Right Toe Pointing

[Flyingcursor]

My girlfriend left me yes it's true.
Now my heart is feeling blue.
She was a husky woman, moo cow moo.
The puppy dogs and kitty's too
Rejoiced in her loving "moo".
I will not see her no more
Because she drownded by the shore.

[jsluder]

Hey, that is real poetry there. It is rather sweet and moving.

I love the possible double-meaning of the phrase "Old one is nailed".

[jbarter]

There was a young man from Nantucket, (No, perhaps not)

The randy old Bishop of Birmingham (Ooh, definitely no)

There was a young fellow from Kent (Too risky)

Sorry folks, I don't know any poetry suitable for a family website.

[carrie]

A prose submission that I believe follows Walden's guidelines rather well.

Spring: A Triptych

(1) Spring Itself

They say spring is like a perhaps hand, or the thing that turns a young man’s fancy, and some other stuff too. To me spring is all of these things and more: a time when flowers bloom, grass turns green, weather warm’s up (at least where I live), days are longer, there’s lots of mud and my dog leaves tracks in the kitchen when she comes in from the backyard, and some other stuff. All in all, quite a season.

(2) Spring Greens: The Decision

They were lovely on the plate: mixed baby spring greens, topped with raisins and walnuts, and, after some deliberating, just a *small* amount of shredded cheddar/Monterey jack cheese. Now Saturday I dressed a salad just like that with low-fat raspberry dressing, and while it was good, truly, it wasn’t *great*. So the question is, how would it taste with the low-fat honey-dijon dressing that had even fewer calories? I really couldn’t decide what to do for a while. Then I chose the honey-dijon and no kidding, it was fabulous.

(3) What Music Does for Me

It puts a spring in my step.

Carol

[BrassBlower]

Once upon a Halloween dreary
from trick-or-treating weak and weary
thinking of the jerk who gives
one piece of candy, never more

suddenly a strange desire
prompted me to light a fire
to a sack of doo-doo
just outside his old front door

Thinking I was pretty cunning
I turned around and started running
but he caught me by the neck
and body-slammed me to the floor

At that very moment I swore
I'd go trick-or-treating nevermore.

[scottielvr]

O fearful syncopation! Where, alas,
Shall music’s glimm’ring jewel lie safe from foes?
Not in the gleam of polished costly brass,
Nor in the ferule rung the wood of rose
But, here, as generations long have shown:
In Clips and Snips (as it was formerly known).

WS is rendered mute.

[scottielvr]

Whose words these are I think I know.
(It’s doubtful that he’ll read this, though).
He won’t mind that I filched a few
Since my supply was running low.

For everyone there comes a time
When write we must –but things won’t rhyme;
With this in mind I’ve hatched a scheme
Which theoretically sounds sublime:

I’ll sell trite verses, all complete—
With these my notebooks are replete.
(A modest rate for metric feet,
a modest rate for metric feet).

[Bloomfield]

Another prose entry:

Corroding Captain

A somnolent dawn stole over the glutinous pavement of the West-Philidelphia parking lot where a posse of tattooed proto-delinquents ran past a coruscating chain-link fence to the wreck of a car. Locals, at least those out on probation, called it the Corroding Captain, for its driver had stopped too long at a red traffic light and had lost his wheels and tires.

Now it lay rusting, a warning to the traffic-rule-abiding.

Squinting in the sun, a proto-delinquent removed his spectacles and clambered into the back seat of the Corroding Captain where he was met by the sort-of somewhat-smile of a p-d, her teeth gleaming. His thigh brushed against the once-lambent velour of the disintegrating seat (the heady fragrance of new car long dissipated). The sun, the muted interior of the Corroding Captain, and most of all, the imminence of her favor conspired to subject to oxidation his youthful virtue, while the other proto-deliquents cheered and dashed around the car, chanting lewdly, and only his step-sister stood, biting her lip, brilliantly.

[Nanohedron]

This thread is just getting deeper and more moving with each submission ...

So does the food we eat, but that doesn't mean it tasted good.

Heeheeheeheehee. Hahahaha. Hnhnhnh. Hah. You guys are killing me. Oh, sweet mercy.

[Cynth]

Chiff and cut thee from green
ground garnished with the Poststructural PubGeneralTest ForumForum
Support You half of goners_________________ Meon an
awful bore. My heart cringe. Surely
drive me on this thread Hey,
Carol!! Back to top ; //> of 3
30 pm Post subject: Old McDonald had
been friends
so was opened, The dew The Paslode
is an orange
Will not to you said , the
oil from
the facts, There thy habitation is the skin of
all trash? of orangey. Back
to top ; //> NanohedronJoined:
18 Dec 2002Posts: 5640Location: Minneapolis Posted:
Wed Apr 20, 2005 5:10 pm
Post new
topics in
the worst done, it ,
it ,
flakes, it it , In
the world named Larry Potter? EC: Yes.
GC: What if
Glenmorangie Looks sort of thyme Quoth the
Byrds began to top ; //> WaldenJoined: 09 May
God his
own Kyrie eleison, the worst
done, it , it ,
it , it , it , it , flakes,
it In
this forumYou cannot delete your poetry.

Chiff and that is just the road
did bound. And I guess this thread is
rather sweet and have decided to top ; //> cskinnerJoined: 03 Jan
2002Posts: 1899Location: Kalamazoo Posted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 11:
15 pm Post subject: I should like;
less than half
as I
give in the house It
tasted
good. hints when assembling new leather so
thin , ruined and paid
for music, resembling
more moving Back to my
sister and Fipple Whistle ForumFlute
ForumUilleann Pipe forumClips and fragile biscuits
Chronic halitosis! um um ...
um ... um ...

Chiff and most of
a spring is
real poetry there. is just outside
his
thigh
brushed against the
of Birmingham Ooh, definitely
no There is feeling blue. She
was pretty cunning I
ve hatched
a season. 2 3 Jump to:top ; //>
NanohedronJoined: 18 Dec 2002Posts:
1354Location:
Republic of shredded
cheddar/Monterey jack cheese. Now
it was formerly known .

http://cmdrtaco.net/poemgen.cgi
I will delete this on request.

[Nanohedron]

You can't, now. Hah.

Dada is da bomb.

[dubhlinn]

James Joyce lives.

Slan,
D.

[Wombat]

You can't, now. Hah.

Dada is da bomb.

That's right. But we can always edit our entries to make them worse.

But that would be cheating.

No this isn't an entry.

Unless you want it to be.

[Walden]

There once was a lad from Bokoshe,
Who played that Nintendo game, Yoshi.
But he never could score
Seventeen points or more,
So he learned origami from Toshie.

[BrassBlower]

There once was a lad from Bokoshe,
Who played that Nintendo game, Yoshi.
But he never could score
Seventeen points or more,
So he learned origami from Toshie.

From my house, going to Bokoshe is like going to Kansas City, but you go the opposite direction.