Quotes about hat., page 17
She Saw a Man on Television
She saw a man on television
In a suit and tie
And he wore a fine felt hat
Cocked over his eye.
She saw him sing and whistle
And dance a little step
And she wished the men today
Would not be so unkempt.
She saw a man on television
Woo a pretty lass
With smiles, winks, and daffodils,
And diamonds made of glass.
She saw him tip his hat to her
And offer her his arm
And lead her to the dance floor
With gentlemanly charm.
She saw a man on television
Smile with easy grace
And wished that she could find a man
With such an honest face.
[...] Read more
poem by Sophia White
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The Poet’s Hat
The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,
He passed through the doorway into the street,
A strong wind lifted his hat from his head,
And he uttered some words that were far from sweet.
And then he started to follow the chase,
And put on a spurt that was wild and fleet,
It made the people pause in a crowd,
And lay odds as to which would beat.
The street cad scoffed as he hunted the hat,
The errand-boy shouted hooray!
The scavenger stood with his broom in his hand,
And smiled in a very rude way;
And the clergyman thought, 'I have heard many words,
But never, until to-day,
Did I hear any words that were quite so bad
As I heard that young man say.'
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Key West 2004
Year was 2004
went to Key West,
not a bore like before.
I posed next to a gold man,
with cool planet painting in hand.
Then posed with a parrot,
while owner holds a carrot.
Went to strip club up the stairs,
all the soldiers where there who stared.
Went to restaurant wearing a pink hat
next to an artist at bar is where I sat.
Artist painted me in my pink hat,
really quick and really fast.
Took photos with him and my friend,
still have painting, needs no stand.
Then went to beach to get a tan,
It was warm I layed on sand.
Then I ate at pancake place,
It was fun, I ate and ate.
Have to go back at later date,
[...] Read more
poem by Christina Sunrise
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It took eight parades to say goodbye
It took eight parades to say goodbye
and there were fighters in the sky
and we wore battle clothes
and drove our armour
through the streets
and saluted every time,
that he stood with his hat
clenched to his chest.
We marched with a military band
and everyone had step outs on
and as we passed
the man in the dark suit,
rifles swung up high
to a generals salute
in order to say goodbye
to the commander in chief.
I remember him waiting with his arm
on his chest
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Key West 2004
Year was 2004
went to Key West,
not a bore like before.
I posed next to a gold man,
with cool planet painting in hand.
Then posed with a parrot,
while owner holds a carrot.
Went to strip club up the stairs,
all the soldiers where there who stared.
Went to restaurant wearing a pink hat
next to an artist at bar is where I sat.
Artist painted me in my pink hat,
really quick and really fast.
Took photos with him and my friend,
still have painting, needs no stand.
Then went to beach to get a tan,
It was warm I layed on sand.
Then I ate at pancake place,
It was fun, I ate and ate.
Have to go back at later date,
[...] Read more
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Spirit Of A Sponge
I dreamed one night that Stephen Massett died,
And for admission up at Heaven applied.
'Who are you?' asked St. Peter. Massett said:
'Jeems Pipes, of Pipesville.' Peter bowed his head,
Opened the gates and said: 'I'm glad to know you,
And wish we'd something better, sir, to show you.'
'Don't mention it,' said Stephen, looking bland,
And was about to enter, hat in hand,
When from a cloud below such fumes arose
As tickled tenderly his conscious nose.
He paused, replaced his hat upon his head,
Turned back and to the saintly warden said,
O'er his already sprouting wings: 'I swear
I smell some broiling going on down there!'
So Massett's paunch, attracted by the smell,
Followed his nose and found a place in Hell.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Gardener
I am in love with my womb
& jealous of it.
I cover it tenderly
with a little pink hat
(a sort of yarmulke)
to protect it from men.
Then I listen for the gentle ping
of the ovary:
a sort of cupid's bow
released.
I'm proud of that.
& the spot of blood
in the little hat
& the egg so small
I cannot see it
though I pray to it.
I imagine the inside
[...] Read more
poem by Erica Jong
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Lies On The Floor
Making up stories
saying this or that,
reaching for hollow straws
in a hollow straw hat.
Shooting through the straw,
with All your lies,
making your hollow straw pie.
Try and keep all your lying
straws straight,
what lying straw is first
what lying straw is number eight.
Top them all off
with a fake letter,
only you and I know better,
That’s it’s all bogus
and totally a scam,
especially when your talking ham to spam.
[...] Read more
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Snow Man
You’re looking out of the window,
you’re watching the settling snow.
Soft the snow falls like angels’ feathers,
bringing your children and joy together.
For they’re building a snowman,
from whatever snow that they can.
They give me a nose, eyes, hat and pipe,
so tell me now, what do I look like?
You say I am always still and cold,
stood here for all of you to behold,
but that was the way that I was made.
This is what I am, happy in the shade.
Then there was a break in the clouds,
and the great Sun shines out loud,
hurting me, until I do cry,
until I melt, wilt and die.
[...] Read more
poem by Dale Mullock
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Face Concealed Under My Hat (Revised)
I waltz into the office after lunch, brag about my
new Mafia hat which makes me look like a rich widow
- my colleagues looked askance, said Rich Widow -
you hope; I amended it to The Merry Widow - Franz
Lehar's operetta, I can see me on stage singing,
face concealed under the brim - but receiving
less enthusiastic response from a working crowd
I hung it on a hatstand to look impressive among
silver chains, xmas decorations already finding
their way there and a white scarf with silver
glitter; going home I took it with me to look
again at the toy in my hands - not wishing my
realistic family to burst my bubble too soon,
I hid the hat, as yet a game too new
To have shattered, a dream I'll treasure until
ready to let go of what it means to me…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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