I may regret this thread. On the other hand, maybe Ken won't see it ...

Rules are simple: Any poetry is ok. Song lyrics, regular poems, haiku, sonnets, whatever.


Here's a little ditty I made up while backpacking in Kings Canyon National Park back in the late 70s. It's sung to the tune of Janis Joplin's "Mercedes Benz"

"Oh Lord won't you buy me a rubberized raft?
I hate these creek crossings, I always bust my a*s
I'll wait for delivery at Rae Lakes Ca - amp
Oh Lord won't you buy me a rubberized raft"

There's more verses, but none of them are better than this one! (Scary thought huh!) I do like the one about a 30-06 and paying back John Muir for the damn trail we were on.


Dan

Great idea Dan!

Wait till I download the other hard drive...lots and lots of stuff... I've pretty much redone all of Proust in iambic pentameter...you'll love it...

Ken

wait, I thought Ken was supposed to not see this ?!

Damn! He saw it!


DUCK EVERYBODY!!!!
INNNNN COOOMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGG

Gesundheit

I didn't think Frank let us use profanity...must be special if he thinks it is warranted...

K

Another Haiku:

The sun is shining
Fish are swimming in the sea
They go well with chips

I am a Haiku Mistress!

LOL

(Are you and Ken cousins?)

My computer
makes me want to shoot 'er
I am not a poet
And don't I just know it

you don't want apple to see it.. apple of the 5000 poems..

I promise not to hog the spotlight.


Thanksgiving Poem[/b] dedicated to Salvation Army Joe.... a man I know

thanks for children quickly growing,
lithe and strong and fresh and showing
signs of maybe caring for those unknowing
of the largesse life bestows

thanks for friends who truly care
and those who dare to risk to share
the soul of their heart’s despair
in hopes that those who don't will care

and give to those who’d gladly give
a day from those they live

just for a modest taste,
Of some of the food we blithely waste

Nak gets Yikes!
Apple gets Nice
Ken no dice
Sarah hates mice

I read that - boy am I glad I'm not a guy!!


apple is putting us all to shame..

Ok, just me to shame..

A little something I wrote last winter after about a week of snow clouds and no snow:

The clouds have had their little joke;
They like to frighten us poor folk
With threat of rain, with threat of snow,
Yet these they hardly ever show!

Here's my additions with emendations...sniff...sniff..think I'm going to cry...It's just so beautiful...

Dan seeks civility
as he cheers the Steelers on
Brendan shows his ability
As he plays Messian

Ycul's such a sweet one
of so much she is wise
Penny cooks a ton
as a chef she makes great pies

Renauda finds the oil
so Kenny's car will go
DocMoonlight lances the boil
so the infection doesn't grow...

Plebus' has a funny cat
Sarah keeps a parrot blue
Crashtest's heart goes pitter pat
spurned by a girl not true

Nina's known for her mighty snort
Katie's quilt is fine
Quirt can produce a mighty tort
but prefers a glass of wine

JBryan's words thunder down
While Gryphon flings out smiles
Katie sews fanastic gowns
for waltzing up the aisles

NAK is our poet prince
his words sound strong and sound
KLuurs verses make people wince
not quite like Ezra Pound

Frank watches over us all
protects the pure and kind
hates to see us have a brawl
He hopes we learn to mind...

hope no more verses come to me
this is oh so queer
don't hate me for this spree
of words best read with beer.

##

Bet you someday some great composer will write music for this stuff - ala Carmina Burana

Did I ever love her?
Did we ever kiss?
Did she say she loved me?
No, I never knew that bliss.

It was just a dream of mine,
with a lot of lying.
I try to dream again
but I only wake up crying.

by Chris

The poem above was written after being jilted in young love (my second girlfriend). Tried to have the "long distance" relationship and *somebody* couldn't stay faithful. I actually did "know" the "bliss" of those events, but it all crashed down and fell apart - and by golly it was hollow almost from the beginning! BTW, all the lying was her's, sigh! I think something like that is what Crashtest is going thru now. Anyway, not a bad poem for a 17-year-old.

No one else willing to contribute?

What's there to say after

"Nina's known for her mighty snort?"

Seriously, I notice that no one reads anything with poetry in the title thread. I recommend that Dan change this title of this thread to "show us your...panties..." It will work much better.

Ken

^^^^

Cathy

Something I wrote in 1974


Illusions

And have I often heard
The sound of voices calling me
In the still, quiet darkness
Of the night.
but whether I should follow
Is a question not yet answered.
For what is a dream
That it should come true?
What is reality
That it should wake within me
a namelesss longing
For the comfort of the
Still, quiet night
And the sound of voices calling me.


Eileen

Eileen,

Please don't tell me that you wrote that when you were 17 (or younger!). That is very good. I like the way it comes back around to the beginning.

Kluurs - Only JBryan would probably post a photo!

Eileen,

That's a very good poem - managed to avoid the use of the phrase "lance the boil" - always a temptation to the novice poet.

Kincaid,

I think we should still just have poetry here - but a racy header will help to attract business.

Ken

Kluurs,

Trying on a few Avatars? Animation is always good, but I miss the comfort of the old.

:D

I need to get some new friends. Either that, or some new talent.

Here's one of my faves:

Snow, snow
Beautiful snow
Step on a hunk
And down you go.

c. 2nd grade.


And now for an original:

the posters will gasp
as my poem blossoms forth
denouement ensues
****
Cowboy Joe
Say it ain't so
Are you a troll
Or Larry's soul?
****
The wedge of stains
Has naught for brains
****
You may think I've a mighty snort
Because you haven't heard me fort

I like to run and play
In my little yellow booties.
Especially when I kerplop
In a moo cow's duty!

Not an original, but one I remember from a party years ago:

Liquor was spilled on the bar room floor,
and the bar had been closed for the night.
A little brown mouse crept out from his hole,
and sat in the pale moonlight.

He licked up the liquor laying pooled on the floor,
then back on his haunches he sat.
And all through the night you could hear him roar:
"Bring out that f**kin' cat!...(hic)"

Well the cat - hearing this, jumped down off the bar,
and ate up the poor drunken mouse.
So, the moral of this little story is....
DON'T TAKE A DRINK ON THE HOUSE!


Jamie

Here's one called:

The Democratic Nominee For President in 2004

Not known for his brains
Not known for his wit
He drank away his pains
In many a bar and pit.

Osama’s mama

Osoma has a mama
he is her only son
she made him a pajama
she doesn't care what he has done

She loves his dark and soulful eyes
she thinks about his youth
she responded to his plaintive cries
she kept his first lost tooth

She dreams he someday settle down
and take a little wife
and set up house in a nearby town
and life a normal life.

He sends a little token
for every life he's taken
and every heart he's broken
so she'll never be mistaken

that he wants her to feel smarter
and wants her to be proud
for he's the famous martyr
who soon will wear the shroud

of infamy and history
of Islamy and mystery

His name will be bestowed
on those who live perchance to die
on those who'd give a cherished eye
to travel the fated road
of Osama