I'm not a poet and I know it
- Thread starter Fenner
- Start date
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K
Thank you so very much 
Pipp, you're so pretty, your avatars photo is very nice
Thank you so very much, I think you'd taste good with rice
Well if I would taste good with rice, you'd taste good with peas
Then pass the mashed taters cuz you're eating supper with me
Well drown me in gravy and pour some sweet tea
And here's some okra, bon appetite!
Thank you.
From love for mr. kenthomas.....
It does appear that Ken's pros are well written
It is a wonder all the single girls aren't smitten
Then again maybe they truly are
Some may even be willing to travel far
Though I think a poet of such talent quite rare
With guns raised and flaming red hair
Lovely maidens take best beware
Not to say he is not swell and grand
It might be nice to hold his hand
The warning is more about his red moustache
It's we're he keeps tasty snacks, his secret stash
It does appear that Ken's pros are well written
It is a wonder all the single girls aren't smitten
Then again maybe they truly are
Some may even be willing to travel far
Though I think a poet of such talent quite rare
With guns raised and flaming red hair
Lovely maidens take best beware
Not to say he is not swell and grand
It might be nice to hold his hand
The warning is more about his red moustache
It's we're he keeps tasty snacks, his secret stash
Seems kinda sad to write bad poetry about God's saving grace
But my poetry scribing is somewhere nearer to last than first place
It simply is not a gift God gave me while running this race
Don't misunderstand or think you hear me ungrateful
For to not love all which God has done would be disgraceful
What simply in these lines I wish to share and say
No poet since the time of King David could ever convey
Thanks to God's grace no longer sins cost must I pay
But my poetry scribing is somewhere nearer to last than first place
It simply is not a gift God gave me while running this race
Don't misunderstand or think you hear me ungrateful
For to not love all which God has done would be disgraceful
What simply in these lines I wish to share and say
No poet since the time of King David could ever convey
Thanks to God's grace no longer sins cost must I pay
R
Higgledy piggledy pat,
here is your grandfather's hat,
it once was mine, but now it's yours,
higgledy piggledy pores.
There is a silly store behind this. ^
My cousin recently graduated from a police academy and became a police officer. My mom's dad was a policeman, but he passed away long before me or any of my cousins were born so we never got to know him. But we figured he would have been so proud of my cousin if he had still been alive. And my mom still had my grandpa's police hat, and after much thought, she decided to pass it down to my cousin. It seemed right.
But my mom was at a loss for words in what words she should say in the card when she mailed it. So me being in a silly mood just made up that bad poem in 2 seconds and jokingly suggested it (she didn't put that in the note don't worry) LOL.
here is your grandfather's hat,
it once was mine, but now it's yours,
higgledy piggledy pores.
There is a silly store behind this. ^
My cousin recently graduated from a police academy and became a police officer. My mom's dad was a policeman, but he passed away long before me or any of my cousins were born so we never got to know him. But we figured he would have been so proud of my cousin if he had still been alive. And my mom still had my grandpa's police hat, and after much thought, she decided to pass it down to my cousin. It seemed right.
But my mom was at a loss for words in what words she should say in the card when she mailed it. So me being in a silly mood just made up that bad poem in 2 seconds and jokingly suggested it (she didn't put that in the note don't worry) LOL.
I
Is it wrong to fashion a poem or sound out words in one's head about people you only see behind the pixelated monitor of a PC or Mac?
Heck Yeah!
Politically Correctness or a Big Mac attack?
Eenie Meenie Miney Mo...
Mo' money Mo' money Mo' money
I know if the Pipp-a-nator & MissCris-a-palooza joined forces,they could activate their Wonder Twin powers
and have a baked good battle royale.
(with cheese) It's pulpy fictitiousness I know.
Yes so true not even a real word,but this is I'm no poet & I know it...so deal with it!
Is it so wrong that I want to overdose on root beer floats & shredding guitar riffs with Ugly & the boys?
Why do I always imagine lil' christian in her late 20's with long hot pink or purple hair & a nose ring on stage playing crushing heavy metal guitar riffs?
My coffee is cold and so is my soul.
My fingers are cold and stiff.
My brain does not want to greet people happily all day long.
I want to hang up on people & pretend we got "accidentally" disconnected.
I want to run away...
with a backpack of delicious baked goods and share them with a beautiful friend in the back car of a train as we chug along into oblivion.
Next stop...
Narnia!
Heck Yeah!
Politically Correctness or a Big Mac attack?
Eenie Meenie Miney Mo...
