View Full Version : Poets corner.............

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21st Oct 2004, 08:26 PM
Heres another one, just follow on with something that is rhyming.
Yadah, Yadah, Yadah.( this is not the start )

There was a young monkey named Zed...............

Al :D

21st Oct 2004, 08:30 PM
who was very well fed.........

21st Oct 2004, 08:32 PM
until someone noticed his head
Suddenly, from out of the blue

21st Oct 2004, 08:35 PM
zed put on a pink tutu

Ben from Vic.
21st Oct 2004, 09:58 PM
Which got Ozwinner calling "You Hoo!"
Zed thought to himself...

21st Oct 2004, 10:23 PM
Bugger I posted this late
I've stuffed up my mate

22nd Oct 2004, 09:44 AM
I'd best lock myself in the loo.

Whilst sitting astride his white throne,
Zed decided to pick up the phone.

22nd Oct 2004, 10:21 AM
To talk to God he told his mate,
While blaming something that he ate,

22nd Oct 2004, 10:26 AM
For the flatulence that did ensue.

The flatulence, not of the mouth,
But of the opening in the south,

For Zed was wise and rarely passed,
A thought that was less than half-arsed,
From his mouth whilst in the loo.

22nd Oct 2004, 10:47 AM
A constant diatribe would ensue;

A tale of things to make and do,
of journeys old and yet to be,

22nd Oct 2004, 11:41 AM
he thought as he sat and had a wee,

22nd Oct 2004, 11:51 AM
these posts are all as if done by a baby!

"surely" he thought,
as he held the bowl for support,
that with a little more thinking,
and a little less drinking,
this pathetic bloody extended poem would actually make sense.... but No!!!! of course this would be too much to ask... WOULDNT it? Ehhhh ????

(the above is my version of "beat poetry").....

22nd Oct 2004, 12:30 PM
But it occured to young Zeddy,
That his mind was not steady,
as it was when he were but a lad.

So the sense that may lie,
In this poem of wit dry,
Might escape his poor mind - ain't it sad?

22nd Oct 2004, 07:20 PM
So when he finished doing his do
He stepped out of the loo
He then spied his friend Mary
Who was, short, fat and hairy

22nd Oct 2004, 07:41 PM
With both feet liberally smeared with goo!

He said: "Mary, my friend!
You could start a new trend.
With your goo-besmirched plates of meat."

She said: "Don't know what you mean!
My tootsies are clean!
What's all this bulldust about goo?"

25th Oct 2004, 09:13 AM
"I'm sorry" said Zed,
"What entered my head?"
As he mourned his lack of adherence,

To rule number one,
Handed father to son:
Never comment on a woman's appearance.

25th Oct 2004, 09:52 AM
Of course if you must,
you can write in the dust
of poem's that rhyme or that don't

But if you a girly critique
you will find that her pique
will ensure when you ask her she won't!

25th Oct 2004, 11:13 AM
It's probably worth mention
That the good Zed's intention
In commenting on Mary's gooey pediment

Was less to seduce her
Nor yet to traduce her
But rather to point out that sediment

Had adhered to her feet,
Her great plates of meat,
And the strong possibility existed

That if she should leave them unclean,
She might not leave the scene
Without shoes badly twisted.

25th Oct 2004, 11:37 AM
As far as that goes,
As any man knows,
'tis the bane of a young girl's existence.

To walk down the street,
With twisted shoes on her feet,
Is bound to result in bad blisters.

"So you see, my fair belle",
"twas not giving you hell",
"I was trying to avert a disaster"

To which she did reply,
"Oh Zed, please don't lie"
"'cause I know just what you are after".

25th Oct 2004, 02:33 PM
This raises the question
The implied suggestion
That Zed had found Mary attractive.

Despite Al's description,
His plain, simple depiction
Of Mary - by no means refractive:

"Short, fat and hairy"
(In looks ordinary)
Thus Al, in an earlier stanza

Could Zed be deluded,
His sight p'raps occluded
Or is he simply a chancer?

What's more likely is Zed
With his simian head
Ain't repelled by Mary's appearance

Au contraire, he has found her,
The primitive bounder,
To be to his taste, his adherence ...

