Your Favorite Poems

nycfem · 11-25-2011, 03:13 PM

by Emily Dickinson

A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.

The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.

He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,

Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.

Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;

But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.

SoNotHer · 11-26-2011, 09:52 PM

I beseech thee, O Yellow Pages...
by Barbara Hamby

I beseech thee, O Yellow Pages, help me find a number
for Barbara Stanwyck, because I need a tough broad
in my corner right now. She'll pour me a tumbler
of scotch or gin and tell me to buck up, show me the rod
she has hidden in her lingerie drawer. She has a temper,
yeah, but her laugh could take the wax off a cherry red
Chevy. "Shoot him," she'll say merrily, then scamper
off to screw an insurance company out of another wad
of dough. I'll be left holding the phone or worse, patsy
in another scheme, arrested by Edward G. Robinson
and sent to Sing Sing, while Barb lives like Gatsby
in Thailand or Tahiti, gambling the night away until the sun
rises in the east, because there are some things a girl can be sure
of, like the morning coming after night's inconsolable lure.

11-25-2011, 03:13 PM	#1
nycfem Moderator How Do You Identify?: femme sub Preferred Pronoun?: Baby Grrl Relationship Status: Attached Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: NYC Posts: 6,795 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 52,990 Thanked 21,424 Times in 5,101 Posts Rep Power: 21474856	by Emily Dickinson A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,--did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb, A spotted shaft is seen; And then it closes at your feet And opens further on. He likes a boggy acre, A floor too cool for corn. Yet when a child, and barefoot, I more than once, at morn, Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash Unbraiding in the sun,-- When, stooping to secure it, It wrinkled, and was gone. Several of nature's people I know, and they know me; I feel for them a transport Of cordiality; But never met this fellow, Attended or alone, Without a tighter breathing, And zero at the bone.

11-26-2011, 09:52 PM	#2
SoNotHer Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Professional Sandbagger and Jenga Zumba Instructor Join Date: Sep 2011 Location: In the master control room of my world domination dreams Posts: 2,811 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 6,587 Thanked 4,734 Times in 1,409 Posts Rep Power: 21474852	I beseech thee, O Yellow Pages... by Barbara Hamby I beseech thee, O Yellow Pages, help me find a number for Barbara Stanwyck, because I need a tough broad in my corner right now. She'll pour me a tumbler of scotch or gin and tell me to buck up, show me the rod she has hidden in her lingerie drawer. She has a temper, yeah, but her laugh could take the wax off a cherry red Chevy. "Shoot him," she'll say merrily, then scamper off to screw an insurance company out of another wad of dough. I'll be left holding the phone or worse, patsy in another scheme, arrested by Edward G. Robinson and sent to Sing Sing, while Barb lives like Gatsby in Thailand or Tahiti, gambling the night away until the sun rises in the east, because there are some things a girl can be sure of, like the morning coming after night's inconsolable lure.