My friend, the phone,
get's on my nerves...
because it's rude, I say
to them, his many voices,
wanting time in restaurants,
theaters, and late at night
and the way he clears his throat
before he speaks,
like this is Broadway!
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My friend, the phone,
get's on my nerves...
because it's rude, I say
to them, his many voices,
wanting time in restaurants,
theaters, and late at night
and the way he clears his throat
before he speaks,
like this is Broadway!
Aw, thanks, blp :)Quote:
Another person who doesn't know what thread they're in I think.
on my window still there is a plant pot
next to the plant pot there is a pile of dirt that has fallen out of the plant pot
inside the plant pot there is less dirt than outside of the plant pot
maybe i should throw the plant pot away
but it was the last thing she ever bought for me
before she commited suicicde
and now this plant pot
with its dying flower
is all that is left
of the love that blossomed in the april showers
ask a question and i`ll tell a lie
tell me something and i`ll find a fault
praise life and i`ll want to die
save your money and i`ll rob your vault
i am a prick of the most miserable sorts
i kick puppies, steal from babies
i burp loudly, pull down your shorts
laugh at the animal with rabies
and you, you just stare
eyes glazed in a dumbfound look
you don`t understand, wer`e a pair
i am all those chances you never took....
Lately the storm cannot break with words
calm necessitated from an unplush seat
of simple survival, plucked remembrance
and sturdy shapes, with magic toes
feeling through the lawn for strands
sliding unpegged from inhibition.
Like glass shadowed from a razor of steel
cool reflection bores pain with marked precision
and years harden to a yard of salt.
Sunshine blocks a ray
spotted in ancestral lays
broken into human spirit.
if only i had time
to think up a few rhymes
then i could write a poem
and post it in this forum
i heard a crazy rumor
that this thread had great humor
so i checked it out
to see what it was about
some of these are good
written better than i could
after all that good stuff
is my poem bad enough?
~rose.of.night
may this not blight
your poetic dreams
the device of a rhyme
used all the time
is vastly over-rated!
To answer your question: yes-and no...:)...and welcome to the forum!
lucidnightmares, sarasvati, and firefangled, yours are actually pretty good (I've seen firfangled's elsewhere recently; Jikan and Il Penseroso, yours sink to new heights of badness! I mean that in the best possible way!! :)
Here's my modest contribution:
Alone in Darkness
the night falls with a silent sigh, cold and alone are we.
the emotion for which you sacrifice yourself
flares once, then dies,
swept away by the abyss.
all hope must fail.
your soul thrives no more.
how could you abandon me?
spirits surround us, crying,
We are Fallen.
It was a dark and stormy night
And the dogs were howling at the full moon
Even though we couldn't see it because of the storm
And the dark.
I meant we couldn't see the moon, not the dogs.
Howl!!!!!
Howl!!!!!
Howl!!!!
HOWL!!!!
HOWL!!!
HOWL!!!
To love or be loved,
which is truer?
I woke up with September mist
trapped under my sleeves
and the coffee said I should have
dreamt of you
going on a train
tiny golden specks afloat
eyes... sun... hair
"I like it when you nick my pencils"
get onyou leave when I arriveget off
and the heating goes
tsk tk tk bfoorf bllrrrrr
Un Sac de Produit D'hygiène de Femme - (Apologies to Dave Matthews)
I pop up the collar
on my pink polo shirts
I "hang" with my "brahs"
at Dave Matthews concerts
I wear a white baseball cap
the sticker's still on the bill
Hi, nice to meet you
My name's Massengill
I love "Family Guy"
I quote it non-stop
I use gallons of gel
my hair's spiked on the top
I say "keep it real"
whenever I leave
I thought we'd already met
the name's Summer's Eve
I talk way too loud
on my cellular phone
My sence of self-worth
is far overgrown
I wear plaid-patterned shorts
And my shirt's never tucked
I'm a big plastic bag
of feminine hygiene product.
this is really funny, djy.
who's Dave Matthews?
