I woke up and i rustled my bedsheet |
i looked out my window and saw the paper
flying and floating across the street
somebody forgot to use their stapler
A paper clip just will not do|
and a bulldog clip will always chew
The one you need I say my son
Is the good ole trusty staple gun
|- Richard Jones|
by Donna Bechar
it's an enabler
launching its disciples
on their mission of
whatever must be
in a more permanent relationship
not like those temporary paper clips
with their tentative grasp
of the concrete
the root is the bread of life
like sheets of paper
sustaining worlds of words
holding together communities
teams and dreams
reams of themes
seams that held together
my father's chest
after doctors blazed trails and rerouted roads
to his heart
for deliverance of
that red surging staple of life
their Frankenstein look deceptive
as they welded flesh
coaxing tissue to bond once more
their removal leaving only a hint
of their heroic deed
by Roy Runds
Of all staplers binding
what could be a stapler staple
than maple leaf syrup,
or Bavarian beer,
or apple pie,
or chicken liver?
by Pearl Talker
Little mundane object
So useful you are to me
Order and tidiness are due to you
Of clutter I'm now free.
Would that I could staple
My beloved's love for me
And keep it filed away neatly
Never to let go
Till I wish it so.
ODE TO A STAPLER|
by Hefzibah Koren
A mission so clear
A purpose so unique
To put together what not so obviously fits
The necessary mend
A hopeful gesture
When our lives are strewn in pieces and bits
A simple "click"
A thoughtless touch
And worlds of difference are fraternized such
In green or red
The personality's the same
We expect little of ourselves-- of our documents too much
A piercing moment
A metal contract
Invasion of personal space to bend the rules
A cold-war moment
Opinions face to back
The most desperate of the office tools
TWO SONNETS IN HONOR OF THE STAPLER|
by Alan Clayman
1. The Stapler & The Human Condition
What fevered spirit, what inventive mind
Created this vital mechanical find?
Two bars connected at their common point,
Inside the channel, fixed to that same joint,
Which bears the precious staples in line ahead,
Their only task to unite the separated.
Did the unknown inventor of this device
Think the idea just for paper would suffice?
Perhaps it was modeled on humankind:
As two people are joined with ties that bind,
And if perforce they once must be undone,
Like the paper, whose pristine look is shorn,
The flesh itself is scarred and visibly torn,
Not just in the short, but in the longer run.
2. English Fantasia: There Will Always Be A Stapler
The gentle art of stapling was born in the English shires,
Its advent went unheralded, without massed bands or choirs.
But now could every Englishman join two sheets with pride,
England dominated stationery as Britannia ruled the tide.
From Brisbane to Nova Scotia, from the Falklands to Castle Carew
Englishmen are proud of English inventions, and now the stapler too.
The postage stamp and railway engine, the radar, the British Empire,
These Englishmen created for people everywhere to admire.
To this illustrious list the simple stapler now is appended,
A life with paper but without it cannot be comprehended.
So when an American on the prairie some sheets would merge,
Or a Gaucho on the pampas some papers must together urge,
Then would they think of England and all that England's done,
That the simple stapler they owe to the Empire on which never sets the sun.
"You can staple..."|
by Jean Simon
You can staple bits of paper,
you can staple paper flowers;
you can use them by the hours.
You can curse when one gets stuck.
You can staple pretty packages,
and ribbons, one, two, three,
but you can't staple me.
You can use your stapler
to send messages to the President,
or to every resident,
or throw it in the sea.
Love can't be stapled,
love has to be free --
to come and go
as it pleases,
to attach itself
to whom it wishes.
You can't staple dishes,
you can't staple wishes -
Don't try to staple
THERE HAVE BEEN DAYS|
by Jean Simon
There have been days
when I've been so depressed
I haven't even dressed.
I haven't wanted to look
at a maple,
or even to eat a staple food
like bread and butter;
and I'd sometimes mutter
and finally eat a dappled apple.
And I wouldn't even be able
to sit still listening to a charming fable --
I'd listen to heavy metal
instead of to dew tiptoeing
over a petal.
And I'd think of my days like staples;
a staple like a day,
a day like a staple:
dull and grey
and square with one part
each exactly the same as the last
comes out of the great god's squeeze,
But now! Wow!
To wake up to purple bougainvillea
outside my window,
and yellow butterflies,
and crows and even herons flying by.
I dance and sing,
and throw a prayer
to the great god
with the mechanical arms
to staple me
by Rose Michaelis
To be attached or disattached,
That is the question.
To suffer the slings and sighs
of the distraught and untaught,
Or to be free and fly hither
Without fear and lots of fun.
