The rules are simple; make us laugh with rythming verse.
Go!
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The rules are simple; make us laugh with rythming verse.
Go!
Through bedroom dark the feline slithered,
And glared at mouse, whose courage withered.
The pounce then came, from savage beast,
As mouse was added to the feast.
The cat then jumps on bed of Human.
Drops mouse on man, and starts a-groomin'.
The gift he leaves on blankets white
Will stink and fester through the night.
When man awakes to find dead mouse,
An outraged roar will fill the house.
He'll seek said kitty, and for said stunt,
Clear out fornt door the cat he'll punt.
Dear cat does not yet know his fate,
The hours still are dark and late.
Kitty cleans his feet and chest,
And parts by now you ought've guessed.
Post-cleansing, cat runs off to find,
A loose sock man hath left behind.
There! Odd left sock lies on the floor
Chance for fun and play galore.
The feline crouches, slinks and stalks,
The Wolen Grey, the king of socks!
The tail goes flat, the claws extend,
And like lightning kitty starts to rend!
The rapid motion, felinic blur,
A teeming mass of lard and fur.
The sock is toast, its fibers shredded,
Another piece of clothing deaded.
Yet satisfied our cat is not,
His small mind filled with evil thought
His brain works hard to fill his yearning,
Synapses firing, neurons churning
Triumphantly, an idea flares-
He'll go nudge something down the stairs!
He trots on up, to find a vase,
That's light enough to move with paws.
His new toys rolls along the hall,
Approaching its terminal fall,
Cat nudges vase up to the brink,
The coming crash should raise a stink.
Just one more push and off it goes,
It tumbles twice, its final throes,
Crash! as it hits the second stair,
It's getting weak, it's almost there.
It bounces off the fourth and shatters,
All o'er steps the dead vase spatters.
The humans wake up with a start,
as final pieces break apart.
With shouts of "What just happened, mom?"
And "I don't know what's going on."
To "Honey, what ht hell was that!?"
"I think it was that G--D----ed cat!"
The feline starts, he heard his name,
He tries to run and hide in shame,
He seeks dark corners in the house...
And then the humans find the mouse.
"That bloody cat is friggin’ nuts!"
"The bed is full of rodent guts!"
"I'll KILL the little SOB!"
And at that cat decides to flee.
With panicked eyes he looks around,
And seeks a place to go to ground.
He skitters 'neath a child's bed,
Swats at intruding human head.
"I've found him, mom!" young human cries
Thinks kitty, 'Next one looking dies.'
Then father shouts "I've got the gun!"
And feline sets off at a run.
He barrels straight on down the hall,
While praying that he doesn't fall,
The shotgun roars, a load of lead
Goes whizzing over kitty's head.
Poor feline, taken in by fright,
He searches left, he searches right,
Thinking that his doom is certain,
goes and hides behind a curtain.
Heavy footsteps fall, then cease.
Cat is still, a total freeze.
The gun is lowered, aimed at heart...
Kitty wakes up with a start.
Mid afternoon, the cat awakes,
forgets the dream, as conscience takes.
The cat is bored; he licks his paws.
Then ambles off to find a vase...
:D
Brihard
Ummmm. Bri ...
In some houses
When cats bring mouses
And tear them to shreds
From the gun that is used,
*Water* is spewed
To avert mouses left on beds!
nanna
Ninja. By me.
Ninja be nimble,
Ninja be quick...
Ninja jump over
a dynamite stick.
Ninja not fast enough...
Dynamite blow...
Now ninja got to
sit down when he go.
Turned that in for a poetry assignment in honors English in 9th grade. Got a perfect score on it, from a teacher that created a final exam that was so brutal only THREE students that year got a score of over 70 (the pass/fail threshold at the time) on it. :D
oO
In a pen sat a pig
Loud, fat, ugly, big
He sat and he snorted
"Oink! Oink!" another pig retorted
Just as loud, twice as big
Today is your Birthday!
You're older, more wise,
So simply a poem
a Birthday Surprise!
I know it's just paper,
a few written words,
But here to tell you, just
how much your're worth.
Far more than a poem,
you are such a friend,
I love you till always,
and never to end.
Still, smirking and grinning,
I pass you this line,
YOU"RE OLDER THAN ME!
That suits me just fine!
:angl:
If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
and the bus is interrupted at a very last resort,
and the access of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.
If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
and your data is corrupted cause the index doesn't hash,
then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash!!
If the label on the cable on the table at your house
says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
but your packets want to tunnel to another protocol,
That's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall.
And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss,
so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse
then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
'cuz sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!
When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy in the disk,
and the macro code instructions cause unnecessary risk,
then you'll have to flash the memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM.
Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your Mom!
There once was a man named Bobbit,
Whose wife cut it off and lobbed it,
out the window with glee.
Found, then back on they sewed it,
Lucky man, he.
:D
ezra takes a pounding
___________________________________________
"the brain is a terrible thing to waste"
*
I hastened to add my two cents
at our usual parlor mental-aerobics
sunday evening, digesting Pound while
cake was served a la tuffed maid,
skirted the main point, which of course
as anyone could figure by now, was
was he or wasn't he?
crazy, that is - or merely eccentric
we tee heed in unison
*
figure it was all the pondering
nonsense! growled Father, Nutcase the First,
gesticulating, digit drawing in air
drowning in another downing of cognac -
we drew breaths of agitation, then renewed
relentless endless debate, head to head
"he was crazy's" behind Mother
"was NOT!" alone stood Father, High Priest
of Art, expounding in countless ways
idiosyncrasies of the Misunderstood -
clearly demonstrating that fine line
*
number of discourses on Pound I've lost count,
what's more, five women against Father, hardly fair,
we are no closer to did he or didn't he,
it's been a real trial for us all -
we are nearer St. Elizabeth's than truth
*
and poor Muse! fled, screaming, tearing its hair!
to live to love to give -
the only reasons why we live -
give them all to one who's dear
and you'll find him always near.
just live for him from day to day -
when he stumbles show the way -
let him know you're always there,
shower him with loving care.
if he differs in his thoughts -
TRASH HIS *SS - and be unkind
afterall - how does one learn?
if not by flame and left to burn?