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I didn't think of myself as a tart, but I wouldn't argue with anyone who did.

quote by Julian Clary
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tart

Hear silver trumpets will trill in Arabic streets of Seville
Oranges roll in the gutter
And you pick them up
And peel back the skin
To the red fruit within
But the flavour is
Tart
And the flavour is
Tart
Is it something you crave?
And you say that you only feel bitterness
When you know it's a lie, lie, lie
Wild with a blackberry bush
There were blossoms of cherries to crush
There, at the edge of the asphalt tempting fingertips
They stain your hand, press too hard
They'll colour your lips
But the flavour is
Tart
And the flavour is
Tart
Is it something you crave?
'Cos you say that you only feel bitterness
Would it kill you to show us a little sweetness?
Repeat chorus
Odd, where nothing else grows
It was something like love that she chose
Always a creature of habit
When pity would do
She wore down that heel with no feeling
She kept on her shoes
Repeat chorus
Nylon was hung from a peg
And a kohl black seam ran down her leg
Fishermen look for their nets
And send their regrets
The bug lay there broken
She spoke, "Is this some kind of joke?"
But the flavour is
Tart

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Spring Song

The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;
Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul;
An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet
Is up the pole.
Fer, as the poit sez, me 'eart 'as got
The pip wiv yearnin' fer -- I dunno wot.

I'm crook; me name is Mud; I've done me dash;
Me flamin' spirit's got the flamin' 'ump!
I'm longin' to let loose on somethin' rash....
Aw, I'm a chump!
I know it; but this blimed ole Springtime craze
Fair outs me, on these dilly, silly days.

The young green leaves is shootin' on the trees,
The air is like a long, cool swig o' beer,
The bonzer smell o' flow'rs is on the breeze
An 'ere's me, 'ere,
Jist mooching around like some pore, barmy coot,
Of 'ope, an' joy, an' forchin destichoot.

I've lorst me former joy in gettin' shick,
Or 'eadin' browns; I 'aven't got the 'eart
To word a tom; an' square an' all, I'm sick
Of that cheap tart
'Oo chucks 'er carcis at a feller's 'head
An' mauls 'im ... Ar! I wish't that I wus dead!...

Ther's little breezes stirrin' in the leaves,
An sparrers chirpin' 'igh the 'ole day long;
An 'on the air a sad, sweet music breaves
A bonzer song --
A mournful sorter choon thet gits a bloke
Fair in the brisket 'ere, an' makes 'im choke...

What is the matter wiv me? ... I dunno.
I got a sorter yearning 'ere inside,
A dead-crook sorter thing that won't let go
Or be denied --
A feelin' I want to do a break,
An' stoush creation for some woman's sake.

The little birds is chirpin' in the nest,
The parks an' gardings is a bosker sight,
Where smilin' tarts walks up an' down, all dressed
In clobber white.
An', as their snowy forms goes steppin' by,
It seems I'm seekin' something on the sly.

Somethin' or someone -- I don't rightly know;

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Jim's Girl

''Oo is that girl,' sez Digger Smith,
That never seems to bother with
No blokes: the bint with curly 'air?
I've often seen 'er over there
Talkin' to Missus Flood, an' she
Seems like a reel ripe peach to me.

'Not that I'm askin'' ... 'Ere 'is eyes
Goes sort uv swiv'ly, an' 'e sighs.
'Not that I'm askin' with idears
Uv love an' marridge; 'ave no fears.
I've chucked the matrimony plan,'
'E sez. 'I'm only 'arf a man.'

This Digger Smith 'as fairly got
Me rampin' with 'is ''arf a man' rot.
'E 'as a timber leg, it's true;
But 'e can do the work uv two.
Besides, the things 'e's done Out There
Makes 'im one man an' some to spare.

I knoo 'is question was jist kid.
'E'd met this girl; I know 'e did.
'E knoo Jim Flood an' 'er was booked
For double when the 'Un was cooked.
But, seein' 'er, it used to start
'Im thinkin' of another tart.

