Poetry competition CLOSED 10th March 2013 5:02pm
WINNER
Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
RUNNER-UP:
runningturtle87
NONSENSE VERSE
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
WRITE LIKE LEWIS CARROLL / ALICE/THE SNARK/THE WALRUS
Write up to 3 nonsense poems - LEWIS CARROLL is only the example
No rules...your imagination will lead you
Any genre of poetry
New or old poetry ok
Make it funny or strange or "weird" (whatever that it to you)
Any length....but I prefer shorter verse
please ask if anything is unclear
thanks for participating
****************************************************
My favorite poem:
http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/walrus.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nonsense_verse
Nonsense verse is a form of light, often rhythmical verse, often for children, depicting peculiar characters in amusing and fantastical situations. It is whimsical and humorous in tone and tends to employ fanciful phrases and meaningless made-up words.[1] Nonsense verse is closely related to Amphigouri (Greek amphi- (q.v.) + gyros "circle," thus "circle on both sides," or from Gk. -agoria "speech"), which is a meaningless or nonsensical piece of writing, especially one intended as a parody.[2]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Carroll
Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (pron.: /ˈtʃɑrlz ˈlʌtwɪdʒ ˈdɒdʒsən/ CHARLZ LUT-wij DOJ-sən;[1][2] 27 January 1832 – 14 January 1898), better known by the pen name Lewis Carroll (/ˈkćrəl/ KARR-əl), was an English writer, mathematician, logician, Anglican deacon and photographer. His most famous writings are Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass, as well as the poems "The Hunting of the Snark" and "Jabberwocky", all examples of the genre of literary nonsense. He is noted for his facility at word play, logic, and fantasy, and there are societies in many parts of the world (including the United Kingdom, Japan, the United States, and New Zealand[3]) dedicated to the enjoyment and promotion of his works and the investigation of his life.
No rules...your imagination will lead you
Any genre of poetry
New or old poetry ok
Make it funny or strange or "weird" (whatever that it to you)
Any length....but I prefer shorter verse
please ask if anything is unclear
thanks for participating
****************************************************
My favorite poem:
http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/walrus.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nonsense_verse
Nonsense verse is a form of light, often rhythmical verse, often for children, depicting peculiar characters in amusing and fantastical situations. It is whimsical and humorous in tone and tends to employ fanciful phrases and meaningless made-up words.[1] Nonsense verse is closely related to Amphigouri (Greek amphi- (q.v.) + gyros "circle," thus "circle on both sides," or from Gk. -agoria "speech"), which is a meaningless or nonsensical piece of writing, especially one intended as a parody.[2]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_Carroll
Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (pron.: /ˈtʃɑrlz ˈlʌtwɪdʒ ˈdɒdʒsən/ CHARLZ LUT-wij DOJ-sən;[1][2] 27 January 1832 – 14 January 1898), better known by the pen name Lewis Carroll (/ˈkćrəl/ KARR-əl), was an English writer, mathematician, logician, Anglican deacon and photographer. His most famous writings are Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass, as well as the poems "The Hunting of the Snark" and "Jabberwocky", all examples of the genre of literary nonsense. He is noted for his facility at word play, logic, and fantasy, and there are societies in many parts of the world (including the United Kingdom, Japan, the United States, and New Zealand[3]) dedicated to the enjoyment and promotion of his works and the investigation of his life.
For Never
Pointed hats
and broomsticks
well kept cats
and unseen tricks
a rounded flat
a recovered sick
a spell book for a bat
and a candle wick
a this and no that
a for them , and all theirs
who really cares
where the hell its at .
Magical stairs
and unlit flares
musical chairs are moving ,
no ones their
but cold is the air
the tunes play , a ghost DJ
who's that
dancing and grooving .
Its the shadows
of demons
you know those ,
who lied about their prose
and only chose
to falsely feed them .
So if there's a time, ever
your clock will chime
at midnight or nine
or some other time to match mine ,
or whatever ,
don't pass me buy
for I will cry
and It might last
for never .
Anonymous
Anonymous
Anonymous
entry 3 and thank's Kitty...best of luck with the comp. peace, Miki
My imaginary playgrouund, by mikimoondancer
A tye-dyed apparition
drifts over head...
A circle of fluffy, retired clowns
keep me company
An imaginary dog with a symbolic guitar
play's Auld lang Syne
as the owls just laugh
They may be delusions
invisible to most
But the truth is, I too
am but a ghost
My imaginary playgrouund, by mikimoondancer
A tye-dyed apparition
drifts over head...