25th Oct 2004, 03:02 PM
To style and to fashion,
Have long been his passion,
And it could be that Mary would swoon,

If Zed showed his true style,
His wink and his smile,
And the contents of his pantaloons.

For there were no trousers finer,
From Egypt to China,
Nor pockets so well lined with sable.

And his waistcoat was sewn,
By the best tailor known.
Yes he was Zeddy: willing and able.

25th Oct 2004, 05:00 PM
but then...

Perhaps she just lied,
or was it implied?
that her meat plates numbered but one,

Zed soon would discover
once under the cover
that one of her pegs was just gone!

No worries he thought
That new plane I bought
From Paul's, is both sharp and fantastic,

I'd make a new leg for her quick as a flash
If I still had some cash,
or credit left on my plastic.

26th Oct 2004, 04:15 PM
If Zed does not blench
At the thought of his wench
Having less than the custom'ry tally

Of limbs down below,
Then we all must acknow-
-ledge his judgement most impartially.

Fact is, he's a primate.
Not like you and I, mate.
His views on the world aren't like ours.

Using a Muji smoother
He'll construct anoother
Spare leg - to show he's not a tight @rse.

26th Oct 2004, 04:25 PM
A smoother perhaps,
Would be useful on slabs,
for creating a smooth and flat surface,

But for shaping a leg,
your forgiveness I beg,
A spokeshave would provide better service.

Now as is well known,
For his cover is blown,
Zed now owns such a device.

Though his dreams may yet shatter,
For he can't stop the chatter,
Can someone please give him advice?

26th Oct 2004, 04:45 PM
you guys are all bastards....

26th Oct 2004, 05:03 PM
Blackguards and dastards",
Cried Zed to his tormentors three.

"I'll see you next morn,
At the first crack of dawn,
And my pistol will set your souls free."

26th Oct 2004, 05:46 PM
But alas and alack,
he sold it waaaay back,
and bought with the proceeds a driver,

A right angled one
but no good as a gun
and the change from the deal was a fiver,

He sat up that night
to ponder the fight
he knew a greenie for each
would just fix,

He wanted to love them, he wanted to care
for the insect, the chook and the bear,
..but when all's said and done,

they're just pricks.

26th Oct 2004, 06:21 PM
He went out to his shed,
The incomparable Zed,
To examine with care his tool hoard.

He needed to find
A blade of just the right grind
To bring back to the Bulletin Board

His tormentors three:
That's you two, and me,
Had been giving him curry for days.

It was time, thought young Zeddy
I am more than just ready
To get back at these bastards in spades

So ...

26th Oct 2004, 07:30 PM
Sorry Zed.

You others are good, you crack me up.

Al :D

27th Oct 2004, 12:00 AM
Me too, clever bastards :D

27th Oct 2004, 08:39 AM
When new day dawned twas bright and clear.
Perhaps egged on by many a cheer
(well two at least, from Oz and )

The three arose to once again
enjoy the company of men,
the threats from Zed not worth two bob... oh.

Despite the dangers ever present
They breakfasted in sunshine pleasant
Then in work they all sought consolation

In Towns so widely separated
how could they all be castigated?
How could they avoid stern reprobation?

27th Oct 2004, 10:00 AM
Of course, thought Zed,
He shook his head,
Why did it not occur to me before?

The woodworker's ball is where I'll get,
Revenge upon these mongrels yet,
I'll fix them so they torment me no more.

I'll offer each of them a muffin,
Made with extra poison stuffing,
I've got a packet left over from last year.

One bite each is all they'll need,
I'll watch these wicked bastards bleed,
My laughter will be the last sound that they hear.

27th Oct 2004, 10:40 AM
The problem will be,
For the bold young Zeddy,
How to pin down all three of these bastards.

Only one of the three:
To whit, SilentC
Had he met over muffins and custard (?)

Of the midge and the bear,
He had never a hair
Or a hide even spotted or seen.

So the Woodworkers Ball
In the end mightn't be all
That he'd hope for as a vengeful scene.

