This is the last of the lot for 2013 and by one of my favorite authors. I like the guns n roses thought in the poem;)

Ruskin Bond –

If mice could roar

And elephants soar

And trees grow up in the sky;

If tigers could dine

On biscuits and wine,

And the fattest of men could fly!

If pebbles could sing

And bells never ring

And teachers were lost in the post;

If a tortoise could run

And losses be won,

And bullies be buttered on toast;

If a song brought a shower,

And a gun grew a flower,

This world would be nicer than most!

"Mike Teavee..." Roald Dahl

So true! I always preferred books over TV and I wish many others did too!

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

I soooo love Poems by Spike Milligan. I would love to visit this land:)

In The Land Of The Bumbley Boo

In the land of the Bumbley Boo
The People are red white and blue,
They never blow noses,
Or ever wear closes,
What a sensible thing to do!

In the land of the Bumbley Boo
You can buy Lemon pie at the zoo;
They give away foxes
In little Pink Boxes
And Bottles of Dandylion Stew.

In the land of the Bumbley Boo
You never see a Gnu,
But thousands of cats
Wearing trousers and hats
Made of Pumpkins and Pelican Glue!


Chorus
Oh, the Bumbley Boo! the Bumbley Boo!
That's the place for me and you!
So hurry! Let's run!
The train leaves at one!
For the land of the Bumbley Boo!
The wonderful Bumbley Boo-Boo-Boo!
The Wonderful Bumbley BOO!!

I was searching for some stuff on gratitude and this is what I ended up with! Yep! I am glad my nose is where it is and for a whole lot of other stuff too!!:)

Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
by Jack Prelutsky

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.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!

I wish for soul cleansing every week like it says in the poem!:)

A Song From The Suds by Louisa May Alcott

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls
The stains of the week away,
And let water and air by their magic make
Ourselves as pure as they;
Then on the earth there would be indeed
A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life
Will heart's-ease ever bloom;
The busy mind has no time to think
Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;
And anxious thoughts may be swept away
As we busily wield a broom.

I am glad a task to me is given
To labor at day by day;
For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,
And I cheerfully learn to say-
'Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;
But hand, you shall work always!'

Lovely and so true! You are your own best friend.

The Perfect Friend by Shannen Wrass

Today I found a friend
who knew everything I felt
she knew my weakness
and the problems I've dealt with.
She understood my wonders
and listened to my dreams,
she listened to how I felt about life and love
and knew what it all means.
Not once did she interrupt me
or tell me I was wrong
she understood what I was going through
and promised she'd stay long.
I reached out to this friend,
to show her that I care
to pull her close and let her know
how much I need her there.
I went to hold her hand
to pull her a bit nearer
and I realized this perfect friend I found
was nothing but a mirror.

I had this poem in as part of English lessons in school. I was fascinated by this. The last line leaves so many questions unanswered.

Richard Cory - Edwin Arlington Robinson

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

It is tougher to write a poem with words that don’t make sense than one that does. Try it! Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

Jabberwocky

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

The hare and the tortoise has always been one of the favorite stories and this version by Vikram Seth is the reality of today:)

Once or twice upon a time
In the land of Runnyrhyme
Lived a hare both hot and heady
And a tortoise slow and steady.

When at noon the hare awoke
She would tell herself a joke.
Squeal with laughter, roll about,
Eat her eggs and sauerkraut,
Then pick up the phone and babble,
-‘Gibble-gabble, gibble-gabble’ –
To her friends the mouse and mole
And the empty-headed vole:
“Hey, girls, did you know the rat
Was rejected by the bat?’
“Good for her! The rat’s a fool!”
“Oh, I think he’s kinda cool.”
“Too bad, darling, now he’s dating
Lady Lemming’s maid-in-waiting.’
“What – that hamster? You don’t say!” –
Gibble-gabble every day!
Gibble-gabble everywhere
Went the mouse and mole and hare –
Gibble-gabble, gibble-gabble.
Oh, what riffraff! Oh, what rabble!

