chrisp65 Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 don't know if it'll catch on, but thought I'd try a little poetry nice easy one to start, a bit of Larkin Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse They **** you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were **** up in their turn By fools in old-style hats and coats, Who half the time were soppy-stern And half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dont_do_it_doug. Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 Genius. OK, here's one of my own. It's better read out loud, but I'll share anyway.... When you speak my name you turn, Winter into spring, The shadow lifts, the curtain draws on every precious thing, That procured me once before which turns to dust and pallid light, Angels then might sing. Yet as I behold the beauty viced by your within, I gaze upon thine eyes and wonder where they do begin. I'm humbled by your charm, Your grace, Till slowly, death sets in. As the serpent weaves its tail, Around my nubile horn, We begin to scream and wail, The curtains have been torn! An eerie silence falls as we prance upon the dark, Torrid waves break and shatter as the ripping leaves its mark, Stolen from your charm, Your grace, My hidden hound begins to bark. Hobbled by your silence as I drift on your exhale, Yet fevered words should not protect against the bruising hail. A heartless venture does begin, Thoughts enslaved, I construct my sturdy gaol. In which I sleep for one thousand years, All at once I am awake, Moments defaced by un-muted tears, Haunted by the river, Scorched earth begins to quake and rattle as the demon rides to the fore, So I punch and scream and RIP until your beauty shines no more, I destroy the very foundation on which my heart had come to explore. And all at once I am alone, Silence reigns as I withdraw. I think my love I found my low, Behind my prison door. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CarewsEyebrowDesigner Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 poetry 'ftw'. i like that, mr doug. for someone who listens to mika, i'm impressed . Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dAVe80 Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 Kung Fu International - John Cooper Clarke Outside the take-away, Saturday night a bald adolescent, asks me out for a fight He was no bigger than a two-penny fart he was a deft exponent of the martial art He gave me three warnings: Trod on me toes, stuck his fingers in my eyes and kicked me in the nose A rabbit punch made me eyes explode My head went dead, I fell in the road I pleaded for mercy I wriggled on the ground he kicked me in the balls and said something profound Gave my face the millimetre tread Stole me chop suey and left me for dead Through rivers of blood and splintered bones I crawled half a mile to the public telephone pulled the corpse out the call box, held back the bile and with a broken index finger, I proceeded to dial I couldn’t get an ambulance the phone was screwed The receiver fell in half it had been kung fu’d A black belt karate cop opened up the door demanding information about the stiff on the floor he looked like an extra from Yang Shang Po he said “What’s all this then ah so, ah so, ah so.” he wore a bamboo mask he was gen’ned on zen He finished his devotions and he beat me up again Thanks to that embryonic Bruce Lee I’m a shadow of the person that I used to be I can’t go back to Salford the cops have got me marked Enter the Dragon Exit Johnny Clarke Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dont_do_it_doug. Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 poetry 'ftw'. i like that, mr doug. for someone who listens to mika, i'm impressed . Cheers! Latest one.... Raging for security of a twisted metal bond, One that won't be rusted in my vile putrid pond That which I fall in to when I'm taken from this perch By cruelest fate bestowed upon as demons start their lurch They're after this soul I've sold along by chance a million times The very same I scream out for once I've blurred the lines Behind my beaten curtain I wail towards repent Realise I can't recover that which I have lent Then when I arise to find it never went away Only hidden by a heart so riddled with decay Talk becomes so cheap for one now so self assured That in my low I lie in wait with a soul I can't afford (Chicks dig poetry) :winkold: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
chrisp65 Posted September 27, 2011 Author Share Posted September 27, 2011 great stuff, truly impressive self penned stuff. I think I'll keep working on mine having seen that! I did read it out loud, and yes, that does work really well. As for Mr Cooper Clarke, is he making something of a comeback? He's been on a couple of radio stations lately and seems to be on good form. I can't believe I'm alone in a hotel room and reading poetry! I should be half blind with a strained wrist by now. Slough by John Betjeman Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death! Come, bombs and blow to smithereens Those air -conditioned, bright canteens, Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans, Tinned minds, tinned breath. Mess up the mess they call a town— A house for ninety-seven down And once a week a half a crown For twenty years. And get that man with double chin Who'll always cheat and always win, Who washes his repulsive skin In women's tears: And smash his desk of polished oak And smash his hands so used to stroke And stop his boring dirty joke And make him yell. But spare the bald young clerks who add The profits of the stinking cad; It's not their fault that they are mad, They've tasted Hell. It's not their fault they do not know The birdsong from the radio, It's not their fault they often go To Maidenhead And talk of sport and makes of cars In various bogus-Tudor bars And daren't look up and see the stars But belch instead. In labour-saving homes, with care Their wives frizz out peroxide hair And dry it in synthetic air And paint their nails. Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough To get it ready for the plough. The cabbages are coming now; The earth exhales. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CarewsEyebrowDesigner Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 (edited) >> Edited January 7, 2016 by CarewsEyebrowDesigner Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dont_do_it_doug. Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 great stuff, truly impressive self penned stuff. I think I'll keep working on mine having seen that! I did read it out loud, and yes, that does work really well. Thank you. I've only recently ventured into "classical" writing. Here's one of my early, more light (or dark depending on how you look at it) poems for shits and giggles and I'm off. I'll certainly keep reading though. Thanks for this. In my cave The animals all dance To the sight of me in my pink underpants The giraffe does a jig To the sound of The Smith's We've got rum and coca cola And all kinds of crisps The cat and the beaver Swapping dirty jokes In the corner by the fire The Elephant tokes Fits of laughter Dancing in rows I hope nobody falls On the pussy cats toes I've just been sick On a disgruntled fox When the Toad arrives With more jack in a box Taking lines from a stripper Happens to be a mouse I don't really know her How did she get in my house? Monkey on the mic Otter body pops Sheep skanking around In woolen fitted tops The Universal's on Near the end of the night Hopefully this one Won't end in a fight In my cave The animals collapse To the sight of me out of my pink underpants. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dont_do_it_doug. Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 Brilliant CED, aspirational. A style I've yet to master. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CarewsEyebrowDesigner Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 Cheers. I find my style goes from desperately trying not to be Ted Hughes, to desperately trying not to be any number of post-70s poets from my neck of the woods. After a while, though, you come to realise everyone owes something to their predecessors. Pretentiousness aside, poetry is great to write, and even better to read. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dont_do_it_doug. Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 That's not pretentious. Unless you're showing off just for the hell of it ;-) On a slightly less serious note when I say chicks dig it that's a **** understatement. Since I started writing I've slept with 3 women. All within an hour of hearing one of my works. I read them "When you speak my name...." and BAM, covered in lady jizz before The Bard turns in his grave. Brilliant. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CarewsEyebrowDesigner Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 I recommend some good ol' john donne for the ladies. you could melt the ice caps between their legs after a reading of his works. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyh29 Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 That's not pretentious. I'd say it's up there with drinking wine in the pretentious stakes :winkold: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
GarethRDR Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 Roses are red violets are blue I've got Alzheimer's cheese on toast. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lapal_fan Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 **** YOU, I WAS JUST ABOUT TO POST THAT GARETH! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! It's the only poetry I know :cry: Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
GarethRDR Posted September 27, 2011 Share Posted September 27, 2011 **** YOU, I WAS JUST ABOUT TO POST THAT GARETH! FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! It's the only poetry I know :cry: I wouldn't say "only"; you've also got an angry, contextual doggerel-vibe going on in the above. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lapal_fan Posted September 28, 2011 Share Posted September 28, 2011 well, I do, do rage well.. thanks! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sonic_bouma Posted September 28, 2011 Share Posted September 28, 2011 If moths had eyes, would they be happier? How do they know they're not dead? Cavemen hunting for food, but not before they style the hair on their head What would last longer in dinosaur times? A blind man didn't stand a chance, not with all them rocks about I'd rather be a blind moth Karl Pilkington Poetry genius Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sonic_bouma Posted September 28, 2011 Share Posted September 28, 2011 In 1905 Einstein Came up with E = mc squared Yet in 2008 British Gas Still can’t get my boiler repaired Archimedes said “Eureka!” With no hot water … I reeka! possibly Karl's best Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tomzep Posted September 28, 2011 Share Posted September 28, 2011 I wont post it as im sure youve all heard it a thousand times or at least the final lines, but currently im analysing 'IF' by Rudyard Kipling with my 12 year old korean kids. They love it and no matter how many times I hear it, it always moves me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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