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make-a-poem-omatic


tendo

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oh unluckiest toad!

swimming in iac's commode

your chance you miss

a fair maiden's sweet kiss

you will not see

all because you smell of pee

*bows prettily*

Edited by Daughter of the Nine Moons
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  • 7 years later...

This thread we should continue on,

it was so very much fun,

and I would love to speak to you all!

back in the day we had a good run!

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Kinda like haiku thread

But no syllables to count

I see great success ahead

Let me add this small amount

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beautifully done, my dear,

success is surely yours,

for once acceptance shows within,

greatness from you pours!

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Achaeologists unearth,

History long dead,

But even they would scorn the need,

To necropost this thread!

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Scorn this thread?

Ye gods never, no!

Tis a delight

This thread by tendo

<3

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Now some of you may dub me cruel,

And others think me terse,

But ponder on the brighter side,

Just think - it could be verse!

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I wish I could make these words flow

with no need to chase them around

brain that today wants to lie low

produce only snoring sound

(‘scuse me if my English is broken sometimes,

it gets worse when searching for rhymes.)

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I'm very sorry, Helen dear,

To see what you've just said.

But you can't expect your brain to work,

With that mollusc on your head!

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Let me see if I can join

This fun thread of poems

Using this old brain of mine

To think up comings and goings

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Oh, no, no, no, we’re not old!

Old is something worn out, weak

So though it may sound too bold

I’d say we are at our peak

From the top there’s only the way down

Still it's not time yet at mirror to frown

Edited by Helen of Annoy
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Come on, people, it’s easy

And it doesn’t have to really rhyme

Follow my bad example

The way I waste my time

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Maybe it wasn't horrible enough

so you worry about the impression you'd make?

All right, let me show you how tough

self-inflicted embarrassment I can take :D

So I fed the birds today

Like I usually do

And not too far away

Like he usually does

Tomcat sat and I thought he’ll say:

Is tomorrow the glorious day

When the patient one

Who did nothing but obey

This fragile ceasefire

Obviously meant to fatten my prey

Can finally his catness display

I dare you to write something worse

before I let this thread ride the hearse.

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Helen you are born to thyme

To move this thread along

I wish I had the precious time

To turn your poetry to song

And THAT is precisely why I write prose, not poetry!

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Precious time, I know, I know

With each year that has run away

The waists of our hourglasses grow

Too short for fun seems any day

Used to always expect the storm

To bright sky no attention we pay

And that happens in any literary form :D

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I want to copy Helen's last line

I can't do this without a lead :(

See! I'm just sitting here in decline

Clinging to a haiku 'reed'

:blush:

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But this is easier, we’re free

No rigid structure, no fee

To pay in exact syllable change

Just hunt your thoughts at wide range

Speaking of which I think

In my own brain I found a kink

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Helen you have upped the game

Six lines instead of four

As a poet I'll find no fame

But I'll post again, I'm sure!

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My posts, long like sausages

Seriously, don’t laugh just yet

Hoped to convey messages

They who find the sense lose bet

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Only you would rhyme 'sausage' with 'message'

And leave us in a stew

For actually, nothing else rhymes with 'sausage'

So I take off my hat to you!

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Poems about sausages

And poems about stew

This thread is turning tasty

I could eat a cake or two!

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Hey-No pencils of mine are made of salt-

yet all my romances in this place where well wirtten-

All my friends dine at lower tables-

do ya know shakepeare , was clever.......Ah

But then , all animals in the yard naw on rotten bones-

just another porduction of ; / Screamin' windows & Barkin' Dogs

(copyrite

2013) Dover ink.

Edited by rrainn
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Every artist must be a little mad

With only one leg in the world of real

For what you couldn’t grasp now don’t be sad

Only weight of time can break that seal

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Sunday evening and the day

Has been nothing but sleet.

If I had put my wellies away

I would have had wet feet.

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Oh, snowplough, stinky and large

Through idyll thickening white

Will I ever see you barge

Or it’s me, my legs and spite?

Snowplough, nowhere to be seen

As it usually has been

Carry me then, my legs, go

as always, we’re to and fro

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