But the tortoise, when he rose,
Daily counted all his toes
Twice or three times to ensure
There were neither less nor more.
Next he’d tally the amount
In his savings bank account.
Then he’d very carefully
Count his grandsons: one, two, three –
Ed, and Ned, and Fred by name.
And his sermon was the same:
“Eddy, Neddy, Freddy – boys –
You must never break your toys
You must often floss your gums.
You must always do your sums.
Buy your own house; don’t pay rent.
Save your funds at six per cent.
Major in accountancy.
And grow up to be like me.
Listen, Eddy, Neddy, Freddy –
You be slow – but you be steady.”

One day by the Fauna Fountain
Near the noble Mammal Mountain
Where the ducks and ducklings dabble,
Hare and mouse went: “Gibble-gabble,
Gibble-gabble – look who’s coming!”
And the hare began a-giggling:
“Well, it isn’t Samuel Pigling
-That’s for sure – or Peter Rabbit
Or Sir Fox in hunting habit.
Even Hedgehog Roly-Poly
Wouldn’t ever walk so slowly.
Inch by inch by inch he’s crawling.
How pathetic! How appalling!
He won’t get here in an hour
If he uses turtle-power.”

“Teddy Tortoise, go and grab
Tram or train or taxi-cab!”
Squealed the hare; I have no doubt
You can shell the money out!”
And at this disgraceful pun
Hare and mouse both squealed with fun,
Ran around the tortoise twice,
Fell into the fountain thrice,
Swam, and sang out as they swam:
“I’m a tortoise – yes, I am!
See me swimming! Glug, glug, glug!
I’m a tortoise! No, a slug!”

Now the tortoise snapped the air,
And addressed the hare-brained hare:
“Madam, you are rash and young
And should mind your mindless tongue.
Doubtless, Madam, hares exceed
Tortoises by far in speed.
But, were we to run a race,
I, not you, would win first place.
Slowly, surely I’d defeat you.
Trust me, Madam, I would beat you.”

“Darling Tortoise,” drawled the hare,
“I would thrash you anywhere –
Marsh or mountain, hill or dale,
Field or forest, rain or hail!”
Snapped the tortoise slow and steady:
“Choose your place, and I’ll be ready.
Choose your time, and make it soon.”
“Here!” the hare said: “Sunday noon.”

So, at the appointed time
All the beasts of Runnyrhyme
-Every reptile, bird, or mammal
From the koala to the camel –
Gathered to behold the race,
Gobbled popcorn, guzzled beer,
And exclaimed: “They’re here! They’re here!”
At the starting block the steady
Tortoise flexed his toes, quite ready;
But the flighty hare, still wearing
Her silk nightie, kept on staring
At the mirror while the press
Took her words down, more or less.
Young reporters sought her views
For the “Rhyme and Runny News”.
“What’s at stake besides the honour?”
“Is the tortoise, Ma’am, a goner?”
“Why did you agree to run?”
“Is the race already won?”
Pouting out her scarlet lips,
Sweetly wiggling head and hips,
Making wolves feel weak inside,
Languidly Ms Hare replied:
“Teddy Tortoise, don’t you see,
Has this awful crush on me.
Why, he thinks I’m simply stunning.
That’s why, darlings, I am running.
And I’ve staked the cup I won
When I was Miss Honeybun …
Who will win? Why – can’t you tell?
Read the lipstick on his shell.”
There she’d smeared a scarlet ‘2’
And the words: ‘Mock Turtil Stew.’

Soon the starting gun was heard
And a secretary bird
Gently murmured: “It’s begun.
Ma’am, perhaps you ought to run.’
“No,” the hare laughed – “Oh, no, no!
Teddy Tortoise is so slow.
Let him have a little start.
I don’t want to break his heart.”

But the tortoise plodded on
Like a small automaton,
Muttering, as he held his pace:
“I have got to win this race.”

Two hours passed. In satin shorts
Cut for fashion more than sports,
Ms Hare once again appeared,
Yawning softly as she neared:
“Two o’clock! My beauty sleep!”
“Ma’am, the race - ?” “The race will keep.
Really, it’s already won.”
And she stretched out in the sun.