(Further stanzas today
From this bard in WA
Will be missing, I have to inform you.

For I'm off to the bush
In a bloody great rush.
'Til tomorrow, I'll have to say: "Hoo Roo!")

27th Oct 2004, 11:43 AM
Was it Muffins he'd use?
So to heaven they'd cruise,
Surely he had to be kidding.

He'd need help of course,
Recruit innocent(?) Oz,
On eBay to do secret bidding,

But let's not yet forget
that very safe bet,
conspiring in his crapatorium

that Oz started this thread
to see us all dead
so he'd be the sole Empororium.

27th Oct 2004, 11:55 AM
So the truth is now clear,
That OzWinner we fear,
Is the root and cause of this trouble.

By starting this thread,
He wished us all dead,
So our toys he could sift from the rubble.

To steal them away,
To his store where folks pay,
For stuff they did not know they needed.

But we've caught him off guard,
His plan he'll discard,
And we'll make sure he reaps what he seeded.

27th Oct 2004, 03:39 PM
How stupid we've been
having failed to have seen
The obvious clues though so teeny.

We should never trust anyone,
getting his fun
from wearing a tinfoily beanie

The corpses he has, hanging high from the ceiling
His missus though naked, appealing
To customers, woodies, a turner or three,

who enter in hope of buying our things
but never come out without haloes and wings.
It's time to take action, to shake up his tree.

27th Oct 2004, 04:10 PM
The first thing to do,
Is establish it's true,
That 'twas Al and no other sinner,

Who posted the thread,
That wishes us dead,
In the name of the junkman - OzWinner.

The first one to see,
The jig maker, Sturdee,
Who went to his place of trade.

But what did he find?,
Al was gone, left behind -
Only she who must be obeyed.

The borer of wood,
Is the next one who could,
Shed light on the truth or the lie.

But he tells a tale,
Of rituals strange,
And Al wearing a bow tie!

27th Oct 2004, 05:33 PM
If he innocent be,
then why would he flee
From Sturdee the kindly Jigmaker,

And why build a sander
to soften his hands eh,
or to remove prints from his fingers, the faker?

27th Oct 2004, 07:31 PM
Twas not I went up the cry
For I am a kindly cr&p dealer
Tho' I wear the bow tie
And sometimes the foil
I sometimes feel like a Sheila

Sometimes on morn'
Sometimes at night
But when I look in the mirror
Tis always with fright
For I am one ugly MF
( didnt rhyme I know :o )

27th Oct 2004, 07:52 PM
Oh dear how much gall!
Perhaps now we all
can see through his dastardly plot.

His conniving and scheming
all the while seeming
that planning to have us all shot

will bring him undone
when his bastard son
(Sir ) strangles his 'pilla.

He'll turn it all red
till it's good and dead
Like the bricky Oz did, he's the killer!

28th Oct 2004, 09:18 AM
Aha! There's a clue,
Could it really be true,
That the Junkman was ever a bricky?

I put it to you,
That one of the two,
Is trying to take the mickey.

Did the junkman lay bricks,
Or does he play tricks,
By pretending to be our mate Al?

Could the junkman have been,
Someone new to the scene?
If so, what has he done with our pal?

28th Oct 2004, 04:28 PM
I find it hard to believe
That Al would deceive
All his mates on the Woodworkers' For-ee-um.

Therefore it must be,
It's quite plain to see,
An imposter has accessed the Craporium.

We can't let this lie.
But you two, and I
Are remote from the scene of the swap.

We need someone in Vic
To get round there right quick
And restore Al to ownership of his shop.

28th Oct 2004, 05:33 PM
Well I never did!
For just a few quid
I'll catch a plane to the South.

Can't get there this week
I'm right up the creek
and that's from the Cup horses mouth.

So I'll fly in from Sydney
Good old Steak and Kidney
and drive in a hire car down.

I'll see for myself
if all of this stealth
should give rise to us wearing a frown.

(Dr Seuss has a lot to answer for!)

28th Oct 2004, 06:50 PM
Goodonya, Sir Midge!
If you’re ridgey-didge
About rescuing Al from his captor.

