Post your Poetry and get an Image*
- Thread starter wade2k8
- Start date
The shadows started to loom,
over the crowded gloom
where the wombles, quietly lurked.
The heavy moon's shadow
crept over the meadow
where the wombles quietly lurked.
They hid and they burrowed
and scrambled and furrowed :fear2:
as the moon finally rose in to sight.
One poked out a nose
and wiggled his toes
from where the wombles quietly lurked.
All was OK
He turned round and exclaimed
The wombles could party tonight.:w00t:
over the crowded gloom
where the wombles, quietly lurked.
The heavy moon's shadow
crept over the meadow
where the wombles quietly lurked.
They hid and they burrowed
and scrambled and furrowed :fear2:
as the moon finally rose in to sight.
One poked out a nose
and wiggled his toes
from where the wombles quietly lurked.
All was OK
He turned round and exclaimed
The wombles could party tonight.:w00t:
permafrost
New member
Liked mine 100%
Womble glastonbury,hot damn that'd be cool. :w00t:
Womble glastonbury,hot damn that'd be cool. :w00t:
I was gonna save this little gem for Valentine's day but anywei, here goes:
I'm tired of fucking you
Why can't you see
It was over and over
Then you gave me vd
For this I know
It should never have been
I won't miss your pussy
Or let it happen again
You take your shit
And get out of my house
I'm tired of fucking you
And sick of your mouth
I'm tired of fucking you
Why can't you see
It was over and over
Then you gave me vd
For this I know
It should never have been
I won't miss your pussy
Or let it happen again
You take your shit
And get out of my house
I'm tired of fucking you
And sick of your mouth
EJ THE EXPERT PC GAMER!
New member
Wrote this about 10 years ago. Good luck with it. I never did... It's very much unfinished.
On a raspberry red road that ran razor-like for miles,
Until your feet got dazed and grazed by many cruel turns,
A little girl was stumbling, sobbing, seeking all the while
For a gush of grass, a splash of green on which to bathe her burns.
The way had not been willing much (if willing roads can be)
To play at host or toast the treks of funny folk with eyes.
It much preferred to wreck the pace of those who folly free.
And take its sport escorting this ephemeral demise.
On each side a tide of stones, a grinder milling sand.
Engulfed the world and hurled out grey and gritty storms.
A shifting space which left no trace of what was once the land.
Sulphur slaked with crimson, random, refusing to take form.
Amongst the stones clicked chalky bones of animal and man.
Fingers snapping and the flapping of fallen, failed wings.
Adventures dashed on crashing rocks, clapping of lost hands.
Or just freak fate of fools whose mystics promised other things.
The maid's given name was Heavenshade, a pretty epitaph.
Her home a moment hazy long before her pain arose.
Her feet two stony objects fallen subject to the path.
And two thirsty wounds withdrew from seeing far beyond her nose.
Revelations, reckonings and fancies beyond fact
Were her schooling, always pooling truth and half-forgotten lore.
History buffed with memory until what resulted lacked
Kinship with the stains of time or candor anymore.
Memories of mushroom, bat and other nightly fare.
Of dew, virtues of starlight and lunar attributes.
Of close of day, the time to say a sweet nocturnal prayer.
Lest the sun should settle and commit himself to roots.
Centuries, seconds, epochs, trices, seasons, spans and spells.
Cycles, gyres and spirals, whirligigs and days
Had gone the way of flaccid clocks and chronographic bells.
Until evidence of transience was smothered in the haze.
II
The Moon had lost her anchor and had ambled off in space.
Limply like a candle, flickering with fear.
A busted-booted schoolgirl weeping in disgrace.
Face fixed fiercely forward in a push to hide her tears.
Then the Sun had waxed magnificent, tragically wide.
And his mantle started swelling, massive, unconstrained.
The Moon, a burning exile with no pretense of pride,
Swooned, wounded, out of orbit, new trajectories attained.
"Know my impact by my absence", she warned upon her way.
And reflected that "my role here has been woefully miscast
Now you'll know of seabeds and of cactus and of clay
And make your love in daylight till your breed becomes the past".
"Too long your turgid throng of tears has lapped against my flame.
"Award the mighty murderer a horn to drink his fill.
"The dawn of dawns, all lines re-drawn, perdition, I proclaim.
"Solicit all that sates the tongue, lament all liquids spilled"
"Encrypt your odes with ravelled codes, sing not to the sky,
"Receive his light with feigned delight, bend as flattered yews.
