Poetry

[chrismpw]

The last thread was locked on this after a great deal of tumbleweed went under the bridge. Undaunted, and being as we Everton fans are a sophisticated lot, and being as the muse struck me this afternoon while I was chopping wood, I thought we ought to have a repository where we can post our musings - (all works to be original and copyright under the posters name).
So here it is. Get writing.

Oh - and from the scarred memories of my youth .... English teachers BACK OFF!!

 

[chrismpw]

Autumn

The last weary leaves of a golden summer fall from lofty poplars,
Wending their flighty dance to the soft autumnal earth,
Each transient flight a portence to all of the winter to come,
When long eve's into balmy nights become but a faded memory,
And days fall short into damp ink-black nights,
As the frost bites deep into glassen bones,
And hangs glinting under clear winter skies into the unforgiving day,
Yet crackling hearths glow with welcom'd fires,
And children count the days til midwinter gifts abound,,
And the aged count the days til the first geen prongs of the snowdrop show,
From slumber within the waking ice-hard land,
Making the promise of warmer times soon to come.

CMPW 8th Nov 2018

 

[larrygobfiend]

BANG WHIZZ BOOM SQUEEL
The fireworks are in your face
You are rushed to hospital with third degree burns
The end

My friend Nigel when he was in year 7

 

[Eggs]

...studied the war poets for English Literature a long, long time ago and the words of Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon et al have always stuck with me. Poetry is such a powerful means of expression.

 

[summerisle]

Work in Progress. © M.Silva

Here we go (again)
Here we go (again)
Everton is the best we all know
We're the best, we're supreme, number 9
And we love you Everton

Everton, forever we are
On our way together
Getting stronger every day
We are seventh, all the way

 

[chrismpw]

...studied the war poets for English Literature a long, long time ago and the words of Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon et al have always stuck with me. Poetry is such a powerful means of expression.

Some cracking readings being aired on radio 4 extra, in the afternoons, what with the century of the armistice. Kenneth Brannagh earning his doe.

 

[chrismpw]

Work in Progress. © M.Silva

Here we go (again)
Here we go (again)
Everton is the best we all know
We're the best, we're supreme, number 9
And we love you Everton

Everton, forever we are
On our way together
Getting stronger every day
We are seventh, all the way

Good job he's looking like a decent manager. He'd starve as a poet.

 

[Connor]

Was class at poetry in school until I realised it was an absolute load of rubbish

 

[summerisle]

Good job he's looking like a decent manager. He'd starve as a poet.

Never heard of a rich poet.

 

[chrismpw]

Was class at poetry in school until I realised it was an absolute load of rubbish

Sure there's a poem in there somewhere about feckless youth.

 

[verreauxi]

Love this poem about missing Scotland...


Acid
Roddy Lumsden


"She was right. I had to find something new.
There was only one thing for it."

My mother told it straight, London will finish you off,
and I'd heard what Doctor Johnson said, When a man is tired
of London, he is tired of life, but I'd been tired of life

for fourteen years; Scotland, never thoroughly enlightened,
was gathering back its clutch of medieval wonts
and lately there had been what my doctors called a pica

(like a pregnant woman's craving to eat Twix with piccalilli
or chunks of crunchy sea-coal): I'd been guzzling vinegar,
tipping it on everything, falling for women who were

beautifully unsuitable, and hiding up wynds off the Cowgate
with a pokeful of hot chips drenched in the sacred stuff
and wrapped in the latest, not last, edition of The Sunday Post

where I read that in London they had found a Chardonnay
with a bouquet of vine leaves and bloomed skins, a taste
of grapes and no finish whatsoever, which clinched the deal.

 

[Connor]

There once was a man called jeff
Who lived by the river like a Heff
He once was cooking a broth
When he was visited by a moth
There was movement in his cloth
He liked it a lot
So Jeff began chasing anything and everything Goth

 

[DanB90]

@tobytherhymedog

 

[SerenityNigh]

There once was a man called jeff
Who lived by the river like a Heff
He once was cooking a broth
When he was visited by a moth
There was movement in his cloth
He liked it a lot
So Jeff began chasing anything and everything Goth

Stick to reporting the facts C

 

[Connor]

Stick to reporting the facts C

Please stop trying to force the microphone out of my hand