Poetry competition CLOSED 24th September 2014 4:02am
lepperochan (Craic-Dealer)
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DA ding a-ling kompetishun

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Wryte a poeum about bells. Eny style. Take a chance. Bee kreative. Eye'm fair.

Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15238

The Bells Toll

quiet morning there was rain in the air
Men waking up yawning a brand new day
women serving up coffee and fried yam
eyeing their washing ready for the streams

silence frozen in the cool dawn
the church bells began to ring
it was slow with deep sounds
booming a resonating pounding

Boom clang clang resounding
against the green blue mountains
the harbinger of doom boomed
silence in the village, fear

the sons of the Rising Sun
had overwhelmed the people
of the White Queen
Boom Clang Clang the Bells rang

Boom Clang Clang the Bells told
innocence defiled

Twisted Dreamer
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Joined 7th Aug 2014
Forum Posts: 72

BONG! The church bell bawls
Harken hallow chimes of grace
Angel earns its wings


Fire of Insight
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Joined 14th Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 628

Mmmmm mmmm she is the bell of the ball
She makes my ding a ling
Go ding dong
I would like to pull her thong aside with my toung
And ring her bell
Ding ding bing bong
Get on one knee and sing
Her a song
She is the bell of the ball
And has a crack like the liberty bell
Every time she enters my my mind
My ding dong swells
I would love to ring her bell

              Of the ball

D_Poetic Engineer
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 11th Sep 2012
Forum Posts: 2483


Kaleem-bang, kaleem-bang
Hud yat ng camp ana
carpe diem
par a makeeta mo
dia de aras dating novia mo

Kaleem-bang, kaleem-bang
tunog ng camp ana
shabe mo sa aken
till death do us part
pero baket eva eh yong
pin aka salan

Kaleem-bang, kaleembang
weeding bellz ur ringing
cash sama na-mate ur heart
kaya enjoy na lang
inom cana lang ng beer
hang gang ikaw ay malasheng
shamahan mo na rin ng weed
phara trip to heaven!

Guardian of Shadows
United States
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Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5480


Thought Provoker
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Joined 9th Dec 2013
Forum Posts: 52

when the beetles sang about holding your hand
we heard a rutting stags bellow
an earth humping howl from the mississippi mud

chucky's berries was right
i want you to play with my ding-a-ling
ain't no subterfuge nor metaphor nor
innuendo  ya hear

just tongue clapping  hammers ringing
hell(lows)  in nectar cup acoustics
ding dongs whistling in your in door

cause you ain't dead wood yet
and when  her hand smacks
the pavlovain curves of her ass
it's like a hells bells buckets of blood
call to prayer feast for the hungry dogs growl

bell(y) up to the table or bell(y) down on the bed
the butter bread wine whiskey skin of woman
is laid  by the southern cross of man

Fire of Insight
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Joined 27th Dec 2013
Forum Posts: 38

For Whom The Balls Tell

The metaphysics of this man before me tell amorous satires, nice philosophy.
His name was Jordan. He loved me like the ruin of my heart at the hands of the Falangists. He wore gray cotton underpants.
I made him achingly happy, he said, before he hoisted his own petard. "Did thee feel the earth move?"
Ay! I never sent to know for whom the balls tell. Ay! But Jordan he tells for me!

poet Anonymous


It's a rusted setup
relics from Medieval days
enormous weights of metal
with ropes and gears
that intimidate unintentionally
with their mere presence

atop walls that would be fallen
if they could talk and from the graveyard side
when the wind is just right
they still ring out and haunt the surrounding land

they've announced more than any
one dangling body could comprehend
covered more than the retired vicars admit even now
from the stone cottage where they wait
as the future becomes the present and fades to yesterday

the pigeons and bats take refuge
in the comfort of dark stillness
and the clouds gather overhead
threatening to rupture with disregard

Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 14284

Vita Dulcedo Spes

we all laughed
as Marelda fell down the stairs
while chanting some quasi-mottos
she'd looked up on a hunch
and jotted down  
on the back of a bunch of post-its
some years before

it was arse and tits galore
when she tumbled
and her chants switched
to something mumbled  
about the fighting Irish
of Seigfried hall

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