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Celery

Celery, raw
Develops the jaw,
But celery, stewed,
Is more quietly chewed.

poem by Ogden Nash
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Quietly Making Noise

Quietly making noise
By: jimmy buffett, michael tschudin
1993
Oscar wilde died in bed
Several floors above my head
Living well beyond his means
In that crazy paris scene
Rain falls down in sheets so clear
And no one ever calls me hear
Travelin by myself these days
Im into jazz and felt berets
Far from that old eastern shore
Searchin for strange metaphors
I dont want to be another victim of fashion
No I dont want to see my name in the paper each day
Hey you can leave that to the young turks
Theyre handsome and dashing
Posing for paparazzis down laguna way
Now down in the metro I feel the world start to multiply
Bastille, rubber wheels, spiked heels
Subterranean lullaby
Met an african prancer, a hemisphere dancer
Spied the ghost of brassens
We smiled at the secret we shared
And I hid it like contraband
Quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Starts with kindergarten toys
Not too soft, not too loud
Just enough to draw a crowd
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Followed the beat
Hey I found myself in this patois spot
Outside a blizzard was blowin
But inside the joint was hot
Zouk songs, rubber thongs, sing-a-longs
The words flew right by my face
You know rhythm and motions a blamma jamma potion
You cannot erase
Quietly making noise (quietly making noise)
Pissin off the old kill-joys
Glasspacks on an hot mustang
A telecaster with a twang
Quietly, quietly, quietly making noise
Yes
Singers and writers and poets
Have flocked here for centuries
The city of light is built upon mountains of memories
Baritone saxophones, monotones
Speak with a voice Ive heard before
Its a lasting impression

[...] Read more

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Baldness Of Chewed-Ear

When Chewed-ear Jenkins got hitched up to Guinneyveer McGee,
His flowin' locks, ye recollect, wuz frivolous an' free;
But in old Hymen's jack-pot, it's a most amazin' thing,
Them flowin' locks jest disappeared like snow-balls in the Spring;
Jest seemed to wilt an' fade away like dead leaves in the Fall,
An' left old Chewed-ear balder than a white-washed cannon ball.

Now Missis Chewed-ear Jenkins, that wuz Guinneyveer McGee,
Wuz jest about as fine a draw as ever made a pair;
But when the boys got joshin' an' suggested it was she
That must be inflooenshul for the old man's slump in hair --
Why! Missis Chewed-ear Jenkins jest went clean up in the air.

"To demonstrate," sez she that night, "the lovin' wife I am,
I've bought a dozen bottles of Bink's Anty-Dandruff Balm.
'Twill make yer hair jest sprout an' curl like squash-vines in the sun,
An' I'm propose to sling it on till every drop is done."
That hit old Chewed-ear's funny side, so he lays back an' hollers:
"The day you raise a hair, old girl, you'll git a thousand dollars."

Now, whether 'twas the prize or not 'tis mighty hard to say,
But Chewed-ear didn't seem to have much comfort from that day.
With bottles of that dandruff dope she followed at his heels,
An' sprinkled an' massaged him even when he ate his meals.
She waked him from his beauty sleep with tender, lovin' care,
An' rubbed an' scrubbed assiduous, yet never sign of hair.

Well, naturally all the boys soon tumbled to the joke,
An' at the Wow-wow's Social 'twas Cold-deck Davis spoke:
"The little woman's working mighty hard on Chewed-ear's crown;
Let's give her for a three-fifth's share a hundred dollars down.
We stand to make five hundred clear -- boys, drink in whiskey straight:
`The Chewed-ear Jenkins Hirsute Propagation Syndicate'."

The boys wuz on, an' soon chipped in the necessary dust;
They primed up a committy to negotiate the deal;
Then Missis Jenkins yielded, bein' rather in disgust,
An' all wuz signed an' witnessed, an' invested with a seal.
They rounded up old Chewed-ear, an' they broke it what they'd done;
Allowed they'd bought an interest in his chance of raisin' hair;
They yanked his hat off anxiouslike, opinin' one by one
Their magnifyin' glasses showed fine prospects everywhere.
They bought Hairlene, an' Thatchem, an' Jay's Capillery Juice,
An' Seven Something Sisters, an' Macassar an' Bay Rum,
An' everyone insisted on his speshul right to sluice
His speshul line of lotion onto Chewed-ear's cranium.
They only got the merrier the more the old man roared,
An' shares in "Jenkins Hirsute" went sky-highin' on the board.

