Farmer Ovenden Went to Birmingham In a crappy old car He drove under a bridge And down fell a fridge That was nicked from the local barby Omouse
Form Gone Awry: I got meter, rhyme, and form… who needs content?
by Debbie and Vicky
Farmer Ovenden
Went to Birmingham
In a crappy old car
He drove under a bridge
And down fell a fridge
That was nicked from the local bar
by Omouse
She's got lots of hair And she's got quite a stare Oh, she's so fair Our lovely Clare We sure do care I'm sure she's aware That without our Clare We'd be very sad. :(
by Athene19
Our dearest friend Deb Smiles like a celeb She hates seeing a cobweb She's not on the world wide web Sorry it's short Deb But there aren't many rhymes here!!
by JCJ
Debbie and I were in Possums yesterday and we were reading this little inscription someone had engraved on the wooden stand of the cat... Oh _sweet_ Rutherford How you're so very shite And yet so prison-like. JCJ
by Karen
People say they don't like poodles, "They're too high strung and nervous." Well, maybe if we didn't landscape them They'd be more eager to serve us. I mean, if your hair was carved in little puffs All over your entire body And instead of a dog, you looked like a shrub, Wouldn't you be uptight and haughty. So, before you pass judgement on the unfortunate poodle, At least know the situation. The poodle isn't a bad sort of dog, Just a victim of sadistic creation.
Here's a poem...
Moby Dick was a whale
When Captain Ahab set sail
They went on a merry chase
That ended in outer space.
Then the Enterprise warped by
thereby proving whales can fly 
A Sestina
The stillness filled the room like death
until it seemed there was no room for love
she suffered there in the silence
she a quiet thing, a simple girl
with a fondness for a good book
and she laid still watching the fire burn
for her soul and inner fire no longer burned
and she had learned the finality of death
the preacher had come. In his hand the Book
with which he tried to comfort her with fatherly love
He put his hand on the shoulder of this girl
and sat in with her for a while in companionable silence
And yet his kindness was met with nothing but silence
and the fire in the hearth became more smolder than burn
He left feeling much pity for the poor girl
who he thought would soon recover from this death
The one she mourned for had been her first love
but those loves only come from the pages of a fairy book
The preacher left her with his book
And she continued staring in the silence
And although in her heart the love
was everlasting , true and pure to burn
she hadn’t expected such an interruption as death
for they were young, yet still a boy and girl
The thoughts that ran through the mind of the girl
weren’t to be found beside her in that book
Her soul was filled with the heaviness of death
In her violent mind there was no silence
And in her rage she threw the book into the fire to burn
Her eyes were filled with tears and frustrated love
She could not live without her love
for he had been a part of the girl
Her thoughts flew to the fire that did burn
She reached to grab the rapidly crinkling book
and stood there with it in her hands in silence
And made her decision to follow him through death
she threw the book and shouted the name of her love
and in an utter moment of silence clarity came to the girl
and she greeted him in death as all caught fire and began to burn