This weekend I think.
(Ok I'd forgotten about it)
This weekend I think.
(Ok I'd forgotten about it)
ay up
Come on cacian I'm waiting
ay up
oops sorry I have just seen this haha ok let's seeOriginally Posted by prendrelemick
Come on cacian I'm waiting
here we go:
matilda told such dreadful lies
it was one minute sly
and the next polite
and every word was tried
under the moonlight and height
the meaning was blight
and the world thought it
was bright.
but not anymore
so sigh
truth to idle
is grite
but to light it's white
next time will sets right.
Last edited by cacian; 11-16-2013 at 04:37 PM.
it may never try
but when it does it sigh
it is just that
good
it fly
Thanks cacian, that's grite!
And so to judgement
Pen - The best poem, but not the funniest.
cacian - The funniest poem but not the best.
YesNo - I like the way you think.
Caladore - My sympathies.
Auntyshecky - To whom are you alluding? Probably would've had extra comical value if I knew. Probably would've won.
Gilliat gurgle - I know who your Matilda is - clever and funny, and THE WINNER!! You should be happier than a Swagman sitting by a Bilabong under a Coolibar Tree with a Jumbuck simmering in his Billie.
ay up
Well, I guess best poem counts for something, anyway... Congrats, Gilliat Gurgle !
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
or content as a Koala in a eucalyptus.
Thanks and thanks Pen!
I recently picked up a book of Tennyson's poems and made my first venture into it today starting with The Princess. After just a few pages, I'm finding a wealth of quotable lines for our next challenge.
Let's go with this one referring to the Prince and his two friends preparing to infiltrate the women only University:
"To lace us up, till, each, in maiden plumes"
I think GG has played the tease,
You can't make poems from words like these-
“To lace us up, till, each, in maiden plumes.”
Cos the only things that rhymes is prunes!
If only he'd change it to “maiden feathers.”
Then we could have "Heather's nethers”.
Or tethers with leathers
Or whatevers.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 11-22-2013 at 05:04 AM.
ay up
Holy Alfred Lord Tennyson! Who could follow that? Nonetheless, here goes
Their plan’s for disrobing
before we’ve barely supped.
So who is kidding whom
by lacing us all up?
Maidenheads for burning;
virtue lost in the flumes.
Sad that some poor ostrich
sacrificed his plumes.
We'll All Go to the Ball
We will wear our finest dresses
Carefully coiffure our lovely tresses
Have our servants in our rooms
To lace us up, till, each, in maiden plumes
We make our selected, scheduled entrance
Batting eyelids, preening, we advance
To fill each gentleman's heart with lustful joys:
At least until they find out that we're all boys
(C) November 22, 2013
Pendragon
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
These just keep getting better and better. Yours fooly is not worthy to be among such talented company!
9
Yup, the standard is higher than a '69 Frisco hippy
ay up
Nonsense!, your work is quite...umm...how do the Deutsche put it? , ah yes... 6'y!
That university or nunnery
Where only women were allowed inside
Was where dear Ida hid herself from men.
My friends and I, we wanted in, and so
We laced ourselves till each in maiden plumes
Looked more like peacocks than a peahen would.
In fashions that were so last-year, we met
The guard who opened up the cloister's gate
Informing Ida, after we were in,
That men deserving of her fun tonight
Had just arrived whom no one needs to pay.
Then Ida smiled, prepared the blindfolds, ropes,
And welcomed us like sisters coming home.
She had a special treat for us in mind
And we had one for her, we thought, until
Sweet Ida lost control. We screamed for help,
But spent that night with Ida terrified
Until her wearied demon went to sleep.
One of the ladies living with her there
Untied us when the sun rose through the trees
As we gave up all hope of such release,
While Ida was kept busy with her prayers.
My blog: https://frankhubeny.blog/
to lace us up till each
in maiden plumes,
could be anything but
groom
a bonnet combed
a corset to bewitch the tunes
the makeup slightly gloomed
to match up the room
and midnight is lit up in fumes.
a gentleman soon finds out
it is a goon
underneath those lunes,
and a lady
awaits till daylight resumes
to fetch up her roon.
plumes inebriate the coon
to them birds prune.
Last edited by cacian; 12-08-2013 at 08:44 AM.
it may never try
but when it does it sigh
it is just that
good
it fly
Bump.
I forgot to add a deadline.
One more week with results next Saturday.
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