The Syndicate wuz hopeful that they'd demonstrate the pay,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Raw Power

(pop/williamson)
(burp)
Dance to the beet of the living dead
Lose sleep baby and stay away from bed
Raw power is sure to come a runnin to you
If youre alone and you got the shakes
So am I baby and I got what it takes
Raw power wlll surely come a running to you
Raw power got a healin hand
Raw power can destroy a man
Raw power is more than soul
Has got a son called rock and roll
Raw power nohey just wont quit
Raw power I can feeeeeel it
Raw power baby cant be beat
Qpin eyes and flashin feet
Everybodys always tryin to tell me what to do
Dont you try
Don t you try to tell me what to do
Look in the eye of the savage girl
Fall deep in love in the underworld
Raw power is sure to come a runnin to you
If youre alone and you got the fear
So am I baby lets move on out of here
Raw power is sure to come a runnin to you
Raw power got a magic touch
Raw power is much too much
Happiness is guaranteed
It was made for you and me
Raw power honey just wont quit
Raw power I can feel it
Raw power honey cant be beat
Get down and kiss my feet
Raw powers got no place to go
Raw power honey
It dontwantto know
Raw power is a guaranteed o.d.
Raw power is laughin at you and me
And this is what I wanta know
Can you feeeeeel it
Can you feeeeeeeeel it
Can you feeeeeel it
Can you feeeeeeeeeeeel it
Raw power! raw powwwwwwer!
Raw power! raw powwwwwwwwer!
Can you feeeeeeeeeeeel it

song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Drummer

1
The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
As he beats of Humanity wrapped in a shroud.
Well he beats of the bone bags Dame Famine's designed
As she ravished and plagued us since dawn of mankind;
And he beats of Lord Boss letting oranges decay
While a child suffers scurvy and passes away;
And he beats of the beasts we've so needlessly slain
And of critters and creatures cast off in distain;
And he beats of combatants who're dying deceived
As the merchants of murder count profits received;
And he beats of the rape and the killing of war
And the mind blinding sorrow we blithely ignore.
He beats and he pounds till our consciences gnaw
And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw
And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.
2
The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
As he beats of abuse that we try to becloud.
Well he beats of the barons and princes and kings
Who have broken our backs while crushing our wings
And he beats of the bribes that the powerful make
To key politicians who fawn in their wake;
And he beats of the waifs bound and chained to machines
And of slaves in the fields and other such scenes;
And he beats of decrees stating all men are free
While ignoring the blacks and their agonised plea;
And he beats of the tyrants in clerical garb
Who have tortured with faggots and thumbscrews and barb.
He beats and he pounds till revealing the flaw
And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw
And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.
3
The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
As he beats of the strength of the rebels so proud.
Well he beats of the spirit the rack couldn't break,
And the flame of the flesh that was burned at the stake;
And he beats of the minds that could never be chained
By the faith that was living while ignorance reigned;
And he beats of the struggles when Spartacus rose
Having tired of shackles and slavery's woes;
And he beats of the women who'll die to be freed
And will never give up till they finally succeed;
And he beats of the progress outliving the jeers
So belying the pessimist's fatuous sneers.
He beats and he pounds till we stand back in awe
And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw
And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw.
4
The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud

[...] Read more

poem by Terry O'Leary
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Dear friends, we surely all agree

'Dear friends, we surely all agree
There's almost nothing worse to see
Than some repulsive little bum
Who's always chewing chewing gum.
(It's very near as bad as those
Who sit around and pick the nose).
So please believe us when we say
That chewing gum will never pay;
This sticky habit's bound to send
The chewer to a sticky end.
Did any of you ever know
A person called Miss Bigelow?
This dreadful woman saw no wrong
In chewing, chewing all day long.
She chewed while bathing in the tub,
She chewed while dancing at her club,
She chewed in church and on the bus;
It really was quite ludicrous!
And when she couldn't find her gum,
She'd chew up the linoleum,
Or anything that happened near–
A pair of boots, the postman's ear,
Or other people's underclothes,
And once she chewed her boy friend's nose.
She went on chewing till, at last,
Her chewing muscles grew so vast
That from her face her giant chin
Stuck out just like a violin.
For years and years she chewed away,
Consuming fifty packs a day,
Until one summer's eve, alas,
A horrid business came to pass.
Miss Bigelow went late to bed,
For half an hour she lay and read,
Chewing and chewing all the while
Like some great clockwork crocodile.
At last, she put her gum away
Upon a special little tray,
And settled back and went to sleep–
(She managed this by counting sheep).
But now, how strange! Although she slept,
Those massive jaws of hers still kept
On chewing, chewing through the night,
Even with nothing there to bite.
They were, you see, in such a groove
They positively had to move.
And very grim it was to hear
In pitchy darkness, loud and clear,
This sleeping woman's great big trap
Opening and shutting, snap–snap–snap!

