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Poet on the stair with the wavy hair, Hunched over her poems, she reads aloud, And hopes they'll all be hits, Why is she hunched over so? It must be the size of her 'thrupenny bits'
[Post edited 28 Sep 2017 14:52]
Good luck, Mr Cooper
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Happy national poetry day on 14:56 - Sep 28 with 860 views
There was a rich man who had a big organ, But no I'm not talking about Martin Morgan, That type of prose would be considered most Dyer, And the legal complaint would be off to a flyer.
Oh no, this isn't the poorest of prose, Nor is it about the man with the huge fcking nose, The most unfortunate man we have all ever seen, Is the big fruit machine man, he is Leigh Dineen.
The Dutchman talks and faces go red, His free ticket tours even include a bed, But after all this we are not Petty like Tony, That was until we signed an imitation Wilfred Bony.
So here ends my poem, Im the real Swansea bard, So don't fck with me, cos I'm fcking hard. Ok not as nuts as that bloke resurrection, His posts make me smile and give me an erection.
I give you the Swansea poet. The real Jack Bastard !
Nolan sympathiser, clout expert, personal friend of Leigh Dineen, advocate and enforcer of porridge swallows.
The official inventor of the tit w@nk.
Here’s the one I did for Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds Day. It’s called Day Tripping.
Going to the seaside gonna take some drugs gonna go and talk to trees,give them mummy hugs watching all the fishies flying past my head need to be more careful or i'll wake up dead
Sitting in the moon beams swinging from the trees eating soggy sandwiches with cream cheese drinking fizzy cordial custard pop all bought together from the funny food shop
Purple spotted snowflakes falling from the sun a green striped elephant sucking on a bun psychedelic surfers up and down the dunes troops of little monkeys blowing up balloons
Sitting at the seaside eating ice cream pies looking at the yellow clouds in the orange skies putting on the headphones listening to the band watching all the polar bears playing in the sand
What a load of nonsense what a load of crap what strange fellow what a funny chap needs to see a therapist,needs to see him soon before he builds a rocket and heads off to the moon
[Post edited 28 Sep 2017 15:54]
The first ever recipient of a Planet Swans Lifetime Achievement Award.
Happy national poetry day on 15:48 - Sep 28 by Darran
Here’s the one I did for Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds Day. It’s called Day Tripping.
Going to the seaside gonna take some drugs gonna go and talk to trees,give them mummy hugs watching all the fishies flying past my head need to be more careful or i'll wake up dead
Sitting in the moon beams swinging from the trees eating soggy sandwiches with cream cheese drinking fizzy cordial custard pop all bought together from the funny food shop
Purple spotted snowflakes falling from the sun a green striped elephant sucking on a bun psychedelic surfers up and down the dunes troops of little monkeys blowing up balloons
Sitting at the seaside eating ice cream pies looking at the yellow clouds in the orange skies putting on the headphones listening to the band watching all the polar bears playing in the sand
What a load of nonsense what a load of crap what strange fellow what a funny chap needs to see a therapist,needs to see him soon before he builds a rocket and heads off to the moon
[Post edited 28 Sep 2017 15:54]
Pants mun.
Nolan sympathiser, clout expert, personal friend of Leigh Dineen, advocate and enforcer of porridge swallows.
The official inventor of the tit w@nk.
I was going to put up one about a Chinaman who didn't know how to milk a cow and ended up covered in shit. It may have been deemed offensive, so I decided against it.
Happy national poetry day on 18:20 - Sep 28 by Mo_Wives
I was going to put up one about a Chinaman who didn't know how to milk a cow and ended up covered in shit. It may have been deemed offensive, so I decided against it.
Go for it Mo. Discretion has never been one of your strong points anyway.
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Happy national poetry day on 18:27 - Sep 28 with 768 views
I take it you already know Of tough and bough and cough and dough. Others may stumble, but not you, On hiccough, thorough, laugh and through. Well done! And now you wish, perhaps, To learn of less familiar traps. Beware of heard, a dreadful word, That looks like beard and sounds like bird; And dead: it’s said like bed and not like bead. For goodness sake don’t call it deed. Watch out for meat and great and threat; They rhyme with suite and straight and debt. A moth is not a moth in mother, Nor both in bother, broth in brother; And here is not a match for there. Nor dear and fear for bear and pear. And then there’s dose and rose and lose- Just look them up- and goose and choose, And cork and work and card and ward, And font and front and word and sword, And do and go and thwart and cart. Come, come, I’ve hardly made a start! A dreadful language? Man alive! I’d mastered it when I was five!
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