OK, we only do these on rare occasions, but it's poetry time! Let's see who has a talent for writing a verse or two. If you want to take a few liberties with rhymes, we won't hold it against you. We've had some gems in the past when we've done this, so let's see how this one goes!
Please remember rule one, and keep it politics-free. Thanks!
by KevinPhillips-Bong
7 comments
I like eggs.
Give me eggs.
I call this: “broccoli soup”
I don’t like Jellyfish
They’re not a fish, they’re a blob,
they don’t have eyes, fins or scales like a cod.
They float around blind, stinging people in the seas,
And no one likes jellyfish with chips and mushy peas.
Get rid of ‘em.
Karl Pilkington, Manchester, 2004.
**Kev’s Summer Poem**
The trouble with the summer,
Is the humid, sticky heat
Which melts away my ice cream
As it pools around my feet.
That’s when all the flies come out
And settle on my shirt
Most are just annoying
Though those horsefly bites do hurt.
The gulls come down to steal my chips
Right out of the packet
They swoop on me with high pitched squawks,
And make a dreadful racket.
The tarmac melting on the road
Makes travelling a pain
And the one weekend you do go out
It pisses down with rain.
Then next door does a barbecue
But before the food is plated,
The whole damn thing goes up in flames
And everything’s cremated.
Those electric fans don’t do a thing,
I wish I’d never bought ’em
Another stuffy, sleepless night
Makes me say “roll on autumn!”
They write with a lifp
I am sick of this
It is realy fucking hot
When will it cool down?
The first lines of Paradise Lost are the same meter as The Flintstones theme. It is now ruined, sorry.
OF Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidden Tree…
What’s a paradife loft?
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