[...] Read more

poem by Roald Dahl
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Raw

Raw
The pictures left with me wont fade
These images affect me every day
Cause of you I feel I dont deserve
The life I see in her
Just dont leave me
Raw
Inside Im so cold
Inside Im so cold
Raw
Ive never been someone who knows
My choices haunt me everywhere I go
Finally did something right for myself
My life to you no one else
Just dont leave me
Raw
Inside Im so cold
Inside Im so cold
Im so cold
I feel so cold
I cant take this
Raw
I feel so...
Inside Im so cold
Inside Im so cold
Raw
I feel so
Raw

song performed by Staind
Added by Lucian Velea
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Commotion

Traffic in the city turns my head around.
No, no, no, no, no.
Backed up on the freeway, backed up in the church,
Evrywhere you look theres a frown, frown.
Chorus:
Com, commotion,
Git, git, git, gone.
Com, commotion,
Git, git, git, gone.
People keep atalkin, they dont say a word.
Jaw, jaw, jaw, jaw, jaw.
Talk up in the white house, talk up to your door,
So much goin on I just cant hear.
Chorus
Hurryin to get there so you save some time.
Run, run, run, run, run.
Rushin to the treadmill, rushin to get home,
Worry bout the time you save, save.
Chorus

song performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Added by Lucian Velea
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The riders of the plains

Who is it lacks the knowledge? Who are the curs that dare
To whine and sneer that they do not fear the whelps in the Lion's lair?
But we of the North will answer, while life in the North remains,
Let the curs beware lest the whelps they dare are the Riders of the Plains;
For these are the kind whose muscle makes the power of the Lion's jaw,
And they keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.

A woman has painted a picture,--'tis a neat little bit of art
The critics aver, and it roused up for her the love of the big British heart.
'Tis a sketch of an English bulldog that tigers would scarce attack,
And round and about and beneath him is painted the Union Jack.
With its blaze of colour, and courage, its daring in every fold,
And underneath is the title, "What we have we'll hold."
'Tis a picture plain as a mirror, but the reflex it contains
Is the counterpart of the life and heart of the Riders of the Plains;
For like to that flag and that motto, and the power of that bulldog's jaw,
They keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.

These are the fearless fighters, whose life in the open lies,
Who never fail on the prairie trail 'neath the Territorial skies,
Who have laughed in the face of the bullets and the edge of the rebels' steel,
Who have set their ban on the lawless man with his crime beneath their heel;
These are the men who battle the blizzards, the suns, the rains,
These are the famed that the North has named the "Riders of the Plains,"
And theirs is the might and the meaning and the strength of the bulldog's jaw,
While they keep the peace of the people and the honour of British law.

These are the men of action, who need not the world's renown,
For their valour is known to England's throne as a gem in the British crown;
These are the men who face the front, whose courage the world may scan,
The men who are feared by the felon, but are loved by the honest man;
These are the marrow, the pith, the cream, the best that the blood contains,
Who have cast their days in the valiant ways of the Riders of the Plains;
And theirs is the kind whose muscle makes the power of old England's jaw,
And they keep the peace of her people and the honour of British law.

Then down with the cur that questions,--let him slink to his craven den,--
For he daren't deny our hot reply as to "who are our mounted men."
He shall honour them east and westward, he shall honour them south and north,
He shall bare his head to that coat of red wherever that red rides forth.
'Tis well that he knows the fibre that the great North-West contains,
The North-West pride in her men that ride on the Territorial plains,--
For of such as these are the muscles and the teeth in the Lion's jaw,
And they keep the peace of our people and the honour of British law.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Bubble gum

Mary had some bubble gum, bubble gum, bubble gum
Mary had some bubble gum
she chewed it long and slow.

Everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went
everywhere that Mary went
her gum was sure to blow.

She chewed the gum in school one day, school one day, school one day
She chewed the gum in school one day,
which was against the rule.

