The Poem thread

[methodistgirl]

Cherokee Prayer Blessing

May the warm winds of Heaven blow softly upon your house.
May the Great Spirit(God) bless all who enter there.
May you mocassins make happy tracks in many snows,
and may the rainbow always touch your shoulder.

judy tooley

[marval]

I love that Judy


Margaret

[marval]

The Embarrassing Experience with a Parrot.


At the Cotswold wild life park
In the merry month of May
I paid the man the money
And went to spend the day
Straightway to the pets corner
I turned my eager feet
To go and see the rabbits
And give them something to eat.

As I approached the hutches
I was alarmed to see
A crowd of little yobbos
Ollerin' with glee
I crept up close behind them
And weighed the scene up quick
And saw them poke the rabbits
Poke them! with a stick.

"Get off you little buggers"
I shouted in their ear
"Don't you poke them rabbits
That's not why they are here"
I must have really scared them
In seconds they were gone
And feelin' I had done some good
I carried on along.

Till up beside the parrot's cage
I stood to view the scene
They was lovely parrots
Beautiful blue and green
In and out the nestbox
They was really having fun
Squawking out and flying about
All except for one.

One poor old puffed-up parrot
Clung grimly to his perch
And as the wind blew frontwards
Backwards he would lurch
One foot up in his feathers
Abandoned by the rest
He sat there plainly dying
His head upon his chest.

Well, I walked on down the pathway
And I stroked a nanny goat
But the thought of parrots dyin'
Brought a lump into me throat
I could no longer stand it
And to the office I fled
Politely I began: Scuse me
Your parrots nearly dead.

So me and a curator
In urgent leaps and bounds
With a bottle of parrot cure
Dashed across the grounds
The dust flew up around us
As we reached the parrots pen
And the curator he turned to me
Saying "which one is it then?"

You know what I am going to say
He was not there at all
At least not where I left him
No, he flit from wall to wall
As brightly as a button
Did he squawk and jump and leap
The curator was very kind
Saying, "I expect he was asleep."

But I was humiliated
As I stood before the wire
The curator went back
To put his feet up by the fire
So I let the parrot settle
And after a short search
I found the stick the yobbos had
And poked him off his perch.


Pam Ayres

[marval]

Here's a silly one I wrote one Christmas.

Did you ever wonder
Just how it felt
To be a warm snowman
Begining to melt.

My life is so short
There is no growing old
I am just existing
As long as it is cold.

You all cheer the sun
And hope that it will stay
But I am just a puddle
That melted away.

Black currants for eyes
Orange carrot for a nose
A pipe in my mouth
and someone's old clothes.

Will you be sorry
When I am not here
Still you could rebuild me
In Winter next year.


Margaret

[Corno Dolce]

Here's a favorite of mine:


Wie bist du, meine Königin,
Durch sanfte Güte wonnevoll
Du lächle nur, Lenzdüfte wehn
Durch mein Gemüte, wonnevoll

Frisch aufgeblühter Rosen Glanz,
Vergleich ich ihn dem deinigen?
Ach, über alles, was da blüht,
Ist deine Blüte wonnevoll

Durch tote wüsten wandle hin,
Und grüne Schatten breiten sich,
Ob fürchterliche Schwüle dort
Ohn Ende brüte, wonnevoll

Laß mich vergehn in deinem Arm!
Es ist ihm ja selbst der Tod,
Ob auch die herbste Todesqual
Die Brust durchwüte, wonnevoll

[marval]

Bar Humbug

When I took my zebra to Tesco
It got scanned by mistake at the till
How I wish I'd discovered the error
Before I'd settled the bill...

Patrick Winstanley.

[Corno Dolce]

Ahhh - Bartok bar talk

[Mahlon]

Oh my gosh I can't resist now! I just set Wordsworth's Daffodils to music, check it out!

http://www.last.fm/music/Mahlon+Berv

Poe's the Bells is on there as well. Hope you like it..

