A lover's complaint.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

Ears are so gross
Nose is true blue
Lover's weedy
Ta-ra: adieu!

An excerpt from a song by the Moody Blues.

Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore.

Yes! Messy sheets that were hell in that washing machine!
Days wasting time here writing inane trivia.
Never at the Job Centre. Dust, dirt by the sofa:
(Even seen dentures)! You nitwit!

Tinker
Tailor
Soldier
Sailor
Rich man
Poor man
Beggarman
Thief

Thinker
Mailer
Doc or
Bailor
Impels in
Short, to
An Anagram:
Grief!

The first verse of an anonymous poem.

Be not like the child in ALL ways, child,
For the child in his impatient curiosity
Pries open the bud,
And the blossom he so wished to see
Is lost to everyone on earth forever

Why, I must consider, or heed this:
There is time, to all life: do be patient;
Or lose richness,
As children do: hope to find beauty which
They love to observe, then, in passion, kill.

Matthew 6: 28-29 (part of the Sermon on the Mount)

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;
they toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet I say unto you,
That even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.

O, I eye the unemployed, those fit, idle ones;
that only loll around, waiting:
No one has work to do,
Not one, is their cry; yet still I see they
have got their flash and showy finery.

Much Ado about Nothing, II, iii, 65-68

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea, and one on shore
To one thing constant never.

No, maids, grieve not; he's a rover
Lads choose new ones o'er time
To 'n' fro, then soon it's over,
Needin' change; gone: ne'er mine.

A rhyme by Dorothy Parker.

I'm all of the glamorous ladies
At whose beckoning history shook.
But you are a man, and see only my pan
So I stay at home with a book.

Ooh, a Miss Dorothy Parker
See a symbol of unusual delight.
Men stay away, so I moan,
Ooh look, I'm alone
I want to be chaste... by a knight.

A quip by Magnus Pyke.

If it squirms, it's biology
If it stinks, it's chemistry
If it doesn't work, it's physics
And if you can't understand it, it's mathematics.

So, fur and fin: quirky kitty test
Acid whiffiness disgusts
Atomic idiots try
I'm torn: math's impossibility
That's science... isn't it?

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