"Waste not time with travelled rhyme, a new school rises nigh.
"You'll find behind your paradigm a quite indifferent muse".
And something more below the roar of celebrating day;
A pallid shrug of effort, a short yet plashing air
Fell upon diverted ears, alerting none to weigh
A seed of hope against a fecund desert of despair.
III
Heavenshade, a flower betrayed by unforgiving earth
Persisted on her twisting curve, reaching beyond sight
For a place where grace and shadow meet and both redeem their worth.
Where darkness spawns a beauty still unspoiled by tricks of light.
Cast out from caves into the drought, shoeless and exposed;
A burden doubling daily brimmed within her womb.
Cradle-crafting carpenters' caprices met their close.
Her folk invoked their love of life by toteming their tombs.
They'd spoke of token maps and meals to palliate her plight
Whilst wimpering of want of food and chasmfulls of kin.
They'd tapped her name into a chalky tablet of polite
Rebukes refuting escapades of exiles and their sins.
Fear and art explain, in part, how hearts and hymns beat out
And deify the debris and damnify the wise.
Lucid flesh becomes enmeshed in welcome knots of doubt
When tenderness affects the sight of long-neglected eyes.
Accusers' tracts and malefactors' motions come to naught
If half the crime goes pardoned, ardently unnamed.
Justice hacks in half-light at what chippings it has caught;
Unvenerable to vipers and a tyrant to the tamed.
Thus all was inhospitable, outwards and beyond.
Ash was heaped on loam to keep creation cramped within.
Heavenshade waylaid her wounds, tuned only to respond
To a dull yet dulcet, rising strain which sang behind her skin.
IV
Not without its squatters, those not tottered by the heat,
The road raked in a revenue, a lacquered, leeward breed
Who puddled thick in pockets, clutching dockets, in receipt
Of the crumbed-up, mordant morsels which the cinders would concede
On a raspberry red road that ran razor-like for miles,
Until your feet got dazed and grazed by many cruel turns,
A little girl was stumbling, sobbing, seeking all the while
For a gush of grass, a splash of green on which to bathe her burns.
The way had not been willing much (if willing roads can be)
To play at host or toast the treks of funny folk with eyes.
It much preferred to wreck the pace of those who folly free.
And take its sport escorting this ephemeral demise.
On each side a tide of stones, a grinder milling sand.
Engulfed the world and hurled out grey and gritty storms.
A shifting space which left no trace of what was once the land.
Sulphur slaked with crimson, random, refusing to take form.
Amongst the stones clicked chalky bones of animal and man.
Fingers snapping and the flapping of fallen, failed wings.
Adventures dashed on crashing rocks, clapping of lost hands.
Or just freak fate of fools whose mystics promised other things.
The maid's given name was Heavenshade, a pretty epitaph.
Her home a moment hazy long before her pain arose.
Her feet two stony objects fallen subject to the path.
And two thirsty wounds withdrew from seeing far beyond her nose.
Revelations, reckonings and fancies beyond fact
Were her schooling, always pooling truth and half-forgotten lore.
History buffed with memory until what resulted lacked
Kinship with the stains of time or candor anymore.
Memories of mushroom, bat and other nightly fare.
Of dew, virtues of starlight and lunar attributes.
Of close of day, the time to say a sweet nocturnal prayer.
Lest the sun should settle and commit himself to roots.
Centuries, seconds, epochs, trices, seasons, spans and spells.
Cycles, gyres and spirals, whirligigs and days
Had gone the way of flaccid clocks and chronographic bells.
Until evidence of transience was smothered in the haze.
II
The Moon had lost her anchor and had ambled off in space.
Limply like a candle, flickering with fear.
A busted-booted schoolgirl weeping in disgrace.
Face fixed fiercely forward in a push to hide her tears.
Then the Sun had waxed magnificent, tragically wide.
And his mantle started swelling, massive, unconstrained.
The Moon, a burning exile with no pretense of pride,
Swooned, wounded, out of orbit, new trajectories attained.
"Know my impact by my absence", she warned upon her way.
And reflected that "my role here has been woefully miscast
Now you'll know of seabeds and of cactus and of clay
And make your love in daylight till your breed becomes the past".
"Too long your turgid throng of tears has lapped against my flame.
"Award the mighty murderer a horn to drink his fill.
