dogriver | Entries tagged with poetry

If I Had Wealth
By Me

If I had wealth
I'd sleep away
All the hours
In the day,
I'd snore and dream,
In bed I'd stay,
'Cause who needs eating
Anyway?
I'd spend a lifetime
In the hay
If I had wealth.

If I had cash
Oh how I'd sleep!
Yes, I would slumber
Long and deep,
And to myself
I sure would keep,
For me you'd never
Have to weep,
I'd say to naptime
"Hey, thanks a heap!
If I had cash.

You're disgusting, you are vile,
You taste like fish poop from the Nile,
You are coffee.

You are putrid and you're billious,
And you allways make me illious,
You are coffee.

Compared to you I would find fine
A yummy drink of turpentine,
You are coffee.

Your existence is concerning,
For your outlaw I am yearning,
You are coffee.

So about that yucky drink,
Ask me what I really think!
I hate coffee!

With apologies to Debbie reynalds and Stan Freberg, here is my parodey
of "Tammy":

Why do I feel just as though I had died?
Clammy, clammy, it's clammy inside,
Humidity levels have risen sky-high,
Clammy, it's clammy, I wanna cry.

The stickiness, the ickiness,
Make breathing tough,
I wish I were home right now,
'Twould not be so rough,

So if I could change how the air feels right now,
Clammy, clammy, less clammy somehow.

My mind floats back, now to that night,
You lay there, right beside my resting place,
I grabbed your soft, sweet beauty in my arms,
And held you, an incredible embrace.

It had been a hard day, and I sure was tired,
And you were there, not judging, just sincere,
My energy so spent, yes, so expired,
Yet I felt much stronger knowing you where here.

You warmed my body, as you covered me,
You asked for nothing, nothing in return,
You made my spirit soar, so high and lofty,
And for more of you my heart did yearn.

Oh yes, dear blanket, you are always there,
So to you now I write this sentiment,
It's my blanket, and I'll never share,
So reader, tell me what you thought I meant!

So hear it is, Saturday morning,
I should be asleep, for Pete's sake!
My sleep patterns I am now scorning -
What the heck am I doing awake?

I should bein bed right now, snoring,
And dreaming of my Caroline,
It certainly would not be boring,
The thought of it seems so divine!

But instead, I am sitting here typing,
And not sleeping my way to sweet bliss,
And about lack of sleep I am griping,
And this whole thing makes me feel like junk.

So now at the cracking of dawn,
I think I will try sleep again,
Two more lines and this boy will be gone,
And I can't think of anymoe rhymes.

Who's the girl who drank Mountain Dew,
My traitor, so divine,
She's from Milwaukee, I'm telling you,
and she's my Caroline.

She liked the stuff, felt no remorse,
My heart feels so confined,
But I love her, though times now are rough,
Yes she's my Caroline.

What punishment befits this traitor,
Who's so out-of-line?
Guess I'll come up with one later,
For my Caroline.

A Pepsi product! Oh, how could she,
For justice now I whine,
It's sad, so very sad indeed,
but she's still my Caroline.

What better test of my true love
could fate possibly design?
But at least you know I'm thinking of
My fair maiden, Caroline.

How many words can I concoct
With her name for to rhyme?
My synapses will soon be blocked,
Please help me, Caroline!

All negativity expressed in the above poem is purely the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual negativity is entirely coincidental, for no such negativity exists.

While walking back to my abode,
From the store where I'd gone for to buy,
Into a trailor I strode,
But I uttered not one single cry.

My head came in contact with metal,
And my forward motion was stopped,
I staggered back, filled with regrettal,
And onto the pavement I plopped.

As my head hit the ground and stopped moving,
My PacMate just forged on and flew,
The sound of the crash wasn't soothing,
Oh just what was I supposed to do?

I lay there in utter frustration,
Hoping nothing was broken or wrecked,
But in summing up my situation,
There was nothing too wrong, I suspect.

So my butt hurts like crazy at present,
But I'm otherwise really unscathed,
And my PacMate's just fine,
Can't think of no rhyme,
But that is okay,
For I've no more to say.

Monday morning has arrived,
It makes me want to ralph,
This might mean lot os real good things--
Can't think of one, mysalf.

Oh I hate Monday mornings, yes,
They really are the worst,
I can't think of another rhyme,
So I'll just end my poem with a sentence.

