Apologies that I am not a great poet, as they are all dead and that this will not reach the standards apparently required:
Poster was the member of that unoriginal clan
You know the type who mock, who sneer and put down his fellow man.
He feels somehow superior, that he has the right to judge
Anonymously typing, commenting for us, his latest grudge.
This thread it is responsible for making Poster sad
But is really something else or just this poetry that's bad?
A solitary quip, he wrote 'All the great poets are dead.'
So why not create a poem, a masterpiece of your own instead?
Or maybe join a Facebook group to fill one's' hole in one's head?'
Perhaps it is preferred to indulge in the culture of Eastenders
Surely not, with such a poetry review, one could not be one of those offenders.
There was a young (ish) man named archiver
Denuded, like Lady Godiva
He rode from the thread, but I hope he's not dead
cos he's missed and he owes me a fiver.
Have you noticed that sometimes, in a garden there can be a shrub that may not grow as expected but you don't give up on that shrub as each year, there is a little improvement until one day, you can't quite believe your eyes at it's pretty flowers and that was down to you, not giving up on that shrub.
Indeed Sandy, I love gardening I think they should encourage it in prisons - then we could have Wormwood Shrubs
I've written a new poem, but I'll have more time to post it later in the week. I've been spending a lot of time listening to Morrissey's new album and it's rather superb
I know I have been absent for a while (addressed to the regulars). The unfortunate response about dead poets was silly, the contributors have no claim to be great so there was no point.
I've written a new poem, but I'll have more time to post it later in the week. I've been spending a lot of time listening to Morrissey's new album and it's rather superb
Now that's what I call music
the music that moves you
the sound that makes you
the words that astound you
the memories that profound you
Now that's what I call music
Now that's what I call music
the music that moves you
the sound that makes you
the words that astound you
the memories that profound you
Now that's what I call music
Don't you see
that a mixed up
world has been
strange to some
and many people
just don't talk
about it they
walk through the
grass keeping silent
just because but
you find your
own way with
a little help
from your friends
To whomever this may concern,
let me be clear
I'm all but sure
of what I'm supposed to share.
Perhaps the natural beauty that surrounds?,
the landscapes, wild and bright, life feels truly alive,
or the wonder of music; evoking emotions so strong -
Rocking highs and soulful lows alike,
hope, desire, disappointment,
anger, jealousy and depression -
all these play only a small part
in the tapestry of life.
What about friendships and relationships?
The confidence companionship brings,
but with confidence comes the risk,
that of the hurt which surely follows
when the other turns their back, forcing you to forge on, move on,
Onwards and upwards,
there's always more awaiting you -
Wonder, joy, hurt, revelations,
every birthday the end comes closer,
yet with age comes wisdom -
Its the basic things in life we must cling to,
for without them, life would be hollow.
If the written word can but briefly convey this,
then I hope it has opened your eyes,
be aware of what is out there,
what makes it all worthwhile,
without the risk of hurt, joy would mean nothing.
Comments
Poster was the member of that unoriginal clan
You know the type who mock, who sneer and put down his fellow man.
He feels somehow superior, that he has the right to judge
Anonymously typing, commenting for us, his latest grudge.
This thread it is responsible for making Poster sad
But is really something else or just this poetry that's bad?
A solitary quip, he wrote 'All the great poets are dead.'
So why not create a poem, a masterpiece of your own instead?
Or maybe join a Facebook group to fill one's' hole in one's head?'
Perhaps it is preferred to indulge in the culture of Eastenders
Surely not, with such a poetry review, one could not be one of those offenders.
Denuded, like Lady Godiva
He rode from the thread, but I hope he's not dead
cos he's missed and he owes me a fiver.
but friendly and ever so nice
I am A Zombie.
Joined twenty thirteen
has less than two thousand posts
I am A Zombie.
Writing some haiku
in the big poetry thread
about A Zombie.
How many verses
can I keep writing this way
Don't know – A Zombie
I will stop this now
while I am so far ahead.
I am A Zombie
...:D
I have become a bore.
Someone who some abhor.
I've felt this way before.
Familiar this floor.
Tomorrow I'll be fine.
Every sorrowful decline
poses questions of worth.
This beautiful Earth.
I'd give everything away
for one more day
posing naked on a horse,
but my rhymes are getting worse.
of this rhyming thing.
So you can hear me sing
ding-a-ling-a-ling.
I'm not taking the piss,
so if you see something a-miss
then feel free to make a list
so I can get the gist.
I'll get me coat
Wrong and rude!
The irritating, sorry, individual post formatting lives on I see.
I didn't know Morrissey had a new album.:D
Carry on poeming.:D
As night-time let the forest rest
And frost attached to leaf,
I saw a vision that would test
The borders of belief:
Some fairies stood upon a frond
And shone a silver beam,
I didn't know how to respond,
I thought it was a dream.
I heard them whisper 'Here's the place
Where Lady Moonlight goes',
Then she appeared in pearls and lace,
As pretty as a rose.
They flew into her open hand,
A happy little throng,
They danced a jig of gladness and
Began to sing a song.
I knew not what the lyrics meant
But somehow sensed inside
A tale of love was being sent,
For Lady Moonlight sighed.
That forest scene is unsurpassed,
The image never fades;
A maiden and the tiny cast
Who sang her serenades.
©
Ey oop Frank
Sounds like a film Sandy
the music that moves you
the sound that makes you
the words that astound you
the memories that profound you
Now that's what I call music
Would be a funny movie.:D
i liked it
has done something new
and decided to say “mam”
before the name of his old man.
My niece was delighted,
ever so excited
that she was his first word.
At least that's what I heard.
Don't you see
that a mixed up
world has been
strange to some
and many people
just don't talk
about it they
walk through the
grass keeping silent
just because but
you find your
own way with
a little help
from your friends
Hurt be the price of joy by IzzyS
To whomever this may concern,
let me be clear
I'm all but sure
of what I'm supposed to share.
Perhaps the natural beauty that surrounds?,
the landscapes, wild and bright, life feels truly alive,
or the wonder of music; evoking emotions so strong -
Rocking highs and soulful lows alike,
hope, desire, disappointment,
anger, jealousy and depression -
all these play only a small part
in the tapestry of life.
What about friendships and relationships?
The confidence companionship brings,
but with confidence comes the risk,
that of the hurt which surely follows
when the other turns their back, forcing you to forge on, move on,
Onwards and upwards,
there's always more awaiting you -
Wonder, joy, hurt, revelations,
every birthday the end comes closer,
yet with age comes wisdom -
Its the basic things in life we must cling to,
for without them, life would be hollow.
If the written word can but briefly convey this,
then I hope it has opened your eyes,
be aware of what is out there,
what makes it all worthwhile,
without the risk of hurt, joy would mean nothing.
Pick a pebble
lost on shore
hold and see
as such beauty
lays as tide
has gathered free
spare a thought
hope you agree