Make sure that you’re wary
It could get quite hairy
So move less like a midge than a raptor!

Our mate, SilentC
Can prob’ly help thee
Now he’s grown bloody great talons.

In a serious blue
He’d be more use than you
With his beak and superior balance (Jeez!!) :D

So I urge you to think
Over this evening’s drink
Of diverting from off the Hume Highway

While en route down to Vic
Give that road the flick
Take the coast road, an int’resting by-way.

For then you can reach
Into Pambula Beach
Where resides our good ol’ mate Silent

Take him with you, I urge.
Pick him up from the verge.
Take him with you. He’ll be much more violent

‘Gainst the usurping bugger
Who has replaced the figure
Of Al, our good mate Ozwinner.

When you’ve finished the deed
You can then proceed
To Flemington. Eh! Come in Spinner!

28th Oct 2004, 06:52 PM
Well I never did!
For just a few quid
I'll catch a plane to the South.

Can't get there this week
I'm right up the creek
and that's from the Cup horses mouth.

So I'll fly in from Sydney
Good old Steak and Kidney
and drive in a hire car down.

I'll see for myself
if all of this stealth
should give rise to us wearing a frown.

(Dr Seuss has a lot to answer for!)
I can just see you on site
all shiney and bright
with hard hat on head
all white and shiney with stipes a red

28th Oct 2004, 08:32 PM
White shiny and red!
The hat on my head!
The red being splatters of blood!

Oh goodness dear Driver
if I'm a survivor
I'll need help to clean up the crud.

Do you think it's an axe that he'll aim at my head?
Do you think that he's hoping that I'll end up dead?
Or is this a tip from the one true Ozwinner?

In red and white colours his horse will run first
maybe start late, then with a late burst
will take home the cup and make him a grinner?

28th Oct 2004, 11:46 PM
Oh, tis a sad tale
That I've missed all this while
Coz I've been adding (against all best reason)
to tales of giants, and crabtree and Susan.

Could Oz be the fiend? If you know what I mean?
To take Silent and Midge from their mummy?
Or has Kenmill come back, Lurking there on the track
To wipe them out with a spit of his dummy?

Will save the day, in his gentlemanly way
Or will Chris, who once was doorstop,
the prudes to dismay, come back from hell (well, half way)
and clobber the bastard with ... (something)

Oh, she who must be obeyed
has just entered the fray
So you're all saved from anymore bad rhyming. :D

29th Oct 2004, 09:38 AM
I'm sorry you're late
Dear Hovo old mate
Though for your poem I really can't praise ya

You've given relief
although very brief;
our poems are like slow euthenasia.

I'm leaving tonight
to fight the good fight
and I will take the road by the beach

On Wednesday I'll find
if we can have peace of mind
Or the Viccy boy's we should impeach?

29th Oct 2004, 09:20 PM
Heading south to Al's nice shop
On a plane Midge did hop
First class all the way
'Cause someone else got to pay
Landing here in the morn
Just before the crack of dawn

Up to Al's place in a cab
Driven by some friendly A-rab
Melbournes weather was discused
But Midge was not all that fussed

Did you pack your thermal jocks
BTW where did you stash your socks
Stashed away in your derps
looks like youve been on the terps

To Al's shop he did venture
This was Midge's big southern adventure
Hours and hours they did talk
Talking, talking, dork to dork

30th Oct 2004, 07:14 PM
So - on the surface at least,
Seems like Al's been released.
The Craporium's back in his charge.

And, if this is so,
What we'd all like to know:
Is the imposter now still at large?

Or did Midge and Ozwinner
Do away with the sinner?
If so, where the hell's the cadaver?

Have they had time to fashion
A casket - even a gash 'un?
Or did they just sling him in t'river?

31st Oct 2004, 10:05 PM
Of course - it could be
That all the time we
Have been wrong and Al wasn't in trouble.

So our efforts at rhyming
Even those where the timing
Was crappy and scanned like mere rubble ( :rolleyes: )

Have been describing a threat
That hasn't, as yet,
Become at all realistic.