'Oh, 'er?' sez I. 'She is a pearl.
I've 'eard she used to be Jim's girl;
But she was jist a child when Jim

Got out. She 'as forgotten 'im.'
I knows jist wot is in 'is mind,
An' sez, 'Wade in, if you're inclined.'

'E give me such a narsty look
I thought 'e meant to answer crook;
But, 'I ain't out for jokes,' sez 'e
'Yeh needn't sling that stuff to me.
I only was jist thinkin' - p'r'aps...
There's some,' 'e sez, 'that sticks to chaps.

'Some girls,' sez 'e, 'keeps true to chaps,
An' wed 'em when they've done with scraps,
An' come 'ome whole. Yeh don't ixpec'
No tart to tie up with a wreck?
Besides,' 'e sez ... 'Well, any'ow,
That girl's all right; I know it now.

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Yes I Am Fat

Yes I am fat
Yes I am fat
And I love my hats
Sometimes I wish my hair was wrapped in a plat
I got two Siamese cats and I always dress smart
But let me put this right from the start
Yes I am fat
But O! No, I am not a tart

This is a message for all you love rats
I may crave once in a while for brown chocolat
But I do I have appreciation for the finer art
Sometimes I let out a big fat fart
Sometimes I have a full shopping cart
Yes I am fat
But O! No, I am not a tart

I have a big bum - I got curve infinity
I have big breasts - I got breast immunity
Though my bum is round and never flat
I got the purest of dignity all you love rats

Yes I am fat
Yes I am fat
Sometimes I get scorned or made fun at
But you need to check out my stats
I am intelligent, respectful and not a brat
I go to work and pay my dutiful vat
So do you want a chit chat?
Or do you want to take out your baseball bat
You see I can engage in any immortal combat,
on any wrestling mat and come out without taking a scat
Yes I am fat
But O! No, I am not a tart

So many have looked and spat
As if I smell and don't take a bath
I was born fat
And such is that
Respect me and I give tit for tat
Please don't make jest at
I do like when I get winked at
You see, even the fat have a heart
At times I feel pain as if I have been pierced with a dart

Yes I am fat
I have to plot my own life chart
And accept myself until death does me apart
By telling me when it is time to depart
Yes I am fat

[...] Read more

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Don't

Don't!
Don't... don't you wish we tried?
Do you feel what I feel inside?
You know our love is stronger than pride... oh
No don't... don't let your anger grow
Just tell me what you need me to know
Please talk to me, don't close the door
Hmmm, 'cause I wanna hear you
I wanna be near you
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away
Don't tell me to go
Don't!... Don't give up on trust
Don't give up on me, on us
If we could just hold on long enough
Hmmm, we can do it
we'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't pretend that it's okay
Things won't get better that way
Don't do something you might regret someday...
Don't!
[dobro solo, instrumental]
Don't give up on me
Hmm, Don't!
(We can do it) We'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't! (Don't fight dont argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)
Say that that I'm sorry
(Just let me love you)
Don't give up on me
(Don't turn me away)
Don't tell me to go
Don't!
(Don't fight don't argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)

[...] Read more

song performed by Shania Twain
Added by Lucian Velea
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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chocolate tart XD

oh choco oh chocolate oh choco oh chocolate tart,
you pull me up when i am small you kiss my feet when i am tall oh chocolate tart you are in my heart and always will be! !

