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The Potatoes' Dance: (A Poem Game)

This document contains several poems on various topics. It begins with "The Potatoes' Dance", a poem describing a cricket seeing a ball in a cellar. It then includes poems about the moon, Walt Whitman observing different types of workers singing, Lord Byron describing a beautiful woman, Robert Frost wishing a bird would stop singing by his house, keeping old friends and making new friends, eyebrows constantly landing in awkward places, two people always together, William Blake's secret of love, and Dorothy Parker receiving a single rose as a gift.

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Silvia Velázquez
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200 views10 pages

The Potatoes' Dance: (A Poem Game)

This document contains several poems on various topics. It begins with "The Potatoes' Dance", a poem describing a cricket seeing a ball in a cellar. It then includes poems about the moon, Walt Whitman observing different types of workers singing, Lord Byron describing a beautiful woman, Robert Frost wishing a bird would stop singing by his house, keeping old friends and making new friends, eyebrows constantly landing in awkward places, two people always together, William Blake's secret of love, and Dorothy Parker receiving a single rose as a gift.

Uploaded by

Silvia Velázquez
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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The Potatoes Dance

(A Poem Game)
Down cellar, said the cricket,
Down cellar, said the cricket,
Down cellar, said the cricket,
I saw a ball last night.

In honor of a lady,
In honor of a lady.
In honor of a lady,
Whose wings were pearly white.

The breath of bitter weather,


The breath of bitter weather,
The breath of bitter weather,
Had smashed the cellar pane.

We entertained a drift of leaves,


We entertained a drift of leaves,
We entertained a drift of leaves,
And then of snow and rain.
The Moon

The moon has a face like the clock in the hail;


She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbor quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,


The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day


Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.
I Hear America Singing
(Walt Whitman)

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,


Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be, blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in the boat,
The deckhand singing on the steam boat deck,
Shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
Woodcutters song, the ploughboys on his way in the morning,
Or at noon intermission, or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother,
Or of the young wife at work, or of the girl singing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day that belongs to the dayat night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
She Walks In Beauty
(Lord Byron)

She walks in beauty, like the night


Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all thats best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,


Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens oer her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and oer that brow,


So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
.
A Minor Bird
(Robert Frost)

I have wished a bird would fly away,


And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song.
New Friends And Old Friends
Joseph Parry

Make new friends, but keep the old;


Those are silver, these are gold.
New-made friendships, like new wine,
Age will mellow and refine.
Friendships that have stood the test
Time and changeare surely best;
Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray,
Friendship never knows decay.
For mid old friends, tried and true,
Once more we our youth renew.
But old friends, alas! may die,
New friends must their place supply.
Cherish friendship in your breast
New is good, but old is best;
Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.
Flybrows
Joe Mohr
My eyebrows are high brows.
Theyre fly-through-the-sky brows.
And deftly they land no my face.
Although they enjoy me,
They sometimes annoy me,
When they land in a most awkward place.

Theyll land on my cheeks


And theyll stay there for weeks.
Theyve been on my neck even once.
That would notve been bad,
I would notve been sad,
If they hadntve stayed there for months!

Theyre so hard to fetch,


To find and to catch,
Though once I nearly caughtem,
But they slipped from my grasp
And I let out a gasp
When they landed point blank on my bottom.
They stayed there all autumn!!!
Us

Me and him
Him and me.
Were always together
As you can see.

I wish hed leave


So Id be free
Im getting a little bit
Tired of he,
And he may be a bit
Bored with me.

On movies and ladies


We cannot agree.
I like to dance
He loves to ski.
He likes the mountains
I love the sea.
I like hot chocolate
He wants his tea.
I want to sleep
He has to pee.

Hes meaner and duller


And fatter than me.
But I guess theres worse things
We could be
Instead of two we could be three,
Me and him
Him and me.
Loves Secret
(William Blake)

Never seek to tell thy love,


Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,


I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,


A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.
One perfect rose
(Dorothy Parker)

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.


All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;


'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet


One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

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