For Treasure on Plenty
Is apparently empty
Of imposters - and here Al is spick

And span
All according to plan,
Comfortably plying his trade.

Running the emporium
The famous Craporium
Supervised by She Who Must Be Obeyed!

1st Nov 2004, 09:16 AM
So who could it be,
That is so filled with glee,
At the sight of Midge to-ing and fro-ing.

I'll bet it's the pope,
Of the slippery slope,
That bounder, the great Derek Cohen!

1st Nov 2004, 05:29 PM
Darren, that's it! - It's Darth Cohen
Who's been getting all of us goin'.
Not content with having us sliding
Down the slippery slope - he's now hiding

Behind the innocent crap purveyor,
The guiltless, blameless surveyor
Of pre-loved and valued knick-knackery
For second-hand sale to the jacquerie.

But Derek - you've been, you see,
Unmasked by the same SilentC
Who had raised, in an earlier post
The suspicion that 'twas this thread's host

Who had planned the assassination
Of woodies all over the nation
But now all is transparent
'Tis the dark side, that's apparent,

That's causing the mischief,
That's taking the ****, chief!
And ...

2nd Nov 2004, 08:08 AM
... although the meter has changed,
To a pace that's almost deranged,

We'll go on without even blinking,
Till you wonder what we've been drinking.
So sharpen your blades 'till they're scary,
And can shave your arms big and hairy.

The end grain of pine is the best,
For the edge of your blade so to test.
And soon your handplane collection,
Will require a workshop extension.

Your wife will think you've gone troppo,
Pretty soon it's too late to stop. Oh,
When you're best friends are Stanley and Pope,
You've slid down the slippery slope.

2nd Nov 2004, 12:50 PM
(Slight diversion - and another change of meter:-

Our illustrious colleague,craigb,
In another thread, recently,
On the subject of pronunciation

Mentioned Mainwaring of Dad's Army
Not realising the amount of harm 'e
Might inflict on the woodworking nation.

Yet another old pommy TV show
Full of odd characters we know
To populate threads in the Woodies Yarn Forum

This raises a serious question:
Can the BB cope with the ingestion
Of a full cast of characters increasing the quorum

Of ...

7th Nov 2004, 05:14 PM
If I may re-digress for just a mo....on the question of Oz's guilt?

...and so it was that we did drive
right around Victoria
trying hard to stay alive
till we could find Craporia.

He ducked and weaved and wasn't there :eek:
counting not on our resilience.
But searching calmly and with care
we hatched a plan of brilliance.

Not once, but twice we staked his place
till near our plane's departure
You should hae seen how looked his face
When we both shouted "Got ya"
(to be pronounced "gartcha" with apologies to Joe the Seppo) ;)

We shook hands and mine were cut
by his rough paws (and twice!).
When we had gone I thought this but:
"He's really rather nice!!!"

:D :D :D

Now where were we????

7th Nov 2004, 06:51 PM
This threads too hard,
I don't have the time,
To make things rhyme,
Gawd , I'm a Poet,
And I didn't know it!!!

8th Nov 2004, 08:58 PM
Please turn off your computers and go to bed. If it was bad before, it now takes a turn very much for the worse!!
(Best???? Sung to the tune of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Modern Major General"!)

This raises a serious question:
Can the BB cope with the ingestion
Of a full cast of characters increasing the quorum

Of ...

....of questions astronomical
it seems to be ironical
that a Bear in drawings comical
who wore a Frenchman's monical
and quotes from Billy Connolly
would draft a little homoly
of bods that couldn' t possibly
be any longer on TV.

Can they be with you and me
to talk of wood work's GLORIUM?.

We've Russell Coight and Mainwairing
and Yogi bear and Billy thing.
Silvester's been and Porky Pig
and Foghorn's even had his gig.
While Darth and others dance a jig
and Bart and Homer both we dig
there's Tweety bird and Bunyip big
and Batman wearing not a wig.

Steptoe's head is not too big
to post from his CRAPORIUM.