Or until i EAT you
Love you chocolate tart
mmmmm....................

poem by Amy Child
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Try, Try, Try

Pop tart, what's the matter?
Did you lose what you're after?
For your tears, I'm still singing
for your fears, I am ringing
from Houston on downer buzz
like you said, it's just because
you'll detonate your long lost kisses
wished on the eve of forgotten blessings
start your way for some new impression
try to hold on
for this heart, a little bit stronger
try to hold on
to this love alone
try to hold on
for this heart's never been broken
so try to hold on
try to hold on
pop tart, did you flatter?
When they spoke of my disasters
at thirteen I lost my compass
but I'm sure it's all accomplished
as desires on my ghost trains
like you said, when it rains
it pours down the back of the bitter son
desperate for love and loves everyone
in my mother's arms no simple harm
conspires to hold on
for this heart, a little bit closer
try to hold on
to this love alone
try to hold on
and we know if we go under
we just can't let go
no, no
pop tart, will it matter?
If I lose and just shatter
will you cry, and keep crying
will I die, and keep dying
in Tokyo, with sad tragic blues
like you said it's how you use

song performed by Smashing Pumpkins
Added by Lucian Velea
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In Spadger's Lane

Ole Mother Moon 'oo yanks 'er beamin' dile
Acrost the sky when we've grown sick o' day,
She's like some fat ole Jane 'oo loves to smile
On all concerned, an' smooth our faults away;
An', like a woman, tries to 'ide again
The sores an' scars crool day 'as made too plain.

To all the earth she gives the soft glad-eye;
She picks no fav'rits in this world o' men;
She peeps in nooks, where 'appy lovers sigh,
To make their job more bonzer still; an' then,
O'er Spadger's Lane she waves a podgy 'and,
An' turns the scowlin' slums to Fairyland.

Aw, strike! I'm gettin' soft in my ole age!
I'm growin' mushy wiv the passin' years.
Me! that 'as called it weakness to ingage
In sloppy thorts that coax the pearly tears.
But say, me state o' mind I can't ixplain
When I seen Rose lars' night in Spadger's Lane.

'Twas Spadger's Lane where Ginger Mick 'ung out
Before 'e took to follerin' the Flag;
The Lane that echoed to 'is drunken shout
When 'e lobbed 'omeward on a gaudy jag.
Now Spadger's Lane knows Ginger Mick no more,
Fer 'e's become an 'ero at the War.

A flamin' 'ero at the War, that's Mick.
An' Rose - 'is Rose, is waitin' in the Lane,
Nursin' 'er achin' 'eart, an' lookin' sick
As she crawls out to work an' 'ome again,
Givin' the bird to blokes 'oo'd be 'er 'friend,'
An' prayin', wiv the rest, fer wars to end.

Quite right; I'm growin' sloppy fer a cert;
But I must git it orf me chest or bust.
So 'ere's a song about a grievin' skirt,
An' love, an' Ginger Mick, an' maiden trust!
The choky sort o' song that fetches tears
When blokes is full o' sentiment-or beers.

Lars' night, when I sneaks down to taste again
The sights an' sounds I used to know so well,
The moon wus shinin' over Spadger's Lane,
Sof'nin' the sorrer where 'er kind light fell:
Sof'nin' an' soothin', like it wus 'er plan
To make ixcuses fer the sins uv man.

Frum shadder inter shadder, up the street,

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Siren

She sung a song; an' I sat silent there,
Wiv bofe 'ands grippin' 'ard on me chair;
Me 'eart, that yesterdee I thort wus broke
Wiv 'umpin sich a 'eavy load o' care,
Come swelling in me throat like I would choke.
I felt 'ot blushes climbin' to me 'air.

'Twas like that feelin' when the Spring wind breaves
Sad music in the sof'ly rustlin' leaves.
An' when a bloke sits down an' starts to chew
Crook thorts, wivout quite knowin' why 'e grieves
Fer things 'e's done 'e didn't ort to do
Fair winded wiv the 'eavy sighs 'e 'eaves.

She sung a song; an' orl at once I seen
The kind o' crool an' 'eartless broot I been.
In ev'ry word I read it like a book
The slanter game I'd played wiv my Doreen
I 'eard it in 'er song; an' in 'er look
I seen wot made me feel fair rotten mean.

Poor, 'urt Doreen! My tender bit o' fluff!
Ar, men don't understand; they're fur too rough;
Their ways is fur too coarse wiv lovin' tarts;
They never gives 'em symperthy enough.
They treats 'em 'arsh; they tramples on their 'earts,
Becos their own crool 'earts is leather-tough.