[methodistgirl]

The Mayan Calender
There is a river flowing very fast it is so swift that there are those, who
will be afraid, they will try to hold on to the shore and they will feel like
they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.

Know that the river has a destination. The elders say we must let go
of the shore, push off into the middle of the river and see who is in
there with you and celebrate. The time of the lone wolf is over. We
are the ones we are waiting for.
The Mayan Calender
judy tooley

[intet_at_tabe]

Cherokee Prayer Blessing

May the warm winds of Heaven blow softly upon your house.
May the Great Spirit(God) bless all who enter there.
May you mocassins make happy tracks in many snows,
and may the rainbow always touch your shoulder.

judy tooley

Ms. Judy

Beautiful Cherokee poem I salute you Ms. Judy!!

The interesting thing with the native American tribes of indians on the North American prairie were, that they all had, no matter if they were Black Feat, Apache, Cherokee, Mohikans or any other native tribe, a completely different concept of nature itself, than the former Europeans who arrived to the new world across the Atlantic to move further and further to the west acroos America killing everything alive they met on their way to the coast in what later became the state of California.

For instance the great American Buffalo, which were hunted down by the tribes with the bows and the arrows or spears, which both gave the indian prairie tribes food, but also the fur was used for clothings, and the horns of the Buffalo were used for making tools to work with and jewelry. So the indians would never just slaughter a certain number of the Buffalo species, skin them for the fur to be sold, but leave the animal sometimes not even dead, but certainly dying.

The indians respected nature and the animals and even the weather living on the prairie as Gods, they sacrifised to nature to say thank you for the meat from the Buffalo for instance. The former Europeans almost had the entire number of Buffalos erased from the great plains, until someone realised that there were less than 200 individual Buffalos left.

Your poem from the Cherokee tribe show excactly this concept of nature itself. Of course what history later showed the entire indian tribes were almost erased themselves, and the few that survived General George C. Custer and his seventh cavalry, like the Apache Chief Geronimo were imprisoned in reservations, which stille exist today, only they are not called for reservations for indians, but the Indian Nations.

[intet_at_tabe]

Here's a silly one I wrote one Christmas.

Did you ever wonder
Just how it felt
To be a warm snowman
Begining to melt.

My life is so short
There is no growing old
I am just existing
As long as it is cold.

You all cheer the sun
And hope that it will stay
But I am just a puddle
That melted away.

Black currants for eyes
Orange carrot for a nose
A pipe in my mouth
and someone's old clothes.

Will you be sorry
When I am not here
Still you could rebuild me
In Winter next year.


Margaret

Ms. Margaret

To the best of my knowledge, you are definitely the first MIMFér to advocate for the excistense of snowmen. Great poem Ms. Margaret.

[marval]

Thank you Intet

I do believe in snowmen, trouble is you see one, and then the next time you look poof it has gone.


Love your Cheroke poem Judy.


Margaret

[marval]

I expect some of you will know this one.


The Owl and the Pussy cat.
Edward Lear.

The Owl and the Pussy Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above
And sang to a small guitar
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love
What a beautiful Pussy you are
You are
You are
What a beautiful pussy you are.

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! Too long we have tarried
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in the wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose
His nose
His nose
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig. are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey who lives on the hill
They dined on mince, and slices of quince
Which they ate with a runcible spoon
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon
The moon
The moon
They danced by the light of the moon.

[marval]

In case you don't know, here is what a runcible spoon and a quince look like.








Margaret

[methodistgirl]

We call those sporks here! I have an Irish poem for you.
One Little Shamrock

One green shamrock, in the morning dew;
another one sprouted
and then there were two.

Two green shamrocks, growing beneath a tree;
another one sprouted and there were three.

Three green shamrocks, by the cottage door;
Another one sprouted and there were four.

Four green shamrocks,ear a beehive;
another one sprouted and there were five.

Five little shamrocks, bright and emerals green;
Think of all the luck these shamrocks will bring.

judy tooley