There's talk of tools and other things
and news of special offerings
from all our favourite Bunnings.
We all will go a scampering
to waste our time computering
so that we know when hankering
for shed time and some thinkering
we'll bring constructive tinkering

That's why we all stay lingering
in this our WOODIES FORIUM.

P (poet; retired!)

9th Nov 2004, 10:48 AM
Brilliant work, BM!

Tried to give you a greenie and couldn't, so I owe you one.

This poet is also now retired. :D

9th Nov 2004, 11:08 AM
Can't argue with that :D

15th Nov 2004, 08:58 PM
Sad to see the thread is dead
A short run it has had,
Rest in peace dead thread

16th Nov 2004, 07:57 AM
Although your rhymes were bad.

16th Nov 2004, 10:45 AM
Which is quite sad

Peter R
19th Nov 2004, 09:01 PM
http://www.woodworkforums.ubeaut.com.au/images/icons/icon12.gif[/img]chnidna]who was very well fed.........Bob, old mate, how am I going to educate you. It should be "who, they said, was very well fed" this is the way to keep the meter,

Beinig as you were number two, you stuffed up all the other Wordsworths, can you ever forgive yourself?

PS Thanks for the MDF info.
Peter R.http://www.woodworkforums.ubeaut.com.au/images/icons/icon12.gifhttp://www.woodworkforums.ubeaut.com.au/images/icons/icon6.gif

I thought it was Bob, Aw well! he can take it he has broad shoulders, I hope!!
Fidy and I have had a drinkies.

19th Nov 2004, 09:09 PM
Poetic license,
and a bit of teasing,
naught to seek forgiveness for!

Peter R
19th Nov 2004, 09:14 PM
Poetic license,
and a bit of teasing,
naught to seek forgiveness for!
Bob Thomas, did you see the thing that I put in about having a serious poet's Corner? I can't find it. Idiot that I am.
If you did, and it makes any sense, reply, but be nice.

Peter R.

19th Nov 2004, 09:23 PM
This thread
Started about Zed,
But Zed has fled,
And I don't come here much of the time
Coz I have trouble making a Rhyme,
Golly Gee
I'm a poet,
But I didnt Know it.

19th Nov 2004, 09:24 PM
Is that serious enough Peter R ?

Peter R
19th Nov 2004, 11:51 PM
Is that serious enough Peter R ?
spose! But I was jist hoping

Peter R

Peter R
20th Nov 2004, 12:08 AM
He went out to his shed,
The incomparable Zed,
To examine with care his tool hoard.

He needed to find
A blade of just the right grind
To bring back to the Bulletin Board

His tormentors three:
That's you two, and me,
Had been giving him curry for days.

It was time, thought young Zeddy
I am more than just ready
To get back at these bastards in spades

So ...Com'on blokes and shielas the stuff presented so far is good, but it is good doggerel, how about some serious stuff. Try Banjo CJ Dennis, or whomever.
Or , always someone to stick his neck out, Peter R. But No! I have not seen the prize that is to be offered By . and I don't share my talents with just anybody
Peter R.

21st Nov 2004, 08:49 PM
Twas on the Huon River that I sat to shiver
when the cold blast from the south
made me put the hip flask to my mouth,
I sipped the fluid amber and thought of a seven pounder,
The cold sou' wester was a real tester for coat and hat,
Twas on the huon River I sat,
I had no fish but filled my wish to go on the river and fish,
The flask was depleted and I was defeated,
Twas time to go back to he house,
Having no fish is not a concern when you know
there is always another turn.

21st Nov 2004, 09:07 PM
Twas to the fish shop I went
Had to go, by the wife I was sent
Minimum chips, flake, and two dimmies
All caught with hard earned money
Just enough for our two tummies

Al :D

22nd Nov 2004, 08:35 AM
When we came back from the river,
My friend and I we did deliver,
To my missus, God forgive her,
Fish for dinner from our toil.

But she soon caught on the caper,
Not five minutes did it take her,
Stuck to the fish were bits of paper,
From the fish shop near the Royal.

22nd Nov 2004, 10:42 PM
We caught the fish and did not linger,
we wanted the fish finger.
Now we have it what do we do?
Cook the thing on the BBQ?
Now we cooked it I suppose
we can use it to pick our nose.
What about the fishes toes?

