Chocolate Cake

I love chocolate cake. And when I was a boy I loved it even more. Sometimes we used to have it for tea and Mum used to say, 'If there's any left over you can have it to take to school tomorrow to have at playtime.' And the next day I would take it to school

Talking Turkeys!

Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked An every turkey has a Mum. Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas, Don't eat it, keep it alive, It could be yu mate, an not on your plate Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side. I got lots of friends who are turkeys An all of dem fear christmas time,

A Wish

I ask not that my bed of death From bands of greedy heirs be free; For these besiege the latest breath Of fortune's favoured sons, not me. I ask not each kind soul to keep Tearless, when of my death he hears; Let those who will, if any, weep! There are worse plagues on earth than tears.

Attention Please! Attention Please!

'Attention please! Attention please! Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze! Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake! Your health, your very life's at stake! Ho–ho, you say, they can't mean me. Ha–ha, we answer, wait and see. Did any of you ever meet A child called Goldie Pinklesweet? Who on her seventh birthday went

A Poet's Voice Xv

Part One The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry. My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty. Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it at my window to direct the stranger through the dark. I do all these things because I live in them; and if destiny should tie my hands and prevent me from so doing, then death would be my only desire. For I am a poet, and if I cannot give, I shall refuse to receive.

Celestial Music

I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she's unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness. We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it. I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality But timid also, quick to shut my eyes. Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out

Colored Toys

When I bring to you colored toys, my child, I understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints - -when I give colored toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance I truly now why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth - -when I sing to make you dance.

Defamation

Whey are those tears in your eyes, my child? How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing! You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing- is that why they call you dirty? O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because it has smudged its face with ink? For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are ready to find fault for nothing. You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you untidy?

And One For My Dame

A born salesman, my father made all his dough by selling wool to Fieldcrest, Woolrich and Faribo. A born talker, he could sell one hundred wet-down bales of that white stuff. He could clock the miles and the sales and make it pay. At home each sentence he would utter

What Are Big Girls Made Of?

The construction of a woman: a woman is not made of flesh of bone and sinew belly and breasts, elbows and liver and toe. She is manufactured like a sports sedan. She is retooled, refitted and redesigned every decade. Cecile had been seduction itself in college. She wriggled through bars like a satin eel, her hips and ass promising, her mouth pursed

Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop

'Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop! The great big greedy nincompoop! How long could we allow this beast To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast On everything he wanted to? Great Scott! It simply wouldn't do! However long this pig might live, We're positive he'd never give Even the smallest bit of fun Or happiness to anyone.

In Reference To Her Children

I had eight birds hatched in one nest, Four cocks there were, and hens the rest. I nursed them up with pain and care, Nor cost, nor labour did I spare, Till at the last they felt their wing, Mounted the trees, and learned to sing; Chief of the brood then took his flight To regions far and left me quite. My mournful chirps I after send, Till he return, or I do end:

The Crocodile

'No animal is half as vile As Crocky-Wock, the crocodile. On Saturdays he likes to crunch Six juicy children for his lunch And he especially enjoys Just three of each, three girls, three boys. He smears the boys (to make them hot) With mustard from the mustard pot. But mustard doesn't go with girls, It tastes all wrong with plaits and curls.

Gitanjali

1. Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

Endymion: Book I

ENDYMION. A Poetic Romance. "THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG." INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. Book I

A Plagued Journey

There is no warning rattle at the door nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer boards. Safe in the dark prison, I know that light slides over the fingered work of a toothless woman in Pakistan. Happy prints of an invisible time are illumined. My mouth agape rejects the solid air and

Christmas

Christmas is come and every hearth Makes room to give him welcome now E'en want will dry its tears in mirth And crown him wi' a holly bough Tho tramping 'neath a winters sky O'er snow track paths and rhymey stiles The huswife sets her spining bye And bids him welcome wi' her smiles Each house is swept the day before And windows stuck wi' evergreens

A Grammarian's Funeral Shortly After The Revival Of Learnin

Let us begin and carry up this corpse, Singing together. Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes Each in its tether Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain, Cared-for till cock-crow: Look out if yonder be not day again Rimming the rock-row! That's the appropriate country; there, man's thought, Rarer, intenser,

Let Me Love (Verse)

I The world is a vast market of trading love though it is not a visible commodity at all every man and woman are buyer and seller they either buy or sell love at an uncertain profit some make interest, again some lose capital but nothing can be obstacle of its buying or selling, it only depends on the classes of love, physique, mental demand, ability, and psychology

The Good-Natured Girls

Two good little children, named Mary and Ann, Both happily live, as good girls always can; And though they are not either sullen or mute, They seldom or never are heard to dispute. If one wants a thing that the other would like­ Well,­what do they do? Must they quarrel and strike? No, each is so willing to give up her own, That such disagreements are there never known.