Call Girls in Dwarka Mor Delhi Contact Us 9654467111
poem.docx
1. Eletelephony
Laura Elizabeth Richard
Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I’ve got it right.)
However it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I’d better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)
2. I’m a Little Teapot
George Harold Sanders
I’m a little teapot
Short and stout
Here is my handle (one hand on hip)
Here is my spout (other arm out straight)
When I get all steamed up
Hear me shout
“Tip me over
and pour me out!” (lean over toward spout)
I’m a clever teapot,
Yes, it’s true
Here let me show you
What I can do
I can change my handle
And my spout (switch arm positions)
Just tip me over and pour me out! (lean over toward spout)
3. Learning
Judith Viorst
I’m learning to say thank you.
And I’m learning to say please.
And I’m learning to use Kleenex,
Not my sweater, when I sneeze.
And I’m learning not to dribble.
And I’m learning not to slurp.
And I’m learning (though it sometimes really hurts me)
Not to burp.
And I’m learning to chew softer
When I eat corn on the cob.
And I’m learning that it’s much
Much easier to be a slob
4. Poem : Snow
Walking through a field with my little brother Seth
I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground.
He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.
Then we were on the roof of the lake.
The ice looked like a photograph of water.
Why he asked. Why did he shoot them.
I didn't know where I was going with this.
They were on his property, I said.
When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.
Today I traded hellos with my neighbor.
Our voices hung close in the new acoustics.
A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling.
We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence.
But why were they on his property, he asked.
—David Berman
5. MOTHER TO SON:
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
6. Mirror
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old.
7. Between Us And
BY ANNE CARSON
BETWEEN US AND animals is a namelessness.
We flail around generically—
camelopardalis is what the Romans came up
with or "giraffe" ( it looked to them like a
camel crossed with a leopard ) or get the
category wrong — a musk
Ox isn't an ox at all but more closely
cognate with the goat —
and when choosing to name individual
animals we pretend they are objects
(Spot) or virtues (Beauty)
or just other selves (Bob).
8. Butterfly Man Tells a Story
Launch Audio in a New Window
BY MANNY LOLEY
near butterfly mountain
lived a medicine person
from the mountain
I come to know myself
he told me
from the mountain
my name was given to me
Butterfly man
Is how I am known
some men
laugh at my name
but that doesn’t bother me
my grandmother told me
never laugh at others
because the future is unknown
queer people are sacred
we must always remember