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Author Topic: Poems Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-08-2003 06:35 AM                        Rated G Heaven On-line There's a land where I go when I need to share, that's not on a map, yet exists everywhere. A land of names without faces, a curious place, A modern creation that's called cyberspace. There's all creation of people with cute little names, Like Vikend, and Sister and Popo and Lorraine. Some have just joined and some are real fun, And some of them just want to find someone. But both good and bad they all play a role, Still each one unique, but part of the whole. We talk and laugh and wonder why, We flirt and we hug and sometimes we cry. We can't be heard and can't be seen, Yet, there it is, right on our screen. But all in all the most curious part, Is the power it has to open our heart. To share with a stranger those things we've concealed, Which to our closest of friends we'd never reveal. Our deepest regrets and most troubling fears, The scars in our life which bring us to tears. What gives them the power to reach into me, And show me the truths that I never see. How do they manage to open my eyes, And make me confess the deceit and the lies. I don't understand this magical spell, But I know that without it my life would be hell. This must have been planned by the Creator up above, Cause there's no place on earth where you'll find as much love. When I need direction I know I can find Those angels from heaven just waiting online. Thanks for being such wonderful on-line friends Author Unknown  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-15-2003 07:18 AM                        Rated G The Oyster There once was an oyster whose story I tell, Who found that some sand had got into his shell. It was only a grain but it gave him great pain, For oysters have feelings although they're so plain. Now, did he berate the harsh workings of fate That had brought him to such a deplorable state? Did he curse at the government, cry for election, And claim that the sea should have given him protection? No--He said to himself as he lay on a shell, Since I cannot remove it, I shall try to improve it. Now the years have rolled around, as the years always do, And he came to his ultimate destiny--stew. And the small grain of sand that had bothered him so Was a beautiful pearl all richly aglow. Now the tale has a moral; For isn't it grand what an oyster can do With a morsel of sand. What couldn't we do If we'd only begin With some of the things That get under our skin. ~ David Cohen ~  |  IP: Logged Bill Gabel Film God Posts: 3873 From: Technicolor / Postworks NY, USA Registered: Jan 2002 posted 07-18-2003 01:34 PM                     Xmas Poem Rated PG He laid her on the table So white, clean, and bare. His forehead wet with beads of sweat He rubbed her here and there. He touched her neck and then her breat And then drooling felt her thigh. The slit was wet and all was set, He gave a joyous cry. The hole was wide... he looked inside All dark and murky. He rubbed his hands and stretched his arm... And then he stuffed the turkey.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-29-2003 09:23 AM                        Rated G THE ART OF FALLING APART There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by, And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie. My hair's getting thinner, my body is not; The few teeth I have are beginning to rot. I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5; My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive. When asked of my past, every detail I'll know, But what was I doing 10 minutes ago? Well, you get the idea, what more can I say? I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day; If my names not there, I'll once again start - Perfecting the art of falling apart. ~Unknown~  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-29-2003 12:09 PM                        Rated G Michele Trees ... I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. ~Joyce Kilmer~  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-29-2003 12:13 PM                        Rated G Is Texas Hot? The devil wanted a place on earth Sort of a summer home A place to spend his vacation Whenever he wanted to roam. So he picked out Texas A place both wretched and rough Where the climate was to his liking And the cowboys hardened and tough. He dried up the streams in the canyons And ordered no rain to fall He dried up the lakes in the valleys Then baked and scorched it all. Then over his barren country He transplanted shrubs from hell. The cactus, thistle and prickly pear The climate suited them well. Now the home was much to his liking But animal life, he had none. So he created crawling creatures That all mankind would shun. First he made the rattlesnake With it's forked poisonous tongue. Taught it to strike and rattle And how to swallow it's young. Then he made scorpions and lizards And the ugly old horned toad. He placed spiders of every description Under rocks by the side of the road. Then he ordered the sun to shine hotter, Hotter and hotter still. Until even the cactus wilted And the old horned lizard took ill. Then he gazed on his earthly kingdom As any creator would He chuckled a little up his sleeve And admitted that it was good. Twas summer now and Satan lay By a prickly pear to rest. The sweat rolled off his swarthy brow So he took off his coat and vest. "By Golly," he finally panted, "I did my job too well, I'm going back to where I came from, Texas is hotter than Hell." ~Unknown~ [Maybe WTR??]  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 07-31-2003 06:57 AM                        Rated G Louise I came home from shopping one day I was really worn out As soon as I pulled into the driveway I heard my husband shout He sounded like he was dying Running as fast as I could I was just about shaking and crying There against the wall he stood He seemed to be holding on for support I thought, "Oh no a heart attack" Gotta call the ambulance..... An emergency to report "Here Sweetheart, let me help you lie down" This man works hard everyday And in a weak feeble voice he looked up at me..... I leaned down to hear what he had to say Holding him and trying to console "Honey," he begins, "I know you're concerned.......but, I can't find the remote control!!" ~Kathryn Sunday Davis~  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 08-18-2003 03:56 PM                        Rated G SOMETIMES Sometimes... when you cry... no one sees your tears. Sometimes... when you are in pain... no one sees your hurt. Sometimes... when you are worried... no one sees your stress. Sometimes... when you are happy... no one sees your smile. But FART!! just ONE time... And everybody knows!! LAS in Connecticut  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 09-03-2003 09:42 AM                        Rated R Roses are red violets are Blue I'm in love but not with you when we broke up you thought I cried but all you are is another guy you told your friends I was a trick I told mine you're another prick you said you loved me I thought it was true you thought you can play me but you got played too!! Anon.