Favorite poems

boobs, boobs

I love boobs

big boobs, small boobs, short boobs, tall

I love all boobs and I love them all

I loves dem boobies on Sara Bei Hall

Anyone have any running poems like the one line breaker posted?

well, no one's posted this classic:

To An Athlete Dying Young

THE time you won your town the race

We chaired you through the market-place;

Man and boy stood cheering by,

And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,

Shoulder-high we bring you home,

And set you at your threshold down,

Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away

From fields where glory does not stay,

And early though the laurel grows

It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut

Cannot see the record cut,

And silence sounds no worse than cheers

After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout

Of lads that wore their honours out,

Runners whom renown outran

And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,

The fleet foot on the sill of shade,

And hold to the low lintel up

The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head

Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,

And find unwithered on its curls

The garland briefer than a girl's.

A. E. Housman

By "like the one line breaker posted" I assume that you're referring to the Feldman one. Yes? I'll see what else I can round up for you. There probably aren't many that are narrowly "about" running.

Im sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea

Ive got to be free, free to face the life thats ahead of me

On board, Im the captain, so climb aboard

Well search for tomorrow on every shore

And Ill try, oh lord, Ill try to carry on

I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory

Some happy, some sad

I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had

We live happily forever, so the story goes

But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold

But well try best that we can to carry on

A gathering of angels appeared above my head

They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what they said

They said come sail away, come sail away

Come sail away with me

Come sail away, come sail away

Come sail away with me

I thought that they were angels, but to my surprise

They climbed aboard their starship and headed for the skies

Singing come sail away, come sail away

Come sail away with me

Come sail away, come sail away

Come sail away with me

OK, if we count lyrics as poetry and if we're looking for boob verses, we can hardly do better than this classic from the Fugs (sixties rock&roll band, for you younguns...band member Ed Sanders is a known poet)

The Fugs - Boobs a lot

Do you like boobs a lot?

(Yes, I like boobs a lot.)

Boobs a lot, boobs a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Really like boobs a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Boobs a lot, boobs a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Down in the locker room,

Just three boys,

Beatin' down the locker room

With all that noise,

Singin' do you like boobs a lot?

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Boobs a lot, boobs a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Do you wear your jock a lot?

(Yes, I wear my jock a lot.)

Got to wear your jock a lot.

(Got to wear your jock a lot.)

Jock a lot, jock a lot.

(You gotta wear your jock a lot.)

Got to wear your jock a lot.

(You gotta wear your jock a lot.)

Well, down on the football,

Football field,

You never can tell

What a heel can wield,

So you gotta wear your jock a lot.

(You gotta wear your jock a lot.)

Jock a lot, jock a lot.

(You gotta wear your jock a lot.)

If I had a flag-a-long,

(If I had a flag-a-long.)

If I had a long flag-a-long,

If I had a long flag-a-long,

If you like boobs a lot, tag along

Bee beep, bop, de boob a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

Boobs a lot, boobs a lot.

(You gotta like boobs a lot.)

They're big and round,

They're all around.

They're big and round,

They're all around.

Reinforces my diminion over the lesser beasts.

Like the beat, Dick, and it's easy to dance to. I'll give it an eight!!

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Kahlil Gibran

Here's one I wrote, in regards to running.

"Running The Red Light"

Thick blood of determination

Forced through unwary veins.

Persist forward with elation,

Broken are doubt’s chains.

There are no limits to this life.

Going strong without having to ask why,

Ignoring ridicule and paralyzing strife.

Doing the impossible—dreams never die.

Bouncing back through all obstacles,

Inspired to fight the good fight.

Push past all shady debacles,

A future of success is within sight.

Believe in greatness always,

And ignore what everyone else says.

--CML

We dance around in a ring and suppose

But The Secret sits in the middle and knows

-Robert Frost

This is a good one on running:-

The Song of the Ungirt Runners

We swing ungirded hips,

And lightened are our eyes,

The rain is on our lips,

We do not run for prize.

We know not whom we trust

Nor whitherward we fare,

But we run because we must

Through the great wide air.

The waters of the seas

Are troubled as by storm.

The tempest strips the trees

And does not leave them warm.

Does the tearing tempest pause?

Do the tree-tops ask it why?

So we run without a cause

'Neath the big bare sky.

The rain is on our lips,

We do not run for prize.

But the storm the water whips

And the wave howls to the skies.

The winds arise and strike it

And scatter it like sand,

And we run because we like it

Through the broad bright land.

Charles Hamilton Sorley - such a short life, killed at 20 in WW1, 'favourite pursuit was cross-country running in the rain'.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Sorley

Best poem ever is by Ali. It goes:

Me, We.

Tu ne quaesieris - scire nefas - quem mihi, quem tibi

finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios

temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati!

seu plures hiemes, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,

quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare

Tyrhenum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi

spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida

aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.

As Fast as You Can

Loosed from the shaping hand, who lay

at the window, face to the open sky,

the fever of birth now cooling, cooling?

I! said the gingerbread man leaping

upright laughing; the first faint dawn

of breath roared in his lungs and toes; down

he jumped running.

Sweet was the dream

of speed that sped the ground under, sweet

the ease of this breathing, which ran

in his body as he now ran in the wind,

leaf in the world's breathing; sweeter still

the risk he was running: of boundaries first

and then the unbounded, a murderous

roadway that ended nowhere in trees,

a cat at creamspill looking up, mysterious

schoolboys grabbing.

(Certainly they saw him,

a plump figure hurrying, garbed in three

white buttons, edible boots, his head a hat

in two dimensions.)

Powerfully then

his rhythmic running overtook the dream

of his flight: he was only his breathing.

He said, entering his body, Like this

I can go on forever.

Loping and leaping

the fox kept pace, hinted, feinting, over

and under wherever, licking his chops

and grinning to the hilt of his healthy gums.

Breathing to his toes the man ran faster,

free in a world that was suddenly growing

a bushy tail and a way of its own.

No less his joy for the darkening race!

Brilliant thought had dawned to his lips;

he understood it: Thrilling absolute

of original breath! and said The world

desires me! Somebody wants to eat me up!

That stride transported flying him off

earth and mystic into the fox's maw

blazing. One with the world's danger

that now is nothingness and now a tooth,

he transcended the matter of bread.

His speed between the clickers was infinite.

Tell them this, that life is sweet!

eagerly he told the happy fox

whose pink tongue assenting glibly

assuaged the pure delirious crumbs.

(Others fable otherwise, of course:

having outsped our sight, he dazzles

the spinning heavens, that fox our senses'

starved pretention. How else explain

the world's ubiquitous odor

of sweetness burning and the absence of ash?)

Shimmering and redolent, his spirit

tempts our subtlest appetite -- there he runs!

freely on the wind. We sniff a sharp

intelligence, lunge and snap our teeth

at the breathable body of air

and murmur while it is flying by,

Life is unhappy, life is sweet!

Irving Feldman

i'm surprised that no one has posted these poems that deal with the futility and quickness of existence... especially on a site that is dedicated to the ultimately futile action of competitive running...

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-- Robert Frost

...and...

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said -- "two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert... near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lips, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,

Look on my Works ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away."

-- Percy Shelley