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Poetry

Enter here to talk about books, art, literature, film, TV and anything else to do with popular culture.
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Dave B
Posts: 17809
Joined: May 17th, 2010, 9:15 pm

Poetry

#1 Post by Dave B » February 1st, 2014, 4:40 pm

Any kind, but the below gave me a chuckle.

Quoted on the radio today (but maybe paraphrased, can't remember exact words):

Their bed begins to creak,
Their ardour has awoken,
That makes it twice this week,
Their TV must be broken.
"Look forward; yesterday was a lesson, if you did not learn from it you wasted it."
Me, 2015

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jaywhat
Posts: 15807
Joined: July 5th, 2007, 5:53 pm

Re: Poetry

#2 Post by jaywhat » March 19th, 2014, 9:19 am

To a fat lady seen from the train by Frances D Cornford 1886-1960

O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?


Frances was a granddaughter of Charles Darwin - thus the D in her name. This poem, which may grow on you eventually, is a triolet - with 8 lines, only 2 rhymes, lines 1,4 and 7 repeats)

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jaywhat
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Re: Poetry

#3 Post by jaywhat » March 19th, 2014, 9:26 am

G.K.Chesterton (1874-1936) replied with this -

The fat white woman speaks

Why do you rush through the field in trains,
Guessing so much and so much?
Why do you flash through the flowery meads,
Fat-head poet that nobody reads;
And why do you know such a frightful lot
About people in gloves as such?
And how the devil can you be sure,
Guessing so much and so much,
How do you know but what someone who loves
Always to see me in nice white gloves
At the end of the field you are rushing by,
Is waiting for his Old Dutch?

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jaywhat
Posts: 15807
Joined: July 5th, 2007, 5:53 pm

Re: Poetry

#4 Post by jaywhat » March 19th, 2014, 9:33 am

If I had no gloves by jaywhat b1937

If I had no gloves I would rather be dead
Rather than walk in the dark
Rather than staying at home in bed
If I had no gloves I would rather be dead
Better to stay at home in the shed
How I would like to walk in the park
But I have no gloves, might as well be dead
And live my whole life in the dark.

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Ninny
Posts: 545
Joined: December 13th, 2007, 12:03 pm

Re: Poetry

#5 Post by Ninny » March 20th, 2014, 8:34 am

They are in the top drawer of your Mum's bureau.

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jaywhat
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Joined: July 5th, 2007, 5:53 pm

Re: Poetry

#6 Post by jaywhat » March 20th, 2014, 9:02 am

So they are.

Maria Mac
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Re: Poetry

#7 Post by Maria Mac » March 22nd, 2014, 12:54 pm

Poem by a 14-year-old to be read from beginning to end then from end to beginning. Worth it.

https://twitter.com/Renzo_Soprano/statu ... 30/photo/1

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jaywhat
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Re: Poetry

#8 Post by jaywhat » March 23rd, 2014, 8:18 am

yes - well worth it

kbell
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Joined: July 3rd, 2007, 11:27 pm

Re: Poetry

#9 Post by kbell » May 16th, 2014, 12:38 am

You know how forums can filter certain words to censor and how sometimes it misfires? Is this the best example ever? Copied from elsewhere:

The Glory of the Garden by Rudyard Kipling

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and pea****s strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.
Kathryn

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Dave B
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Joined: May 17th, 2010, 9:15 pm

Re: Poetry

#10 Post by Dave B » July 4th, 2014, 4:51 pm

Local U3A threw out a Limerick challenge this month, supplying two starter lines, thought I would have a go:

There was a young man from Stroud
Who of his long hair was so proud
'Til an unfortunate tangle
With an electrical mangle
Had him yelling long, blue and loud.

There was a young man from Stroud
Who to be faithful had solemnly vowed
But a blue eyed duty
Led him far from his duty
But his wife soon had him cowed.

A Cheltenham lady of note
Was fond of her Angora goat
‘Til the hairy billy
Did something most silly
That ruined her favourite coat.

A Cheltenham lady of note
Shakespeare did often quote
Then in a line from King Lear
Her voice went most queer
Because a fly flew into her throat.
"Look forward; yesterday was a lesson, if you did not learn from it you wasted it."
Me, 2015

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animist
Posts: 6522
Joined: July 30th, 2010, 11:36 pm

Re: Poetry

#11 Post by animist » July 5th, 2014, 9:09 am

There was a young lady from Stroud
Whose vagina made her so proud.
She would show it in bed
To each Tom, Dick or Fred,
Yet complained "I'd prefer a whole crowd"!

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animist
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Joined: July 30th, 2010, 11:36 pm

Re: Poetry

#12 Post by animist » July 5th, 2014, 9:45 am

There was a young man from Cam
Who thought he was quite the big ram.
But when women by the score
Said "You're such a Severn Bore"
He realised he was still just a lamb

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animist
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Re: Poetry

#13 Post by animist » July 5th, 2014, 8:29 pm

There was a young man from Thornbury
Who decided to all his porn bury.
When he returned to the spot,
He found he'd lost the whole lot:
The plot had been planted with corrnberry

(corrnberry is a fast-growing crop in the Pokémon world - well, YOU try writing a limerick about Thornbury)

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Dave B
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Re: Poetry

#14 Post by Dave B » July 5th, 2014, 10:10 pm

Seem to have hit a spot with you on this subject, animist!

