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"Short Poem Competition Revival"

I don't need to introduce this. It;s the Short Poem Competition. I give you a word, you create literary verse about it and then, magically, a winner is produced. The winning date shall not be announced. Ever.

The words you have to base your brilliance around are below

'(Park) Bench'

Get styling, you hip young cats.

WINNER

Ashman wrote:
> Playing for the jersey
>
> The yellow slides over skin,
> New day, new match, new chances.
> Strolling upon a fresh green pitch,
> Supporters aim their glances.
>
> The jersey owns me, I play for it,
> I love the Crew, I’m Columbus bred.
> It runs deep inside me, yellow blood,
> Without this passion I would be dead.
>
> Give me the ball; a sphere of chance.
> Give me a yard.
> Half a yard.
> Give me anything.
> I want to give the Crew what they deserve.
>
> ”I play for the jersey. I love Columbus.”
>
> And the shirt comes off.
> The gloves removed.
> Buddle twelve.
> CROO APPROVED.
>
> bench

I don't need to introduce this. It;s the Short Poem Competition. I give you a word, you create literary verse about it and then, magically, a winner is produced. The winning date shall not be announced. Ever.

The words you have to base your brilliance around are below

'(Park) Bench'

Get styling, you hip young cats.

WINNER

Ashman wrote:
> Playing for the jersey
>
> The yellow slides over skin,
> New day, new match, new chances.
> Strolling upon a fresh green pitch,
> Supporters aim their glances.
>
> The jersey owns me, I play for it,
> I love the Crew, I’m Columbus bred.
> It runs deep inside me, yellow blood,
> Without this passion I would be dead.
>
> Give me the ball; a sphere of chance.
> Give me a yard.
> Half a yard.
> Give me anything.
> I want to give the Crew what they deserve.
>
> ”I play for the jersey. I love Columbus.”
>
> And the shirt comes off.
> The gloves removed.
> Buddle twelve.
> CROO APPROVED.
>
> bench

Bench á la Park

Darkness covering your oak body
The night caressing your bland edges
Covered with names, loves, dates
I want to sit on your face

A Covered Park Bench

You sit there covered in man juice,
Condoms your worshipers surrounding you,
Evil syringes invade your space,
And burst your condom lovers

The End

The Mystery of the bench man from doom

the portaloo, the bench
the differences are great
but still the man will crouch
and continue to excrete
and then
i will sit on it

Memoirs of a Park Bench

I spend my night covered
intoxicated
with tramps

Man, I hate those greedy feckers

Bench porns

Collapsing I slid rythmically to the bench
I felt the hard, sturdy wood between my thighs
Deeper it crept, inside my tight ring
I began to grind my teeth and and closed my eyes

Used paper on the bench

A whole role says there stained with blood,
Dripping with the contents of anal excretion,
A man was preparing for a night at gaybys,
Depending on this size he may not be prepared

Newspaper on bench

3 days old
nobody sits on me anymore
fast lifestyles
they fill their time with unimportant rubbish
like the internet, jobs
and kids

mattributé wrote:
> Bench á la Park
>
> Darkness covering your oak body
> The night caressing your bland edges
> Covered with names, loves, dates
> I want to sit on your face

I love you

Live?