Thanks Sleepy. Dave Matthews is an American musician. I actually enjoy his music, but a lot of his fans really get on my nerves... Here's a link to one of his music videos
here's a very, very bad one full of tacky rhymes. it's got some obscenities in it, so please don't read it if you're a little kid.
"oo" is supposed to represent the way Manchester ppl pronounce "u", eg. in but
"oh" is supposed to be a longish northern English "o" like in smoke
etc
North and South – a very bad poem in the form of a dialogue between Margaret and Mr Thornton with occasional interruptions by the Evil Spectre of Sexuality
„You conceited heartless tradesperson, you,
it is so inconceivably cruel
to use your workers like a tool,
for which I do despise you, phew!
Ought not you improve their mind
that in your mill so toil and grind?”
“Nah, I wohn’t meddle with their private lives,
oop ‘ere we value our freedom so mooch more
that 'aving doon their daily strives,
leisurely interference they’d deplore.”
“But what about their education
to raise them to a higher station
of spiritual enlightenment?”
“It seems we disagree on this,
and as me business needs provision
I wohn't explain now me decision
let me take leave for now, dear Miss.”
“Oh shock, how dare you touch me thus!”
“’oo says I want to tooch you, stop that fooss!
I only meant to shek your ‘and, you 'aughty soothern brach,
don’t you ‘ave manners where you live, och aye, aye och!”
~~~the evil spectre of sexuality who is trapped inside Margaret’s … head …raises ~~~
“Woooaaaahahhahahahhaahnaaaaggaaaagggaaahuaaahahah aha,
Helllo, whom have we here? A lusty dame?
I’m Spectre, Fornication is my middle name.
Don’t you be so smug and snide,
I’ll pierce and penetrate your maiden pride,
I’ll lick you with the flames of passion,
set fire to your chilly womb
till you yearn for this man’s compassion
in his mother’s sitting room!”
“Oh no, it is so cold in there and dusty,
and you mistake: I’m far from lusty,
besides I’m far too young to marry
and in my heart a dislike carry
for this man.
And furthermore he’s just a friend,
with whom some time I like to spend,
although I love his flashy smile
and brooding countenance
Oh my, I faint!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Margaret is overpowered by the effort to repress the evil Spectre of Sexuality
“Oh, me Margret, me sohl, me ‘eart, me blood, me little moonkayh,
she’s like a queen, she’ll never ‘ave me, what the devil can I sayh
to mek ‘er loov me?
Ah, I’ll build a canteen for those good-for-noothings,
that’ll stop ‘er hooff-and-pooffin’
and I’ll visit Helstone, too,
and if I walk there in me shoe!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Me Margaret do you know these rohses?”
“Oh? Did I give them to you? I must have willy-nilly”
“Nonsense, me loov, you’re a bit silly.”
“Oops, I change my diagnosis,
‘tis from my home
you brought these flowers pressed inside a tome!”
“Clever girl, now give oos a kiss and be me wife
that never I shall more thee miss in this ‘appy life.”
And so they kissed all night and day
and Evil Spectre got his way.
a bad poem? i'll try:
Ken was broke, so he was
Just desperate to
Find a room he could afford
Dancing was his passion
So he rented
A room with a
Lovely view
personally, i think this is just weird.
at the market
admiring
the pears when suddenly
a raven flies overhead
your hair
in its dark feathers
that
is the only
place you are
close to me
i say
i'll take the orange instead
Just wrote a sonnet with my son for school. Nothing about love but here goes:
Cub camp
Last weekend I went with cubs on a camp,
The best thing was we did not need a tent,
We selpt in a dorm but it was quite damp,
My bed was comfy although it was bent.
We walked five miles to the nearest small town,
And then we came back and all had to swim
In the river, we raced and won a crown,
After we played football and all made a din.
The food was nice but not as good as mums,
For breakfast we had bacon and fried eggs,
Akela complained if there were some crumbs
Left on the table top or near the legs.
