Poetry competition CLOSED 17th June 2019 12:07pm
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
Pompous Poet
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
LORD SNODGRASS INFORMS
Lord Snodgrass wishes to inform
that Straightpipe fellow is such a bore
believes he can cause a stylish storm
with words he pretends count more
His knighthood is wearing rather thin
it barely reaches the bathroom door
where lights shine obsequiously dim
and lino covers the floor
Pretentious dickies can’t make a man
far less a poet to cause a furore
he’s hardly a third-grade also-ran
his grammar is worse than poor
Perhaps one day he will realise
in the poetry world, he’s just a whore -
no plaque for you, old chap, when you dies
of that you can rest assured.
Lord Snodgrass wishes to inform
that Straightpipe fellow is such a bore
believes he can cause a stylish storm
with words he pretends count more
His knighthood is wearing rather thin
it barely reaches the bathroom door
where lights shine obsequiously dim
and lino covers the floor
Pretentious dickies can’t make a man
far less a poet to cause a furore
he’s hardly a third-grade also-ran
his grammar is worse than poor
Perhaps one day he will realise
in the poetry world, he’s just a whore -
no plaque for you, old chap, when you dies
of that you can rest assured.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Poetic Poke
You read my poetry and now you sneer
At poetic principals that I hold most dear
I see you aspire to be known as a wit
Nasty, sarcastic little shit
So, congratulations clever sage
A wit? You've only reached the halfway stage
At poetic principals that I hold most dear
I see you aspire to be known as a wit
Nasty, sarcastic little shit
So, congratulations clever sage
A wit? You've only reached the halfway stage
Written by blocat
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nonintuitive fragments
Response to the esteemed
Sir Nigel Straightpipe, esq., Pompous Poet
methinks the man has hit his head;
no doubt, his poesy is dead—
to phartz up words worn-out and done
and think he rides the royal throne!
his metaphors
are aquifers
that leak pale meaning;
and his rhymes,
in better times,
were of the blind
pre-nursery kind:
unfit for weaning,
with their cursory, brined
enjambment
of nonintuitive
fragments.
my mongrel dog
has keener taste,
e’en when there’s nothing
left to chase;
my cockatoo
can thrill a crowd
and win the face champs
in a shroud.
yet comes this twit
without permit,
to fondle words
he can’t afford…
© Copyright 2019 June 10
Sir Nigel Straightpipe, esq., Pompous Poet
methinks the man has hit his head;
no doubt, his poesy is dead—
to phartz up words worn-out and done
and think he rides the royal throne!
his metaphors
are aquifers
that leak pale meaning;
and his rhymes,
in better times,
were of the blind
pre-nursery kind:
unfit for weaning,
with their cursory, brined
enjambment
of nonintuitive
fragments.
my mongrel dog
has keener taste,
e’en when there’s nothing
left to chase;
my cockatoo
can thrill a crowd
and win the face champs
in a shroud.
yet comes this twit
without permit,
to fondle words
he can’t afford…
© Copyright 2019 June 10
Written by cabcool
Go To Page
[ On Poetry ] Of Highly Dysfunctional Poets
Agreed;
we are both handsome guys
dashing in suits and ties
It's confusing sometimes
I must admit
In tweed
when dressed to the Nines
very often I am mistaken for
that literary nose thumbing nitwit
Sir Nigel Straightpipe!
notable for using rhetorical rhymes
in ridiculous typo riddled lengthy tripe
only good for kitty litter box linings
who nowadays is self employing
shoddy framing devices to support
his poorly erected cocksure pinings
over his glory days as a one wonder hit
sold in bargain bins of Barnes & Noble
doing little more than sit in his office
spinning a reputation supposedly global
taking the piss from the latest poet
too busy writing real poetry to even notice
Written by PsycoticMastermind
Go To Page
There’s Only One God, and It’s Not You
Legends live in their own minds,
narcissist, showing all the signs
of “worship me”, God of Verse—
ah, master dink of the universe.
Brooks Brother suit, Mensa pipe—
high price for facades of hype
for seeming the Gatsby of the pen,
typical of shallow men.
I’ll not need your approval rating
when inside, ‘tis only you, you’re hating.
Smugly, how you preen and fawn,
the poet whore of Babylon….
XOXO Madame Lavender
Legends live in their own minds,
narcissist, showing all the signs
of “worship me”, God of Verse—
ah, master dink of the universe.
Brooks Brother suit, Mensa pipe—
high price for facades of hype
for seeming the Gatsby of the pen,
typical of shallow men.
I’ll not need your approval rating
when inside, ‘tis only you, you’re hating.
Smugly, how you preen and fawn,
the poet whore of Babylon….
XOXO Madame Lavender
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Pure pleasure, said the ego
If Achilles was watching you
he'd be turning in his grave
spit poetry so askew
Sir you are so brave
emperor to self oh so kind
adorning birth suit oh so 'fine'
the world can't see the fabric?
it's the world that is fucking blind
no assonance no resonance
neither rhythm nor rhyme
catastrophe of sheer dissonance
your works of art are a crime
It was a pure pleasure sir
meeting you said my ego
doubt you'd ever made love to her
to the one am about to show
If Achilles was watching you
he'd be turning in his grave
spit poetry so askew
Sir you are so brave
emperor to self oh so kind
adorning birth suit oh so 'fine'
the world can't see the fabric?
it's the world that is fucking blind
no assonance no resonance
neither rhythm nor rhyme
catastrophe of sheer dissonance
your works of art are a crime
It was a pure pleasure sir
meeting you said my ego
doubt you'd ever made love to her
to the one am about to show
The Worst of the Worst
Members of a cabal
Their poem banal
Egotistical arrogant shites
Creating drama and fights
Thinking that their shit don't stink
Sycophant fans, a nod and a wink
A self-promoting tribe
Unable to properly scribe
They talk a good game
But they're clearly insane
Narcissistic, psychopathic loons
The beat their chests like baboons
Strangers to humility
A website's liability
They attack now in packs
Greiveiously mental attacks
Ignore, block and insult
This hateful group is a cult
But the lies that they tell
Don't really gel
Accusations unfounded
Impunity unbounded
Given a free hand
Bullying on demand
Berating the innocent
With evil intent
Many have left
Their enjoyment bereft
Silenced with cat calls
And the fear of reprisals
The evil ones are few
And despite their arse licking crew
You need to scratch beneath the surface
Cowards and sheep beware their embrace
They talk of love and things above
Fabricated under a velvet glove
They even attack their own kind
When they show an enquiring mind
Questioning their validity
Will bring abuse against your stupidity
And you will join the band of castaways
Burnt at the steak by flames ablaze
Stand up, don't leave
Don't leave, stand up
Stand up, don't leave
Don't leave, stand up
Stand up, don't leave
Don't leave, stand up
This cabal will not win
Time to put them in the bin
This is a call to action
To annexe and expel this faction
The revolution starts here
Written by David_Macleod
(14397816)
Go To Page
Anonymous
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
