Come and have a go if you think you're poetic enough!

Discussion in 'Poetry Corner' started by corridor_of_Powers, Oct 31, 2009.

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  1. I have penned a little ditty for Rememberance Day. Just felt like it, thought I would share it. Im' a poet and I did not realise that (fcuk that could flow better for a start)

    Many nationalists/republicans have a problem with rememberance sunday. I don't get this, never did. I always tell them I wear a poppy for everyone and anyone who died, Irish, British, German, Polish, etc.

    My wee poem isn't a dig at them but it is about those who do not remember how we got to where we are as individuals, families and collectively as a country through the sacrafice of others.

    I realise this is the Naffi so do your worst :wink:

    Dirt under nail

    I am dirt under nail
    I am gravel, I am shale
    Churned by corrupt uncaring traffic
    Sneered at by the weak and tragic

    I stalk corridors elite, elect
    I surprise the circumspect
    The careful, guarded politic
    The urbane, oily, shiny chic

    The grins of spite, the empty eyes
    Dinner suits with black bow ties
    Wash blooded hands before they dine
    Nose the rich red bloody wine

    But in the corner of each hand
    A mark of Cain in earth or sand
    Defect dulls their perfect pallor
    Tale tattooed of gambled valour

    Confuse, forget, lavishly deny
    Staged regret, peppered public lie
    In their quiet midnight mind
    Young souls mark sleepless time

    Remember me for what I was
    Not dirt, nor grist, or chaff, not must
    Not war machine or number tallied
    Strength of arms or brave cheer rallied

    I am laughter still to be heard
    Tenderness no longer shared
    Potential, purpose, life unseen
    I am what I could have been

    And still, I breathe through others breath
    My heart holds time in many chests
    Our lives were more than greasy bets
    Banked by brokers derelict

    Eleventh day, eleventh hour
    Wear that blood red gaudy flower
    Lest they in power ever fail
    I am dirt, under nail.
  2. Gremlin

    Gremlin LE Good Egg (charities)


    Were the other poetry threads not good enough for you?
  3. Well I did put this in another poetry thread earlier but I'll post it here, It was written yesterday rather hastily and it's my first attempt.

    The Casualty

    Another flight to Sangin,
    To bring back what was lost
    We picked up three times casualties
    A mess of blood and dust

    Panthers claw in full swing
    Rounds hitting everywhere
    We carried them to the Chinook
    It's safer in the air

    Your eyes were still wide open
    Your face a ghostly stare
    In the confusion I didn't notice,
    That your mate was sat right there.

    So I covered what was left
    With a bag made for a bin
    Oh what shame I felt
    When here lies a fallen King.

    We climbed above a contact
    And as the rotors spinned
    I had to grab the bag
    Almost lost it in the wind

    So I held the bag around you
    Your name to me unknown
    But I'm proud I held you brother
    For your final journey home.

    I found out the name of the name of the guy when I went to his vigil in camp bastion, but won't mention it here for obvious reasons.
  4. I used to be a Squaddie
    With a heavy SLR

    I stood and faced the Russians
    And drove a tax-free car

    I put mayo on my chips
    And fell over in the Mess

    I drunk lots of German lager
    And nobbed whores I must confess

    On Poppy day you'll find me
    Propping up the bar

    As I try to get the barmaid
    To take off her keks and bra
  5. Track link, that's so beautiful.
  6. Well spotted.

    The German Guns

    Boom boom boom
    Boom boom boom
  7. My Poems have to be because my wife is a fucking moose.
  8. Yup. Top work.
  9. The country is in shite state
    The gobmint made it so
    They do not give a toss for us
    Its time for them to go

    Be it cutting short the budget
    For the troops who need it most
    Or claiming some expences
    For some made up mortgage ghost

    They want the best for all of us
    Well that is what they say
    Providing you're a veggie
    Or a lesbian or gay

    The common man is nothing
    The soldier even less
    They blame it on old Maggie
    But we know who made this mess

    The thieves who sit in parliament
    Getting richer by the day
    Who cares if another soldier dies
    It just a game to play

    They sit around and argue
    And moan about the cost
    One man dead is nothing
    Just another voter lost

    So come the next election
    Dont vote for the national front
    Or labour or the tories
    Because, they are all a bunch of cnuts
  10. maguire

    maguire LE Book Reviewer

    there was a young man from Devizes
    whose balls were of different sizes
    one was so small
    it was no ball at all
    but the other won several prizes.

    here I sit
    all broken hearted
    thought I'd shít
    but only farted.
  11. I posted this on a thread earlier this month, but I don't think it got the wider recognition it deserved.

    He only got raped once
    But strangely
    Liked it.
    He always walked home that way now
    To get raped a bit more

    But by then it wasn’t rape
    He pulled his pants up
    On the way to the office
    A big smile
    On his dial

    Over breakfast
    He eagerly moved along
    The chair
    The c*** up his arse

    On his son’s fourteenth birthday
    The doctor called
    “Mate, you’ve got AIDS”

    This was the 80’s,
    The daughter found the body.
  12. Sometime last week when I got pissed
    I sadly went and broke my wrist
    And now I find I really miss
    The joys of masturbation

    Last week I had too much booze
    And somehow I saw fit to loose
    All of my fingers and my toes
    And now I cannot pick my nose
  13. The night was dark and stormy
    The toilet light was dim

    I heard a crash and then a splash
    Oh shit she's fallen in
  14. Nice one Gren :D
  15. IF.....

    IF you can keep your head when all those about you
    Are losing theirs and rightly blaming you,
    If you can trust yourself when everybody despises you,
    But take your allowance regardless of that;
    If you cant wait for that receipt to carry on fiddling,
    Or flipping that house, cos you think its okay,
    Or being so flippant, though you cant spell it,
    And yet not care, cos neither can they:
    If you cant count – but pretend non the less;
    If you cant think – because thinking hurts;
    If you can meet with Disaster and Chaos
    And treat those realities with pointless spin;
    If you can bear to hear the lies you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves who don’t understand,
    And watch our money, wasted and lost,
    Only to stoop and steal some more:
    If you can make one heap of all our futures
    And risk it on one turn for bankers and-brokers,
    And lose, and start again with all our pensions
    And never breathe a word until its to late;
    If you can laugh and say so what
    And serve your turn long after your caught,
    And so hold on till there’s nothing left
    Except the Will which says to them “unlucky”
    If you can talk with celebs and keep your pretences,
    ' Or walk with the imans – and give them the keys,
    if neither foes nor common sense can hurt you,
    If all men count on you, but not too much;
    If you can fill that unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of bluff and cuff,
    Yours is the Trough and everything that's in it,
    And - which is more - you'll be an MP, my son!