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Saviour :: Real Fiction :: Poetry :: 'moved' here from the Fiction board...
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Louis Markis
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Louis Markis

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 'moved' here from the Fiction board...
« Thread Started on Feb 25, 2004, 4:19pm »
[Quote]

If Free Verse was made il[FISHY]al...

Fines an' incarceration!
Incarceration an' fines!
All for writin' peculiar poems
With highly dissimilar lines!

Free verse has gone out the window!
The quatrain is now here to stay!
The sonnets and ballads are happy,
For Free Verse has long had its day.

The Haiku is turning endangered!
The Lim'ricks are hunting them down!
The Rhyming Couplet Brothers
Are wreaking havoc in town!

A B A B is here to stay,
A B A C's under watch.
If A B A C becomes A B C D
Then it's out and there'll be a new notch!

There's signs all over the market:
"If someone wipes out all Free Verse
(onomatopoeiae are freshly supplied)
Much money will we reimburse!"




A long time ago, in a land filled with snow,
A sealion stood on the ice.
He stood in the cold with some laundry to fold,
And he thought 'Well! Isn't this nice!'

But a shock made him start, for a strawberry tart
Hit him slap bang in the face!
He spun on the spot, threw the laundry to rot,
And saw an unpleasant grimace.

'Twas the face of our cap'n, Jim Kill-Things-By-Scratchin',
And he never was a nice sight.
He took a quick goosey, his bow he let loosey,
And slayed the sealion on the ice!

The ship was a biggun, a ship built for squiddin',
Her name was the 'Good Mug of Grog'.
With the cap'n on board and the sea-lion stored,
She wallowed along like a frog.

The cap said 'Set sail!' The crew gave a wail,
For the Good Mug was becalmed in the sea.
The cap'n got bored, he said 'Jump overboard,
The sea seems a little angry!'

Well their heads the crew shook, and they had a quick look,
Their captain was outnumbered a hundred to one!
So they picked him up quick, chucked him straight off the ship,
And considered their job most well done!

The wind came back soon, they were docked before noon,
And the carcass they hauled off the ship.
Sooner or later, they'll find a huge tater,
And they'll make a gigantic fried chip!



Mice are nice.

Quite tasty in pastry.
Delicious when feeling malicious.
You'll get hooked when they're cooked in mint sauce.
You'll be floored when they've poured maple syrup (on top).
But...
When in quince, the taste will make you wince.
With curry, they seem just like slurry.

When served dehydrated,
With shrew, finely grated,
The scent dominated the room,
And frightened away the bridegroom.

"The bride wants one fried!"
The cook plainly lied.
She wanted a hare served in gravy,
And when she got none, she went crazy!

She picked up the cook,
Killed 'im with a look,
Then went and opened the oven,
And lo! There were hares in the dozen!

If you don't like this, block your ears quick,
For she ate them so fast she was sick!
She looked a bit pale,
Said " Don't feel at all well,
I say! I'll be back in a tick!"

She disappeared behind the crescent door,
And then was seen no more.



A poem should only rhyme when in time,
When it could be read beside bells, when they chime,
When it could be spoken in voice clear and fine,
When it could be hollered in voice such as mine.

A poem should only be true when imbued
With a bit of the author from heart’s coldest flue,
When without, it can bear the falsity’s hue,
Truth in so many but joy in so few.

And why does a poem hold so much heartbreak?
Why is pain the one thing on which poets once spake?
Is it true we like pain which these poets do take?
Is it true our compassion is far worse than fake?

Do we watch other people to see just their pain?
Would we be more intrigued by a break or a sprain?
Are we out for ourselves or for others? I fain
That even through hurt we draw personal gain.
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Louis Markis
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