Not sure the Old Dears of the U3A, despite being fairly broad minded, will be able to handle some of those!
"Look forward; yesterday was a lesson, if you did not learn from it you wasted it."
Me, 2015

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jaywhat
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Re: Poetry

#15 Post by jaywhat » October 15th, 2014, 3:53 pm

At writing group the other day
given a picture of a skeleton in the sea
and told to imagine it was me.

Here is my effort:-

skeleton

clearly I‘m in the wrong place
clearly I must have died
there are only bones left
but how the hell I got here
stretched out comfortable on the sea bed
I’ll never know

before I popped my clogs
I left clear instructions
I was to be donated to medical research
to be unmourned and quite forgotten
someone dumped me here
I lived nowhere near the sea

a quick look and a feel
I have all the bones I started with
no proof I was experimented on
no proof I wasn’t
but someone at Leeds General Infirmary
responsible for body disposal
after it was finished with
had clearly tipped me out
probably on a trip to Grimsby
I would say I had never been to Grimsby
but something in my bones
is telling me I must have

no harm has been done
but it makes one feel a bit let down
they promised to give their volunteers
a decent funeral according to their beliefs
and their wishes with a good variety
of drinks and tasties for friend and family

I did answer the question
what did I want at the end
but I was only having a laugh
when I said I wanted to be
chucked off the cliffs at Bempton
- never ever mentioned Grimsby.

Compassionist
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Joined: July 14th, 2007, 8:38 am

Re: Poetry

#16 Post by Compassionist » October 15th, 2014, 4:27 pm

Great poems! Here is my contribution:

~~ How I lost my temper! ~~

Once upon a life,
I was walking on time.
But something happened,
And I missed a chime.
So I lost my temper,
As it rolled down my past.
And since the past is past -
I can never lose it again,
From the time, I saw it last!

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jaywhat
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Joined: July 5th, 2007, 5:53 pm

Re: Poetry

#17 Post by jaywhat » October 16th, 2014, 2:30 pm

Here is Matthew Sweeney's bones poem. I like it a lot.

Fishbones dreaming

Fishbones lay in the smelly bin.
He was a head, a backbone and a tail.
Soon the cats would be in for him.

He didn’t like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and dreamed back.

Back to when he was fat, and hot on a plate.
Beside green beans, with lemon juice
squeezed on him. And a man with a knife
and fork raised, about to eat him.

He didn’t like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and dreamed back.

Back to when he was frozen in the freezer.
With lamb cutlets and minced beef and prawns.
Three month he was in there.

He didn’t like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and dreamed back.

Back to when he was squirming in a net,
with thousands of other fish, on the deck
of a boat. And the rain falling
wasn’t wet enough to breathe in.

He didn’t like to be this way.
He shut his eyes and dreamed back.

Back to when he was darting through the sea,
past crabs and jellyfish, and others
like himself. Or surfacing to jump for flies
and feel the sun on his face.

He liked to be this way.
He dreamed hard to try and stay there.



Matthew Sweeney

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animist
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Re: Poetry

#18 Post by animist » October 16th, 2014, 3:06 pm

love that poem, JW, and your own are great too. I am unable to rise beyond the intellectual, aesthetic and spiritual level of the limerick :laughter:

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jaywhat
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Joined: July 5th, 2007, 5:53 pm

Re: Poetry

#19 Post by jaywhat » October 17th, 2014, 9:43 am

It's true. Yesterday I did refuse the offer of a pocketful of leaves ..............


do you want a pocketful ?

the man was clearing up leaves
picking them up with two pattens
those large thin pieces of wood
used for picking up leaves
he needed a break so he spoke
as I was strolling past
do you want a pocketful
no thank you I replied
I’m trying to give them up
I could have added but didn’t

now sitting in the sunshine
disturbed by several large flies
and the clacketty clack of the train
crossing the viaduct to Penistone
the tower on Castle Hill on the sky line
the late autumn sun on my face
getting my supply of vitamin D for free
thinking of my afternoon cuppa tea

in about half an hour with ginger dunks
can’t think of anything better I want
certainly not a pocketful of leaves
or even a handful of dog shit
that might well be included
the third train has crossed below me
on the Marsden line taking people
on their journey either East or West
now several ladybirds are showing an interest
I stand and stretch - it is time to go

Manuel
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Joined: October 29th, 2009, 8:59 pm

Re: Poetry

#20 Post by Manuel » October 24th, 2014, 1:53 pm

End of the pier, end of the bay
You tug my arm, and say : "Give in to lust,
Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we'll soon be dust ... "

I could have been wild and I could have been free
But nature played this trick on me

She wants it now, and she will not wait
But she's too rough, and I'm too delicate

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