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Post by dirtypillows on Jul 13, 2020 20:34:55 GMT
No more poets forthcoming? Anyone like Doric poetry? Here's an example... The Puddock (toad) by John M. Caie A puddock sat by the lochan’s brim, An’ he thocht there was never a puddock like him. He sat on his hurdies, he waggled his legs, An’ cockit his heid as he glowered throu’ the seggs. The bigsy wee cratur’ was feelin’ that prood, He gapit his mou’ an’ he croakit oot lood: “Gin ye’d a’ like tae see a richt puddock,” quo’ he, “Ye’ll never, I’ll sweer, get a better nor me. I’ve fem’lies an’ wives an’ a weel-plenished hame, Wi’ drink for my thrapple an’ meat for my wame. The lasses aye thocht me a fine strappin’ chiel, An’ I ken I’m a rale bonny singer as weel. I’m nae gaun tae blaw, but th’ truth I maun tell- I believe I’m the verra MacPuddock himsel’.” … A heron was hungry an’ needin’ tae sup, Sae he nabbit th’ puddock and gollup’t him up; Syne runkled his feathers: “A peer thing,” quo’ he, “But – puddocks is nae fat they eesed tae be.” This may be a case of projection, but here's what I interpreted. "puddock" = "pudding", as in "pulling on your pudding", i.e., male masturbation "toad" = "horny toad" (North American genus of lizard) "He sat on his hurdies" = "haunches", which evokes the image of a man with a big, muscular ass "An cockit his heid as he glowered throu the seggs" = "cock(it); "heid" = "hide" = "ass"; (s)eggs = eggs = huevos = balls "The bigsey was feeling that prood" = "big" and "proud" "weel plenished hame" = well nourished hams = fat buttocks "an MEAT for my wame" = lotsa "sausage" for the wife! "the lasses aye thocht me a fine strapping chel" = the narrator is a big, sexy, strapping man "Syne runkled his feathers, 'a peer thing' quo he" = Men who like to show off in front of other men. YOWZA!!! "But puddocks is nae fat they eesed to be" = "Puddocks" rhymes with "buttocks" and I imagine the guy is referring to his fat ass. I love a nice, fat ass.  |
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Post by Skreebert on Jul 13, 2020 20:46:28 GMT
Skreebert Skreebert bo beebert
bannana fanna fo feebert
mee mi mo meebert
Skreebert
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Post by Ass_E9 on Jul 13, 2020 20:53:53 GMT
Roses are red
Violets are blue
This ain't an ode
Or a haiku
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Post by Prime etc. on Jul 13, 2020 21:47:04 GMT
My feet tread upon the cloud,
where regal gravity be not proud.
When I wake, an Atlas weight returns,
but my rebel shoulders, the burden spurns.
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wrigsham
Sophomore
@tarathian124
Posts: 143
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Post by wrigsham on Jul 13, 2020 21:47:15 GMT
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Post by dirtypillows on Jul 14, 2020 1:44:16 GMT
Yes, I suppose I have always been somewhat sex oriented. I am not aggressive in the slightest, nor do I seem to have a competitive bone in my body. Violence disturbs me deeply. And the mob mentality totally freaks me out. It has been said that aggression and sex both get their start in the same area of the brain (amygdala?), so I guess I just went one way instead of the other. But thank you for taking the time to provide all those definitions. |
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wrigsham
Sophomore
@tarathian124
Posts: 143
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Post by wrigsham on Jul 14, 2020 12:39:35 GMT
Oh well never mind. We all have our cross to bear. |
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Deleted
Deleted Member
@Deleted
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2020 10:12:01 GMT
A Valentines Day poem
It's valentines day once again
I call you up
Hey, how you been?
What you doin' tonight
can I come over
will you leave on the light?
Oh, you have things to do
That's alright
I'm really busy too
I'll come over on the low low
If you don't answer
i'll be watching Hand Solo
Another Valentines day alone
no candy to eat
no one to bone
I'll give you my heart
If you say no
Then it's me and Paul Blart.
