|
|
|
|
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/18/2004 8:44:43 AM | Why thanks, ticketoride. Coffee is the fuel, boredom is the ignitor. After that, I just need some minor inspiration. Heck, even a good lunch will spark the creative propellant I've built up over the morning. Like this:
==================
A Small Ode to a Roast Beef Sandwich (autobiographical)
I anticipate the daily noon meal
The morning is spent pondering its course
At $5.99 it is a steal.
I am at work purely by force.
When the noon whistle dares to come around,
I'm beside myself with unrestrained joy.
I leap from the chair in one large bound,
Trampling the poor, young copy boy.
Down the hall and down the street, lunch awaits.
Passion pounds the pavement and I arrive
At the good deli to meet my fate;
Into a table I will dive.
My lips quiver in anticipation;
My arse contacts the cushion of the chair.
The waitress asks the timeless question.
Beef I want; my end stands on hair.
Wafer-thin layers of hot roast beef, placed
Upon a firm bed of very wet lettuce.
(How my tiny overfed heart raced)
Nine-grain bread packed with detritus.
The hidden clumps of horseradish, divine.
With a side of home-style fries and gravy,
The experience became sublime.
The beef, I think, made me crazy.
Semi-orgasmic, I loudly proclaim:
"This is the best sandwich I ever had!"
Semi-conscious and hardly contained
The pleasure had driven me mad.
The heat of the moment swept me away.
I realized somehow my pants came off.
In a swirl of gastronomic fray,
The patrons, chef and waitress coughed
I collected my wits and up I rose.
My pants over my shoulder, heard to say:
(With a glob of gravy on my nose)
"Good sandwich. See you next Thursday"
==========================
I haven't quite gotten the hang of poetical punctuation, but I still have fun with it.
Tomorrow, tomorrow...I'll see you tomorrow...it's...just...a...day...awayyyyy... | |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 8:31:20 AM | Mornin' again. Another ditty sprang to mind early this morning. Today is race day. This is the day when paddles are seized and me and 17 other people are going to row a big, heavy boat against the current for fame and glory. Wish me luck.
So, just after getting a prepatory beer in, I came up with this freshies. It's so fresh, it still has hair on it:
=======================
I ne'er do this regularly,
because of working life.
This small can of beer
would cause me undue strife.
Today is Saturday
and things must be done.
It's six a.m. and
I'm off to have some fun.
So this wee can of
barley and hops and foam.
Will start the motor,
into wilderness I roam.
Prithee, O' sweet beer,
be gentle to my condition.
With your strength,
I will win the competition.
==========================
YeeHAW!
| |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 9:34:56 AM | Ahhh i wonder u came frm where a load of crap is present
I mean to say how can u take his autograph if u dont meet so i asked u where u both guys stay
| |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 2:14:24 PM | "I haven't quite gotten the hang of poetical punctuation, but I still have fun with it."
Looks really good. | |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/19/2004 8:26:40 PM | Thanks guys for the kind words. That Uday and Ramakanth are a funny pair...like Bert and Ernie, Oscar and Felix -- Archie and Edith? I wonder if they *are* the same person?
Well, this was a helluva day -- paddling, biking, drinking beer and looking and the scenery. I was aroused on so many levels today. And I have to go back tomorrow morning and do it all over again. So, here's one for Sunday because I won't be here tomorrow to post it. A haiku pour vous:
=====================
Breasts jiggling, barely
Contained by thin cotton shirts
Arouses me lots.
=====================
Hey, don't expect art every time. I was inspired by all the eye candy this fine day. Too many beers and too much exertion has taxed me.
See you Monday. | |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/21/2004 12:35:36 AM | "Tell me a story...."
" I'll tell you...what story want you ?"
"Tell me a story, that one ..you have't told to anybody."
Melina
| |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/21/2004 9:23:04 AM | Hmm....been busy here while I wandered away. What a weekend! I had to come back to work just to get a rest -- good, old sedentary desk job that it is. I see there's been some kind folk here checking up on me.
Ramakanth: My autograph wouldn't be worth much and you'd have to come a long way to get it. I do appreciate your appreciation...if that makes sense. *Checks to make sure Uday isn't right behind him*
Melina: If you captured my heart any more you'd have to domesticate it. Thank you.
