Poetry Corner

Hello. My name is Peter and I am here to read you some poetry. I call this poem "Death" because I think it aptly summarises the contents of the poem, that being death.

Death

That fatal car that hit you
Was like a bullet from a gun
And when it happened, I did weep
As bullets are no fun.

As your corpse flew through the air
Even you looked quite surprised
But not me, I wept and howled and hollered
For I knew that you had died.

Still, rushing through the crowd
There was a chance you were still alive
I tried to give you CPR
But briefly stopped to eat a pie.

That pie, that pie, damn that pie!
Damn its crust and tasty filling!
For as I munched, I let you bleed;
It was tantamount to killing.

The vicar, at your funeral
He said so many things
And all that time I thought, what if
What if you'd had wings?

You could have flown away from the car
And into the oncoming bus
Or maybe up into the sky
Where you would have turned to puss.

It's elementary now, because you're gone
If only I could catch!
I suppose you're safe, and snugly buried
Beneath the cabbage patch.

This second poem I named "Love". It needs no explanation, but that doesn't mean you won't get one. Love is a splendid thing, tender like a lily and warm like an octopus, maybe even a squid. But love, like that damned octopus, can hurt. It can shoot ink in your eyes and place its suckers on your face before slowly and horribly digesting you. Don't think much about the octopus metaphor, just read the poem.

Love

LOVE! How I love thee! And how I hate thee!
It floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee
Quite a bit like Muhammed Ali
Although without Parkinsons disease.

I've written this poem so that every bit rhymes
And there's only so much I can say on a line
But love, like dieting, needs time
My favourite drink is Corona and lime.

I was in love, but that was yesterday
Now I'm in pain and it's here to stay
I'm ripping of Clor but I'm going to pay
Either in money or bails of hay.

My love for love is never ending
And my love is always worth defending
Yet still, my heart needs mending
From the love that I've been lending.

I love my mum, I love my cats
I love my best mate's silly hats
I love the things that rest on mats
I love learning all the facts.

Love is something I have to proove
Just like a visit to the Louvre
And I love it when you get on your groove
But most of all, yeah, most of all, I like the way you move.

I'm a poet and I didn't realise it! Well, that's a lie, I always suspected. If you want to donate money or have sex with me, don't hesitate. Although it'd probably be better if you asked about the sex first. Not that I'm likely to say no.

Permalink || Posted 22/11/2005 by Pete

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