Poetry Thread

[MarcusA]

Poems, poesy and pixies, please.

[MarcusA]

I am not into suicide.
I am a devout deicide.

[MarcusA]

Who am I? To crave
the death of God is madness
but poetry is sweetness.

[BrianSoddingBoru4]

Old Men, by Ogden Nash

People expect old men to die, 
They do not really mourn old men. 
Old men are different. People look 
At them with eyes that wonder when… 
People watch with unshocked eyes; 
But the old men know when an old man dies.

Boru

[MarcusA]

Poetry is my revenge for everything.

[no one]

Poo be brown.
Poo be green.
Taco bell,
You know what I mean. 
Food that's fast. 
When in a rush, 
Swallowed down, 
Performs its colon flush, 
Right back at it. 
Never learn.
Living for, 
That butthole burn.

[BrianSoddingBoru4]

‘I have no doubt the devil grins
As seas of ink I spatter.
Ye gods forgive my literary sins -
The other kind don’t matter.’ - Robert Service

Boru

[A. Secular Human]

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

[The Valkyrie]

There was a young man from Kent...

[no one]

His favorite position was bent
While pitching his tent