Poems And Quotes

Pitter-patter, raindrops,
Falling from the sky;
Here is my umbrella
To keep me safe and dry!

When the rain is over,
And the sun begins to glow,
Little flowers start to bud,
And grow and grow and grow!

Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat’ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud!—Death eddies near—
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time,
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.

by

Rupert Brooke

Going to Heaven!
I don’t know when —
Pray do not ask me how!
Indeed I’m too astonished
To think of answering you!
Going to Heaven!
How dim it sounds!
And yet it will be done
As sure as flocks go home at night
Unto the Shepherd’s arm!

Perhaps you’re going too!
Who knows?
If you should get there first
Save just a little space for me
Close to the two I lost —
The smallest “Robe” will fit me
And just a bit of “Crown” —
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home —

I’m glad I don’t believe it
For it would stop my breath —
And I’d like to look a little more
At such a curious Earth!
I’m glad they did believe it
Whom I have never found
Since the might Autumn afternoon
I left them in the ground.

by

Emily Dickinson

“Heaven” — is what I cannot reach!
The Apple on the Tree —
Provided it do hopeless — hang —
That — “Heaven” is — to Me!

The Color, on the Cruising Cloud —
The interdicted Land —
Behind the Hill — the House behind —
There — Paradise — is found!

Her teasing Purples — Afternoons —
The credulous — decoy —
Enamored — of the Conjuror —
That spurned us — Yesterday!

She pressed her lips to mind.

               —a typo

How many years I must have yearned

for someone’s lips against mind.

Pheromones, newly born, were floating

between us. There was hardly any air.

She kissed me again, reaching that place

that sends messages to toes and fingertips,

then all the way to something like home.

Some music was playing on its own.

Nothing like a woman who knows

to kiss the right thing at the right time,

then kisses the things she’s missed.

How had I ever settled for less?

I was thinking this is intelligence,

this is the wisest tongue

since the Oracle got into a Greek’s ear,

speaking sense. It’s the Good,

defining itself. I was out of my mind.

She was in. We married as soon as we could.

by

Stephen Dunn

kiss me and make the sorrowful pain go away
kiss me and tell me everything will soon be okay

kiss me and hold me tightly close to you
kiss me and whisper sweet words that are true

kiss me and and lay me on the bed
kiss me from my toes to my head

kiss me here and kiss me there
kiss me all over and anywhere

kiss me softly
and kiss me hardly

kiss me while you caress my hips
kiss me after you lick my lips

kiss me kiss me kiss me more
and if you can’t do that at least for once let me through the door
by

Mizz.BabyGirl Brown

I will lend to you for awhile,
a pup, God said,
For you to love him while he lives
and mourn for him when he’s dead.

Maybe for twelve or fourteen years,
or maybe two or three
But will you, ’till I call him back,
take care of him for me.

He’ll bring his charms to gladden you
and (should his stay be brief)
you’ll always have his memories
as solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay,
since all from earth return
But there are lessons taught below
I want this pup to learn.

I’ve looked the whole world over
in search of teachers true
And from the folk that crowd’s life’s land
I have chosen you.

Now will you give him all your love
Nor think the labour vain,
Nor hate me when I come
to take my Pup back again.

I fancied that I heard them say
“Dear Lord Thy Will be Done,”
For all the joys this Pup will bring,
the risk of grief we’ll run.

We’ll shelter him with tenderness
we’ll love him while we may
And for the happiness we’ve known
forever grateful stay

But should you call him back
much sooner than we’ve planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes,
and try to understand.

If, by our love, we’ve managed,
your wishes to achieve
In memory of him we loved,
to help us while we grieve,

When our faithful bundle
departs this world of strife,
We’ll have yet another Pup
and love him all his life.

by

Author unknown

Dog stay and dog stays
Dog run and dog runs
Dog stand and dog stands

Dog catch and dog catches
Dog roll and dog rolls
Dog lick and dog licks
Dog hug and dog hugs

You are indeed a liberated woman
I don’t have to ask if that dog is your man.

by

RIC S. BASTASA

The family’s dog was bought to guard,
Chained to a post in a chilly backyard,
Housed in a shed that was airless and dark,
And every few weeks had a run in the park.

When boredom set in with no fun and no work,
One day it broke loose and went quietly berserk.
Pa couldn’t fathom just why it went wild,
As it flattened his wife and then bit his child.

The police were called in to sort out the mess,
And the whole sorry tale was revealed in the press.
The Rescue society was really annoyed,
So, the dog was re-homed, and the owners destroyed.

by

Author Unknown

A dog sits waiting in the cold autumn sun.
Too faithful to leave, too frightened to run.

He’s been here for days now with nothing to do,
but sit by the road waiting for you.

He can’t understand why you left him that day.
He thought you and he were stopping to play.

He’s sure you’ll come back, and that’s why he stays.
How long will he suffer? How many days?

His legs have grown weak, his throat’s parched dry.
He’s sick now from hunger and falls, with a sigh.

He lays down his head and closes his eyes.
I wish you could see how a waiting dog dies.

by

Kathy Flood