23rd Nov 2004, 08:34 AM
What sorta fish has got toes?
A crocodile fish I suppose,
So if you get a bite,
Be careful you dont get pulled outa sight.

23rd Nov 2004, 07:33 PM
When you have fish in the sink,
do they start to hum and stink,
Cutting heads off, gutting and scaling
usually sends the missus wailing,
Once they are clean and fully dressed,
They usually taste the best,
with a glass of nice white wine,
we can sit and begin to dine.
Fresh cooked fish is nice to eat,
when we wash down that nice white meat
with a glass of chardonay
means we had a lovley day.

23rd Nov 2004, 07:37 PM
Crikey, Crikey, everywhere
Hes got a baby so beware
Dont let it slip or tumble
Or it will end up in the crocks tumble

A dingo, a dingos got my baby
Did it realy or was it maybe
Its hard to say, its hard to know
Ooohh look theres a babies toe.

24th Nov 2004, 08:25 AM
To the sunny north, the northern coast, the silly tourists flock,
They climb into their combie vans and set off via Ayers Rock.
To the rivers wide, their waters warm, and there they pitch their tent.
But in the shade of mangrove trees a wily beast has spent,
A day or two, or maybe more,
Watching dinner on the shore.
He knows what jaws and teeth are for.

24th Nov 2004, 09:10 AM
He needed tickets not on Noah's ark
His home, though wet, a national park
Cruising silent through the day
Stalking tasty treats that may
Wander close enough to feel
And after terror stricken squeal
He'll pretend he thought they were a seal

24th Nov 2004, 08:42 PM
round and round this poem goes
where it stops nobody knows
off it goes without a care
going here and going there

one night fishing
then exploreing
but there is no ignoreing
once poem writeing your hooked
then look out, your ( bleeeeeep )

Al :D

24th Nov 2004, 10:21 PM
Booked??? :D

24th Nov 2004, 10:22 PM
snookered?? :D

25th Nov 2004, 10:16 PM
Robbos interjection be
critical of our rhymerie,
Words are chosen out of need
to ensure the rhyming code we heed.
Poetic lisence is a ripper
even if you write a sh*****!

27th Nov 2004, 07:08 PM
Midge has a problem with this thread
Its the one that he will dread
Poems, poems in his brain
All his strenght it will drain
Laying on the floor in a heap
From poem writing he will keep.

Al :D

28th Nov 2004, 06:45 PM
All is quiet on the poem front
Most of you think Im a silly,....... sausage
I dont know, I dont care
Just as long as I sit in this chair
Typeing, typeing to myself again
Maybe they are right, I might just be a pain
Keeping this thread going, yeah I know
Tonights TV must be slow.

28th Nov 2004, 07:57 PM
I don't know from poetry
In fact it's only recently
That this bard lay down his pen.

At the time, it seems to me
Several others did the same as me
Including SilentC and BitingM.

But now it seems the thread's alive -er
And so it's time for this 'ere Driver
Once more to tap into the Muse.

And though it's merely doggerel
Apparently worth buggerall
It's the type of poetry I choose ...

28th Nov 2004, 09:06 PM
Some of us are Philistines
and others artsy crafsty
perhaps because this hardly rhymes
there'll come a POEM Nazi !!

What if the meters' poorly and
the rythm absolutely shocking
p'haps truly this is doggerel grand
and we deserve a mocking.

I think we need an expert coach
to give this thread a tweak
Someone who with encouragement
Will true po-etry speak.

29th Nov 2004, 07:37 PM
Damn, you said it!

Words alone do not poems make,
You must get out your verbal rake,
Speak the words you want to convey
Write them down and see what they say,
Are they hetro or are they gay?
Do they please or do they tease?
Words must come from the heart,
Not the area you use to fart.
Mostly people are emotional
Other people are merely dumb
And all their poetry comes from the bum.
I like words that rhyme and mix,
This gives me a literal fix.

Some of us are Philistines
and others artsy crafsty
perhaps because this hardly rhymes
there'll come a POEM Nazi !!