The teacher took her pack away, pack away, pack away
The teacher took her pack away
and chewed it after school.

poem by Lee Toballs
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Reflex (feat. Ben Lee)

Ben Lee: You've gone too far this time
Both: But I'm dancing on the Valentine
Ben Lee: I tell you somebody's fooling around
Both: With my chances on the dangerline
Both: I cross that bridge when I find it
Another day to make my stand, oh
High time is no time for deciding
If I should find a helping hand, oh
Both: So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
Buy time don't lose it
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Kylie Minogue: I'm getting off this ride
Both: But they won't slow down on the roundabout
Kylie Minogue: I sold the Renoir and the TV set
Both: Don't wanna be around when this gets out
Both: So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
Buy time don't lose it
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Both: Watching over lucky clover
Isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does
Leaves your answer with a question mark
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Both: Watching over lucky clover
Isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does
Leaves your answer with a question mark
Both: The reflex, what a game
He's hiding all the cards
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark

song performed by Kylie Minogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Walked In

Everybody's talkin' 'bout the supermodel world
Cindy, Naomi and that whole bunch of girls
Redheads, brunettes and blondes with blue eyes
They come in every shape yea they come in every size
You know I love everything they do
I check 'em out on every Pay-Per-View
Oh, but honey that was way before I met you.
And then
You walked in with legs up to your neck
You walked in I'm a physical wreck
You walked in I've lost my cool babe
But what'd you expect
When you walk in baby love begins
When you walk by baby ooh my my
When you come around, my jaw hits the ground
When you shake your thing I jump outta my skin
When you cross the floor I scream "more baby more"
When you flash your smile you drive me wild
Yea, yea, yea, yea, yea
Everybody's checkin' out the glossy magazines
Madonna, Diana, you know the whole scene
The covergirls, the centerfolds and every movie star
And all those pretty ladies down there at the local bar
I couldn't think of nothin' better to do
Than checkin' out a little wiggle or two
Oh, but honey that was way before I met you
And then
You walked in with legs up to your neck
You walked in I'm a physical wreck
You walked in I've lost my cool babe
But what the heck
When you walk in baby love begins
When you walk by baby ooh my my
When you come around, my jaw hits the ground
When you shake your thing I jump outta my skin
When you cross the floor I scream "more baby more"
When you flash your smile you drive me wild
Yea, yea, yea, yea, yea
I couldn't think of nothin' better to do
Than checkin' out a little wiggle or two
But honey that was way before I met you
When you walk in baby love begins
When you walk by baby ooh my my
When you come around, my jaw hits the ground
When you shake your thing I jump outta my skin
When you cross the floor I scream "more baby more"
When you flash your smile you drive me wild
Now you drive me wild
When you walk in baby love begins
When you walk by baby ooh my my

[...] Read more

song performed by Lonestar
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Love is something that you cannot remove (Catena Rondo)

Love is something that you cannot remove
quite suddenly you know, she knows it too
it is in everything that you say and do,
love is something that you cannot remove

quite suddenly you know, she knows it too,
it is the very quaintest kind of thing
that to you both is suddenly happening
quite suddenly you know, she knows it too,

it is the very quaintest kind of thing
when sense and sensibility brings
to your actions, thoughts and your feelings wings
it is the very quaintest kind of thing

when sense and sensibility brings
a secret understanding that is true,
sincerity that encompass both of you
when sense and sensibility brings

a secret understanding that is true,
when a look carries a message to both
that goes much further than any oath
a secret understanding that is true,

when a look carries a message to both
when the body reacts to a single touch
when pre-comprehension says very much
when a look carries a message to both

when the body reacts to a single touch
when life seems so much greater than it is,
when mere company is full of much bliss
when the body reacts to a single touch,

when life seems so much greater than it is,
when a bond develops around the divine,
selfless you loose the own me and mine
when life seems so much greater than it is,

when a bond develops around the divine
where although separate, you become one,
without each other hardly want to live on
when a bond develops around the divine

where although separate, you become one;
love is something that you cannot remove,
to each other you do not have to prove
where although separate, you become one,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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As you read these lines

As you read these lines
Another toothpick
Is chewed by my teeth

Something is wrong
With my tongue and
Teeth, how they compete
For recognition, the teeth
Claiming it chewed the
Words the tongue claiming
It approved the taste,

I am listening how they
Argued and quarreled,
And in the chaos I bit the
Toothpick chewed it
And spit it out,

How choppy have I
Become, how some
Of my parts have been
So disjoined, and how
Have I become
So disengaged, divided,
Like the tongue &
Teeth, in their bickering.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Keeping Watch

The zebras stood there in a line
And almost side-by-side.
Their eyes were staring for a sign
That could serve as a guide.
If dangers lurked, then eyes and ears
Would warn them when to run...
Their instincts helped them through the years,
Yet they must fight the sun...
For up above, it blasted down
With heat beyond belief...
To melt the blue, the green and brown
And linger like a thief...
Just one mistake and some would die
And so they stood and chewed...
And watched each hour pass them by,
In their long solemn mood...
No false alarms had happened yet
And so they stood their ground...
United in each other's debt
For anything they found...
A sudden stirring chilled their blood!
In seconds, they had gone!
Like cavalry, their hooves would thud,
As lions stood alone...
This battle won, the zebras lived
To see another day...
With vigilence their greatest gift,
They chewed and chewed away...

