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posted 25-04-2008 09:29
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From the flaxed grassy slopes of the Bann
Rural allegory, as only I can
Though my passport's all green
No glass raised to the queen
But I'm still not as lauded as Flann
(E.J. Culchie-Bigot, aged 1916 3/4)
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posted 25-04-2008 10:36
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It's of arms and the man that I sing
And shipwrecks and storms him here bring
Ever one for the ladies
He left Dido in Hades
Without even so much as a ring
The oracle said "Sail the foam
Till white piglets tell you, 'You're home!'"
A prophetic shield
Aeneas would wield
And with Mum's help, go on and found Rome
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posted 25-04-2008 10:43
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Lesbia's sparrow's brown bread
Completely and utterly dead
Poor little bird
No more chirping is heard
And my girl's eyes with crying are red
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posted 25-04-2008 11:14
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Sonnet 130
My bird isn't much of a looker
Not a great bod or a pucker
Yet my heartfelt belief
In my sonnet's motif
Shows that I am a bit of a sucker
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posted 25-04-2008 11:53
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Naughty Dante gets shown around hell
By Virgil (and boy does it smell)
Then it's off round limbo
with Beatrice, the bimbo
Then up to see God, well, well, well.
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posted 25-04-2008 13:01
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If you look at the finest young minds
Of my generation you’ll find
All these young goys
With drugs or young boys
(Moloch can be really unkind)
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posted 25-04-2008 14:06
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Nature is red in the claw
And also, you'll find, in the jaw
I loved and I lost
Although at great cost
It was better than no love at all
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posted 25-04-2008 15:13
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Porphyria wouldn't get hitched
But I didn't want to be ditched
With her bright golden hair
I strangled her there
And she's now mine forever, the bitch
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posted 25-04-2008 15:14
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Oh what is the matter, Sir Knight?
You're so pale, you do look a fright
"The lass was so pretty
But she had no pity
And now I am buggered, all right!"
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posted 25-04-2008 15:25
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Lyra is on fire today
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posted 25-04-2008 15:28
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Bored with her island-bound weaving
She firmly decided, "I'm leaving!"
She got in a boat
To her death she did float
It was Lancelot's fault, I'm believing
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posted 25-04-2008 15:39
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You see, if poetry was more like this I'd enjoy it so much more.
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posted 25-04-2008 17:12
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If hemlock or smack you have dropped
That birdsong, it still can't be topped
It fair makes me pine
For a glass of red wine
And then maybe death. Oh it's stopped.
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Last Edit: 25-04-2008 17:16 By Wyatt Earp.
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posted 25-04-2008 17:30
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Darling, look at this flea in the bed
it's been sucking our blood, thick and red
the way it was sucking
reminds me of fucking
oh bugger you've just squashed it dead
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posted 25-04-2008 18:05
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Half a league rode the Light Brigade
In the valley of death unafraid
Guns and sabres abounded
The chaps they got pounded
And what glorious corpses they made
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