What if the meters' poorly and
the rythm absolutely shocking
p'haps truly this is doggerel grand
and we deserve a mocking.

I think we need an expert coach
to give this thread a tweak
Someone who with encouragement
Will true po-etry speak.

29th Nov 2004, 08:00 PM
Well done you Tassie thing
Your poetry has a ring
Maybe not to somes ppls tastes
but maybe in our hastes
we forgot how to talk
Owwhh bugger, Im a dork

30th Nov 2004, 05:02 PM
On they come, one after one,
Like the crashing of a wave,
'Till William Topaz McGonagall,
Is rolling in his grave.

But who's to say what's right or wrong,
When rhyming on a page?
For every man's a poet,
And all the world's a stage.

30th Nov 2004, 06:50 PM
So as this poem goes on and on and on,
The rhyming and meter may be wrong,
And it may not make much sense.

But when it's all said and done,
We all had a lot of fun,
So who cares if it didn't make sense.


30th Nov 2004, 07:35 PM
Poetry is not an art,
just some words that sound real smart,
If you want to win a tart,
think up some words which will make her notice,
you are not just playing but have real potence.
Some will say that material things,
will not get you all your whims.
Just be patient and do the work,
don't behave like a bloody jerk.
The bloke who babbles ,raves and rants,
will not get into her pants.

30th Nov 2004, 07:51 PM
A mob of internet-capable woodies,
All fully equipped with the goodies
To rout, plane and drill
(Enough to make themselves ill)
Chose to add verse to their studies ...

(Keep it goin' fellas!)

30th Nov 2004, 08:05 PM
Fast spinning steel
not good to feel
youll feel the pain
again and again
for years itll plauge your senses
come down from your fences

Ok got side tracked there :o

30th Nov 2004, 08:08 PM
Oak , mahognay and wonderous teak,
into what shape shall we tweak
the planks and boards so hard to get,
Do we rip them,
do we plain them,
do we carefully align them,
do we chisel, glue and sand them,
What's the outcome of our effort,
have we made the the pice we wanted,
is the item up to spec,
or have merely made a wreck.
With all out tools we go for bust,
and finish up with a pile of dust.
The thing to prevent this is a sure bet,
when you get help from the woodworkers net.

1st Dec 2004, 01:31 AM
Some time has past,
since I was here last.

And to my eyes,
a delightful suprise.

Creative souls,
achieving goals.

What was once a chore,
has become adored.

Thank you all for the enlighting read,
I'm off to find my noble steed?



2nd Dec 2004, 08:36 PM
Today it rained and the wood got wet,
I think I'll take the dog to the vet,
Poor old bugger has lived his life,
I just want to keep him till 2005,
The grand kids love the furry old bloke
with him they have had many a joke,
they have run and jumped and swum with him,
he has responded to their every whim.
What now old boy, no more saw dust,
no more pinching the cut offs,
and no more chewing the extension cords.
I wish you were a piece of wood,
preserve your gentle soul I would,
The shed is empty except for stuff,
I really do miss your cheeky Wuff!
If dogs were holy mine would be the
the Pope of all canine Doggery.
My new dog Jack stops me from fraying
around the edges and decaying.
He gives me hope and and gives me life
to continue with this wood work life.
A can of beer and a Christmas cheer
without either we wouldn't be here,
Working wood and using tools we trust
we continue to make our our pile of dust.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

7th Dec 2004, 07:22 PM
Four days have gone and no more prose,
What does this mean do you suppose.
the words about the bloody dog ,
were written under the influence of grog,
The mongrel is alive and well,
and should be dwelling in burning hell.
He buggers plants and craps about,
for me to run and clean and shout,
I must admit I love the dog,
except when I get on the grog.

7th Dec 2004, 07:40 PM
The ghost of poor old dead Rex
has come to curse you with a hex
from now on sobber you must be
else youll be swimming in Rex's doggy pee
If on the grog you should hop
Rex will pee with no stop
Higher and higher it will rise
stopping just over your eyes

7th Dec 2004, 07:57 PM
So when you lot gunna start singing Old Shep ???