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Keeping Watch'.

More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

poem by Denis Martindale
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Where's Mo?

Three meerkats stood on tippy-toes,
Eeeney, Meeney, Miney...
And yet, where's Mo? Nobody knows!
Where could that rascal be?
They thought that he was hiding near,
That's why they stretched so high,
In hopes the scamp would soon appear,
So they could ask him why...

But Mo was chewing chocolate fast
And wouldn't share one bite!
At such a thought, he felt aghast,
He chewed with all his might!
They'll all want some, there's not much left!
And so he chewed and chewed...
When it was gone, he felt bereft,
It was his favourite food!

His whiskers had to be licked clean
To hide the damning truth,
The awful fact that he was mean,
With chocolate as the proof!
When he returned, he burped aloud!
The meerkats gathered round...
But Mo was silent with head bowed...
And while he smiled, they frowned!

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Where's Mo? '.

poem by Denis Martindale
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Too Raw To Eat

Picked over like a piece of meat
Nibbled and a little bit uneasy
Difficult it is to please
Somebody who prefers
The taste of cake
Without the cheese

Picked over like forbidden fruit
From a garden stomped over with people
I want to be the one who leaves
A deliciousness to tease
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat.

Picked over like a piece of meat
Nibbled and a little bit uneasy
Difficult it is to please
Somebody who prefers
The taste of cake
Without the cheese

Picked over like forbidden fruit
From a garden stomped over with people
I want to be the one who leaves
A deliciousness to tease
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat

Picked over like a piece of meat
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat

Picked over like a piece of meat
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat
Picked over like a piece of meat
But I have been regarded
Too raw to eat

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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An Election Night Pantoum

Gaze at the good-natured crowd,
List to the noise and the rattle!
Heavens! that woman is loud-
Loud as the din of a battle.

List to the noise and the rattle!
Hark to the honk of the horn
Loud as the din of a battle!
There! My new overcoat's torn!

Hark to the honk of the horn!
Cut out that throwing confetti!
There! My new overcoat's torn-
Looks like a shred of spaghetti.

Cut out that throwing confetti!
Look at the gentleman, stewed;
Looks like a shred of spaghetti-
Don't get so terribly rude!

Look at the gentleman, stewed!
Look at the glare of the rocket!
Don't get so terribly rude,
Keep your hand out of my pocket!

Look at the glare of the rocket!
Take that thing out of my face!
Keep your hand out of my pocket!
This is a shame and disgrace.

Take that thing out of my face!
Curse you! Be decent to ladies!
This is a shame and disgrace,
Worse than traditions of Hades.

Curse you! Be decent to ladies!
(Heavens! that woman is loud.)
Worse than traditions of Hades
Gaze at the 'good-natured' crowd!

poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Colyn Cloute

Quis consurget mecum adversus malignantes ?
aut quis stabit mecum adversus operantes iniqui-
tatem ? Nemo, Domine !

W H A T can it auayle
To dryue forth a snayle,
Or to make a sayle
Of an herynges tayle ;
To ryme or to rayle,
To wryte or to indyte,
Eyther for delyte
Or elles for despyte ;
Or bokes to compyle
Of dyuers maner style, 10
Vyce to reuyle
And synne to exyle ;
To teche or to preche,
As reason wyll reche ?
Say this, and say that,
His hed is so fat,
He wotteth neuer what
Nor wherof he speketh ;
He cryeth and he creketh,
He pryeth and he peketh, 20
He chydes and he chatters,
He prates and he patters,
He clytters and he clatters,
He medles and he smatters,
He gloses and he flatters ;
Or yf he speake playne,
Than he lacketh brayne,
He is but a fole ;
Let hym go to scole,
On a thre foted stole 30
That he may downe syt,
For he lacketh wyt ;
And yf that he hyt
The nayle on the hede,
It standeth in no stede ;
The deuyll, they say, is dede,
The deuell is dede.
It may well so be,
Or els they wolde se
Otherwyse, and fle 40
From worldly vanyte,
And foule couetousnesse,
And other wretchednesse,
Fyckell falsenesse,
Varyablenesse,
With vnstablenesse.

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poem by John Skelton
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