gonetomorrow
Player Valuation: £70m
It's a fair cop.
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Your Favourite Poem
- Thread starter summerisle
- Start date
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summerisle
The rain, it raineth every day
I wonder if Theresa May reads Shelley ?
Please help, I read a poem years ago about a boy playing sport and his apparently unloving father secretly watching rough some railings. Would appreciate if someone knows the actual title.
summerisle
The rain, it raineth every day
summerisle
The rain, it raineth every day
To the tune of Octopus Garden.
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
They'd let us skid, and smoke a lid
In a marijuana garden in the shade
I'd ask my friends to come and smoke
A bowl of good until they all choke
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
We would find digs, and ditch the pigs
In our little hideaway inside a van
Resting our head on a truck bed
In a marijuana garden on a ranch.
We would laugh at stupid [Poor language removed].
We'd forget why and take a hit.
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
We would smoke and talk about
The police that put us all away
(put your stoner ass away)
Oh I'm high! I'm high as the blue sky
Forgot to go to work today.
(Unemployed today)
We would be so toasted you and me
No one there to call the boys in blue
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you
Kaeru
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
They'd let us skid, and smoke a lid
In a marijuana garden in the shade
I'd ask my friends to come and smoke
A bowl of good until they all choke
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
We would find digs, and ditch the pigs
In our little hideaway inside a van
Resting our head on a truck bed
In a marijuana garden on a ranch.
We would laugh at stupid [Poor language removed].
We'd forget why and take a hit.
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden in the shade
We would smoke and talk about
The police that put us all away
(put your stoner ass away)
Oh I'm high! I'm high as the blue sky
Forgot to go to work today.
(Unemployed today)
We would be so toasted you and me
No one there to call the boys in blue
I'd like to be in the country
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you
In a marijuana garden with you
Kaeru
DownOnTheUpside
Player Valuation: £30m
I seem totally incapable of writing anything uplifting, but I'll aim for constructive
I've written a narrative poem as a protest against what I see as our inhumane attitude towards euthanasia which is hurting people in this country every day;
My life shattered but won't give out
My wife coughs out; words leave her mouth
And it's a no, i was so ready to go
Didn't we say so? All those times we played? Didn't we always find a way? Oh
And look how she spares her pride, tears in her eyes; she's dead inside
And from my chest - no reply; but sparks on wires my heart replies
Nerves that can't form
Words to reply
Let me expire; send word to mum and sis; become a miss
I hate when you see me like this
Every wait weights upon our bliss
It's all sorts of horrific; let me be specific
Wouldn't it be terrific
To just let me go; remember we were just so
Soul to soul and oh so whole
Not all of these charts and missives
I liked you in control but i hate me this submissive
Now i've hit the wall; time comes for us all
It's unacceptable to contemplate my fall
Now be swift and hit the switch;
It's on the wall
If it would please you i always believed in you;
you know it's true
Please don't look appalled
Me and you were always one
Now it's all for one
And one for all
I've written a narrative poem as a protest against what I see as our inhumane attitude towards euthanasia which is hurting people in this country every day;
My life shattered but won't give out
My wife coughs out; words leave her mouth
And it's a no, i was so ready to go
Didn't we say so? All those times we played? Didn't we always find a way? Oh
And look how she spares her pride, tears in her eyes; she's dead inside
And from my chest - no reply; but sparks on wires my heart replies
Nerves that can't form
Words to reply
Let me expire; send word to mum and sis; become a miss
I hate when you see me like this
Every wait weights upon our bliss
It's all sorts of horrific; let me be specific
Wouldn't it be terrific
To just let me go; remember we were just so
Soul to soul and oh so whole
Not all of these charts and missives
I liked you in control but i hate me this submissive
Now i've hit the wall; time comes for us all
It's unacceptable to contemplate my fall
Now be swift and hit the switch;
It's on the wall
If it would please you i always believed in you;
you know it's true
Please don't look appalled
Me and you were always one
Now it's all for one
And one for all
Last edited:
Donald Twain
Vide cor meum
Nice one mate , and thanks for sharing that .
Donald Twain
Vide cor meum
Still love to read this even after all these years !
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
raithrovers94
Player Valuation: £1m
The aftermath of little nel was she waiting for her father etc etc
orly
Please check with me for Blammo criteria
Ah I've always loved this one. "The Rime of Dithering Dougie" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Donald Twain
Vide cor meum
Goblin market !
Anthropology
James Galvin
Remember the night you got drunk
and shot the roses?
You were a perfect stranger, Father,
even my bad sister cried.
Some other gravity,
not death or luck,
drew fish out of the sea
and started them panting.
The fish became a man.
The archer’s bow became a violin.
I remember the night you searched the sofa
for change
and wept on the telephone.
Some other gravity,
not time or entropy,
pulled the knife down for centuries.
The archers dropped their bows,
harmless as pine needles in the snow.
The knife became a plow
and entered the earth, Father.
Later it became a boat
and some other things —
It isn’t a dream but it takes a long time,
for the archer’s bow to become a violin.
James Galvin
Remember the night you got drunk
and shot the roses?
You were a perfect stranger, Father,
even my bad sister cried.
Some other gravity,
not death or luck,
drew fish out of the sea
and started them panting.
The fish became a man.
The archer’s bow became a violin.
I remember the night you searched the sofa
for change
and wept on the telephone.
Some other gravity,
not time or entropy,
pulled the knife down for centuries.
The archers dropped their bows,
harmless as pine needles in the snow.
The knife became a plow
and entered the earth, Father.
Later it became a boat
and some other things —
It isn’t a dream but it takes a long time,
for the archer’s bow to become a violin.
A splendid poem. My father made me memorize that when I was young.
An ode to Felicity Kendall.
Felicity, Felicity, you fill me with lectricity
That's not to say you're shocking
Felicity, Felicity, you fill me with lectricity
That's not to say you're shocking
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