It seems that I have a particular penchant for bad poetry; puns, strained rhymes, plays upon words...you know, the works. So in this thread I would like to have YOU guys pick a subject--ANY subject--and I will attempt to make a junk verse out of it. Here's a sample: Potatoes Potatoes are fine, they're the vegetable's nadir You can stick stuff into them to make Spock or Darth Vader Whether scalloped or mashed, or baked in an oven When you place them with steak, you've a plate of good lovin'. You can keep mac & cheese and asparagus stalks Pork 'n' beans are just lame; the potato moonwalks If provisions are low, have potatoes and beer For they're loaded with protein, and will fill you with cheer. A potato stands out in the starch tuber crowd It's a lifelong obsession of which I'm quite proud When I'm ancient and sick and confined to my bed I'll be eating potatoes 'till the instant I'm dead. Okay guys, suggestions please???
OK, I shall start you off with a request for a verse about shoes - any concept of what they are, wearing them etc.
Shoes can be leather, shoes can be suede, They can be cheap or extremely well-made. You can have loafers, zorries or sneakers so sweet, But we call them all shoes if they go on your feet. Pumps, platform heels or just Birkenstock sandals, Like the ones Brian Williams wore before all the scandals. When his copter got hit by the phantom who shoots, He was too much a star to put on combat boots. Surely I'm a big fan of shoes whene're I pass Over flaming hot coals or minute shards of glass. But when I sit at home my big tootsies are bare For I can't reach my toenails to cut them, so there! Thank you, Ruth. Who's next?
Now I am not a seafood fan, Whether stuck on a hook or out of a can. I don't like tuna, bass or cod, There is no fish oil in my bod. I'm a steak-only guy as I hide in my cloister, And first on my list of distain is the oyster. They're slimy and slick and you must crack 'em open Then in for a small bite of meat you go gropin'. You've got to eat dozens to make up a meal, They're so greasy and bland I can't see the appeal. So I've only one question for oyster-mad churls, Is that REALLY the place where they hide all the pearls? Good one, Yvonne. Next?
Great rhyming, Peter ! I am impressed that you could make that up so fast. Since oysters happen to be one of my most favorite foods, that was one of the first things I thought of; but I confess I have never thought of an oyster quite the way that you describe them. Maybe I should have suggested oyster lover, hmmm... or maybe not. With your way with words, I am not quite sure what you might have done with that combination. While we are on a roll, make us up one about another of my favorite things.....the Hippie Van (painted all over with flowers, of course)
I'm remembering the summer of '69 When the grass was smooth and the chicks were fine The Beatles were boss and I became a man In the back of my tricked-out Hippie Van. It was a big rolling box with metal hub caps You could seat 27 if you used a lot of laps Kinda hard to start as it coughed and spat But it got me to Berkley so I could live with that. All covered with flowers and peace signs too Makin' love not war was the best that we could do Bummin' all around the country made us feel so alive Til the engine flamed out in '75. Another winner from Yvonne. Anyone else?
You are way too sharp for me, Peter! How about chopsticks? In fact to make it a valid challenge, combine the eating utensils with de Lullinot's "The Celebrated Chop Waltz!"
Now I don't like Chinese food, it's made with peanut oil And since I am allergic, this sets my skin to boil. But most of all I marvel at the die-hards with their sticks How they never drop their rice grains, the most awesomest of tricks. Then as I watch in wonder, a toddler wanders in She sits at the piano, her recital to begin. For there's only one concerto kids can drink up by the gallon It's the Celebrated Chop Waltz by Ms. Euphemia Allen.
Peanut butter, use it well says Jiff mom Funicello In PBJ's on TV trays, they'll keep you feelin' mellow. It's nearly as American as mom and apple pie But I need, you see, a BLT or else I'm going to cry. I'd rather have a tuna melt or even watercress For the greasy, crunchy stuff you love will cause me much duress. I'm pleased you're so devoted, it's a sign of real class But should small sips pass o'er these lips it'll knock me on my ass.
@Peter Remington, your too smart for me. Let's start a new verse about learning to be single after sixty.
Six decades shot by and my love didn't make it I don't like 'alone' but I'm trying to fake it There's plenty to read and my cats love to play And I might go to lunch with my best friend today. The house is too big now, it's also too quiet I could get a roommate but I don't care to try it So I binge-watch my Netflix or I email my friends But I'm always quite grateful when another day ends. I've got my regrets, I still miss her so much The deep conversations, the warmth of her touch But I know she would want me to carry on proud So I put on Pandora and I turn it up loud.