A circle of fluffy, retired clowns
keep me company
An imaginary dog with a symbolic guitar
play's Auld lang Syne
as the owls just laugh
They may be delusions
invisible to most
But the truth is, I too
am but a ghost
To Fuck In The Muck
Let's tear it up
then laugh out aloud
fuck in the muck
as we roll around
turn smooth into rough
do a hit without doubt
run around in the buff
cast off the Turin shroud .
Walk with jelly babies
on hallucinogenics
float on clouds
breathing out
old hero sounds.
Let's just not care
like a robot
who's unaware .
Let's tear it up
then laugh out aloud
fuck in the muck
as we roll around
turn smooth into rough
do a hit without doubt
run around in the buff
cast off the Turin shroud .
Walk with jelly babies
on hallucinogenics
float on clouds
breathing out
old hero sounds.
Let's just not care
like a robot
who's unaware .
A Late Lunch
I the planetary shrinker
you the volatile minxter
we sit , we deface
the bullshit and the fake
summing up
equation nations
the corrupt
in penned violations
we open shut
mis-conceptions
then draw blood
through conversations .
Monster munch
in the bowl
neither had a hunch
it wasn't smoke
this was a late lunch
we tried to toke
the funniest punch
of any nights joke .
I the planetary shrinker
you the volatile minxter
we sit , we deface
the bullshit and the fake
summing up
equation nations
the corrupt
in penned violations
we open shut
mis-conceptions
then draw blood
through conversations .
Monster munch
in the bowl
neither had a hunch
it wasn't smoke
this was a late lunch
we tried to toke
the funniest punch
of any nights joke .
Anonymous
Miki and Diddi - thank you for going first.
- The Isle of Snugglindon -
On the Isle of Snugglindon, upon the forest floor,
The silly little wugglebugs, are scurrying around.
“Oh, if I only had a brain!” they’ll say once more,
When the silly little bugs, deem to make a sound.
But no one ever hears those wugglebugs at play…
And most ignore the dens they’ll build in summer.
For high above, the mak-mak birds fly, every day,
Saying: “We must mak-mak our nests!” so sure…
And when you hear these birds calling, so loudly,
You might forget those furry rarglesnarfs so close.
As they lumber through the woods, ever proudly,
Hunting for honey in the buzzy trees by the coasts.
“Oh, I am so fierce and furry!” they’ll say to all…
So the bees drop their honeycombs, and fly so far!
The rarglesnarf is delighted to see the prize to fall,
Whilst mother moon laughs, oft tickling every star.
And there: telling woodchuck jokes in the shade…
Of the bigawig tree, sits a wise ancient hermit crab.
He knows the names of every animal as God made,
And he recites them before bed, him slightly mad!
Often pirates like to come to search for a treasure,
But when they say “Arrrgh!” they’ll have to run…
Lest those rarglesnarfs catch them with a pleasure,
To tickle them into revealing: their barrels of rum.
Now the wookisnooks bring whisky and often yell:
“Uz me, uz you!” and sing old wookisnook songs.
The critters drink until they dream after night fell,
Until the ring ringing: of the early morning gongs.
Within the trees, where the gong-ringers still live,
Fur-balls with arms and legs both strong and long.
It is they: who make the whisky that they do give,
To the wookisnooks: in return for a game of pong.
And once every seven moons, to the cry of loons,
The creatures of Snugglindon Isle hold their party.
With stumbles and swoons, and hungry raccoons,
They drink ‘till they drop and eat feasts so hearty!
Where, oh where a navigator might ask himself…
Oh where or wherever is uncharted Snugglindon?
I’ve heard that there lives many an enchanted elf,
On that island, where strange critters dwell upon!
You’ll not find it on maps: nor by taking catnaps,
And certainly it can’t be found by swimming off.
You could swim for laps until all strength it saps,
Or, you could simply ask the average gargleboff!
But since they only live on the isle that you seek,
There is only one way to be certain you’ll arrive.
Why not ask: any child, on any day of the week?
They’ll happily tell you where the critters thrive!
On the Isle of Snugglindon, upon the forest floor,
The silly little wugglebugs, are scurrying around.
“Oh, if I only had a brain!” they’ll say once more,
When the silly little bugs, deem to make a sound.
But no one ever hears those wugglebugs at play…
And most ignore the dens they’ll build in summer.
For high above, the mak-mak birds fly, every day,
Saying: “We must mak-mak our nests!” so sure…
And when you hear these birds calling, so loudly,
You might forget those furry rarglesnarfs so close.
As they lumber through the woods, ever proudly,
Hunting for honey in the buzzy trees by the coasts.