Mo' money Mo' money Mo' money
I know if the Pipp-a-nator & MissCris-a-palooza joined forces,they could activate their Wonder Twin powers
and have a baked good battle royale.
(with cheese) It's pulpy fictitiousness I know.
Yes so true not even a real word,but this is I'm no poet & I know it...so deal with it!
Is it so wrong that I want to overdose on root beer floats & shredding guitar riffs with Ugly & the boys?
Why do I always imagine lil' christian in her late 20's with long hot pink or purple hair & a nose ring on stage playing crushing heavy metal guitar riffs?
My coffee is cold and so is my soul.
My fingers are cold and stiff.
My brain does not want to greet people happily all day long.
I want to hang up on people & pretend we got "accidentally" disconnected.
I want to run away...
with a backpack of delicious baked goods and share them with a beautiful friend in the back car of a train as we chug along into oblivion.
Next stop...
Narnia!
A
How hard it is to write this lousy stuff!
I try to think it up, but all I get
Is blanks; no meter, rhyme, and no idea
That's good enough to grace this quirky page.
But, nice guy, don't give up! All in its time
The Muse will shine on you, will give you what
You need to make it just as nice as Donne,
Johnson, Tennyson, Shakespeare, and the rest!
Alright, give up now, and leave it alone,
For quitting now will serve you good, and rest
Your spirit for those nights of inspirations
Where dwell all wonderful ideas. Fear not.
*sigh ... sigh* ... *bow*
[Forgive me for the lousy meter in the eighth and ninth lines.]
I try to think it up, but all I get
Is blanks; no meter, rhyme, and no idea
That's good enough to grace this quirky page.
But, nice guy, don't give up! All in its time
The Muse will shine on you, will give you what
You need to make it just as nice as Donne,
Johnson, Tennyson, Shakespeare, and the rest!
Alright, give up now, and leave it alone,
For quitting now will serve you good, and rest
Your spirit for those nights of inspirations
Where dwell all wonderful ideas. Fear not.
*sigh ... sigh* ... *bow*
[Forgive me for the lousy meter in the eighth and ninth lines.]
Hospitals
I saw people's faces,
concerned and feeling pains.
Their fears in sorrow,
their blood, their veins.
I felt how some may feel
the way they looked constrained.
There's blood, pissed up...
And all of these are vain?
Some are grieved
some are hurt
I saw their faces
I saw their pain.
Besides -within these-
there's a malign campaign:
Now, I opened the eyes.
We don't want to be there,
Money is sought,
Tears are shared.
With a hug
someone's there.
My heart is broken
I've found no tear.
No place to run
I have some fears.
My heart is faulty.
I thought it strong.
Don't want to live it.
I wish I'm gone.
Don't know to sort this out.
I wish I were my home.
This fear I'm letting know
can't buy a hope when gone.
I am not dying yet,
it's slow to let it go.
I wish I would be gone
this fear is getting on.
They are sad. I saw their faces.
They want to go home.
Some cried,
Few smiled.
I saw their blood,
their pain,
while someone is around.
I wish I'd receive my treatment now.
I don't want to spend any more day.
Money is sought,
All hopes're spent;
while many mourn,
I'm home again.
Legs and faces are broken.
Restless nights and longer days...
I'm glad that's not my case.
I saw people's faces,
concerned and feeling pains.
Their fears in sorrow,
their blood, their veins.
I felt how some may feel
the way they looked constrained.
There's blood, pissed up...
And all of these are vain?
Some are grieved
some are hurt
I saw their faces
I saw their pain.
Besides -within these-
there's a malign campaign:
Now, I opened the eyes.
We don't want to be there,
Money is sought,
Tears are shared.
With a hug
someone's there.
My heart is broken
I've found no tear.
No place to run
I have some fears.
My heart is faulty.
I thought it strong.
Don't want to live it.
I wish I'm gone.
Don't know to sort this out.
I wish I were my home.
This fear I'm letting know
can't buy a hope when gone.
I am not dying yet,
it's slow to let it go.
I wish I would be gone
this fear is getting on.
They are sad. I saw their faces.
They want to go home.
Some cried,
Few smiled.
I saw their blood,
their pain,
while someone is around.
I wish I'd receive my treatment now.
I don't want to spend any more day.
Money is sought,
All hopes're spent;
while many mourn,
I'm home again.
Legs and faces are broken.
Restless nights and longer days...
I'm glad that's not my case.
A
Thick in the atmosphere, the heavy sighs and descending tears,
Fingers linger in pockets, fists scrunched, I need you to hold my hand, my dear.
