Thread: Poets corner.............

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.

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.

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

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

Booked???

snookered??

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*****!

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

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.

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 ...

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.

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.

Originally Posted by bitingmidge

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.

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

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.