“Oh, I am so fierce and furry!” they’ll say to all…
So the bees drop their honeycombs, and fly so far!
The rarglesnarf is delighted to see the prize to fall,
Whilst mother moon laughs, oft tickling every star.
And there: telling woodchuck jokes in the shade…
Of the bigawig tree, sits a wise ancient hermit crab.
He knows the names of every animal as God made,
And he recites them before bed, him slightly mad!
Often pirates like to come to search for a treasure,
But when they say “Arrrgh!” they’ll have to run…
Lest those rarglesnarfs catch them with a pleasure,
To tickle them into revealing: their barrels of rum.
Now the wookisnooks bring whisky and often yell:
“Uz me, uz you!” and sing old wookisnook songs.
The critters drink until they dream after night fell,
Until the ring ringing: of the early morning gongs.
Within the trees, where the gong-ringers still live,
Fur-balls with arms and legs both strong and long.
It is they: who make the whisky that they do give,
To the wookisnooks: in return for a game of pong.
And once every seven moons, to the cry of loons,
The creatures of Snugglindon Isle hold their party.
With stumbles and swoons, and hungry raccoons,
They drink ‘till they drop and eat feasts so hearty!
Where, oh where a navigator might ask himself…
Oh where or wherever is uncharted Snugglindon?
I’ve heard that there lives many an enchanted elf,
On that island, where strange critters dwell upon!
You’ll not find it on maps: nor by taking catnaps,
And certainly it can’t be found by swimming off.
You could swim for laps until all strength it saps,
Or, you could simply ask the average gargleboff!
But since they only live on the isle that you seek,
There is only one way to be certain you’ll arrive.
Why not ask: any child, on any day of the week?
They’ll happily tell you where the critters thrive!
Anonymous
Thank you Jessica!
Blue
Ocean eyes
with ships inside.
Do not blink
or they will capsize.
Water drains
when you are in pain.
Fills back up
when you drink the rain...
Brown
Earth made eyes
with worms inside.
wiggle about
when you start to cry.
clinging on
for their dear lives.
Digging holes
in iris size.
Green
Money eyes
with coins inside.
Is there nothing
that you can't buy?
when you see what you want
and start to cry.
Bling bling cha ching
bet you cry all the time
Ocean eyes
with ships inside.
Do not blink
or they will capsize.
Water drains
when you are in pain.
Fills back up
when you drink the rain...
Brown
Earth made eyes
with worms inside.
wiggle about
when you start to cry.
clinging on
for their dear lives.
Digging holes
in iris size.
Green
Money eyes
with coins inside.
Is there nothing
that you can't buy?
when you see what you want
and start to cry.
Bling bling cha ching
bet you cry all the time
he broke off the bank, taking what left
his head down low off and running
with tilt speed and boogie
his sock full of cash and nary a worry
people cried while others hurry
his name but a voice somewhere between
roughens, and scuffs had only enough
the way to getaway an alley and duck
policeman were called to the cream of the pry
carrying whistles cones and waffles
grey beards and lines
this he that flee took time with see
grabbing scotch and rock, waiting indeed
through the pint of piddle carrying stuff
with his riddle sat the rub in the pub
Lass She said O pick up that head
downed he did as the scotch with rock
but Guinness and stripe was filled up with spite
and bar became yard as he slept without bed
dreaming of those just now he had fled
believe it or not the dope without mope
sat his brash in sack down by the table
letting this one grab, full on able
spike of the spite did in this chap
took oust off the till
brandished pilled swill
Maiden seen fresh green backed bills
quickly this scheme, reached
reserve in turn and till in twirl
hopped out the door scene no more
his head down low off and running
with tilt speed and boogie
his sock full of cash and nary a worry
people cried while others hurry
his name but a voice somewhere between
roughens, and scuffs had only enough
the way to getaway an alley and duck
policeman were called to the cream of the pry
carrying whistles cones and waffles
grey beards and lines
this he that flee took time with see
grabbing scotch and rock, waiting indeed
through the pint of piddle carrying stuff
with his riddle sat the rub in the pub
Lass She said O pick up that head
downed he did as the scotch with rock
but Guinness and stripe was filled up with spite
and bar became yard as he slept without bed
dreaming of those just now he had fled
believe it or not the dope without mope
sat his brash in sack down by the table
letting this one grab, full on able
spike of the spite did in this chap
took oust off the till
brandished pilled swill
Maiden seen fresh green backed bills
quickly this scheme, reached
reserve in turn and till in twirl
hopped out the door scene no more
Anonymous
Luck Ends with -uck
This morning as I rummaged around the attic
I found an old rhyming dictionary in a trunk
One page had been dog-eared at the F’s
but ‘that word’ wasn’t listed. Shucks
Still, thinking this an omen
as well as a harbinger of good luck
I set my devious mind
to composing a randy bit of smut
But in little less than 5 minutes
and only 8 lines in, I was stuck!
