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Prince Dorus

In days of yore, as Ancient Stories tell,
A King in love with a great Princess fell.
Long at her feet submiss the Monarch sigh'd,
While she with stern repulse his suit denied.
Yet was he form'd by birth to please the fair,
Dress'd, danc'd, and courted, with a Monarch's air;
But Magic Spells her frozen breast had steel'd
With stubborn pride, that knew not how to yield.

This to the King a courteous Fairy told,
And bade the Monarch in his suit be bold;
For he that would the charming Princess wed,
Had only on her cat's black tail to tread,
When straight the Spell would vanish into air,
And he enjoy for life the yielding fair.

He thank'd the Fairy for her kind advice.-
Thought he, 'If this be all, I'll not be nice;

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poem by Charles Lamb
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Finding Oneself......... [EXTREMELY LONG; Growing Up; Relationships; Humor

Part One

When Bri was 13 and in grade 8,
he noticed classmates beginning to date.
At school (other) boys got their way with the girls with a kiss.
But Bri didn't have the urge; he thought 'what's this? '
He decided he should give it a try,
but each time he tried, the girl would cry.
Not only would she cry; she would run away and hide.
Bri felt between himself and the other boys a great divide.

Back home after school he'd seclude himself in his room and cry.
Through his mind was repeated the question 'why? ' 'Why DO they cry? Why? '

Bri was a straight A+ student with no flubs.
He played football but (except for 'Cooking') he joined not clubs.

After a few months Bri gave up (on girls) . He had NO close friends to set him right;
his parents should have known the problem, but they weren't bright.

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poem by Bri Edwards
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Nose

No one cares for the nose

To go nose straight is the tao

If there were no eyes

You could see better with your nose

If there were no nose

you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter

And there would be no value judgements in the world

And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold

And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad

The nose is the vigilant customs officer

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poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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O! What a nose!

People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes

Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes

Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!

Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose

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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Report Of An Adjudged Case

Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

So the Tongue was the Lawyer and argued the cause
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,
While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,
That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,
Which amounts to possession time out of mind.

Then holding the spectacles up to the court, -
Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle,
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

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poem by William Cowper
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Dawgs of War

Comes the British bulldog first—solid as a log—
He’s so ugly in repose that he’s a handsome dog;
Full of mild benevolence as his years increase;
Silent as a china dog on the mantelpiece.
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
To the thick of Britain’s foes—
Enemies behind him close—
(
Silence for a while
).

Comes a very different dog—tell him at a glance.
Clipped and trimmed and frilled all round. Dandy dog of France.
(Always was a dandy dog, no matter what his age)
Now his every hair and frill is stiff as wire with rage.
Rub his sides and point his nose,
Click your tongue and in he goes,
While behind him France’s foes

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poem by Henry Lawson
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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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

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poem by Jack Prelutsky
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The Dong with a Luminous Nose

When awful darkness and silence reign
Over the great Gromboolian plain,
Through the long, long wintry nights; --
When the angry breakers roar
As they beat on the rocky shore; --
When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore: --

Then, through the vast and gloomy dark,
There moves what seems a fiery spark,
A lonely spark with silvery rays
Piercing the coal-black night, --
A Meteor strange and bright: --
Hither and thither the vision strays,
A single lurid light.

Slowly it wander, -- pauses, -- creeps, --
Anon it sparkles, -- flashes and leaps;
And ever as onward it gleaming goes
A light on the Bong-tree stems it throws.

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poem by Edward Lear
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I Have Finally Come To Realize

I have finally come to realise
Child dont do what I have done
Cut my nose to spite my face
Made my own odds 10,000 to one
I saw the empire slowly fade away
Tried to grasp it with my hand
Then I saw that it was not up to me
Im just one tiny, tiny grain of sand
Oh, sweet release, oh how you soothe me
When I let go, I love how you use me
I have finally come to realise
Its something theyre doing that theyre doing that we find
A certain way that we can live our lives
And Im takin some peace of mind
Oh, sweet release, oh how you soothe me
And when I let go, and when I let go
I love how you use me
I have finally come to realise
Its something theyre doing that theyre doing that we find
A certain way that we can live our lives

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song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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