"The dawn of dawns, all lines re-drawn, perdition, I proclaim.
"Solicit all that sates the tongue, lament all liquids spilled"
"Encrypt your odes with ravelled codes, sing not to the sky,
"Receive his light with feigned delight, bend as flattered yews.
"Waste not time with travelled rhyme, a new school rises nigh.
"You'll find behind your paradigm a quite indifferent muse".
And something more below the roar of celebrating day;
A pallid shrug of effort, a short yet plashing air
Fell upon diverted ears, alerting none to weigh
A seed of hope against a fecund desert of despair.
III
Heavenshade, a flower betrayed by unforgiving earth
Persisted on her twisting curve, reaching beyond sight
For a place where grace and shadow meet and both redeem their worth.
Where darkness spawns a beauty still unspoiled by tricks of light.
Cast out from caves into the drought, shoeless and exposed;
A burden doubling daily brimmed within her womb.
Cradle-crafting carpenters' caprices met their close.
Her folk invoked their love of life by toteming their tombs.
They'd spoke of token maps and meals to palliate her plight
Whilst wimpering of want of food and chasmfulls of kin.
They'd tapped her name into a chalky tablet of polite
Rebukes refuting escapades of exiles and their sins.
Fear and art explain, in part, how hearts and hymns beat out
And deify the debris and damnify the wise.
Lucid flesh becomes enmeshed in welcome knots of doubt
When tenderness affects the sight of long-neglected eyes.
Accusers' tracts and malefactors' motions come to naught
If half the crime goes pardoned, ardently unnamed.
Justice hacks in half-light at what chippings it has caught;
Unvenerable to vipers and a tyrant to the tamed.
Thus all was inhospitable, outwards and beyond.
Ash was heaped on loam to keep creation cramped within.
Heavenshade waylaid her wounds, tuned only to respond
To a dull yet dulcet, rising strain which sang behind her skin.
IV
Not without its squatters, those not tottered by the heat,
The road raked in a revenue, a lacquered, leeward breed
Who puddled thick in pockets, clutching dockets, in receipt
Of the crumbed-up, mordant morsels which the cinders would concede
junglemonkey0097
New member
Where's that twat with the mini thread? Look here. :fear:
this is my poem
its about adam
he dreamt of stardom
he met a madam
outcome was whoredom
threesome was awesome
tiresome and yumyum
excuse my english
chaotic optimist
New member
Code:
The dangerous kitchen
If it aint't one thing it's another
In the middle of the night when you get home
The bread things are all dry 'n' scratchy
The meat thing
Where the cats ate trough the paper
The can things with the sharp little edges
That can cut your fingers when you're not looking
The soft little things on the floor that you step on
They can all be DANGEROUS
Sometimes
The milk can hurt you
(If you put it on your cereal
Before you smell the plastic container)
And the stuff in the strainer
Has a mind of its own
So be very careful
In the dangerous kitchen
When the night time has fallen,
And the roaches are crawlin'
In the kitchen of danger
You can feel like a stranger
The bananaes are black
The got flies in the back
And also the chicken
In the dish with the foil
Where the cream is all clabbered
And the salad is frightful
Your return in the evening
Can be less than delightful
You must walk very careful
You must not lean against it
It can get on you clothing
It can follow you in
As you walk to the bedroom
And you take all your clothes off
While you're sleeping
It crawls off
It gets in your bed
It could get on your face then
It could eat your complexion
You could die from the danger
Of the dangerous kitchen
Who the fuck wants to clean it?
It's disgusting and dirty
The sponge on the drainer
Is stinky and squirty
If you squeeze it when you wipe up
What you get on your hands then
Could un-balance your glands and
Make you blind or whatever
In the dangerous kitchen
At my house tonightBaa baa black sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master
One for the dame
And one for the little boy
who lives down the lane.
Baa baa white sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir
Three needles full.
One to mend a jumper
One to mend a frock
And one for the little girl
With holes in her socks.
Baa baa grey sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir
Three bags full.
One for the kitten
One for the cats
And one for the guinea pigs
To knit some woolly hats.
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master
One for the dame
And one for the little boy
who lives down the lane.
Baa baa white sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir
Three needles full.
One to mend a jumper
One to mend a frock
And one for the little girl
With holes in her socks.
Baa baa grey sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir
Three bags full.
One for the kitten
One for the cats
And one for the guinea pigs
To knit some woolly hats.