From such a promising start
this day was rapidly beginning to suck
Throwing the book, I watched
it skitter cross the wood floor like a hockey puck
knocking a hat rack onto an antique bank
shattering poor old Donald Duck
Retrieving all the loose change
I counted exactly a buck
Hooray! And as my favorite
Curly would say: N-Yuk N-Yuk!
Somewhere there's a cold beer with my name on it
so I jumped in my trusty pick-up truck
and drove to my favorite beer joint
where I ran into my best friend, Huck
He was looking way too happy
so I asked him, “Wazzz-up?”
He exclaimed, “You ain’t never gonna believe me!
Guess what I just struck?”
“Gold,” I said with a hearty laugh
“That’s right!” he bellowed a little dumbstruck
“But tell me, how the heck did you know?”
Says I, “It was a wild assed guess, you old schmuck.”
“I’d buy you a beer
but all’s I got is a buck.”
“No worries,” said Huck “I’ll buy my own.”
Then he told me his story as I sat their awestruck
How he had decided to fence in that vacant lot
he owned at the corner of main and Innsbruck
“Damn!” I said “bet you hit oil on the first post hole.”
“Nah, I’d just finished when this limo pulled up.”
“I walked over and asked if I could help the fella.”
He exclaimed, “What a location for a Starbucks!”
“Cool,” I told him. “Just make me the right offer!”
“Holy Black Columbian!” I yelled while jumping up
“You really did strike gold!”
“That’s right!” said my beaming buddy Huck
“How many millions are we talking”, I kidded
“Money?” he scoffed “Not for this Canuck!”
“Free cup of Joe, ever day for the rest of my life!
How’s that for striking gold, eh? Some luck!”
It was a while before I could talk or move
being completely thunderstruck
But, far be it for me to rain on anyone’s parade
especially one involving caffeine and a nut!
Now every morning I wave from my attic window
as Huck walks by smiling, hoisting his golden cup
This morning as I rummaged around the attic
I found an old rhyming dictionary in a trunk
One page had been dog-eared at the F’s
but ‘that word’ wasn’t listed. Shucks
Still, thinking this an omen
as well as a harbinger of good luck
I set my devious mind
to composing a randy bit of smut
But in little less than 5 minutes
and only 8 lines in, I was stuck!
From such a promising start
this day was rapidly beginning to suck
Throwing the book, I watched
it skitter cross the wood floor like a hockey puck
knocking a hat rack onto an antique bank
shattering poor old Donald Duck
Retrieving all the loose change
I counted exactly a buck
Hooray! And as my favorite
Curly would say: N-Yuk N-Yuk!
Somewhere there's a cold beer with my name on it
so I jumped in my trusty pick-up truck
and drove to my favorite beer joint
where I ran into my best friend, Huck
He was looking way too happy
so I asked him, “Wazzz-up?”
He exclaimed, “You ain’t never gonna believe me!
Guess what I just struck?”
“Gold,” I said with a hearty laugh
“That’s right!” he bellowed a little dumbstruck
“But tell me, how the heck did you know?”
Says I, “It was a wild assed guess, you old schmuck.”
“I’d buy you a beer
but all’s I got is a buck.”
“No worries,” said Huck “I’ll buy my own.”
Then he told me his story as I sat their awestruck
How he had decided to fence in that vacant lot
he owned at the corner of main and Innsbruck
“Damn!” I said “bet you hit oil on the first post hole.”
“Nah, I’d just finished when this limo pulled up.”
“I walked over and asked if I could help the fella.”
He exclaimed, “What a location for a Starbucks!”
“Cool,” I told him. “Just make me the right offer!”
“Holy Black Columbian!” I yelled while jumping up
“You really did strike gold!”
“That’s right!” said my beaming buddy Huck
“How many millions are we talking”, I kidded
“Money?” he scoffed “Not for this Canuck!”
“Free cup of Joe, ever day for the rest of my life!
How’s that for striking gold, eh? Some luck!”
It was a while before I could talk or move
being completely thunderstruck
But, far be it for me to rain on anyone’s parade
especially one involving caffeine and a nut!
Now every morning I wave from my attic window
as Huck walks by smiling, hoisting his golden cup
