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It seems that from time to time people will post a poem but it is awkward to find somewhere to post it. Life or General seem to be the two forums people favour so I think it would be a good idea to have a thread just for submitting poems to so that people who are interested in reading poetry or submitting there own have a thread in which to do so instead of trawling through the backlogs of posts.
Feel free to submit anything of a poetical nature to this thread as well as comments on people's writing.
Feel free to submit anything of a poetical nature to this thread as well as comments on people's writing.
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Much :-D
Tony had a little lamb.
He was arrested.
That better?
He was arrested.
That better?
FM < Phoney
You heard it here first.
"You heard it here first" is copyrighted to FM, 2003.
You heard it here first.
"You heard it here first" is copyrighted to FM, 2003.
FantasyMeister wrote:
> I eat my peas with honey,
> I've done it all my life.
> It makes the peas taste funny,
> But it keeps them on the knife.
>
> FM, 2003.
You didnt make that up, its in this nursery rhyme book or something I've had since being about 1!
"You're a phoney"
"THIS GUY IS A PHONEY!"
> I eat my peas with honey,
> I've done it all my life.
> It makes the peas taste funny,
> But it keeps them on the knife.
>
> FM, 2003.
You didnt make that up, its in this nursery rhyme book or something I've had since being about 1!
"You're a phoney"
"THIS GUY IS A PHONEY!"
I was crying at the end of it. That's the first time I've ever done one of those "pour your heart out in a poetry post" things, I might try it again later.
*Runs off to blow his nose*
*Runs off to blow his nose*
FantasyMeister wrote:
> I eat my peas with honey,
> I've done it all my life.
> It makes the peas taste funny,
> But it keeps them on the knife.
>
> FM, 2003.
A heartfelt sentiment.
> I eat my peas with honey,
> I've done it all my life.
> It makes the peas taste funny,
> But it keeps them on the knife.
>
> FM, 2003.
A heartfelt sentiment.
I eat my peas with honey,
I've done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny,
But it keeps them on the knife.
FM, 2003.
I've done it all my life.
It makes the peas taste funny,
But it keeps them on the knife.
FM, 2003.
I found it hard
Not to stare
At the man
Who was not there
I saw his look
Of shocked surprise
As he ran
And tried to hide
'Go Away'
He said to me
'And be the man
You want to be'
That strange advice
I could not bear
I didn't take it
He wasn't there
Not to stare
At the man
Who was not there
I saw his look
Of shocked surprise
As he ran
And tried to hide
'Go Away'
He said to me
'And be the man
You want to be'
That strange advice
I could not bear
I didn't take it
He wasn't there
This is simply called "Bush"
He is utterly lacklustre
Reliable as a feather duster
But in charge
With a small monkey face
Strictly speaking no grace
But so large
It is said by Mindfrig
that a country so big
will not rush
To follow orders unwritten
Corrupt and intermittent
by Mr Bush.
He is utterly lacklustre
Reliable as a feather duster
But in charge
With a small monkey face
Strictly speaking no grace
But so large
It is said by Mindfrig
that a country so big
will not rush
To follow orders unwritten
Corrupt and intermittent
by Mr Bush.
I've posted this before but I will again because ... er ... whatever excuse you see fit.
***
He stood.
That’s what he did; it was his worth.
He stood and watched.
That's what he was; it was his life.
A life unlived - life without death.
Undefined.
Empty man, hollow shell.
In the eagle’s eye the essence shines.
He stood and watched and waited.
Undefined, divine.
No one saw him, no one felt him.
He stood without presence, without the touch.
High on the thermals, talons rake the soul.
Invisible to eye, to ear, to the sense of the spirit.
But he stood and watched and waited.
Divine creation, uneven whole.
Undefined destruction.
He is everything,
Through eyes unseen, eyes see through.
He is nothing, the empty hole.
The holy.
The standing stone.
Wing tips glide on ancient winds.
Looking, never seeing.
Standing, never seen.
Empty, pure,
Solid, unclean.
Dives through destined sky. The nothing seen die.
Stands for nothing,
Waits for one thing,
Looks are everything,
Looking; never seen.
Beak of god, holy curse,
Dips it’s head,
Reckless speed burst
Stands and waits at the edge of the whole,
Catches the drops, never drinks from the bowl.
Crested head rises, sharp claws dig deep.
In the eagle’s eye the purpose shines
The emptiness reveals.
Legs locked, shaped stone core.
The standing one kneels.
***
He stood.
That’s what he did; it was his worth.
He stood and watched.
That's what he was; it was his life.
A life unlived - life without death.
Undefined.
Empty man, hollow shell.
In the eagle’s eye the essence shines.
He stood and watched and waited.
Undefined, divine.
No one saw him, no one felt him.
He stood without presence, without the touch.
High on the thermals, talons rake the soul.
Invisible to eye, to ear, to the sense of the spirit.
But he stood and watched and waited.
Divine creation, uneven whole.
Undefined destruction.
He is everything,
Through eyes unseen, eyes see through.
He is nothing, the empty hole.
The holy.
The standing stone.
Wing tips glide on ancient winds.
Looking, never seeing.
Standing, never seen.
Empty, pure,
Solid, unclean.
Dives through destined sky. The nothing seen die.
Stands for nothing,
Waits for one thing,
Looks are everything,
Looking; never seen.
Beak of god, holy curse,
Dips it’s head,
Reckless speed burst
Stands and waits at the edge of the whole,
Catches the drops, never drinks from the bowl.
Crested head rises, sharp claws dig deep.
In the eagle’s eye the purpose shines
The emptiness reveals.
Legs locked, shaped stone core.
The standing one kneels.
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