I'd start with a rose or two
cook you a dinner
you could take off a shoe
We'd have a glass of wine,
I'd fire up the hot tub
if your so inclined
a pop made of jiffy
turn off the stove
I'd dress real spiffy
I'd start to rub a shoulder
Maybe more
If I ever got bolder
Marvin Gaye or T. Pendegrass?
I'd try to be smooth
as I thought about your ass
For you I'd cross a moat
Climb the wall
I'm Ready to motorboat
my coat over a puddle
watch your step
Do you Wanna cuddle?
Maybe we'd go all the way
If you're willing
if not, it's ok
We'd Spend time in the hot tub
Are you ready
I know I am, bub
A Walk by the lake
Hold your hand
I'd feed you cheesecake
All truths, no lies
To hear your voice
I'd look into your eyes
We could just get weird
it's nothing serious
Unless it's more than you feared
I'd give you just one tip
If you're able
I'm a big fan of the nip.
I love you beyond measure
should I call a friend
double your pleasure
Glass top table
Strike a pose
Only if your able
One for Mr. Thomas, Danny
You know what
has to do with your fanny
Take a drive on the road
I'll bring my gun
Can you handle the load?
We could watch Janet, Chrissy and Jack
But only if
you would call me back
I could be your gimp
grab your whip
No plans to go limp
I'm starting to lose steam
It's all so obvious
This is nothing but a dream
Doesn't matter what we do
I'd be happy
Only spending time with you
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Post by dirtypillows on Jul 19, 2020 19:46:52 GMT
A Valentines Day poem It's valentines day once again I call you up Hey, how you been? What you doin' tonight can I come over will you leave on the light? Oh, you have things to do That's alright I'm really busy too I'll come over on the low low If you don't answer i'll be watching Hand Solo Another Valentines day alone no candy to eat no one to bone I'll give you my heart If you say no Then it's me and Paul Blart. I'd start with a rose or two cook you a dinner you could take off a shoe We'd have a glass of wine, I'd fire up the hot tub if your so inclined a pop made of jiffy turn off the stove I'd dress real spiffy I'd start to rub a shoulder Maybe more If I ever got bolder Marvin Gaye or T. Pendegrass? I'd try to be smooth as I thought about your ass For you I'd cross a moat Climb the wall I'm Ready to motorboat my coat over a puddle watch your step Do you Wanna cuddle? Maybe we'd go all the way If you're willing if not, it's ok We'd Spend time in the hot tub Are you ready I know I am, bub A Walk by the lake Hold your hand I'd feed you cheesecake All truths, no lies To hear your voice I'd look into your eyes We could just get weird it's nothing serious Unless it's more than you feared I'd give you just one tip If you're able I'm a big fan of the nip. I love you beyond measure should I call a friend double your pleasure Glass top table Strike a pose Only if your able One for Mr. Thomas, Danny You know what has to do with your fanny Take a drive on the road I'll bring my gun Can you handle the load? We could watch Janet, Chrissy and Jack But only if you would call me back I could be your gimp grab your whip No plans to go limp I'm starting to lose steam It's all so obvious This is nothing but a dream Doesn't matter what we do I'd be happy Only spending time with you I enjoyed your racy but sweet poem very much. |
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Post by Salzmank on Aug 21, 2020 15:02:29 GMT
Anyone know Walter de la Mare’s wonderful “ The Listeners”? Definitely read that first, but a month or so ago I wrote a “reply-poem” to it, from the Listeners’ perspective: |
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Post by alfromni on Oct 5, 2020 9:19:33 GMT
Written quite a few years ago I had a go at TV screening in the UK at the time. Sadly it's now even worse.
-------
This is the very body of the television medium,
from soaps to cops and tele-shops and tacky gamey tedium,
you try to follow DIY, `cos "comedies" just make you cry,
there`s pop and blues,
and interviews
where politicians never lie
There`s El Dorado gladly gone, Eastenders so devoid of fun,
and Neighbours with that Aussie brogue, which saddled us with K.Minoogue.
Crossroads`s back, alive and well, and no-one dares to gibe the Bill.
At Rovers, Woolsack,
an` Queen Vic
they all imbibe. Is no one ill?
Bio-pics, Capone, James Joyce, they`ve even one of Hymie Weiss
Those gentle tales from Heartbeat`s nice, but au contraire Miami Vice.
