Jack and Jill ran up the hill,
To perv on miss muffin
Getting her fill,
She was getting it hard boiled
From Humpy Dumpty,
Who fell of the wall,
Yolk sprayed up her back,
Her screaming she wanted more.
How did you make it grow,
You played with the bells,
And my cockle shells and it did grow,
Not much words to show,
A mouth your good at what you do,
Mary my sweet little bike I like to ride so.
Old Mother Hubbard
Liked it up the back cupboard,
From the younger gents
She liked to suck meat till the marrow
Did flow swallowed the lot in one go,
Now empty is the bone.
Who thought a lady in years,
Had all this energy on the go...
and her poem
I found an egg of crystal
it had a little crack
though beautiful as opals
integrity it lacked
I asked the Lord to help me
"whatever should I do?"
He told me to go and plant it
when the day was new
and so I looked for soil
but no soft could be found
so I planted my wee egg
in hard, forbidding
I watered it with tears
for others suffering lack
and after a little while
a tentative green sprout
pushed up its tender head
it grew up from the rocky ground
I had thought so dead!
I continued watering
I knew naught else to do
and a tulip flower appeared
I watered then in earnest!
I wanted for to see
that flower strong and healthy
and what it'd bloom to be!
slowly the petals opened
and lo! there fast emerged
a'singing and a'fluttering
a little crystal bird!
out of the light blue flower
the creature dipped and soared
it was then I realized
my hope had been restored!
flying 'round my head
its feathers sent off light
as brilliant as a diamond
shattering the night
it was only then I realized
as the darkness fell apart
the soil was life's hardships
had been my
Life for me began as an egg, it wasn't really a special egg, just a regular egg shape with some green splotches .So, you were just like the Platypus and the Echidna ?. Exactly like the Echidna and Platypus .Well not quite exactly, those creature are mammals,
I'm more like a lizard, I'm actually part dinosuar.
My mother is a dinosuar like creature known as a Dinosapien, But I'm more human than she was. I'm about 60 percent human , though I do posses Lizard organs , My eyes are ,
My heart and lungs are, So is my weiner, my appetite and my tongue
I can taste the air, Just like the snake . Em, but dinosaurs don't do that
How dya know ?, Well because of science and Jurassic park
Yah, I'm sure their both official sources, any way, so how come were having this conversation ?, well that's the one thing about dinosaurs , they were notorious for having one sided conversations with themselves, ya mean they were bonkers ?, no not crazy and once they left the nest ,were pretty much losers, I mean loners.
What about mating?, Well they had wieners ya know, no, not that and what about female dinosaurs ?, well the females didn't care , they just wanted a male for about 3 minutes, if he was lucky maybe 3 and a half, the males were more concerned about sexual contact with the ladies. So, I guess there was a lot of dudes humping each other then ?
em, I think this conversation is over now
En l’an trentiesme do mon aage
Que toutes mes hontes j’ay beues…
Pipit sate upright in her chair
Some distance from where I was sitting;
Views of the Oxford Colleges
Lay on the table, with the knitting.
Daguerreotypes and silhouettes,
Her grandfather and great great aunts,
Supported on the mantelpiece
An Invitation to the Dance.
. . . . .
I shall not want Honour in Heaven
For I shall meet Sir Philip Sidney
And have talk with Coriolanus
And other heroes of that kidney.
I shall not want Capital in Heaven
For I shall meet Sir Alfred Mond.
We two shall lie together, lapt
In a five per cent. Exchequer Bond.
I shall not want Society in Heaven,
Lucretia Borgia shall be my Bride;
Her anecdotes will be more amusing
Than Pipit’s experience could provide.
I shall not want Pipit in Heaven:
Madame Blavatsky will instruct me
In the Seven Sacred Trances;
Piccarda de Donati will conduct me.
. . . . .
But where is the penny world I bought
To eat with Pipit behind the screen?
The red-eyed scavengers are creeping
From Kentish Town and Golder’s Green;
Where are the eagles and the trumpets?
Buried beneath some snow-deep Alps.
Over buttered scones and crumpets
Weeping, weeping multitudes
Droop in a hundred A.B.C.’s
There was an egg who dreamed a dream,
Of life in light,
A life of flight,
Some world of sight,
The egg did shiver in delight,
A crack was formed,
And through the rend,
The sunlight stormed,
The egg abhorred the feel,
Of air flow through the shattered seal,
It bucked and jumped,
It smashed and pumped,
Till it was no more an egg.
I do love my little egg cup,
His brother much the same,
He holds my egg so perfectly;
Boiled eggs are not a game.
They bounce about for 4 minutes
Before they take their test,
They need a place to hold them straight;
My egg cups are the best.
When the soldiers are awaiting,
Those buttered friends of mine,
I need my little egg cups
To keep them all in line.
They come with little cosy hats
To hide their eggy heads,
I take it off and just like that;
Prepare for eggy bread!
© Karen L Hamilton, 2013
My trembling egg
In black attire
Is beaming light of thousand stars.
It's fragile shell
I have admired
And held so tight against my heart.
The role of you is undecided
Too young to know
Too old to live.
You've never brought
For that I squeeze you in my palm.
My little eggshells
Are much like diamonds
Spread out across your filthy hearts.