"sprat" poems
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark, as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools' Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.
Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.
12.9k
Jack don’t eat fat
Jack don’t eat no lean
Food is a constant combat
Jack is an empty machine
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
I
Calico Pie,
The little Birds fly
Down to the calico tree,
Their wings were blue,
And they sang 'Tilly-loo!'
Till away they flew,--
And they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
II
Calico Jam,
The little Fish swam,
Over the syllabub sea,
He took off his hat,
To the Sole and the Sprat,
And the Willeby-Wat,--
But he never came back to me!
He never came back!
He never came back!
He never came back to me!
III
Calico Ban,
The little Mice ran,
To be ready in time for tea,
Flippity flup,
They drank it all up,
And danced in the cup,--
But they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
IV
Calico Drum,
The Grasshoppers come,
The Butterfly, Beetle, and Bee,
Over the ground,
Around and around,
With a hop and a bound,--
But they never came back to me!
They never came back!
They never came back!
They never came back to me!
6.6k
If a mouse could fly,
Or if a crow could swim,
Or if a sprat could walk and talk,
I'd like to be like him.
If a mouse could fly,
He might fly away;
Or if a crow could swim,
It might turn him grey;
Or if a sprat could walk and talk,
What would he find to say?
2.6k
His old mare cantered into to town
The covered wagon followed
A boy's first trip to town alone
He took it in, and swallowed
Penny candy dreams last night
And sarsparilla floats
The ladies' parasol fineries
The men in pinstriped coats
Perhaps a whiskey, what the hell
Today he was a man!
But first the livery stable for Brownie
For oats and a water can.
The .30-30 saddle gun would come with him, of course.
He also grabbed the belted Colt from the pommel of his horse.
The warped board sidewalks led past stores
His worn boots clopped along
He strapped on the .36 Navy Colt revolver
And fastened down the thong
He clopped down to the first saloon
Laid his rifle on the bar
A sporting girl sat next to him
With the unlikely name of "Star"
"A milk for the lady.
Myself as well,
Barkeep, if you please!"
A cowhand howled out raucous laughter,
Flipping up Ms. Star's dress, to well above her knees
"That little pup, he wants some milk
So Star, give him yer ****
I'll bend him over, spank his ***
And then give YOU a treat!"
The young man's vision doubled, trebled,
The shame clear on his face
As tears welled up in big blue eyes
A witness in every soul in the place
"Aw, the little ***** is bawling! WAH!"
The cowhand bellowed out
And all false mirth left his expression
And he gave the boy a clout
The boy just sat and sobbed and watched
As Ms. Star joined in the joke
But cowhand was already 3 bottles in,
In a flash, her nose was broke
Cowhand reached across the boy
To grab that sweet, sleeved rifle
The boy grabbed cowhand's wrist just then
And twisted it just a trifle
A yelp and howl from cowhand's mouth,
"YOU BROKE MY ****** WRIST!
NOW you're ****** you little sprat"
He took a swing, and missed.
Red faced, clumsy, humiliated
He drew leather on the boy
Dead to rights, he had the kid,
He realized, with grim joy
An explosion, a thump, on warped pine floor
Blue smoke curling in the air
Utter, vapid, vacuum silence
Patrons cemented to their chair
The tears were gone from those blue eyes
Blue steel as his gaze fixed
A hole had grown in cowhand's head
The size was .36
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
Fools may pine, and sots may swill,
Cynics gibe, and prophets rail,
Moralists may scourge and drill,
Preachers prose, and fainthearts quail.
Let them whine, or threat, or wail!
Till the touch of Circumstance
Down to darkness sink the scale,
Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.
What if skies be wan and chill?
What if winds be harsh and stale?
Presently the east will thrill,
And the sad and shrunken sail,
Bellying with a kindly gale,
Bear you sunwards, while your chance
Sends you back the hopeful hail:--
'Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.'
Idle shot or coming bill,
Hapless love or broken bail,
Gulp it (never chew your pill!),
And, if Burgundy should fail,
Try the humbler *** of ale!
Over all is heaven's expanse.
Gold's to find among the shale.
Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.
Dull Sir Joskin sleeps his fill,
Good Sir Galahad seeks the Grail,
Proud Sir Pertinax flaunts his frill,
Hard Sir AEger dints his mail;
And the while by hill and dale
Tristram's braveries gleam and glance,
And his blithe horn tells its tale:--
'Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.'
Araminta's grand and shrill,
Delia's passionate and frail,
Doris drives an earnest quill,
Athanasia takes the veil:
Wiser Phyllis o'er her pail,
At the heart of all romance
Reading, sings to Strephon's flail:--
'Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.'
Every Jack must have his Jill
(Even Johnson had his Thrale!):
Forward, couples--with a will!
This, the world, is not a jail.
Hear the music, sprat and whale!
Hands across, retire, advance!
Though the doomsman's on your trail,
Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.
Envoy
Boys and girls, at slug and snail
And their kindred look askance.
Pay your footing on the nail:
Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance.
