Crap Poetry Corner

[time 7,939]

1 hour ago, Toast said:

On Poetry Day

In twenty sixteen,

Two famous men died.

They weren't on my team.

 

Old Colin Dexter

Wrote some good books

His character Morse

Caught lots of crooks.

 

Martin McGuinness -

Let me be blunt -

IRA Terrorist

Bit of a cunt.

 

One lived in Oxford

And one in Norn Iron.

I shouldn't have missed them

I knew they were dyin'.

 

Excellent work though.

[Toast 14,800]

Well caught.  Everyone needs an editor.

[Deathray 2,933]

[Don't judge I wrote this in five minutes]

 

Say a prayer for old Toastie dear vicar

She's seemingly getting sicker and sicker

She's punting on the grim reapers day job

It's enough to be make any red top rag sob

Addendum to that yet more concern for her

For she doesn't know of the current year

 

 

[Toast 14,800]

55 minutes ago, Deathray said:

[Don't judge I wrote this in five minutes]

 

Say a prayer for old Toastie dear vicar

She's seemingly getting sicker and sicker

She's punting on the grim reapers day job

It's enough to be make any red top rag sob

Addendum to that yet more concern for her

For she doesn't know of the current year

 

 

 

For a moment there I thought you'd had a go at one of those anagram poems. 

[YoungWillz 18,950]

Damn, I missed National Poetry Day. Think I can be excused, after all it's not often I have a personal tragedy to deal with.

 

My ditty follows later.

[YoungWillz 18,950]

October has rolled round again

But I forgot to remember

That National Poetry Day this year

Was moved back to September.

　

So before I review the year so far

Sorry this is technically late

But then so are the Deathlist's hits

Committee, you are doing great.

　

Fourteen hits? Three quarters in?

And still three months to go

Either you're bloody good at guessing

Or you are really in the know.

　

A dozen blokes now bite the dust

From Sallis down to Brady

While Tyler-Moore will see no Dawn

Will the next hit be a lady?

　

Yes those girls just laugh at you

De Havilland and Betty White

Blackman, Harper and the rest

On female picks you're... awful...

　

Meantime, we've had some fun pools

Where we can all have a punt

With Poker and the Deathlist Cup

And the ne'er-ending Scavenger Hunt.

　

And Radguy became the Midway Ghost

And Shaun became just Sean

But when Mugabe becomes Mubarak

We won't miss him when he's gone.

　

So once again I've had a try

To sum up 9 months by rhyme

If the record isn't broken

It really will be a crime.

　

So who else will go afore Christmas?

Or Hogmanay I should say

Will Herman take the long Wouk?

Will Irish Byrne still be Gay?

　

Could the coveted fifteenth spot

Be painted on a Domino?

Or can Cuellar get a cellar

Six foot under? I dunno!

　

Anyway, it's time to wrap

Up this dreadful ditty

And go and check my hit list

On the Pool of Windy City!

[msc 17,712]

In the true tradition of McGonagall there, YW!

[YoungWillz 18,950]

How are your lists a-doing?

How many have gone away?

The year is young, but death grows bold,

Yes, it's time for World Poetry Day.

　

The DDP got a new runner

Spade Cooley is his name

And we congratulated him and TMIB

For the curating of this game.

　

The Deathlist was publish-ed

'Gainst celebs they took their aim

Three hits already (that's one a month)

Smith fell, then died Rev Billy Graham.

　

S. Hawking left his chair next

We speculate on Number Four

Jowell? McCain? The question's vexed

No doubt there will be more.

　

The Scavenger Hunt has been reborn

(It's been months in the making)

With Boxing, Leaders, Grammys and

Dallas, who will bring home the Bacon?

　

The Generation Game trundles on

As does the 20/20

But in the Hare's Pool, there's already been

Deaths and hits a-plenty.

　

Let's not forget those members who

Left us or got banned

Barry Benson asked if we liked jazz

And the Dalai Lama got canned.

　

The media still toys with us

Will there ever come a day

When those obituaries appear

For Fisher, Kit and Lafaye?