Ticketoride: It was a great weekend, thanks. How was yours? Adventurous? Educational?
Well, this weekend's events inspired me, as you probably guessed. This is a longer poem (dangerously close to being a full ode, really) about the race I competed in. We didn't win, but we did allright. Here is the first of three parts:
====================
Mis-timed in Brown Water
Now moving a dragon boat
Takes more than this old goat
Can muster in a given day.
Fortunately the beer
Helped us to steer
And get us under way.
The audience gathered huge;
And amongst the deluge,
Our squat dragon boats sat in wait.
We prayed to not come last;
To fates we cast
Our hopes to become great.
*First Race*
Four boats started the first heat;
To the line we did meet.
"Crew! Paddles up!" Came the command.
We attacked the water
As good as we oughter
At least we hit no land.
We did come in last of course
Like the raggiest horse
Though it was a close race we ran.
According to mentors
We weren't centred
To the left we did pan.
"Our timing was a bit off,"
Our fearless leader scoffed
We didn't listen to his count.
To the drum we did listen,
Not his rythym;
That oddly offbeat fount.
The next race was hours away
The bands began to play
The beer tent was open at last.
Have a brew, tap our feet;
We'd get some eats.
Calories make us fast.
=========================
Part 2 is tomorrow -- the second race. Stay tuned.
| |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/22/2004 12:34:12 AM | (It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye.)
The Little Prince
Goat....to domesticate an heart need long time...
in this days...I 'm sitting....around your place...looking at you....
today I come little bit closer....and move just little bit near you....
tomorrow...will sit so near you that can smell my odour...
later I' ll put may hand next yours...
than I'll touch your finger...there we can feel our warmth...
lately I'll come closer sitting to your side...looking in your eyes
you'll domesticate to me
I'll domesticate to you
that's it...
Melina
| |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/22/2004 9:36:30 AM | Mornin' all. I've had visitors! Hi Melina! My God, but your words are lovely and they put my balladeering to shame. I appreciate what you said and I appreciate you. You're still the artist of the forum.
Here's the second part of Mis-timed in Brown Water. I know you've been itching for it. Me? I've simply been itching, but I have a cream for that. Onward:
=================
Mis-timed in Brown Water - Act II
This next race was far better,
Though we finished wetter
And definitely not dead last.
We barrelled straight ahead,
Felt nearly dead;
Our prior time we passed.
None of us looked up to know
How we placed in the show.
The Survivors of Breast Cancer
Paddled slow, without fear
Brought up the rear
And gave us the answer.
Now you might think it is cruel
To celebrate that coup,
But we were simply elated.
So tired of the past
And finishing last.
On our nerves, it grated.
Our time was respectable;
(Quite unintentional)
We were in the heart of the pack.
We hauled ourselves upright,
Feeling no slight.
There was no looking back
To the beer tent we did stride,
Almost bursting with pride;
The next races were far away.
We opted for some suds,
Hung out with buds;
The fates would have their say.
=====================
Tomorrow, the conclusion. | |
|
xchuck
|
Joined: 6/11/2004
Msg: 38 | |
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/23/2004 9:15:11 AM | Why thanks, Chuck. I've been reading your poems as well. Yours are like fine Irish whiskey compared to my Billy Beer. And I think Melina is kinda sweet on you....
Well, here's the conclusion to Mis-timed in Brown Water. After getting halfway through it, I realized how much can one say about 18 people attempting to row a heavy boat in unison? Not a lot, really....if things go as planned. I've found not much goes to plan.
So....here we go:
=====================
*Third Race*
This race is hard to describe
And it shatters my pride
When I look back upon it now.
We struggled to compete
And still were beat;
But we were so weighed down.
A member had the bright ken
To bring five trucking men
An effort to increase our odds.
Our chances rested
On men untested
And their muscular bods.
We formed our line, jackets donned.
To the dock we were gone,
Prepared for an excellent run.
How the boat would receive,
We didn't conceive,
The rough weight of a ton.
I felt like a real dink
But I thought we would sink
As water flowed onto the floor.
The truckers stopped pallin';
There were gallons
For each man and woman aboard.
We realized after time,
If we turned on a dime
Into the river we would go.
We ambled to the line,
Taking our time;
Extra weight made us slow.
We did line up our drummers
Which was a small bummer
Because the other boats moved so quick.
