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National Poetry Day

Featured Replies

Mmmm... Chocolate!!!

Here I sit, eating chocolate chips.

To quit eating chocolate, I need more than tips.

There are so many kinds of chocolate, it's hard to choose.

No matter which one you pick, you just can't lose.

There is milk chocolate, sweet chocolate, and semi-sweet.

I really like dark chocolate! It's such a treat!!!

There is also mint chocolate & white chocolate -- I'm not through!

There is cereal, cake, cookies, candy, pudding, pie & ice cream too.

Chocolate tastes so rich, and sweet, and sometimes smooth.

It can help make you feel better, or help your heartache sooth.

There are many chocolate drinks. Have some, just for fun --

cappuccino, chocolate milk, mocha & cocoa -- try more than one!

Is chocolate as good as a hug, or a pat on the back?

What if I'm out of chocolate, when I have my next attack??!!

I could just imagine that I'm eating chocolate, I suppose.

If I eat lots of chocolate all day long, would I overdose?

Where would I go... what would I ever do... without chocolate?

Nothing can compare. Not even one word rhymes with chocolate!

Do I take it for granted that I can always get more?

I could eat chocolate candies, by the score!

Is chocolate something to fear -- is it really a curse?

Is it something to be avoided, or is it much worse?

Or... is chocolate the eighth wonder? Is it a total delight?

Something you savour for so long? Or love with all your might?

:o

Jude

As the candle is extinguished

by the weight of its own flame

the lady is remembered

by looks though not by name

You know that I'm too old to spank

Said Liz with a toss of her head

I thought she was right, to be frank

So I caned her bare bottom instead...................................... :o

A feisty young Gorgon named Jet

Used to get in a bit of a pet

She ranted and raved,

Said the Mods were depraved

But some here remember her yet.

An elderly member called Thad

Tried reliving his days as a lad

He took vitamin V

Cried "this is for me!"

And went to the Beach to be bad.

I thought you had to write them yourself.

An elderly member called Thad

Tried reliving his days as a lad

He took vitamin V

Cried "this is for me!"

And went to the Beach to be bad.

Well, I wouldn't call 48 elderly..... but like it.

  • Author
Well no one said you couldn't write them yourself!

Rules are fairly lax, your own composition, or a famous ditty or one that you just happen to come across, the only rule is, it must have connotations to a poster.

I thought you had to write them yourself.

Oh, yeah, it would be a cold day in he.ll when I dream up some prose.

A Tiger

Life as a tiger would be prowling around

Hunting swiftly without making a sound

Black and orange stripes falls across his skin

Little do you know about the roar it has within

The tiger quickly moves upon to his feet

Searching the jungle looking for something to eat

The lion might be king of the jungle

But the tiger kills and they still stay humble

The rare colours of orange and the black

If He sees pray he’s sure to attach

There eyes in night time can see twenty twenty

Black is the colour of death and it has killed plenty

People see tigers as quite violent creatures

But if you dig deep inside you’ll find some peaceful features’

The tiger tooth is white and pointed all around

The lion is called the king but the tiger should be crowned

So when you see a tiger

And you don’t feel very prepared

Just have a read of this poem

Then you wont feel that more scared

By Chizom Okpara and my freind Sami Amusan

Moss

There's only one tiger poem for me.

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The girls of Chiang Mai are a' grieving.

CrowBoy is said to be leaving

He's taken the best

And left all the rest

And sports in Patters dark evening.

The Tyger Tyger poem gives me goosebumps...

  • Author

There once was a mythological beast

Who was rather scary to say the least

He lived amongst the shadows

In search of some fantastical hallows

He was neither living nor dead

But surprisingly rather well read

But alas he had a romance with a 'Roo

Which created quite a hullabaloo

and hence, was where he met His Waterloo

The Tyger Tyger poem gives me goosebumps...

Same here..... always has done from the first time I heard it .... so does this one.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,

If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Can't think of a single poster, friend or relative that can tick all those boxes.

Guess we're all wimmen then :o (joke)

I think the point is that no one ticks all the boxes... :o

Kipling's a bit of a dinosaur these days but I can think of a few members these lines still apply to.

Now it is not good for the Christian's health to hustle the Aryan brown.

For the Christian riles, and the Aryan smiles and he weareth the Christian down;

And the end of the fight is a tombstone white with the name of the late deceased,

And the epitaph drear: "A Fool lies here who tried to hustle the East.

As I was out strolling I met a stone.

I knelt beside it a curious look upon my face.

"What is your name?"

"A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss."

"Where have you been?"

"Up that hill."

"What did you see?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

I saw all of the trees and flowers.

"Well, no wonder.

After all you did say,

your name is,

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss."

Jane Hoffmann

Stairstep music: ups, downs,

Bill Robinson smiling,

jazzdancing the rounds.

She raised champagne lips,

danced inside banana hips.

All Paris wooed Jo.

Banana panties,

perfumed belt, Jazz tatooing

lush ecstasies felt.

Josephine, royal,

jewelling her dance, flushing

the bosom of France.

Guess who.

Hrothgar's people lived in joy,

happy until that wanderer of the wasteland,

Grendel the demon, possessor of the moors,

began his crimes.

He was of a race of monsters

exiled from mankind by God--

He was of the race of Cain,

that man punished for

murdering his brother.

From that family comes

all evil beings--

monsters, elves, zombies.

Also the giants who

fought with God and got

repaid with the flood.

Guess who.

Glauka?

No. Try googling Bill Robinson. :o

Did you work out who the third poem was about?

  • Author
No. Try googling Bill Robinson. :o

Did you work out who the third poem was about?

Ah, I see and yes I guess I did fathom the third poem, I had already alluded to the shadow walker earlier, but can't guess your first?

Moss

No. Try googling Bill Robinson. :o

Did you work out who the third poem was about?

Ah, I see and yes I guess I did fathom the third poem, I had already alluded to the shadow walker earlier, but can't guess your first?

Moss

My first guess would be Kayo ..... how many guesses do you get?

Now I know it's not a poem.......but this picture I'm sure is of a dear friend. It's the Tiger skin prints and the Liverpool background that give it away

post-29794-1224079678_thumb.jpg :o

That's not tiger skin nor is it Liverpool. It's leopard and it looks like Brum to me! :o

And he's wearing red clogs.

So it must be Amsterdam then! :o

That's not tiger skin nor is it Liverpool. It's leopard and it looks like Brum to me! :D

I stand corrected.....Shop out of the ones you wanted then ? :o

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