Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

It Takes all Kinds

January 21, 2011

It Takes all Kinds

If I’m askance, then you’re askew
I walk crooked, but you do too
Words you say won’t make me blue
Cuz’ I don’t have to be like you

If I like my purple hair,
Or pants inside my underwear,
Or pantaloons that twelve could share
Why should you care what clothes I wear?

If I want to eat some beets,
Or blue bananas and hamster feet,
Or gray tamales with lizard meat
Why would you rue the food I eat?

I don’t care if you eat squid
Or leave an open toilet lid
Don’t need a big list of forbid
To raise a happy, healthy kid

Glad your teeth are jeweled and pearled
And all your nose-hairs have been curled
This simple truth must be unfurled:
It takes all kinds to make a world

by Richard W. Bray

Only the Best for Me

January 16, 2011

Only the Best for Me

I own every inch of land
Mountains to the sea
It’s clear I should demand
Only the best for me

My pencil box is solid gold
For everyone to see
Of all items bought and sold
Only the best for me

I covet gourmet caviar,
Russian it must be
Don’t you know that I’m a star?
Only the best for me

Cheddar is for peasants
My palate calls for brie
It tastes just right with pheasant
Only the best for me

I prefer a hall of mirrors
To human company
Alone with all my tears
Only the best for me

by Richard W. Bray

Mischief

January 11, 2011

Mischief

Kermit’s colorful markers:
A rainbow of selection
He decorates his house
But can’t avoid detection

Tina’s tiny tricycle
Took her up a hill
But when she tried to ride it down
She took a nasty spill

Randy’s homemade rocket
Shot up into space
On board was his puppy
Not easy to replace

Skippy’s super slingshot
Had a range of fifty yards
Replacing all those windows
Is going to be hard

Andrew’s alligator
Was the coolest pet of all
But sooner and not later
It ate up Andrew raw

It’s okay to be a rascal
And bother dads and mothers
But it’s just dumb to break stuff
Or hurt yourself and others

by Richard W. Bray

Jenny’s Jokebox

January 6, 2011

Jenny’s Jokebox

Jenny bought a Jokebox
At the doodad store
And if you’ve got a nickel
It will make your belly roar

Ya’ hear about the chicken
Who wouldn’t cross the road?
Or the one about the princess
Whose prince became a toad?

There was a kid who dreamed
Of cotton candy at the fair
Who then awoke to find
His pillow wasn’t there

At Christmas Lenny asked for
A thousand pounds of snoo
“Snoo, what’s snoo?” You ask
“Not much. What’s snoo with you?”

Since Jenny got her Jokebox
She’s been rolling in the dough
So if you got a nickel
Then she’s the girl to know

by Richard W. Bray

Please Don’t

January 2, 2011

Please Don’t

Don’t cough in by coffee
Don’t bark up my tree
Don’t scoff at my toffee
Don’t wave at my sea

Don’t hide in my hide
Don’t bumble my bee
Don’t side with my side
Just please let me be

by Richard W. Bray

Whoppers

December 13, 2010

640px-Lies_Terschelling

Whoppers

I’ll never tell you little lies
I’ll only tell you whoppers
Fibs are for the other guys
My lies are all chart-toppers

When I forgot to do my chores
Cleverly, I uttered:
“Typhoon Tom blew off the doors
That’s why my room is cluttered”

When I ate the birthday cake
Purchased for my sister
I blamed it on a hungry snake
I said, “Y’all just missed her”

When I took ten thousand bucks
Earmarked for the poor
I just smiled and said, “Aw, shucks
It just ran out the door”

When I didn’t turn the gas off
And blew up several houses
I blamed it on an army of
Flamethrower-toting mouses

When I didn’t want to eat my peas
It required all my smarts
To claim that peas will make you wheeze
And cause colossal farts

When I wished to meet the star
Who was an awesome dancer
I showed her agent an old scar
And faked that I had cancer

When my dog went next door
And rooted up some posies
I said, “I saw a warthog
With roseys on his nosey?”