She sung a song; an' orl them bitter things
That chewin' over lovers' quarrils brings
Guv place to thorts of sorrer an' remorse.
Like when some dilly punter goes an' slings
'Is larst, lone deener on some stiffened 'orse,
An' learns them vain regrets wot 'urts an' stings.

'Twas at a beano where I lobs along
To drown them memories o' fancied wrong.
I swears I never knoo that she'd be there.
But when I met 'er eye—O, 'struth, 'twas strong!
'Twas bitter strong, that jolt o' dull despair!
'Er look o' scorn!…An' then, she sung a song.

The choon was one o' them sad, mournful things
That ketch yeh in the bellers 'ere, and brings
Tears to yer eyes. The words was uv a tart
'Oo's trackin' wiv a silly coot 'oo slings
'Er love aside, an' breaks 'er tender 'eart….
But 'twasn't that; it was the way she sings.

To 'ear 'er voice!…A bloke 'ud be a log

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Cheese Balls

Cheese balls!

Sniff them as you lick them,
Cheese balls.
Delicious when you eat them,
Cheese balls.
Salty and their tart.
A snack that's hard to stop!

Cheddar up.

Cheese balls.
Sniff them as you lick them.
Cheese balls.
Delicious when you eat them.
Cheese balls.
Salty and they're tart,
And a snack that's hard to top.

Cheddar up.

Get a big bag and begin to stuff your gutt.

Those, those, those...
Cheese balls.
The cheddar makes them better.
Cheese balls.
They're better when they're cheddar.
Forget about the fedder...
And that gouda gotta go!
You've got to get them cheddar.
It's that cheddar taste that grows.

Cheddar up, cheddar up, cheddar up!
Those cheese balls...
Delicious when you eat them.
Cheese balls.
Sniff them as you lick them.
Cheese balls.
And a snack that's hard to stop!
Salty and they're tart...
Forget about the fedder.
And that gouda gotta go!
Cheese balls!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Best Years Of Out Lives

Where were going
Heaven knows
{were} lost and falling
And it shows
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
Sent to hurt me
And you will
Tear the seasons
From the hill
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives

song performed by Omd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lalena

When the sun goes to bed
Thats the time your raise your head
Thats your lot in life lalena
Cant blame you lalena
Arty tart la de da
Can your part get much sadder
Thats your lot in life lalena
Cant blame you lalena
Run you hand thru your hair
Paint your face with despair
Thats your lot in life lalena
Cant blame you lalena
When the sun goes to bed
Thats the time your raise your head
Thats your lot in life lalena
Cant blame you lalena
Arty tart oh so la de da
Can your part ever get, ever get much sadder
Thats your lot in life lalena
Cant blame you lalena
Oh, lalena

song performed by Deep Purple
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Wish Lunch Could Last Forever

I wish lunch could last forever
By: jimmy buffett, jay oliver
1989
The place down the block, the one with no clock
Covert rendez-vous with you at the usual time
I savor the scent of the fish on the grill
Lifes so spicy up on bar-b-q hill
Looking good, you look so fine
Waiter bring us one more bottle of wine
Chorus:
I wish lunch could last forever
Make the whole day on big afternoon
Well begin with dessert a little coconut tart
Tastes as sweet as a piece of your heart
Cafe au lait beneath the paris moon
Dont hide your eyes just wear your disguise
Brazils in the air I swear it feels like mardi gras time
I savor the scent love that annick goutal
As we walk in time to the cathedral bells
Chorus:
I wish lunch could last forever
Make the whole day on big afternoon
Well begin with dessert a little coconut tart
Tastes as sweet as a piece of your heart
Cafe au lait beneath the paris moon
Oh yeah, uh huh, ooooh...
I wish love could last forever
Make the whole day a first time love affair
Well begin with a kiss, such a warm place to start
Let me into your life let me into your heart
Mea culpa mea culpa carnivals in the air
Well begin with a kiss, such a warm place to start
Let me into your life let me into your heart
I wish, I wish that lunch could last forever
Oh yeah, uh huh, oh, oh...
-- spoken:
Tout la jour, mademoiselle [ everyday, mademoiselle ]
Dejeuner tout la jour [ lunch every day ]
Ah oui, une boutelle de vin blanc [ ah yes, a bottle of white wine ]
Un dessert? cest necessaire [ a dessert? its necessary ... ]
Tres necessaire [ ...very necessary ]

