Poem by Stardesk

As mentioned in 'Word Association,' here's the poem I wrote recently:

Having a conversation one day with my cousin Jill, herself no mean poet, about our gardens and the wildlife therein, especially the toads, I accepted her challenge to write a poem about toads and this was the result, but the ending was completely different to what I expected.

Whilst strolling down the lane
I met a toad in tearful pain.
   “Good day, young Sir,” he said to me.
      “I quest to seek a Witch,
      a comely, silly bitch,
   you know the sort I mean.”

“Why yes,” said I, keen to help.
   “I know such a one.
      She hugs the trees and talks to flowers
      for hours and hours.
   She dances naked in the sun
and makes delicious soup with kelp.”

Excited, Toad hopped up and down.
   “She’s the very one I seek,
      where may I find this comely Witch?”
      “In yonder wood across Deep Ditch.
   I think it’ll take you a week,
but at least you will not drown.”

I stopped him as he hopped away.
   “Good friend,” I asked. “Why the quest?”
   “She’ll give me a kiss of the very best
     and turn me into a handsome prince.”
     Such a thought did make me wince.
“But time does waste, young Sir. Good day.”

It was a beautiful summer’s morn
   as I wandered back from the inn,
   feeling jolly and light on gin,
when I met a maid, oh so forlorn.

She leaned on a gate
sobbing in tearful spate.
   Chivalrous to the last I asked:
   “Dear girl, what foul deed has passed?”
“Oh, good Sir, how much I’ve missed,
sweet sixteen and ne’er been kissed.
   Boys must think I’m very ugly.”
   “Why no!” Said I. “You’re very cuddly.”

“Then, kind Sir, I crave a boon,
   an embracing, passionate kiss.”
   How could I resist heaven’s bliss?
But, when lips met she gave a swoon.

The girl disappeared and in my hand
sat the craftiest toad in the land.
   I cursed with much alarm
   as Toad hopped up my arm.

He stared me straight in the eye.
“You fool! How I could cry.
   The witch gave a kiss of the very best…”
   Now I’ll leave you to guess the rest.

stardesk wrote:As mentioned in 'Word Association,' here's the poem I wrote recently:

Having a conversation one day with my cousin Jill, herself no mean poet, about our gardens and the wildlife therein, especially the toads, I accepted her challenge to write a poem about toads and this was the result, but the ending was completely different to what I expected.

TOAD

Whilst strolling down the lane
I met a toad in tearful pain.
   “Good day, young Sir,” he said to me.
      “I quest to seek a Witch,
      a comely, silly bitch,
   you know the sort I mean.”

“Why yes,” said I, keen to help.
   “I know such a one.
      She hugs the trees and talks to flowers
      for hours and hours.
   She dances naked in the sun
and makes delicious soup with kelp.”

Excited, Toad hopped up and down.
   “She’s the very one I seek,
      where may I find this comely Witch?”
      “In yonder wood across Deep Ditch.
   I think it’ll take you a week,
but at least you will not drown.”

I stopped him as he hopped away.
   “Good friend,” I asked. “Why the quest?”
   “She’ll give me a kiss of the very best
     and turn me into a handsome prince.”
     Such a thought did make me wince.
“But time does waste, young Sir. Good day.”

TOAD  part two

It was a beautiful summer’s morn
   as I wandered back from the inn,
   feeling jolly and light on gin,
when I met a maid, oh so forlorn.

She leaned on a gate
sobbing in tearful spate.
   Chivalrous to the last I asked:
   “Dear girl, what foul deed has passed?”
“Oh, good Sir, how much I’ve missed,
sweet sixteen and ne’er been kissed.
   Boys must think I’m very ugly.”
   “Why no!” Said I. “You’re very cuddly.”

“Then, kind Sir, I crave a boon,
   an embracing, passionate kiss.”
   How could I resist heaven’s bliss?
But, when lips met she gave a swoon.

The girl disappeared and in my hand
sat the craftiest toad in the land.
   I cursed with much alarm
   as Toad hopped up my arm.