Wish You Were Here comes from the Med, so channel-hop the set instead,
but just as you,
see something new,
They scrap it `cause some pratt is dead.
Del boy now is old and grey, as are those Darling Buds of May,
repeats of Frost come day by day, seems both of them are here to stay.
Lord, not those films of Forties fame, that Brief Encounter, Harry Lime,
so eyes agog,
we change the prog.,
shit! Tony Blair`s on Question Time
There`s sport of every shape and make, for Gawd sake someone giss a break,
with racing, wrestling, true or fake, I`ve had as much as I can take,
of match replays, Grandstand and more, post-mortems, then there`s On the Ball,
with nostrils flared
I`m well prepared
to join that fly upon the wall.
To list the lot would take a year, (from kitchen sinks to Germaine Greer),
again we get that Fawlty Tow`rs, and garbage Open All [the] Hours.
There`s Beckham kicks and cricket Gowers, and gard`ning shows, I`m sick of flow`rs,
then cooks galore,
please tell them all,
to stuff their bleeding sweet and sours.
There`s Star Trek, Stargate, Doctor Who, and Cagney, Lacey, Quincy too.
Those awful Young Ones, what a crew, then Garnett`s missus, silly moo,
I couldn`t watch `Allo, Allo, and even less Hawai` five-O
So all been said,
I`m off to bed,
and listen to the radio.
And just in case it`s quite as sad, I`ll take a book that`s not too bad,
Like Dickens, Trollope, Joe Conrad, (could be that Poe has turned me mad,)
But first within hot bath I`ll splash, before I find my bed to crash,
then wake refreshed,
with citric zest,
to write more of this garbled trash.
-------------
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Post by Fox in the Snow on Oct 5, 2020 11:00:14 GMT
crisp black linen
floating in the waves
my still denouement
the closest of shaves
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Deleted
Deleted Member
@Deleted
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Oct 5, 2020 13:53:46 GMT
Tous les jours
Je me reveille
Chaque matin
La meme chose
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Post by Salzmank on Jan 11, 2021 22:49:56 GMT
The Shaman Recommends the Potato
We are less removed from the past
Than we say. We see it not only
In films and photographs, not only
In books and trinkets, but also
In a daughter’s words, in a son’s gesture,
In a remedy given you
By the least-expected person. Illustration:
The shaman says,
If you want to cure a stye,
You should microwave on high
One potato, wrap it dry,
Hold it to th’ afflicted eye.
This makes that devil eye-stye die.
The shaman prints out the paperwork
And, positioning back his phoropter,
Asks you to see his secretary on the way out.
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Post by Salzmank on Feb 10, 2021 21:35:03 GMT
In Case of Anger
Oh, I could be a cynic easily
And claim forgiveness has been overrated,
As anyone will find who deeply delves.
The truth is, though, I’ve known too many someones
Who will not even once forgive
Themselves.
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Post by alfromni on Feb 19, 2021 14:43:30 GMT
The Grand old Duke of York
had ten thousand men.
He marched them up to the top of the hill
and had them all again.
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Post by Fox in the Snow on Feb 20, 2021 1:38:28 GMT
a candled wooden bear
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Post by Mulder and Scully on Feb 20, 2021 1:53:09 GMT
Birds are chirping
Pigs are flying
Dogs are barking
And, I'm farting.
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Post by alfromni on Apr 15, 2021 17:51:30 GMT
With some time to spare I had a wee peep
at this thread which has pinged to a stop.
Is there no one out there with an ode light or deep,
and a tome with a zing and a pop?!
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Deleted
Deleted Member
@Deleted
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Apr 15, 2021 19:24:24 GMT
Falling down into the abyss
Lifelessly traveling
Ice in my veins
Heart is weak
Lips are quivering
Eyes begin to shutter
Skin is shivering
Nothing I’ve done matters
Why fight this?
I will never make a difference
Clear!
Electric charge, my heart is pumping
I’ll keep surviving a little while longer
To be a corporate drone
Consumer on a couch
Living from meme to meme
His blood pressure is dropping
Clear!
Maybe not
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