Poems List
The Boy Who Laughed At Santa Claus
In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn't anybody's joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes,
His character was full of flaws. In school he never led his classes,
He hid old ladies' reading glasses,
His mouth was open when he chewed,
And elbows to the table glued.
He stole the milk of hungry kittens,
And walked through doors marked NO ADMITTANCE.
He said he acted thus because
There wasn't any Santa Claus.
The Ant
The ant has made herself illustrious
By constant industry industrious.
So what? Would you be calm and placid
If you were full of formic acid?
Tableau at Twilight
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone.
Enter a child and an ice-cream cone.
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,
The cone begins to drip ice cream.
Cones are composed of many a vitamin.
My lap is not the place to bitamin.
Although my raiment is not chinchilla,
I flinch to see it become vanilla.
Coniferous child, when vanilla melts
I’d rather it melted somewhere else.
Exit child with remains of cone.
I sit in the dusk. I am all alone,
Muttering spells like an angry Druid,
Alone, in the dusk, with the cleaning fluid.
Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.
Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.
I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.
Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.
Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.
Soliloquy in Circles
Being a father
Is quite a bother.
You are as free as air
With time to spare,
You're a fiscal rocket
With change in your pocket,
And then one morn
A child is born.
Your life has been runcible,
Irresponsible,
Like an arrow or javelin
You've been constantly travelin'.
But mostly, I daresay,
Without a chaise percée,
To which by comparison
Nothing's embarison.
But all children matures,
Maybe even yours.
You improve them mentally
And straighten them dentally,
They grow tall as a lancer
And ask questions you can't answer,
And supply you with data
About how everybody else wears lipstick sooner and stays up later,
And if they are popular,
The phone they monopular.
They scorn the dominion
Of their parent's opinion,
They're no longer corralable
Once they find that you're fallible
But after you've raised them and educated them and gowned them,
They just take their little fingers and wrap you around them.
Being a father Is quite a bother,
But I like it, rather.
Samson Agonistes
I test my bath before I sit,
And I'm always moved to wonderment
That what chills the finger not a bit
Is so frigid upon the fundament.
Reflections On Ice-Breaking
Candy
Is Dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.
Reflection On The Fallibility Of Nemesis
He who is ridden by a conscience
Worries about a lot of nonscience;
He without benefit of scruples
His fun and income soon quadruples.
Reflection On Babies
A bit of talcum
Is always walcum.
Pretty Halcyon Days
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned,
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done!
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
How pleasant to gaze at the sailors
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the vikings and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad and the shark;
If it’s windy, they sink;
If it isn’t, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.
How pleasant the salt anesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.
Comments (0)
NoComments
Ogden Nash reads Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man
Poetry: "No Doctor’s Today, Thank You" by Ogden Nash (read by John Lithgow)
Common Cold by Ogden Nash (read by Tom O'Bedlam)
Ogden Nash recites 'Oh, Please Don't Get Up!'
A selection of 16 short silly poems by Ogden Nash
Ogden Nash | Friday Personality | Infinity English
"A Tale of the Thirteenth Floor" by Ogden Nash (read by Tom O'Bedlam)
Good Night Sweet Mind / Ogden Nash
The People Upstairs - Poem by Ogden Nash
A Lady Who Thinks She's Thirty - Poem by Ogden Nash
"A Cursory Nursery Tale" by Ogden Nash (read by Tom O'Bedlam)
The Adventures of Isabel
Brief poems by Ogden Nash
"To My Valentine" by Ogden Nash (read by Tom O'Bedlam)
Adventures of Isabel by Ogden Nash
THE COW BY OGDEN NASH
Good Riddance, But Now What? by Ogden Nash Poem #284 31.12.20
Its Never Fair Weather, by Ogden Nash
The People Upstairs by Ogden Nash
Ogden Nash's Poetry Stash | Ogden Nash Biography | kalArt Wordsmiths
Carnival of the Animals Version With Ogden Nash Poems
The Rhinoceros by Ogden Nash
Always Marry an April Girl // Ogden Nash
"Old Men" by Ogden Nash
Ogden Nash "More About People"
A Word To Husbands // Ogden Nash
Winter Morning by Ogden Nash
"The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy" by Ogden Nash (read by Tom O'Bedlam)
The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash
"The Invitation Says from Five to Seven" by Ogden Nash
Winter Morning by Ogden Nash Poem #333 14.02.21
The Adventures of Isabel by Ogden Nash
Poem : The Abominable Snowman By Ogden Nash
A Word to Husbands by Ogden Nash
The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash (Lynn Munsinger, ill.)
The Duck, by Ogden Nash
Anne Giffey reads Ogden Nash's "The Hippopotamus" and "The Panther"
'Reflections on Ice-Breaking' by Ogden Nash
Celery by Ogden Nash
Poem : Celery by Ogden Nash
A Word to Husbands by Ogden Nash
THE ANT - poem - Ogden Nash
To My Valentine💕/Summary /Ogden Nash/pdf in description
Ogden Nash The Terrible People
THE HIPPOPOTAMUS BY OGDEN NASH
Great American Poems | The Turtle by Ogden Nash
3Poems - Ogden Nash
Poem : Crossing The Border By Ogden Nash
Ogden Nash - The Private Dining Room
A Word to Husbands (by Ogden Nash)