　

And the press don't play the game

Certainly not according to Hoyle

When the death of a white Rhino

Gets more coverage than Katie Boyle.

　

But let's move on, it's only March

Nine months is what we've got

For our picks to grow cold

And our lists to get real hot.

　

So once again in verse I've tried

To pay some little homage

And we'll celebrate those who live

And to the dead, say "quel dommage".

[Grim Up North 3,565]

Very impressive  by Young Willz

Poetry one of your top skills?

But your effort is so exceptional,

It's a bit demotivational

To try too hard to match its quality,

So this quick verse is pretty shitty.

 

[Sir Creep 7,011]

Peter Peterson

Commerce Secretary and 

A hit for Gris Gris

[Joey Russ 7,118]

I’m not much of a poet, but I wrote something that isn’t that good that I decided to share with you all anyways. 

 

I woke on up this morning, hoping for a better day

Cause I want to feel very happy and my troubles to go away

But when I awoke this morning, everything felt the same

Would the pain ever go away, or are they a part of this game

 

But I continued onto this day, knowing that something would change

And as I walked this morning, I noticed that something was strange

I realized that the change would have to be done by me

I had to be more accepting of who I’m meant to be

 

I know that people do love me for exactly who I am

Yet I keep worrying about people not giving me a damn

But how am I supposed to notice when I always walk alone

And run away from people into my safety zone

 

But I keep on dreaming, hoping that I fall in love

And to love her as an equal, and to help her from above

But how could I truly love her when I don’t even love myself

And tell myself that I’m no good for anybody else

 

But if I’m truly no good, shouldn’t I be banished out in the wilderness

And pray for someone to help me get out of my own mess

How would I become better if I have lost all hope

For I am only human, and that’s something I need to cope

 

[YoungWillz 18,950]

The Wizard stood and laughed banally,

"'Tis time," he said "for my finale!"

Turned around and then dropped trou,

With that, he took his one last bow.

The audience - with their glassy stares,

Soulless, did not see his wares.

Silent, deafening applause,

Came none to cheer the actor's cause.

The cards lay still upon the table,

The doves, once winged, to fly unable.

The assistants, once flesh, blood and veins,

Immobile, now skeletal remains.

His bag of tricks were all but gone,

There'd be no more, come one more dawn.

He viewed his patrons, with salt-wet eye,

Muttered, "I was good once, wasn't I?"

Wrapped his cloak about his frame,

And watched the theatre erase his name.

For now he's played his final scene,

Knowing his act was all unseen.

Then with hurried, short footfalls,

He took his place within the stalls.

And like his fellows without number,

He joined them in their sightless slumber.

The magic hat fell from his head,

As he joined the legions of the dead.

 

Some will see a spirit flit about the forum from time to time. Good luck!

[Toast 14,800]

[gcreptile 10,211]

On 08/09/2018 at 00:29, YoungWillz said:

The Wizard stood and laughed banally,

"'Tis time," he said "for my finale!"

Turned around and then dropped trou,

With that, he took his one last bow.

The audience - with their glassy stares,

Soulless, did not see his wares.

Silent, deafening applause,

Came none to cheer the actor's cause.

The cards lay still upon the table,

The doves, once winged, to fly unable.

The assistants, once flesh, blood and veins,

Immobile, now skeletal remains.

His bag of tricks were all but gone,

There'd be no more, come one more dawn.

He viewed his patrons, with salt-wet eye,

Muttered, "I was good once, wasn't I?"

Wrapped his cloak about his frame,

And watched the theatre erase his name.

For now he's played his final scene,

Knowing his act was all unseen.

Then with hurried, short footfalls,

He took his place within the stalls.

And like his fellows without number,

He joined them in their sightless slumber.

The magic hat fell from his head,

As he joined the legions of the dead.

 

Some will see a spirit flit about the forum from time to time. Good luck!

 

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

[Grim Up North 3,565]

National Poetry Day,

How grey it is,

A woman walks past,

Wearing a purple coat,

She has a little dog,

Cute on a lead,

But she ignores it,

Face in her phone,

How we waste life, 

Then it's over,

And we are gone.

