Poetry spam

[doyle]

I'm in a poetry mood today.


Discretion
by Roger McGough

Discretion is the better part of Valerie
(though all of her is nice)
lips as warm as strawberries
eyes as cold as ice
the very best of everything
only will suffice
not for her potatoes
and puddings made of rice

Not for her potatoes
and puddings made of rice
she takes carbohydrates
like God takes advice
a surfeit of ambition
is her particular vice
Valerie fondles lovers
like a mousetrap fondles mice

And though in the morning
she may whisper: "it was nice"
you can tell by her demeanour
that she keeps her love on ice
but you've lost your hard-earned heart
now you'll have to pay the price
for she'll kiss you on the memory
and vanish in a trice

Valerie is corruptible
but known to be discreet
Valerie rides a silver cloud
where once she walked the street.


If anybody wants to spam me with poetry in the comments - any poet, obscure or something that everyone knows - please do.

Comments

[misbegotten.livejournal.com]

Blue Monday, by Diane Wakoski

You paint my body blue. On the balcony
in the soft muddy night, you paint me
with bat wings and the crystal ;
there is electricity dripping from me like cream.
The sun appeared in the shape of a man and he had
a ring made of sun around his little finger.
"It will burn up your hand," I said.
But he made motions in the air and passed by.
The moon appeared in the shape of a young negro boy,
and he had a ring made of dew around his little finger.
"You'll lose it," I said,
but he touched my face,
not losing a drop and passed away. Then I saw
Alexander Hamilton, whom I loved, and he had a ring on his little finger,
but he wouldn't touch me.
And suddenly everyone I knew appeared,
and they all had rings on their little fingers,
and I was the only one in the world left without any
rings
on any
of my fingers whatsoever.
And worst of all,
there was George Washington
walking down the senate aisles
with a ring on his little finger--managing
the world,
managing my world.
This is what I mean--you wear a ring on your
little finger
and you manage the world
and I am ringless
ringless . . .