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 09-03-2003 02:35 PM                        Rated G Michele Where Have All the Grandmas gone? In the dim and distant past When life's tempo wasn't so fast, Grandma used to rock and knit, Crochet, tat and baby sit. When the kids were in a jam, They could always call on Gram. But today she's in the gym Exercising to keep slim. She's checking the web or surfing the net, Sending some e-mail or placing a bet. Nothing seems to stop or block her, Now that Grandma's off her rocker!  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 09-10-2003 11:24 AM                        Rated G Nan In Warwick An Old Lady's Poem When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee,Scotland,it was felt that she had nothing left of any value.Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possessions,they found this poem.Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. So now this little old Scottish lady,with nothing left to give to the world,is the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet. What do you see, nurses, what do you see? What are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes? Who dribbles her food and makes no reply, when you say, "I do wish you'd try!" Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a stocking or shoe. Who lets you do as you will, with bathing and feeding, the longday to fill. Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I do at yourbidding, as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten... with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another. A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, dreaming of that lover she'll soon meet. A bride at twenty -- my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that Ipromised to keep. At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide and make a secure happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with tiesthat should last. At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone, but my man'sbeside me to see I don't mourn. At fifty once more, babies play round my knee, again we know children, my loved one and me. Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead; I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, and I think of the years and the love that I've known. I'm now an old woman... and nature is cruel; 'Tis jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart, there is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living life all over again. I think of the years... all too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, open and see, not a crabby old woman; look closer... See ME!! Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within... We will one day be there, too!  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 09-25-2003 08:57 AM                        Rated G Happiness You can't eat happiness You can't buy it. You can't wear it. You can't drive it, or drink it, or sell it, or steal it. You can't lock it away. You can't negotiate for it. You can't win it, you can't marry it, you can't inherit it, you can't cheat it. You can't smoke it, or inject it, or rent it or borrow it. You can't campaign for it or beg for it, or talk other people into giving you theirs. You can live happiness. You can create it. You can be it. You can give it to others. You can enjoy it. You can share it. You can claim it. You can have as much as you wish. You can enjoy it as much as you want, at any time, under any circumstance. You can work with it, play with it, worship, travel, eat, and sleep with it. Happiness is yours to live and yours to give, if only you will. It comes from the inside, and the best way to experience it is to get it flowing out. Forget about trying and striving to get happy. Just decide to be happy, and happiness is yours. by Ralph Marston  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 11-17-2003 07:45 AM                        Rated PG Michele Second Week of Deer Camp Hey there goes one (BANG!) Hey you shot my cow! It's the second week of deer camp I got a swollen head I'm lying with the dustballs Underneath the bed An icy breeze is blowing Into the tongue and groove My pants are frozen to the floor And I'm too sick to move I didn't drink so many Just durty (thirty) cans of beer It musta been that last shot That put me under here CHORUS It's the second week of deer camp And all the guys are here We drink play cards and shoot the bull But never shoot no deer The only time we leave the camp Is when we go for beer The second week of deer camp Is the greatest time of year I remember playing poker That weasel musta won He's wearing my new swampers And sleeping with my gun He's snoring like a chainsaw The camp smells like a dump Someone's dirty underwear Is hanging on the pump Mickey's in the woodbox Weiners on the stove His flannel shirt is smoking (sniff) I wonder if he knows (YEOW!) CHORUS Beadle's crawling through the door I think he got frostbite He passed out in the outhouse And he's been there since last night Goofus stumbled through the door He says he got a buck He was coming from the wayside And hit it with his truck Musty cracked a beer and said Let's celebrate Goofus caught the first buck Since 1968! CHORUS  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 12-03-2003 08:32 PM                        Rated PG B.B. WORD for YOUR DAY: a "calendarer" is the Olde English word for one who keeps a meticulous calendar.George Ellis wrote a poem in 1751 to describe the twelve months of the year,titled - appropriately enough - "The Twelve Months." Snowy, flowy, blowy, Showery, flowery, bowery, Hoppy, croppy, droppy, Breezy, sneezy, freezy.  |  IP: Logged Bob Maar (Maar stands for Maartini) Posts: 28608 From: New York City & Newport, RI Registered: Feb 2001 posted 01-06-2004 08:04 AM                        Rated G B.B. New Beginnings ~ Just what life is all about ! At this time of new beginnings… As we close the old year out… We take a look at our feelings… And just what life is all about… Life is about love and friendship… Leaving a part of us along the way… Life is about caring for others… As we live from day to day… Time stands still for no one… Whether pauper or a king… Life keeps moving right along… As if it sprouted wings… So as we take time to reflect on the past... And look at special things we've done… I pray everything in this New Year... Brings you good memories for years to come... May you have an abundance of health and prosperity… May you have nothing but joy and love ... May your life be filled with happiness… And the peace of the snow white dove… ~ Unknown Have a wonderful, safe, and Happy New Year !  |  IP: Logged

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