Two hours passed. The hare awoke
And she stretched and yawned and spoke:
“Where’s the tortoise?” “Out of sight.”
“Oh,” the hare said: “Really? Right!
Time to go – “ and off she bounded,
Leaving all her friends astounded
At her rocket-fuelled pace.
“Sure!” they said, “She’ll win this race.”
She was out of sight already
On the heels of Tortoise Teddy.

Suddenly the dizzy hare
Saw a field of mushrooms where
Champignons and chanterelles
Mixed with devils-of –the-dell.
(This last mushroom, I suspect,
Has a cerebral effect.
Every time I eat one, I
Feel I’m floating in the sky.)
“How delicious! What a treat!”
Said the hare: “I’ll stop and eat.”
So she did, and very soon
She was singing out of tune,
And she lurched towards the wood,
Shouting to the neighbourhood:
“Boring, boring, life is boring.
Birdies, help me go exploring.
Let’s go off the beaten track.
In a minute I’ll be back – “
Off the hare went, fancy-free.
One hour passed, then two, then three.

But the tortoise plodded on
Now the day was almost gone
And the sun was sinking low –
Very steady, very slow –
And he saw the finish line
And he thought, “The race is mine!” –
And the gold cup was in sight
Glinting in the golden light –
When with an impassioned air
Someone screamed: “Look! Look! The hare!” –
And the punters started jumping,
And the tortoise heard a thumping
Close behind him on the track,
And he wanted to look back –
For the hare was roused at last
And was gaining on him fast –
And had almost caught him up
And retrieved her golden cup
When the tortoise, mouth agape,
Crossed the line and bit the tape.

After the announcer’s gun
Had pronounced that he had won,
And the cheering of the crowd
Died at last, the tortoise bowed,
Clasped the cup with quiet pride,
And sat down, self-satisfied.
And he thought: “That silly hare!
So much for her charm and flair.
So much for her idle boast.
In her cup I’ll raise a toast
To hard work and regularity.
Silly creature! Such vulgarity!
Now she’ll learn that sure and slow
Is the only way to go –
That you can’t rise to the top
With a skip, a jump, a hop –
That you’ve got to hatch your eggs,
That you’ve got to count your legs,
That you’ve got to do your duty,
Not depend on verve and beauty.
When the press comes, I shall say
That she’s been shell-shocked today!
What a well-deserved disgrace
That the fool has lost this race.”

But it was in fact the hare,
With a calm insouciant air
Like an unrepentant bounder,
Who allured the pressmen round her.
“Oh, Miss Hare, you’re so appealing
When you’re sweating,” said one, squealing.
“You have tendered gold and booty
To the shrine of sleep and beauty,”
Breathed another, overawed;
And Will Wolf, the great press lord
Filled a gold cup – on a whim –
With huge rubies to the brim
-Gorgeous rubies, bold and bright,
Red as cherries, rich with light –
And with an inviting grin
Murmured: “In my eyes you win.”

And perhaps she had; the hare
Suddenly was everywhere.
Stories of her quotes and capers
Made front page in all the papers –
And the sleepy BBC
-Beastly Broadcast Company –
Beamed a feature in the news:
“All the World Lost for a Snooze” –
Soon she saw her name in lights,
Sold a book and movie rights,
While a travel magazine
Bought the story, sight unseen,
Of her three hour expedition
To the wood – called “Mushroom Mission”.
Soon the cash came pouring in,
And to save it was a sin –
So she bought a manor house
Where she lived with mole and mouse –
And her friends, when they played Scrabble
Gibble-gabble, gibble-gabble,
Gibble-gabble all the way –
Let her spell Compete with K.

Thus the hare was pampered rotten
And the tortoise was forgotten.

A CLASS CALLED YOU

Continuing the romantic poems…

I got this off a greeting card. I felt it was a very creative way to want to know someone better and wish someone had given me the card instead of me buying it off the rack ;)

I’d like to take a class called you
In history, I’d study all about when you were little,
Your favorite movies and games
What you did in summer vacations,
And who you wanted to be when you grew up

And then, there’d be chemistry
So I’ could discover your secret formula
For being so wonderful

In psychology, I’d ask who you dream about
And what makes you happy and sad

And in physical education, I’d study how you move,
the Colour of your eyes
And especially the way you kiss (with lots of homework naturally)

You would be my favorite subject
And I would memorize every tiny detail about you
And even though this is just a day dream
It is my way of saying; I’d love getting to know you!!!