And yet, a fear, a nameless one,
The sound of a click, click,
clicking stapler stapling
prices up, up, up in a merry-
Bills flying in all directions,
Hurry, stapler, hurry, hurry,
pin them down.
by Mark L. Levinson
The secretary gave a box of desk supplies to me:
"The minimum of pages for a stapler job is three."
I said, "I'm new but willing. I expect that I'll adjust."
She'd almost left the doorway, but she paused to say: "You must."
I made a list describing all the officemates I'd met:
their names, their jobs, the things I'd be embarrassed to forget.
I thought I'd take it home for the advantage of review.
I sent it to the printer, and the pages numbered two.
A larger font could make them three, a smaller make them one.
Alas for my impatience, I decided I was done.
Like one who crowns his labors with an extra mark of pride,
I gave myself the pages triple-stapled down the side.
The paper started stirring, somehow pushed from underneath.
The stapler started clacking like a set of wind-up teeth.
The pages spread apart and flapped. They rose into a glide.
I hurried to the window, but they'd made their way outside.
My screen was blank, the stapler chewing fiercely at the cable.
I tried to call the secretary's name but wasn't able.
No word that I had written could my present mind recover.
I slowly shut the window as I watched the pages hover.
by Edith Helen Papert
Little silvery ultimatums
on conveyor belt
waiting for the kvetch:
What do we celebrate this time,
Documentaries of the zoo doomed
Norwegian Cat-Fish -
our pleas for the species
rusting on trees,
for all to see . . . ?
Ole debble moonbeam
slender silvery hope
Put it upside-down
on its back
on its tummy
on its side
and it remains
forever ever solo ...
Such a beautiful sound when it staples|
Tough life you will live without one
A stapler is a beautiful work of art
Please put this poem on your site
Living with a stapler is like living with a VIP
Everyday is a stapler day
Pens and pencils, lots of things,
in grey, or black, or yellow.
Nothing in the stationery tin
compares with this young fellow.
I've been to Paris, been to Rome,
I've even been to Naples.
But never have I left without
my thing what spits out staples.
This tiny thing is just the biz,
I think you get the picture.
My favourite desktop item is
my little paper stitcher.
I like staples
they are fun
I'd like to staple
I'd staple globe
My stapler would staple,
in fast fickle strobes.
|- shaun and al|
gray, shiny, different
Aroung my house
red, hurtful, screams
Cut on finger
stapler, stapler, stapler|
why do you sit, so still
upon the shelf?
your base, how it shines! your staples so compact
the sound of your justsice
eases my heart
when you repress
my naughty reports
I am thankful
I feel stronger
I light candles and dance to a violin
for your grace
So sleek and smooth
One of great use and resourcefulness
Yet, a tyrant of violence and terror to the paper
We use you oh stapler with great satisfaction
Paper fears you oh stapler with terror and cowardice
So bold and powerful
The battle tank that holds the troops
The troops of staples, like minions of destruction
Attacking legions of paper one by one
In single file they strike
Unyielding, unreleasing, without mercy
A few deformed, mutilated, bent, never to return
Then the tank reloads with more troops
More minions of destruction gather in line
The stapler moves on
As you rush off to work,|
A little stapler waits.
As you gripe about the cost of prescriptions,
A little stapler waits.
As you complain about paying out for things you dont need,
The little stapler waits,
It hopes that someone like you will have the heart to bring a difference.
Just one dollar a day, Just one chocolate bar per day less will feed and
house 30 staplers for a year.
Through CSF (Christian Staplers Fund) you too can make a difference.
Call us now on 1 800 CSF CSF to make an automatic $5,000 donation to assist
the relief (metal) work
Dont say one day - becasue for the little stapler, one day might not be soon
enough, Act now.
Just one dollar a day... And the staplers will be forever in your debt (and
never jam again...)
Call Now 1 800 CSF CSF.
|- Mike Jones|
Thing of beauty on my desk|
Shiny metal, sleek
I love every inch of you.
Ode to The Copy Machine Stapler |
I've got a million things to do
I'm trying to get out at a quarter to two
I've got papers on my chair
Paper CLIPS in my hair
But a smile creeps on in
Thinking of that little sin
Sneaking in the copy room
My heartbeat racing in full bloom
Inching up to the beige machine
Little lights, winking green
Armed with banal type no one'll read
Gotta staple those packets and sleeves
The copy machine, it awaits for me
Electric stapler apperatus ... hesitant with glee
Yes! Here I come papers in hand
I offer up the corners, and oh it's so grand!
Whathunk, whathunk goes the autotoy
Bahbump bahbump beats my heart with joy
Oh electric device, I love you so
Another job without you for I'd never go
I marvel your presence easy and clear
My life is better because you are here
So let me take this time to thank you so
under cheap management may you never go.
