Write a poem!

Becky

Becky

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Just thought I'd spice up PCR forum life with another little game... write a poem! It can be about what ever you like. It can be funny, serious, a sonnet, a limerick, anything. The only thing I will say is please keep them clean - no bad language please! This is a family forum ;)

So get those creative juices flowing, and share your thoughts with us!

I'll start the ball rolling:

There was a young lady from Dorset
Accidentally caught her shirt on a faucet
There was naut to be done
But to shock everyone
By stripping her down to her corset!
 
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There was a geezer from Greenwich
Who had a peculiar lineage
Tenth in line for the throne
Sold all that he owned
So he could dine weekly on spinach

Hmmm....... it's early in the day :D
 
There once was a man from York, who accidentally swallowed a cork, he coughed and he spluttered, could eat only butter and slid all the way to New York.:D

Well its a start give me time;)
 
Great! Keep 'em coming ;)

By the way, they don't all have to be limericks, but all is welcome :thumb:
 
... a poem

With the eyes of a child the wonder of it all. I used to search the stars at night and I felt so safe and small.

Sweet sounds from a Merseytown and my nursery God. I wanted to ride with Yuri Gogarin as he circled all around my world.

Lying under the covers. Radio on. Settle down with Caroline as she sailed all summer long. Sweetheart of the Radio Mining hearts of Gold. I think it was somewhere pre-stand-up time somewhere post Rubber Soul.

There was the first caress. There were the Labour years. There was the man that walked the Moon something I never really believed. The Di Sfefano twists the Charlton Goals.

I lost a true love, that I'll never forget. The good times we had with no regret, I lost a friend, my Lady, she was my Love, my life and my sole all very true.

Now I'm still here with the eyes of a child, the wonder never grows old.

... the wonder never grows old.

:o
 
See Bex, we always suspected he had a sofe, gentle mannered nature!;)

I wish I could create something like that, but all the poetry I know is either too rude or incriminating to defile this forum and it's wonderful members:o
 
CITech said:
I wish I could create something like that, but all the poetry I know is either too rude or incriminating to defile this forum and it's wonderful members:o
Click to expand...

Ah, go on - give it a go! :)

But be careful with the language! ;)
 
Sexy Bex said:
Ah, go on - give it a go! :)

But be careful with the language! ;)
Click to expand...
OK Bex, I'll see what I can come up with today - got a really boring meeting so I should have plenty of time!:(

That should brighten things up!:D
 
A poem for Chris Imrie

(Christopher Imrie's Nickname... Imrie...Imray... Stingray...)

There once was a kid named Stingray, He sat on his PC all day,
spending all the money he had,
Renting servers for FAD,
To stay in 1st place day by day.
 
Postill a guy from whitehill,
Has a red peugeot thats ill,
He drove through a lake
Oh what a mistake
Coz it couldn't get up worldham hill!
 
A poem about Sir Cunningham himself:


Our admin, yeah he's a bit bright,
Set up this well good website,
A place we can chat
About Imrie's cat
And help solve problems all night
 
A poem about Spooky Mouse

Spooky Mouse where did he go,
Well that one no-one shall know,
Caught in a trap,
or taking a nap,
Hope he comes says hello
 
muckshifter said:
With the eyes of a child the wonder of it all. I used to search the stars at night and I felt so safe and small.

Sweet sounds from a Merseytown and my nursery God. I wanted to ride with Yuri Gogarin as he circled all around my world.

Lying under the covers. Radio on. Settle down with Caroline as she sailed all summer long. Sweetheart of the Radio Mining hearts of Gold. I think it was somewhere pre-stand-up time somewhere post Rubber Soul.

There was the first caress. There were the Labour years. There was the man that walked the Moon something I never really believed. The Di Sfefano twists the Charlton Goals.

I lost a true love, that I'll never forget. The good times we had with no regret, I lost a friend, my Lady, she was my Love, my life and my sole all very true.

Now I'm still here with the eyes of a child, the wonder never grows old.

... the wonder never grows old.

:o
Click to expand...

I'm impressed. Do you have any more?
 
cirianz said:
I'm impressed. Do you have any more?
Click to expand...
Yes, but err, I only tend to write like that when a little depressed ... helps me relieve the tension. :o

Something like 'a personal diary of thoughts', if you like ... :o
 
muckshifter said:
Yes, but err, I only tend to write like that when a little depressed ... helps me relieve the tension. :o

Something like 'a personal diary of thoughts', if you like ... :o
Click to expand...

Yeah, me too. I'd be interested in seeing some of your other poems if it's ok. I might go & dig out some of mine. I don't usually show them to anyone.
 
Sorry... this isn't original but it's from my hero, Bukowski

One collapses and surrenders
not out of choice
or lack of intelligence
or bad teeth
or bad diet
one surrenders
because that's the BEST MOVIE
around.
Once I was so disgusted with the working of things that I dialed the time and listened to the voice over and over again:
"it's now 10:18 and 20 seconds its now 10:18 and 30 seconds..."
I dodn't like the voice and I didn't care what time it was
yet I listened.
satisfied now
I'm glad somebody stole my last watch
it was so difficult to read
satisfied now Ive got a new one
it has a black face and white hands
and I sit there and watch
the second hand
the minute hand
the hour hand
as outside
caterpillars crawl my walls
and finally fall
like empires
like old dead loves
and new loves
fall.

night's best

with my black-faced watch
with white hands

- Charles Bukowski
 
Alright, inspired by Mucks' doodlings, I thought I'd have a go.

I ain't written anything like this since I was about 17.

So, without further ado, the ramblings of an old fart :D

It's a sort of stream of conciousness thing.

Rotten tomatoes available from the usherette at the head of the left hand aisle :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of bomb sites and gobstoppers
Green card bus tickets and Saturday morning pictures
Camps in the woods, camps in derelict buildings
Holidays in caravans and one big penny one armed bandits
The Christmas play in the main school hall
With smell of incense, just once a year
Airfix soldiers and balsa wood battleships
The smell of the record player with stacked 45’s
Juke Box Jury and the 6-5 special
Snow in the playground walk home in the dark
Warm living room, cold bedroom
Soap box carts with old pram wheels
And whole sets of bubble gum cards
Charlton at home, dad, Bovril & Biscuit
Fights in the playground, don’t tell Dad you were beat
Trains to London, Trafalgar Square
And still a barrage balloon in Launcelot Road
Short back and sides and plenty off the top
Brylcreem, Lifebuoy soap, I hated both
Polio jab, cod liver oil, extract of malt
Being in trouble, the cane and the book
The cemetery pond and catching frogs
Push bike, spanners, track bars, travel
Blackheath at night, scared of the dark
The 124 bus to the swimming baths
And the long summer holidays, lost in fields
Endless woods and secrets to find
And always on Sundays, grandparents and salad
With seafood and spring onions
Gangs, blood brothers and home made bows
Chased by park keepers and older gangs
To home, for food, bath and bed
A child, with a sense of wonder
Days long gone
 
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