[Toast 14,800]

1 hour ago, Grim Up North said:

National Poetry Day,

How grey it is,

A woman walks past,

Wearing a purple coat,

She has a little dog,

Cute on a lead,

But she ignores it,

Face in her phone,

How we waste life, 

Then it's over,

And we are gone.

 

I wonder if

She is the one

In that other poem

Who says

"When I am an old woman I shall wear purple".

[Grim Up North 3,565]

1 minute ago, Toast said:

 

I wonder if

She is the one

In that other poem

Who says

"When I am an old woman I shall wear purple".

 

She was not old, 

Yet anyway,

Hopes and dreams,

Still alive,

With time to fly,

The runway blocked,

With tweets and instagrams,

Her playful dog,

Forgotten by her side,

On a shorter fuse,

As life rushes by,

Her phone cocked ready,

For when he dies, 

So she can share her sorrow,

Of the companion lost,

Who whilst breathing,

She ignored.

 

 

[runebomme 376]

crap poop shit the world is full of it

 

excrement defecation fecal matter same people think they are better than others

 

manure dung fertilizer were all animals in the end

 

[TQR 12,059]

For National Poetry day, I'd like to profess my love for the Haiku. The art of 5-7-5 syllables is harder than it sounds. Or, as John Cooper Clarke once put it:

 

To freeze the moment

In seventeen syllables

Is very diffic

[Paul Bearer 5,626]

Satnav

I have a little Satnav, it sits there in my car.

A Satnav is a driver's friend it tells you where you are.

I have a little Satnav, i've had it all my life.

It's better than the normal ones, my Satnav is my wife.

 

It gives me full instructions, especially how to drive

"It's sixty miles an hour", it says, "You're doing sixty five".

It tells me when to stop and start, and when to use the brake

And tells me that it's never ever, safe to overtake.

 

It tells me when a light is red, and when it goes to green

It seems to know instinctively, just when to intervene.

It lists the vehicles just in front, and all those to the rear.

And taking this into account, it specifies my gear.

 

I'm sure no other driver, has so helpful a device.

For when we leave and lock the car, it still gives its advice.

It fills me up with counselling, each journey's pretty fraught.

So why don't I exchange it, and get a quieter sort?

 

Ah well, you see, it cleans the house, makes sure I'm properly fed.

It washes all my shirts and things, and keeps me warm in bed! 
Despite all these advantages, and my tendency to scoff, 

l only wish that now and then, I could turn the bugger off.

[runebomme 376]

the spring the spring will soon reach

snowdrops will soon bloom

the graves which they grow on

will be alive this and the only time of the year

[Sir Creep 7,011]

99 bottles of beer on the wall
so I told Herman Wouk to come over
He drank one down for each year of his life
and fuck sake there was no beer left over

Got a few more and at 104
Wouk said 'that's enough for this rookie'

I said that's one more than Kirk Douglas could pour
He said Douglas - well he's just a pussy.
 

 

 

 

[Starkadder 6]

Oh tremorous bowl of jelly

soon to slide into my belly.

Oh what wonderful hues

that will soon become poos

and traverse the network of sewer

of this there is now't truer

What once caused delight

now transmogrified, shite.

[TQR 12,059]

Fuck, shit, bollocks, cunt,

Arseholes, bugger, piss, cock, balls,

Motherfucking dick

 

That's a haiku about stepping on a plug.

 

I've just stepped on a plug.

[time 7,939]

Some Vogon poetry for you:

 

Oh saint Patrick he drove out the snakes
With his prayers but that’s not all it takes
For the snake symbolizes
An evil that rises
And hides in your heart As it breaks

 

And the evil has risen my friends
From the darkness that lives in some men
But in sorrow and fear
That’s when saints can appear
To drive out those old snakes once again

 

And they struggle for us to be free
From the psycho in this human family
Ireland’s sorrow and pain
Is now the Ukraine
And saint Patrick’s name now Zelenskyy

 

Did I say Vogon? I meant Bono. This is, by all accounts, what Nancy Pelosi read out at the Friends of Ireland lunch today.