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Key Lime Pie

Ocean breeze, tire swing
Coconut fall if you shake that thing
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
Tall green tree, yellow bird
Bikini bottom and a tie-dyed shirt
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Big white sail, red sunset
Lobster tail and don't forget
My, my, my - my key lime pie
A six string, ten shots
Of Cruzan rum, hey, I like it a lot
With my, my, my - my key lime pie
Tortola, a full moon
Shining down on a blue lagoon
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Not too tart, not too sweet
My baby loves to watch me eat
Her key lime pie
Her key lime pie
We got Ginger and Mary Ann
Cookin' up a real good tan
And my, my, my - my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie
Key lime pie, my my my
My, my, my key lime pie
Key lime pie, key lime pie

song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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La Serpent Qui Danse (The Dancing Serpent)

Que j'aime voir, chère indolente,
De ton corps si beau,
Comme une étoffe vacillante,
Miroiter la peau!

Sur ta chevelure profonde
Aux âcres parfums,
Mer odorante et vagabonde
Aux flots bleus et bruns,

Comme un navire qui s'éveille
Au vent du matin,
Mon âme rêveuse appareille
Pour un ciel lointain.

Tes yeux, où rien ne se révèle
De doux ni d'amer,
Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêle
L'or avec le fer.

À te voir marcher en cadence,
Belle d'abandon,
On dirait un serpent qui danse
Au bout d'un bâton.

Sous le fardeau de ta paresse
Ta tête d'enfant
Se balance avec la mollesse
D'un jeune éléphant,

Et ton corps se penche et s'allonge
Comme un fin vaisseau
Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge
Ses vergues dans l'eau.

Comme un flot grossi par la fonte
Des glaciers grondants,
Quand l'eau de ta bouche remonte
Au bord de tes dents,

Je crois boire un vin de Bohême,
Amer et vainqueur,
Un ciel liquide qui parsème
D'étoiles mon coeur!

The Dancing Serpent

Indolent darling, how I love
To see the skin

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Doreen

'I wish't yeh menat it, Bill.' Oh, 'ow me 'eart
Went out to 'er that evnin' on the beach.
I knew she weren't no ordinary tart,
My little peach!

To 'ear 'er voice! Its gentle sorter tone,
Like soft dream-music of some Dago band.
An' me all out; an' 'oldin' in me own
'Er little 'and.
An' 'ow she blushed! O, strike! it was divine
The way she raised 'er shinin' eyes to mine.

'Er eyes! Soft in the moon; such BOSHTER eyes!
An' when they sight a bloke…O, spare me days!
'E goes all loose inside; such glamour lies
In 'er sweet gaze.
It makes 'im all ashamed uv wot 'e's been
To look inter the eyes of my Doreen.

The wet sands glistened, an' the gleamin' moon
Shone yeller on the sea, all streakin' down.
A band was playin' some soft, dreamy choon;
An' up the town
We 'eard the distant tram-cars whir an' clash.
An' there I told Per 'ow I'd done me dash.

'I wish't yeh meant it.' 'Struth! And did I, fair?
A bloke 'ud be a dawg to kid a skirt
Like her. An' me well knowin' she was square.
It 'ud be dirt!
'E'd be no man to point wiv her, an' kid.
I meant it honest; an' she knoo I did.

