gig and a big fat pig,
To last you through the year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE :party4::party2::balloon::party::party3::cheer::ch eers2::love2::hug:

[Medman]

Happy New Year, happy new year,
A purse full of money and a cellar full of beer,
A horse and a gig and a big fat pig,
To last you through the year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE :party4::party2::balloon::party::party3::cheer::ch eers2::love2::hug:

There once was a twit called Gradylondon
Whose crazy posts were very much frowned on
But his posts still remain
Which is bloody insane
So is it time for us to abandon

[Medman]

There once was a twit called Gradylondon
Whose crazy posts were very much frowned on
But his posts still remain
Which is bloody insane
So is it time for us to abandon

Bump .....................................