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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 14, 2006 17:27:19 GMT -1
Only cos I spent a fair bit of time on the BBC poetry board when their attempt at a 606 Championship Board failed on all counts. So in honour of my afternoon on the Poetry Board here's some poetic gems from the Blue Bard!
AND as it's Valentine's Day they're along the amourous / put me down lines
Love Lines?
I thought that I could love no other. Until, that is, I met your brother.
Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you. But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.
Of loving beauty you float with grace. If only you could hide your face.
Kind, intelligent, loving and hot. This describes everything you are not.
I want to feel your sweet embrace. But don't take that paper bag off of your face.
I love your smile, your face, and your eyes. Damn, I'm good at telling lies!
My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife: Marrying you screwed up my life.
I see your face when I am dreaming. That's why I always wake up screaming.
My love, you take my breath away. What have you stepped in to smell this way?
My feelings for you no words can tell. Except for maybe "go to hell".
What inspired this amorous rhyme? Two parts vodka, one part lime.
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 16, 2006 17:34:02 GMT -1
The creation of a Pussy
Seven wise men with knowledge so fine, created a pussy to their own design.
First was a butcher, smart with wit, using a knive, he gave it a slit.
Second was a carpenter, strong and bold, with a hammer and chisel, he gave it a hole.
Third was a tailor, tall and thin, by using red velvet, he lined it within.
Fourth was a hunter, short and stout, with a piece of fox fur, he lined it without.
Fifth was a fisherman, nasty as hell, threw in a fish and gave it a smell.
Sixth was a preacher whose name was McGee, Touched it and blessed it and said it could pee.
Last came a sailor, dirty little runt, he sucked it and fucked it and called it a C*nt.
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 17, 2006 22:13:16 GMT -1
Noticed the Nation on earlier! Suppose Cav will have buried his head up his own ass. Well done Luton!!!
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Post by normanh on Feb 18, 2006 0:07:59 GMT -1
Like the pussy one ;D
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 18, 2006 16:37:35 GMT -1
After I heard it - had to post it
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Post by Tony Yeboah's Lunchbox on Feb 18, 2006 16:58:15 GMT -1
Crewe play in Red, Brighton in Blue, but that doesn't matter, cos when we play them we're poo.
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Post by WyomingWhite on Feb 18, 2006 17:01:39 GMT -1
Crewe play in Red, Brighton in Blue, but that doesn't matter, cos when we play them we're poo. Verse 2: Leicester play in blue, and Leeds play in White, but that doesn't matter, cos today we were shite.
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Post by Tony Yeboah's Lunchbox on Feb 18, 2006 17:04:12 GMT -1
Crewe play in Red, Brighton in Blue, but that doesn't matter, cos when we play them we're poo. Verse 2: Leicester play in blue, and Leeds play in White, but that doesn't matter, cos today we were shite. Lol see how easy it is to rhyme when Leeds is the focal point!
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Post by WyomingWhite on Feb 18, 2006 17:08:29 GMT -1
hmm struggling without sounding like Popeye and using words like "needs"
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Post by LondonWolf on Feb 20, 2006 12:19:04 GMT -1
Very Republican Poem Here Wrote It My Self ;D
I Is for the interment of the innocent free R is for resitance to the laws of tyranney E is for eng lish who have torn this land apart L is for the love in every Irish heart A is for the answer were all searching for N is for one nation and an end to this long war D is for the dream of millions dreaming to be free Thats how i spell Ireland, Thats what Ireland Means to me
;D
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Post by Stan on Feb 20, 2006 12:20:31 GMT -1
Very Republican Poem Here Wrote It My Self ;D I Is for the interment of the innocent free R is for resitance to the laws of tyranney E is for eng lish who have torn this land apart L is for the love in every Irish heart A is for the answer were all searching for N is for one nation and an end to this long war D is for the fream of millions dreaming to be free Thats how i spell Ireland, Thats what Ireland Means to me ;D D is for Fream???
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Post by LondonWolf on Feb 20, 2006 12:22:39 GMT -1
whoops
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Post by Lollipop on Feb 20, 2006 12:24:02 GMT -1
You, my love, are allowed to forget about the Christmas you just spent stressed at your parent's house You, my love, are allowed to shed the weight of all the years before, like bad disco clothes, save them for a night of dancing with your lover You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown every night in bottomless water, in naked symbollic dreams. You, my love, in sleep can unlock your youth and your most terrifying magic , and dreaming is for the courageous. You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar and sing me idiot love songs if you've lost the ability to speak (keep it down to 2 minutes). You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die and to live again, more alive and incandescent than before. You, my love, are allowed to heal the shit out of your television, and choke it's thoughts and corrupt it's mind - kill kill kill kill the mother f*cker, before the song of zombified pain and panic malaise, and it's narrow minded vision You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses to those around you and to those in Heaven You, my love, are allowed to show your babies how to dance, full bodied starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified You, my love, are allowed to suck in every single endeavor You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers blanket in the New York summertime, with the wind and your own special gift. You, my love, are allowed to recieve praise You, my love, are allowed to have time You, my love, are allowed to understand You, my love, are allowed to love You, my love, are rebellion
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 20, 2006 17:20:11 GMT -1
Very good Jen ;D
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 23, 2006 20:08:13 GMT -1
FEMALE POEM
I want a man who's handsome, smart and strong One who loves to listen long. One who thinks before he speaks One who'll call, not wait for weeks. I want him to be gainfully employed, When I spend his cash, be not annoyed. Pulls out my chair and opens my door, massages my back and begs to do more. Oh! For a man who makes love to my mind And knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?" I want this man to love me to no end, And always be my very best friend.
MALE POEM
I want a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor store and a bass boat. I know this doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.
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Post by qprtrooper on Feb 23, 2006 20:13:40 GMT -1
How Sex Began:
In the Garden of Eden, As everyone knows, Lives Adam and Eve, Without any clothes.
In this garden, Were two little leaves, One covered Adam's, One covered Eve's.
As the story goes on, Nevertheless to say, The wind came along, And blew the leaves away.
At the sight, Adam did stare, there was Eve's treasure All covered with hair.
And wonder came, Under Eve's eyes, As Adam's thing, Started to rise.
They found a spot, That suited them best, A nice big tree, Where they began to rest.
Her legs spread wider, And wider apart, While thrill after thrill, Came into her heart.
The head of Adam's thing, Peeked into the hole, And filled her with passion, Beyond her control.
His thing did slide, And Eve's treasure, Was all wet inside The joy was good, She wouldn't let loose, Until Adam's thing, Was all out of juice.
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Feb 26, 2006 11:04:12 GMT -1
Like it
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Post by Golden_Boy™ on Mar 6, 2006 21:34:04 GMT -1
Smile tho' your heart is aching, Smile even tho' it's breaking, When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by. If you smile thro' your fear and sorrow, Smile and maybe tomorrow, You'll see the sun come shining through; for you.
wooo how posh & refreshing
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Post by Golden_Boy™ on Mar 6, 2006 21:38:22 GMT -1
If this is the poetry thread, this has to be on here.
if - rudyard kipling
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 (1865-1936)
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Post by Roaster©®™ on Mar 6, 2006 21:57:42 GMT -1
If this is the poetry thread, this has to be on here. if - rudyard kipling 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 (1865-1936) A classic - that I had to write about for my O-LEVEL (not any of this GSCE shit) English Literature!
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