From the dock on the shore
Sounded a horn;
I felt I would be sick.
We did have weight to spare,
But the fates didn't care;
We did also have strength and speed.
We thought that the quick wind
Would leave us pinned
Between buoys 1 and 3.
But defeated we were not
And our curious lot
Dug at the murky brown river.
When our timing was on
The boat was gone --
"C'mon, mates. Let's givver!!"
From last place, we surged ahead
No longer feeling dread;
Once focused, we were united.
But halfway through the race,
We lost our pace;
Our fear re-ignited.
The water was ankle-high
And continued to rise;
It distracted us from our goal.
Only metres to go,
We all did know
We'd likely swamp the boat.
They were very close races;
The wind slowed our paces;
It was tough and brutal all 'round.
It was hard to compete
And then defeat
Fury, thunder and sound.
We finished in average
And questing beverage
We walked to the tents that were near.
Though we all felt back pain
We didn't complain
Trusting the healing beer.
=======================
Hell, yeah I'd do it again next year. There may even be another one this July, but that depends on the rest of the team. If you ever get the chance to go on a dragon-boat team, do it. It's a blast.
Okey-dokey-pokey...I'll be back tomorrow. | |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/23/2004 11:33:46 PM | It was a gripping yarn, wasn't it? You can tell me if it made you moist...I won't tell anyone.
This next one was going to be saved for the morning, but it looks like tomorrow will be a bit on the busy side. It's fairly short and was inspired by the total wad of crap that was on TV for most of the week. Did I mention I hate reality shows? Prank shows? And almost any show with Ashton Kutcher.
Here we go:
================
I don't like Ashton Kutcher
And I don't like Punk'd
If I were to meet him
I'd kick him in the Junk'd
=================
It ain't art, but it speaks to me.
Later, then. | |
|
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 5:16:56 PM | You created too many threads -- according to who? Birdman? Admin? You couldn't possibly be as prolific as Evilcuppycake was...she posted up a storm before she packed up and headed out of Dodge like a perfumed hay-devil. She was kinda cute, though, but too young and not interesting enough to capture this goat.
Yeah, sure, you can post here. Be aware that your stuff might be buried by the sheer weight of all my half-assed poems. I make 'em fresh every day, more if I'm rested. I would consider setting up your own poetry thread if I were you, though. You know, a little corner for your thoughts and rythmic opinions. That's what I did.
And your poem was good. I'm not much of a poet, so I can't deliver much of a critque for you. I think you're doing fine.
Nothing new now. The day was too hot and too long. Tomorrow...tomorrow....
| |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 8:54:50 PM | Ooohhhh...I geddit.
Dude, put your stuff in one pile and that way it doesn't get lost. Works for me. And here I thought the Hammer of God had smote him. Or is that smitten? Smotted? Smerged? Hmm..... | |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 8:57:50 PM | | Ah, thanks. I was beginning to think it was "smat" or something. My Olde Worlde Englishe Dictionarie is missing. | |
|
| |
| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/24/2004 9:06:27 PM | Oh. My. God.
You read it *all*?
Are you feeling okay? Do you need to lie down. Easy...easy...now show me on the dolly where it touched you...
(That's my weird way of saying: "Thanks, eh?") | |
|
| |
| |
| Re: (GoatSmell) GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 6/25/2004 8:24:30 AM | Mornin'.
Ticket! It ain't art, but I like it. It rhymes and that counts for a whole lot. A poetry analyst might say it's a small slice of an intimate moment of being a man. Or they would gasp at it. I'm not sure, really.
Well, here's another one I'm going to make up as I go along. All I have in my head is the phrase "moose turd pie". Credit goes to Montanaman for the divine inspiration, so blame him:
======================
I never tried a moose turd pie
I think I’d have to fight the flies
Pick out the bits of hay
Chunks of clay
What the hey?
A pair of owl eyes!
I won't ask how
All this was on the ground
I consider myself lucky I found
This here pie, covered in flies
If I eat it, I may die
Or get horrible gas
Seeping from my ass
Yet there's something alluring
About a moose turd pie
Don't know why...
Hey! I'm slurring!
====================
KerPOW! Rapid fire poetry! Beware Ginsberg....I'm coming after you...
Tomorrow, then. | |
|
|
| Page 2 of 198
|
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41 |
|
Home
login 