All in all I had a wonderful time,
I even tried to make this sonnet rhyme. :banana:
I woke up to find that kittens had grown upon my feet
the trees spited me
sailing away with a hiss like molten dishcloths
leaving me
alone.
The sunset plays
like plaque upon the teeth of a cave
parallelling distance
wringing out my rosebud
delectably septic
with cramp.
With mewling feet
I stamp
- thump! thump!
Hey! Here I come!
Coming at you like a bullet from a gun!
Watch out, I might blow up the sun!
That's why people say I'm really fun!
I'm crazy,
I will amaze thee,
Say anything, I guarantee it won't phase me!
I'm like jello
pretty mellow
all in all it must be said
A really fine fellow.
That's right you heard me.
So don't absurd be.
Just because I'm over thirty
don't mean I can't get down and dirty.
***
Oh my god. Surely the worst rap ever. :blush:
Yes, wonderfully dreadful! Positively vomitous!
Love
flows freely
bursting out of a baby's bottom
creamy with effluent gree.
Starch this, mangrel soldiers of machine!
Make it clean now!
make my soul-stench
cry out
stain free
O lemon, thou sour bud, and harshly tasting
perfect in thy ovality, of you I sing.
Oh you, fine seasoning for other things like salad,
yesterday on the lovely fish and chips I had
you, lemon. Oh, you were sour and harsh!
Hope you don't mind, I feel like writing terrible poetry today. How about this one:
Dear John
My love
your absence pickles my heart
I lie there
on the shelf
waiting for you to throw stones
and smash my clear glass shell.
Your letter comes.
The pregnant sausage of my mind
sizzles in pain.
I squeak out my suffering
but you continue to fry.
I felt the pen in my hand,
slowly unwrapped the thoughts~
a vowel, a consonant lies naked
as an adjective sky
full of brights and gleamings
glitters and falling
nouns
woke up
head stuck
in a grapefruit
went there
no one there
woke up
head caught
in an apricot
looked around
around town
woke up
head place
in a grape
I have some oranges on the sofa
I am boiling some water
soon I'll make coffee
the oranges are blood oranges
I have a slight ache in my middle back
on my right side
perhaps I slept in a strange position
I am typing (I can touch type. I'm quite
fast).
Seriously some of these poems are so BAD, i had no idea that one can create something so dreadful.. u must have spent so much time putting these up! but still you have my respect, I had much fun...
Poppa popped me one.
Forearms like Popeye
he twisted one eye to a bead,
swinging hamfisted havoc.
Kapow!
the card castle that I am
oyles away like olive to the ground.
A dag-rattling battler
from water-trough scarpers
they're coming with clippers
for three bags full.
Oh neigh no I say
Oh neigh no.
I much like those pastures
a long way away.
Or I will go away on other legs
foregoing Childish dumb fancies to learn
the ways of the cricked neck, sore head and dry eyes.
I will not go away on legs at all. I will not use the legs.
I will not go, I will not walk, I will not move, be glass.
I’m walking nevertheless, stopping, walking and stopping walking.
Running is something I do less.
Stop coming after me. Leave me alone. If you cannot come with me
without jerking me back, don’t come where I go, go away, stop it, stop
running in other directions with me roped to your sleeve, it’s
making me sick.
I don’t need to be hurt for running and walking. If you don’t like it, speak,
don’t run. Stop taking me into the domain of shock, making me run when I don’t want to,
making me stop when I do. Stop pummelling me with your senseless hurry. Slow down.
Let go of my arm. It hurts.
there is no waiting door,
nor near you (where
my breathing starts),
love begins:
never only,
only is
Sam, get a plan
you are supposed to be the man
and yet you every day dispose yourself
to be a little bit of ham
Your most egregious remarks have been recorded to be used against you later
I know you’re comfortable with this, masochistically speaking, but consider
nevertheless, the position of your family, they who never so much as cocked
their hats at a pander, what of them, fickle, feckless dandy of the demi-monde?