Elegy to My First Stapler |
Oh my stapler glistened black
Silver metal adorned it's back
Oh it was so solid and strong
It's working rhythm my favorite song
Is it wrong to muse so
About my stapler that made me glow
Oh how I loved that little guy
... Just writing this brought a tear to my eye
The Stapler's Freedom Anthym |
Ooooh, I'm a stapler from the South and I'm coming to your house
I'm a machine - on the run
I'm a bad ass to core, spittin' metal teeth -- but I want more!
I'm a hard core, foot on the floor - stapler gun.
Oh I'm the one
Oh I'm the one
Where I rest my base is like a slap in the face
if your motivation is all over the place
I'm a hard knock kid with a helmet for a lid
I'm a straight shootin Southern son ...
I'm a stapler gun
Oh yeah I'm the one
A stapler gun.
Hand on spine
your power in mine
release with a sigh
return to wait
magic you create
sitting there waiting
... waiting for me.
You are my lovely stapler
I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE MY STAPLER, YOU ARE MY FAVOURITE
I lay you down to sleep, I find you fascinating
So cold, subversive; your eye are full of bleach
YOU ARE MINE, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MINE; I CAN TEAR YOU APART;
I CAN RECOMBINE YOU' ALL I WANT IS TO COVET YOU ALL;
YOU BELONG TO ME; I WILL KILL YOU TO LOVE YOU
Sunshine enters the rainbow
Such a beautiful day
Oh the grass smells sweet
SQUEEZE THE BEEF
Quotation from the Bard's great work |
"Is this a Stapler I see before me? Its handle pointing to my own hand? Here, let me hold you!"
A stapler materialised from nowhere and floated teasingly in front of him. Stapbeth tried to grab the stapler, but he couldn't.
"I can't grab the stapler, but I still see it there! It can be seen but can't be touched. Or is it just a stapler of the mind? Is it a false creation from my
troubled brain? Yes! No, no, no! Its still there, just as palpable as the stapler I now take from my drawer. Look, it points me in the way I intend to go! A
stapler was the weapon I was going to use! My eyes are being ridiculed! Or are they worth more than all my other senses combined?
Its still there! Now the stapler is spattered with blood! The bloody business that fills my mind is making me see this. Half the world is now sleeping
wicked dreams abuse the peace of man.
Half the world is now sleeping - wicked dreams abuse the peace of man. Witches sacrifice their offering to Hecate. Howling wolves tell murderers
now is the time and serenade Tarquin as he stalks his prey. The hard dry earth mustn't hear my footsteps now. Even the stones mustn't be allowed to
betray my whereabouts. Nothing must detract from the deed. Now is the time! All this talk only prolongs his life. How words cool the heat of the
The apparition convinced Stapbeth all the forces of the unknown were with him, guiding him to his virtual destiny.
|- Jan in Crete|
As I sit, looking at stapler galore|
I want to get one, that isn't a bore
I look around
Trying to find the right one
I wonder if I can get help
From that son of a gun
Yes! The man who works at Staples
He can do the job
His is more fulfilling
Than working in the mob
He unveils a beautiful one shiny and new
And best of all its my favorite color
Stapler, Stapler on my desk,|
Thou surely art among the best,
of all the tools I have around,-
to keep my papers neatly bound.
Far have I travelled, and much have I heard,|
but over a Stapler?, -no never a word!
I'd like to proclaim in the name of Mankind,
while sober in blood, and staple of mind,
that a Stapler's a Treasure that can't be compared
with Software or Hardware, or even a Nerd!
It stands on your desk and never complains,
-doesn't need power to be bought from the mains,-
it always performs with the touch of a hand,-
Oh wonderous Tool in the service of man!
|- Colney Hatch|
A Stapler Love Poem|
Your sleek shape,
a cool embrace-
feels smooth to the touch.
As you warm in my hand,
I toss a rubber band.
Together we bind much.
At the end of the day,
I lock you away.
You can't be wandering and such.
My pretty little treasure,
love beyond measure,
you are my stapler, my crutch.
|- H Baddley|
A Staple a Day|
A staple a day
Keeps the tax man at bay,
If it goes through his forehead
Before you must pay.
A staple a day
Means I never need say,
"Oh, where, I say, where
Is my stinkin' toupe'?"
A staple a day
Through my sandwich, hey, hey,
Keeps the bread and bologna
From going astray.
"A staple a day"
Is the mantra I say
As I staple my ear
To a tub of Parkay.
A staple a day,
Say the folks in Marseilles,
Is the perfect side dish
With any entre'.
A staple a week
For some is OK,
But I firmly believe
In a staple a day.
The hard cold touch of the steel as I hold it to my papers. Then slowly pushing the stapler down hearing the staple fall into place and it being forced down. The staple slices
through the paper and hits the steel on the bottom. In one quick motion the staple bends to form a strong grasp for my ever messy papers.|