He stared me straight in the eye.
“You fool! How I could cry.
   The witch gave a kiss of the very best…”
   Now I’ll leave you to guess the rest.

Brilliant  xxx

Hi FTL. I hope you've fully recovered from Xmas and the new year. Not too many hangovers I hope.

Plenty more poems where that one came from. What fascinates me is having created a character, and have some idea of the way a story plot or poem will go, after a while the main character seems to dictate in which direction he/story will go.

here is my poem

“THE MURDEROUS SWORD”

With the murder of the twins
By allahs foul hand
WAR is proclaimed throughout the land

Young blood muddies desert sand,
Treacherous footing for those who fight
Each as the other to destroy their might

To battle they march servants all
The Coward for false god
The Hero for duties call

In the fog of war
They tear and rend
This eternal jihad that has no end

One fights for hate
One fights for love
Too much blood has drowned the white dove

One fights for love
One fights for hate
Our greedy white doves lead us to hells fate

Is there a way to win?
To wash our blood from off their sins
The reclamation of our souls
An end to the flag draped murder holes?

when the murderous sword
falls from allahs dead hand
PEACE is proclaimed throughout the land

no more blood on desert sand

smelly_bandit

Hi Smelly, excellent and how true. How much more blood will be spilled in the name of a god? How sad and pathetic.

Your mention of a Dove reminded me of a one verser I wrote years ago before I ditched religion in the bin.

Who Shot The Dove
Men of God spread the word:
'Let bread of life be love
and peace.' Have any heard?
No, someone shot the Dove!

Come to Britain was the labour cry
we give you everything, no need to buy.
no need to work we give you money
our streets are laden with gold and honey.

we look after the immigrants as you will see
our government don't bother about people like me
because i am English i have no rights
and will be sleeping rough for the rest of the night's

you will get a house as a priority
our politicians don't care about people like me
if your an immigrant or refugee
you will be given preference just wait and see

bring your goats and family
and Keith vaz will be there to buy you tea
you will prob have to sit down for a while
As the reporters for the guardian ask you to smile

And as you have travelled from afar
and cannot wait to wash my car
just don't forget why he is buying you tea
it's because he don't care about people like me

i am not offended because you have taken my job
i blame brown and that other nob
i cannot compete with the wage that they pay
and i am on the bread line as from today

But not a problem and i have no remorse
i just take it as a matter of course
so welcome to Britain and i wish you well
and Cameron and brown can go to hell .

Excellent, Tom, and how true. Open the doors to all and sundry, never mind your own kind.

Here's one I made up whilst driving:

ROAD RAGE
This old man he drives so slow,
he drives so slow I think he's dead.
Oh knick knack paddy whack
give the man a shove,
help him to that road above.

This young girl she drives so fast,
she drives so fast she'll never last,
oh knick knack paddy whack
show her how to break
afore she has an early wake.

This young man he rides his bike
he rides his bike just where he like,
oh knick knack paddy whack
show him where to ride
afore I tan his bloomin' hide.

This old gal she crossed the road,
she crossed the road in front of a load.
Oh knick knack paddy whack
show her where to cross,
afore her family suffer a loss.

on yonder hill there stood a cow
it's not there noo
it must'a shiftee

that is a piece by the greatest worst poet ever
William Topaz McGonagall
I think

Flap Gallagher wrote:on yonder hill there stood a cow
it's not there noo
it must'a shiftee

that is a piece by the greatest worst poet ever
William Topaz McGonagall
I think

As you are a fan of his
I send to thee
Another of his
Tee Heee Heee
.........................................
By McGonagall....


Fellow citizens of Bonnie Dundee
Are ye aware how the magistrates have treated me?
Nay, do not stare or make a fuss
When I tell ye they have boycotted me from appearing in Royal Circus,
Which in my opinion is a great shame,
And a dishonour to the city's name(...)     

some ones read spike milligans books. i'v got most of them.

Penelope Potts is a silly old sod,
she said she spoke to God.
I said 'what did he say?'
She said he said 'have a nice day,
as you toddle off down the shop.'