With Valentine’s day around the corner, here are my favorite poems on love:)
First is by Vikram Seth. The human race can be really annoying, even your loved ones. Second by Ogden Nash mmm… the lines say it all ;)

My love, I love your breasts, I love your nose
I love your accent, I love your toes
I am your slave, one word, and I obey
But please don’t slurp your morning brew that way.

Vikram Seth

This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.

Ogden Nash

CINDERELLA

Having posted a few poems on my blog in 2012 and enjoyed it, I have decided to declare 2013 as the poem year and post some of my favorite poems... one per month. For starters, here is one that made me smile through every line - Cinderella By Roald Dahl.

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children happy.
Mind you, they got the first bit right,
The bit where, in the dead of night,
The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,
Departed for the Palace Ball,
While darling little Cinderella
Was locked up in a slimy cellar,
Where rats who wanted things to eat,
Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out!
The Magic Fairy heard her shout.
Appearing in a blaze of light,
She said: 'My dear, are you all right?'
'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see
'I feel as rotten as can be!'
She beat her fist against the wall,
And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball!
'There is a Disco at the Palace!
'The rest have gone and I am jealous!
'I want a dress! I want a coach!
'And earrings and a diamond brooch!
'And silver slippers, two of those!
'And lovely nylon panty hose!
'Done up like that I'll guarantee
'The handsome Prince will fall for me!'
The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.'
She gave her wand a mighty flick
And quickly, in no time at all,
Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince
To see her dancing with the Prince.
She held him very tight and pressed
herself against his manly chest.
The Prince himself was turned to pulp,
All he could do was gasp and gulp.
Then midnight struck. She shouted,'Heck!
I've got to run to save my neck!'
The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!'
He grabbed her dress to hold her back.
As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!'
The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear,
And lost one slipper on the stair.
The Prince was on it like a dart,
He pressed it to his pounding heart,
'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried,
'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!
I'll visit every house in town
'Until I've tracked the maiden down!'
Then rather carelessly, I fear,
He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,
(The one whose face was blotched with blisters)
Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,
And quickly flushed it down the loo.
Then in its place she calmly put
The slipper from her own left foot.
Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,
And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down
To knock on all the doors in town.
In every house, the tension grew.
Who was the owner of the shoe?
The shoe was long and very wide.
(A normal foot got lost inside.)
Also it smelled a wee bit icky.
(The owner's feet were hot and sticky.)
Thousands of eager people came
To try it on, but all in vain.
Now came the Ugly Sisters' go.
One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!'
But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee!
'So now you've got to marry me!'
The Prince went white from ear to ear.
He muttered, 'Let me out of here.'
'Oh no you don't! You made a vow!
'There's no way you can back out now!'
'Off with her head!'The Prince roared back.
They chopped it off with one big whack.
This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,
'She's prettier without her head.'
Then up came Sister Number Two,
Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!'
'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back.
He swung his trusty sword and smack
Her head went crashing to the ground.
It bounced a bit and rolled around.
In the kitchen, peeling spuds,
Cinderella heard the thuds
Of bouncing heads upon the floor,
And poked her own head round the door.
'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried.
'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied.
Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds.
My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!
How could I marry anyone
Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut?
'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!'
Just then, all in a blaze of light,
The Magic Fairy hove in sight,
Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!
'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish!
'Wish anything and have no doubt
'That I will make it come about!'
Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy,
'This time I shall be more wary.
'No more Princes, no more money.
'I have had my taste of honey.
I'm wishing for a decent man.
'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?'
Within a minute, Cinderella
Was married to a lovely feller,
A simple jam maker by trade,
Who sold good home-made marmalade.
Their house was filled with smiles and laughter
And they were happy ever after.