The song of laughter is amiss, this aching silence can be fixed,
With a touch of ridiculousness, rippling through the darkest abyss.
I want to run with puns, I want the nonsensical to endlessly come,
I want the baloney to be the masterpiece, that made me laugh out loud with someone.
So let the pie be the key, the pie that is allergic to not four but three peas.
It ran wild with the panda horse who conquered the easy-sea-she-tree-bilby.
Alas, we are here again, wishing we were the roasted blend.
A roasty, toasty magnificent ink free, free from smudging highlighter pen.
The inside is not out, but the outside is nothing but a trout.
A tasty trout tends to take time tending to table tennis tedious talk and tap-outs.
Like the leprechaun, who swore against the oath of the forbidden corn,
He raised his hand and grasped the idea that potato sacks should indeed be worn.
The sack is not a lie, but if you fly by the sky then pie,
For Pete's sake, we are back to the dang pie drivel... why?
Because pie is what we need, pie is a smile in which we can feed,
Not to encourage people to bite each other's lips, that is just absurd, indeed!
So throw me a smile, pin up a chuckle, I haven't heard it in awhile,
Take my hand, and I'll meet you somewhere between the silence and the many miles.
Fingers linger in pockets, fists scrunched, I need you to hold my hand, my dear.
The song of laughter is amiss, this aching silence can be fixed,
With a touch of ridiculousness, rippling through the darkest abyss.
I want to run with puns, I want the nonsensical to endlessly come,
I want the baloney to be the masterpiece, that made me laugh out loud with someone.
So let the pie be the key, the pie that is allergic to not four but three peas.
It ran wild with the panda horse who conquered the easy-sea-she-tree-bilby.
Alas, we are here again, wishing we were the roasted blend.
A roasty, toasty magnificent ink free, free from smudging highlighter pen.
The inside is not out, but the outside is nothing but a trout.
A tasty trout tends to take time tending to table tennis tedious talk and tap-outs.
Like the leprechaun, who swore against the oath of the forbidden corn,
He raised his hand and grasped the idea that potato sacks should indeed be worn.
The sack is not a lie, but if you fly by the sky then pie,
For Pete's sake, we are back to the dang pie drivel... why?
Because pie is what we need, pie is a smile in which we can feed,
Not to encourage people to bite each other's lips, that is just absurd, indeed!
So throw me a smile, pin up a chuckle, I haven't heard it in awhile,
Take my hand, and I'll meet you somewhere between the silence and the many miles.
It's almost Christmas time
So I'll send out a poetic blessing
To my fellow dreadful poets
Who write poems not worth re-telling
When composing your wish-list
May you include an important line
Wish for the gift of adequacy
So at least your poems will rhyme
Look closely under your Christmas tress
You just may find a present or two
That will possess a gift to uplift your pens
To write sonnets, songs and Haiku
So as we enter this season of giving
May we withhold our torturous verses
Until we're forgiven and then we're given
Poems that are not made for hearses
So I'll send out a poetic blessing
To my fellow dreadful poets
Who write poems not worth re-telling
When composing your wish-list
May you include an important line
Wish for the gift of adequacy
So at least your poems will rhyme
Look closely under your Christmas tress
You just may find a present or two
That will possess a gift to uplift your pens
To write sonnets, songs and Haiku
So as we enter this season of giving
May we withhold our torturous verses
Until we're forgiven and then we're given
Poems that are not made for hearses
I
You look at me like Rick Astley,but I know what lies behind your red-headed stepchild-like smile
A peanut butter mouth filled to capacity with a tongue that drips molasses coated in empty promises & "I told you so's!"
It's not enough that I let you borrow my Debbie Gibson cassette which you never returned.
Just keep it.
I want to remember her the way she was before Mega Python vs. Gatoroid.
Are you still silently judging me?
The whole world hears your thoughts even though you have soundproofed your head with the sad,sad weave of a thousand Donald Trumps...
you will never escape the Rick Roll
and I'm never gonna give,never gonna give,never gonna give,
GIVE
YOU
UP.
A peanut butter mouth filled to capacity with a tongue that drips molasses coated in empty promises & "I told you so's!"
It's not enough that I let you borrow my Debbie Gibson cassette which you never returned.
Just keep it.
I want to remember her the way she was before Mega Python vs. Gatoroid.
Are you still silently judging me?
The whole world hears your thoughts even though you have soundproofed your head with the sad,sad weave of a thousand Donald Trumps...
you will never escape the Rick Roll
and I'm never gonna give,never gonna give,never gonna give,
GIVE
YOU
UP.