I’ll never tell you little lies
I’ll only tell you whoppers
Fibs are for the other guys
My lies are all chart-toppers

by Richard W. Bray

Like we Love our Kids

November 28, 2010

Like we Love our Kids

Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We broke some stuff and made some noise
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

Methods and motives are better left hid
Nothing’s too good for our girls and boys
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did

Missed every birthday, but I always did
Send a little box of love and joy
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

The mighty don’t fall so much as they skid
Lives and countries have been destroyed
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did

Love ain’t cheap, so what’s your bid?
Can’t you see how much we spend on toys?
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

War and kids: Patriotic joy
Up too close they begin to annoy
Someday we’ll pay for all the things we did
We love our soldiers like we love our kids

by Richard W. Bray

Steve

November 15, 2010

gullible-4

Steve

My name is Steve and I believe
All that I am told
My buddy Bill who lives up the hill
Is a hundred and sixty years old
My neighbor Frank who works at the bank
Is really the king of Siam
My friend Frankie Nicks who picks up my bricks
Once built the Hoover Dam
My tailor Tom who’s always so calm
Is a super secret spy
And my homey Sal who calls himself Al
Owns everything under the sky

My friends all agree that I’m lucky to be
Their favorite trusting friend
Just ask Mr. Wirth, who rules the Earth
He lives just round the bend

by Richard W. Bray

I Wanna Hear

November 12, 2010

I Wanna Hear

I listen to poetry on my ipod while I stretch at the gym before a workout. Guess what? England (Caedmon, BBC, etc.) really kicks our ass when it comes to recorded poetry. It’s easy to find poets like Dylan Thomas available on CD in addition to actors such as Boris Karloff reading Kipling or James Mason reading The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. There are also many recordings of fine stage performers reading just about every major British and Irish poet.

But it’s slim pickins for recorded American poetry. Poetry Speaks is a nice project, but it’s only four CDs. And even the excellent Voice of the Poet series has only one female poet available on CD (Adrienne Rich) and nothing on CD from Robert Lowell, Elizabeth Bishop, Theodore Roethke or Sylvia Plath.

I don’t think Americans will ever crave poetry the way people in other countries do. And I don’t expect to live to see a time when it is common to find people reciting poetry in front of large audiences in parks and amphitheaters.

But wouldn’t it be cool if, once in a while, instead of presenting music from some no-hit wonder, maybe Jimmy/Steven/Jimmy could feature:

CCH Pounder reciting If I Should Die by Emily Dickinson

Brad Pitt reciting Burnt Norton by T.S. Eliot

Martin Sheen reciting Samurai Song by Robert Pinsky

Sigourney Weaver reciting Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers by Adrienne Rich

Holland Taylor reciting Bohemia by Dorothy Parker

James Earl Jones reciting anything by Carl Sandburg

Rosie Perez reciting Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath

Kelsey Grammer reciting Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden

by Richard W. Bray

Rupert

November 10, 2010

Rupert

Candice bought a robot
At the five-and-dime
All day long the two of them
Had a lovely time

She named the robot Rupert
And she let him loose indoors
With instructions on completing
All her work and chores

Rupert did her homework
With his calculator brain
He also did the dishes
And never once complained

She took him to a party
Where he really stole the show
He danced his robot heart out
Till it was time to go

Friends and Candice dressed him
In her mother’s clothes
With high-heeled shoes and lipstick
And powder on his nose

They sent Rupert to the kitchen
To make them all some treats
He quickly whipped up entrées
A platter full of eats

Gladys said, “Hey Candice,
My toenails need a trim”
Rupert then gave pedicures
To everyone but Jim

Candice soon discovered
There was nothing he couldn’t do
He could clean her house and wash her hair
And polish every shoe

Now Candice is so pampered
She never leaves her bed
She never needs to worry
Her lazy little head

by Richard W. Bray