Current Mood: so very, very tired
Current Location: My Desk
Current Music: So many people all around me

In some of my poems I have casually mentioned
the fact that I sure like to sleep,
This little song is more to the point,
So pass me a pillow
To my bed I'll leap,

CHORUS
I like sleep!
It makes me a jolly good fellow,
I like sleep,
It helps me unwind
And makes me snore just like a cello,
Just ... like ... a ... cello,
Thinking's too tough,
Therapy costs too much,
Exercise makes my muscles weep,
This little refrain
Should help me explain,
As a matter of fact
I like sleep!

My girlfriend complains
About how I abstain
From taking her out on a date,
I try my best,
But I need my rest,
So if she wants attention
She'll just have to wait,

CHORUS

Last night I dreamed
That I passef rom the scene,
I lay in the deep shade of a willow,
Some friends happened by,
And said, "Hey! We can fly!"
I said "No, guys, just hand me a pillow!"

CHORUS

The thought of tonight
Fills me with delight,
When I think of all that I'll do,
It fills me with enjoyment,
Much more than employment,
And a satisfied sigh, long and true.

Some say that men think
Too much of these things,
And I guess there's some truth in all that,
But what can I say?
I love it, yay-hey!
It's wonderful and that's a fact.

My mind is one-tracked,
That's the truth, quite exact,
Maybe I should not speak of it here,
But it brings so much joy
To this happy boy,
So I'll speak of it, yes, loud and clear.

So what will I be doing
That's so heart-renewing,
And fills me with calm, oh so deep?
Well what did you think?
Will I empty the sink?
No way, pal, I'm going to sleep!

In an age of budget cuts,
Employers using axes,
We're sure, no ands or ifs or buts,
Of always having taxes.

"We wish you yearly to remember
The blessings you have got."
We must save starting in November,
Man, someone should be shot!

We pay the artist's struggling wage
For smodges splashed on canvas,
Or the orchestra that no one hears ...
How do we ever stand this?

the city streets crumble to dust,
But ballet groups get paid,
To fund the arts, we're told's a must,
On that our culture's made.

We fund the theater-goer's dream
To watch the Wiz' of Oz,
We write the check, they drink it down,
It's such a worthy cause!

"Be glad, be glad!" the words resound
"That you have cash to give!
But after paying, I have found,
There's none for me to live!

And after I have paid the author
For writing crappy books,
I pay again, it's such a bother!
So bad for me it looks.

When will there be a tax on sleep?
I bet it happens soon,
My skimpy paycheck they'll just keep,
My savings lie in ru'n.

But I must pay, oh yes I must,
I mustn't whine a bit,
The gov, they say, I have to trust.
Oh yeah? They're full of malarkey.

Current Mood: grouchy
Current Location: A box on the street corner, had to sell the house
Current Music: Oh He Ain't Got a Barrel of Money

Soon I will be off to sleep,
You'll hear me snoring, long and deep,
Don't wake me up, 'twould make me weep,
Oh how I love my slumber.

I'll sleep 'til my alarm clock blares,
I'll snore away my woes and cares,
Won't dream of Handi-Transit fares,
Or buying loads of lumber.

You see I am a tired wretch,
For rhymes I've clearly got to stretch,
Oh, one more rhyme I've got to fetch,
That goes with slumber and lumber.

The bottle is calling me,
"Come get me please.
I want to be eaten,
On a burger with cheese."

The anticipation's mounting,
And the seconds I am counting,
And my taste buds, they're on fire.

Green, purple, pink, orange, teal, and blue,
Thanks very much, but I think the red will do.
Barbecue sauce, well, that's fine,
But, oh Ketchup, you're divine!!!!!

Current Mood: saucy
Current Location: My desk
Current Music: The Ketchup Bottle Boogy

Ketchup is so very great,
Yes I know 'tis true,
I gotta have some, I can't wait,
Such wondrous-tasting goo!

I didn't always like it, no,
I was young and immature,
But now I've grown to love it so,
Oh Heinz, thank you, for sure!

The meat slides off the burger bun,
The fries soaked through and through,
The weiner swims 'round in its bun
That's how I know I have enough ketchup even if I can't come up with a rhyme.

Current Mood: Heinzy
Current Music: Caroline Typing Beside Me