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Author Topic: Our Own Poems  (Read 9673 times)

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #25 on: 11/01/2008 18:30:32 »
Yes Indeedy so!! LOL!!
 

Offline Carolyn

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« Reply #26 on: 11/01/2008 18:44:58 »
WOW!  We have some very talented writers here!
 

Offline Vcoolspice

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« Reply #27 on: 11/01/2008 19:43:56 »
I'll be back, my fav own written poem is on my home computer!
 

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #28 on: 11/01/2008 19:52:27 »
OK! Good!
 

Offline opus

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« Reply #29 on: 11/01/2008 20:10:04 »
11 was 1 racehorse
 22was12
 when 1111 race
 22112
 

Offline tony6789

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« Reply #30 on: 11/01/2008 20:43:33 »
huh???
 

Offline neilep

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« Reply #31 on: 11/01/2008 22:30:03 »
huh???

Eleven and Twenty Two are the names of racehorses !!


Eleven was one racehorse
Twenty Two was one too
When Eleven won one race
Twenty Two won one too
 

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #32 on: 11/01/2008 22:51:14 »
HA HA Very clever indeedy!
 

Offline that mad man

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« Reply #33 on: 12/01/2008 19:46:59 »
Excellent Bee...That Mad Man !!...

How long is the full poem ?...I think we'd all like to see it !





Thanks.

I must admit it is not really a poem but was lyrics for a sad song, sometimes I'm not sure on the boundaries between a poem and lyrics.
I don't have the full version with me ATM as its a few years old but I will try and find the archive.

In the mean time..



"Childhood"

Playing in the woods,
swinging from the trees
pretending to be tarzan
diving in the leaves

You've go some matches
and 5 park drive too
you build a fire
feel a glow in you

Get out those catapults
line the bottles on the wall
try to shoot them down
and the rain starts to fall

Those childhood memories
deep in the past
you never realised then
childhood never lasts. 




 

Offline opus

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« Reply #34 on: 12/01/2008 20:47:54 »
You're very close- the racehorses are called 'one,one' and 'two,two'
 

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #35 on: 12/01/2008 22:47:07 »
Excellent Bee...That Mad Man !!...

How long is the full poem ?...I think we'd all like to see it !





Thanks.

I must admit it is not really a poem but was lyrics for a sad song, sometimes I'm not sure on the boundaries between a poem and lyrics.
I don't have the full version with me ATM as its a few years old but I will try and find the archive.

In the mean time..



"Childhood"

Playing in the woods,
swinging from the trees
pretending to be tarzan
diving in the leaves

You've go some matches
and 5 park drive too
you build a fire
feel a glow in you

Get out those catapults
line the bottles on the wall
try to shoot them down
and the rain starts to fall

Those childhood memories
deep in the past
you never realised then
childhood never lasts. 






Very nice bee thanks for sharing. Will enjoy the rest when you find it.
 

Offline JnA

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« Reply #36 on: 13/01/2008 13:16:26 »
‘armless Yarn


A smoke-filled room, a loud gaffaw, the barmaid pours a beer,
the pub is full of country blokes and Aussie atmosphere.
Some 'Chisel' thru the speakers, the racetrack on the telly,
pool table sending iv'ry balls to its underbelly.
Walls adorned with history, and heads of native birds,
the Nation'l Anthem in a frame, 'cause no-one knows the words.

An ag'ed man sits in the corner, sipping at his ale,
his teeth are stained, his liver's shot, his ragged skin is pale.
Young buck swaggers in and, as the room lets up a shout,
he tips his head in mock salute and takes his earnings out.
Good mates standing at the bar as jugs are passed around,
the yarns are flowing freely to impress the growing crowd.
The old man in the corner holds his voice above the din,
"You boys want a story, eh? Well, buck up and listen in.

Jus' the other day this feller was sat here at the bar,
he held his glass with steel hook, his cheek, it had a scar.
That scar, it ran from ear to chin, crikey it was shockin',
angry, red and all inflamed, he'd taken quite a coppin'.
With legs the size of tree trunks an' a barrel for a chest,
he looked as though, with just one blow, he'd put a man to rest.
I ventured on the happenings, and nodded to his claws,
he turned to me, quite wearily, and spoke, after a pause."

As if to emulate the mood, the old man waits a bit,
he squints his eyes upon the crowd and makes a show of it.
"This bloke is felling up a tree, 'bout fifty foot or so,
a lightning bolt, he gets a jolt, the chainsaw he lets go.
It backs up from the branch and lops off both his paws,
then, before he thinks to catch 'em, they hit the forest floors.
He’s with them soon enough, as the rest of him descended.
I shakes me head, 'Christ!' I says, tryin' to comprehend it."

The crowd is leaning forward and the air is getting tense,
the old man lights a cigarette, just to build suspense.
He slowly sips at his beer, then lifts his head to speak,
"Me eyes then trail from steel claws to mark upon 'is cheek,
'That how you did your face in, the chainsaw misbehavin'?'
He took a pause, held up his claws, and shrugged, "Cut it shavin'.""
 

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #37 on: 13/01/2008 21:16:29 »
Very very good JnA, Is it a piece of your own??
 

Offline JnA

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« Reply #38 on: 14/01/2008 08:24:11 »
Yes, of course!
 

Offline Karen W.

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« Reply #39 on: 14/01/2008 15:34:30 »
Very nice indeed! Thanks for sharing it!
 

Offline Nobody's Confidant

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« Reply #40 on: 14/01/2008 17:22:13 »
great.
 

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« Reply #40 on: 14/01/2008 17:22:13 »

 

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