She knoo. I've done me block in on her, straight.
A cove 'as got to think some time in life
An' get some decent tart, ere it's too late,
To be 'is wife.
But, Gawd! 'Oo would 'a' thort it could 'a' been
My luck to strike the likes of Per?…Doreen!

Aw, I can stand their chuckin' off, I can.
It's 'ard; an' I'd delight to take 'em on.
The dawgs! But it gets that way wiv a man
When 'e's fair gone.
She'll sight no stoush; an' so I have to take
Their mag, an' do a duck fer her sweet sake.

Fer 'er sweet sake I've gone and chucked it clean:
The pubs an' schools an' all that leery game.
Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen,

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Cream Tart

My name is wolfy
and I get all hairy
when the wolf bane blooms
under a full moon.
I do a transformation
and become a real wild thing
I go to all the places
where the wild ones hang out.
I get to be a bit of a dog
when there is food about
and really get tucked in.
You can tempt me anytime
with a cream tart.
Yeah, I know what your saying
too much sweet stuff isn’t for you,
but this wolfy has a sweet tooth
and he’ll devour anything,
so long as it is sweet.
I used to be a lean machine
until I was seduced
by a big cream tart,
that did it I’m afraid
and this wolfy lost his heart.

10 September 2009

poem by David Harris
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Tarts And Warts

on a sweet conversation like this
when you open
and i ask some more of this openness
in you,
you become my tart
i like the taste
of fruits and milk and some cheese
to last finger licking
goodness

then you take your turn
trying to open me like a canned
fruit juice
i stick to my lock and key
and you find it hard to
open
you like to drink the four seasons
in me
i refuse
i shifted your questions to something else
like the full moon last night
and you do not like
this one way traffic
between us
my road is closed
i only have
mysterious ends
your thirst shall not be quenched
you should know by now
i am not a tart
i am your wart

and so the saying goes like a road
diverging
i'll take the other one
you take that one
i know
the one less travelled by

you are the poet
i am less

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rabbits

'Ar! Gimme fights wiv foeman I kin see,
To upper-cut an' wallop on the jor.
Life in a burrer ain't no good to me.
'Struth! This ain't war!
Gimme a ding-dong go fer 'arf a round,
An' you kin 'ave this crawlin' underground.

'Gimme a ragin', 'owlin', tearin', scrap,
Wiv room to swing me left, an' feel it land.
This 'idin', sneakin' racket makes a chap
Feel secon'-'and.
Stuck in me dug-out 'ere, down in a 'ole,
I'm feelin' like I've growed a rabbit's soul.'

Ole Ginger's left the 'orspital, it seems;
'E's back at Anzac, cursin' at the game;
Fer this 'ere ain't the fightin' uv 'is dreams;
It's too dead tame.
'E's got the oopizootics reely bad,
An' 'idin' in a burrer makes 'im mad.

'E sort o' takes it personal, yeh see.
'E used to 'awk 'em fer a crust, did Mick.
Now, makin' 'im play rabbits seems to be
A narsty trick.
To shove 'im like a bunny down a 'ole
It looks like chuckin' orf, an' sours 'is soul.

'Fair doos,' 'e sez, 'I joined the bloomin' ranks
To git away frum rabbits: thinks I'm done
Wiv them Australian pests, an' 'ere's their thanks:
They makes me one!
An' 'ere I'm squattin', scared to shift about;
Jist waitin' fer me little tail to sprout.

'Ar, strike me up a wattle! but it's tough!
But 'ere's the dizzy limit, fer a cert
To live this bunny's life is bad enough,
But 'ere's reel dirt:
Some tart at 'ome 'as sent, wiv lovin' care,
A coat uv rabbit-skins fer me to wear!

'That's done it! Now I'm nibblin' at the food,
An' if a dawg shows up I'll start to squeal;
I s'pose I orter melt wiv gratichude:
'Tain't 'ow I feel.
She might 'a' fixed a note on wiv a pin:
'Please, Mister Rabbit, yeh fergot yer skin!'

'I sees me finish!… War? Why, this ain't war!

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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