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My Poetry Thread

Posted: 18 Feb 2025, 09:59
by Del
sweetandsour wrote: 18 Feb 2025, 09:04 No more rhymes now, I mean it ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK-aL4H01b0

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 18 Feb 2025, 10:47
by sweetandsour
Del wrote: 18 Feb 2025, 09:59
sweetandsour wrote: 18 Feb 2025, 09:04 No more rhymes now, I mean it ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK-aL4H01b0
It had to be done. In memory of Skip if nothing else.

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 19 Feb 2025, 11:27
by Del
On my finger, sweet as sugar,
disappearing slimy booger

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 19 Feb 2025, 17:52
by joegoat
Biff wrote: 17 Feb 2025, 13:53
joegoat wrote: 16 Feb 2025, 18:00 Here I sit all broken hearted.
Paid a nickel to zederated,
And only farted.

Believe it or not, I heard that from my devout Presbyterian grandma long before I saw it scrawled into a bathroom stall door.
Yesterday I took a chance saved a nickel
But zederated my pants

- Joe's G-Ma
Yeah well, a nickel saved is a nickel earned. Underwear can be washed.

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 24 Feb 2025, 08:16
by Del
joegoat wrote: 19 Feb 2025, 17:52 Yeah well, a nickel saved is a nickel earned. Underwear can be washed.
You were doing fine
Until you ran out of rhyme.

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 19 Mar 2025, 05:37
by joegoat
Del wrote: 24 Feb 2025, 08:16
joegoat wrote: 19 Feb 2025, 17:52 Yeah well, a nickel saved is a nickel earned. Underwear can be washed.
You were doing fine
Until you ran out of rhyme.
Sagacious advice doesn't always rhyme. ;)

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 19 Mar 2025, 11:28
by Biff
When I was in middle school our English teacher handed out a book of poems we were meant to study. The only poem in that meaningful tome that I can remember started with:

I've mastered the art
of the silent fart ....

My Dad (the Pastor) pope slapped me stupid for reciting it. I've been looking for the full version ever since. Anyone?

My Poetry Thread

Posted: 19 Mar 2025, 11:30
by Biff
Biff wrote: 19 Mar 2025, 11:28 When I was in middle school our English teacher handed out a book of poems we were meant to study. The only poem in that meaningful tome that I can remember started with:

I've mastered the art
of the silent fart
that makes the grass turn brown....

My Dad (the Pastor) pope slapped me stupid for reciting it. I've been looking for the full version ever since. Anyone?