1.6k
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 10:02 AM UTC
This nursery rhyme is right on time
even though the crib is full of grease and grime
all you gotta do is open your eyes and mind
i'm gonna find some stuff mother goose left behind
little boy blue was an irritating brat
he frightened the baby and the cat
always blowing his **** horn
his mom wanted to bury him in the corn
jack sprat could eat no fat
because his wife wouldnt let him
she sat on jack and he went splat
she'd wanted to eat him since she'd met him
jack and jill went up the hill
they were looking for a thrill
jill got slipped a funny pill
jack smoked crack and is missing still
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
Gumbo the sprat reminds you he has
no place to go,
away from the night shoals
swimming mid stream,
he dithers if the pier should burn down,
could he bear if the anglers drowned?
yet he's not too axiomatic
knowing right from wrong.
but again theres no pretense
only a presence
swallowing this illusion of depth.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
Nursree-Rhymed-Rap
you got yer Jack be nimble
you got yer Jack be quick
you got yer Jack jumpin over a candle stick
he jumped so high
he almost touched the sky
you see he burnt his nads
and it made him cry
you got yer 3 little pigs
you got yer Goldilocks
you got yer big bad wolf dumber than a fox
he huffed and puffed
and took a big hit
and they all joined hands
they were smokin some ****
you got yer Little Red
you got yer 3 brown bears
sippin on soup and sittin in chairs
Red danced on the table
yeah she danced really good
the bears gave her money
to see what was under the hood
you got yer Jack and Jill
you got yer buckle my shoe
climbin that hill what they gonna do
Jack played pattycake
according to rumours
trying to get inside
of little Jill's bloomers
you got yer Little Miss Muffet
you got yer itsy bitsy spider
he made a big mistake sitting down beside her
inside her purse
she kept a can of Raid
she drenched his ****
and now he's daid
you got yer hey ****** ******
you got yer dish and spoon
you got yer old spotted cow jumpin over the moon
there's Humpty Dumpty
and the fiddling cat
the little dog laughed
to see Jack Sprat splat
you got yer round the rosey
you got yer ba black sheep
pullin the wool over yer eyes as you sleep
****** ****** dumplin
so what is my point
whoever wrote these riddles
musta been smokin a joint
Gomer LePoet ....
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 10:44 PM UTC
THE EARLY DAYS OF FORGETTING
He looked like he had lived
forever in Tír na nÓg.
Didn't show his age
'til he was seventy.
"Ah, Hades looms!"
he joked.
Unlike Jack Sprat
he didn't eat a lot.
His wife contrary to belief
did that.
What a turn up for
the nursery rhyme.
The past always so
far yet near.
The sweetness of
the sour.
This the early days of
forgetting.
Wearing a purple sock
on his left foot.
A glamorous yellow
on the right.
Forgetting now his own
name.
Forgetting who came.
"And, who...are you?"
he asks his wife.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
a 2nd reiteration
listening to
dropkick murphys'
song
*i'm shipping off to
Boston*...
you ******* quasi-paddies
and Iraqi Aladdins
have ****** up "my"...
******* jukebox!
no music video ever came
with a ******* news channel
recommendation!
wankers!
sprat boilers!
brat spanking fetishists!
give me my ******* jukebox
back... you *******
toddler's little pinky
wankers off!
it's not enough that
the blood starts to boil...
my thinking becomes
all scrambled!
i turn into a Danzig hunger-strike
when i don't get
to listen to new music!
wankie ***** wankie *****
sure...
but when i **** off while
taking a **** and taking a ****
i don't make a *******
video out of it, do i?!
juggernaut... juggernaut...
juggernaut...
say it thrice like Beetlejuice...
and... well... shazam!
a rhino appears!
i'm taking prisoners...
the ones attached to the charge,
as they scream...
pretending to... "tag along".
give my jukebox back you
******* invertebrates!
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 8:14 PM UTC
So MARY loved a little lamb—
Especially on her plate.
But watch out, Mary: too much lamb
Can make you overweight.
HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on the wall.
Learn from his mistake.
If you are not mindful, you
Could also fall and break.
A TISKET, a TASKET,
Forget about a basket.
Do what you are told
Or your folks will blow a gasket!
JACK SPRAT could eat no fat.
Too much fat could **** him.
But mounds of veggies on his plate
Certainly don't thrill him.
If MRS. SPRAT could eat no lean
And just the fatty parts,
Wasn’t her cholesterol level
Jumping off the charts?
MISTRESS MARY, quite contrary,
Brags about her garden,
Which, she adds, is quite unique.
**** Oops, beg your pardon.
Are silver bells and cockle shells
Much to brag about?
I guess they are more practical
When there is a drought.
JACK B. NIMBLE was pretty slick,
Although he was a nut.
Don’t play around with candlesticks,
Or you could burn your ****
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
Invest your money and watch it grow.
It’s good to save and not to owe,
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
GEORGIE PORGIE made the girls cry
Every time he kissed ‘em.
They didn’t like that chauvinist
And the way he dissed ‘em.
Did JACK AND JILL go up the hill
Really to get water?
What kind of H2O
Would make him swerve and totter?
If these days PETER put his wife
In a pumpkin shell,
He'd never hear the end of it;
Boy, she’d give him hell!
- by Bob B
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
Jack Sprat
could eat no fat
as his dietician
put him on
a fat free diet
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
I once had a lover who was like the Sahara Desert
So cold at night
and hot during the day.
Then one day I thought about
Jack Sprat and his wife
Those two had it rough in their relationship
I had to let my lover go with the wind
Having felt that cold in my face and heat in body
During the day
Only brought on sorrow and disgrace
Time shares is only good
At the time of purchase..
However, nothing last forever….
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
I once had a lover who was like the Sahara desert
So cold at night
and hot during the day.
Then one day I thought about
Jack Sprat and his wife
Those two had it rough in their relationship
However, my lover is gone with the wind
Having felt that cold in my face and the heat in body
Only brought on sorrow and disgrace
Time shares is only good
At the time of purchase..
However, nothing last forever….
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 7:05 AM UTC