Anyone like poems? I do, something about the flow of words that's really pleasing,if theres a thread for this already I will go stand in the corner 
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Naked to the world I hasten to mention
Dusk, it was descending, mine senses rang loud
The molten daffodils they danced, twas like heaven
The world was at peace,fragrance hung in the air
Hark, a breeze from afar slammed yon front door shut
Mr Wordsworth next door did behold my bare butt
I really like poetry, but I dunno if I could post any here. 
Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ May 5 2011, 10:20 PM BSTI really like poetry, but I dunno if I could post any here.
Aw do, serious stuff,funny ,whatever, its all good 
Shandonbelle, Shandonbelle
What have you started
You'll only get poems about
Tunes they have farted
With beans they have eaten
Or how they're downhearted
When curry tunes lead to
A cry of 'Who's sharted?'
(and that's just the females on here!)
It's usually serious, and people here have generally seen most of it.
This one is about my mum:
The clutch that smells of just washed socks
Travel sweets and long forgotten scarves.
That lingers long after letting go, and
That kiss that brought me laughing into life.
Or bawling until hours past midnight,
The sleep still stuck to your eyelids almost
Nineteen years later as you smile, and I stand
Two inches taller than you. The weight of mine
You bore, for nine months, not more, as I came
Small and days too early - a habit I never outgrew -
Now presses less on your bones and flesh, in words.
Less substantial, despite my straining voice,
And broken tone, but still as important. Still
My life as yours. Your smiles in mine though I still
Cough you awake, and murmur your not quite name -
Shared by so many, yet so infinitely yours.
Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ May 5 2011, 10:28 PM BSTIt's usually serious, and people here have generally seen most of it.
This one is about my mum:
The clutch that smells of just washed socks
Travel sweets and long forgotten scarves.
That lingers long after letting go, and
That kiss that brought me laughing into life.
Or bawling until hours past midnight,
The sleep still stuck to your eyelids almost
Nineteen years later as you smile, and I stand
Two inches taller than you. The weight of mine
You bore, for nine months, not more, as I came
Small and days too early - a habit I never outgrew -
Now presses less on your bones and flesh, in words.
Less substantial, despite my straining voice,
And broken tone, but still as important. Still
My life as yours. Your smiles in mine though I still
Cough you awake, and murmur your not quite name -
Shared by so many, yet so infinitely yours.
That's very nice Robyn. I now declare the geeky smily as the BCG poetry appreciation icon in this thread.
Haha! Thank you. I write about her quite a lot.
Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ May 5 2011, 10:28 PM BSTThe clutch that smells of just washed socks
Travel sweets and long forgotten scarves.
That lingers long after letting go, and
That kiss that brought me laughing into life.
Or bawling until hours past midnight,
The sleep still stuck to your eyelids almost
Nineteen years later as you smile, and I stand
Two inches taller than you. The weight of mine
You bore, for nine months, not more, as I came
Small and days too early - a habit I never outgrew -
Now presses less on your bones and flesh, in words.
Less substantial, despite my straining voice,
And broken tone, but still as important. Still
My life as yours. Your smiles in mine though I still
Cough you awake, and murmur your not quite name -
Shared by so many, yet so infinitely yours.
Thats really lovely,beautiful wording,thank you for posting it up
Thanks.
Quote: Will Cam @ May 5 2011, 10:27 PM BSTShandonbelle, Shandonbelle
What have you started
You'll only get poems about
Tunes they have farted
With beans they have eaten
Or how they're downhearted
When curry tunes lead to
A cry of 'Who's sharted?'(and that's just the females on here!)
I am closer to believing
Than I ever was before
On the crest of this elation
Must I crash upon the shore
And with the driftwood of acquaintance
Light the fire to love once more
I am wind blown... I am times
It's not mine it's Greg Lakes and the full version is here-
http://www.lyricsdomain.com/5/emerson_lake_and_palmer/closer_to_believing.html
But I wish it was mine 
Ne'er mind poets corner
It's POETS day today!
The pub's already open
And I am on my way!
There once was a rhymer called Mark
Who considered rhymes quite the lark
He liked a drink too
And drank a bottle through
And ended up asleep in the park
Yeah, and if that were not true
I'd Sue!