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We need more FR Poet Laureates [Post an original poem and win a bun.]
September 18, 2003 | Me

Posted on 09/18/2003 1:01:45 AM PDT by paulklenk

Freepers,

Poetry is the soul of our hearts. We can converse, pontificate, and rally til the cows come home, but we really show our humanity, wit and truest selves in our poetry.

Doug From Upland is a fine example of such an artist. In his poems, we feel -- but we not only feel, we feel each other.

Let's show our true colors and show the world the Conservatives are not just lovers of freedom -- we're lovers of words, heart and feelings as well.

Post your original poem here. It need not rhyme. If you see a poem you like, vote for it by bumping it to the top. If you think you can do better, post a poem of your own.

Let's get the ball rolling with a poem of the silly variety -- remember, we don't have to be serious ALL the time. Here goes:

Plastic pie, plastic pie,
Shot a spastic in the eye.
Jesus heal'd that spastic's eye!
Pretty, pretty plastic pie!

Pretty, pretty plastic pie,
Much more fun than just plain pie!
Me oh my, oh why can't I
Have a pretty piece of pie?


TOPICS: Extended News
KEYWORDS: fun; haiku; poetry
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1 posted on 09/18/2003 1:01:45 AM PDT by paulklenk
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To: paulklenk
Okay, you might not win a bun -- but you will win the approbation of your fellow Freepers.

Come on, everyone, and be a poet -- if just for today. You never know whose heart you're going to touch with your poetry.

The competition is open.
2 posted on 09/18/2003 1:02:59 AM PDT by paulklenk (Freedom isn't free.)
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To: Bad Dog2; herkbird; FlyVet; 68-69TonkinGulfYachtClub; bd476; Hammerhead; jmcclain19; nwrep; ...
BTTT
3 posted on 09/18/2003 1:08:05 AM PDT by paulklenk (Freedom isn't free.)
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To: Bad Dog2; herkbird; FlyVet; 68-69TonkinGulfYachtClub; bd476; Hammerhead; jmcclain19; nwrep
BTTT
4 posted on 09/18/2003 1:16:45 AM PDT by paulklenk
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To: paulklenk
Does this count?...

(tune of "Flipper")

Last night I ate Flipper, Flipper
sauteed with mushrooms,
served over rice
I filled my plate twice.

And when I killed Flipper, Flipper
with a whaler's harpoon gun
boy it was sure fun
When he went "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" (sung in falsetto)

5 posted on 09/18/2003 1:19:01 AM PDT by lafroste
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To: Sabertooth
fyi
6 posted on 09/18/2003 1:27:17 AM PDT by piasa (Attitude adjustments offered here free of charge.)
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To: paulklenk
I ain't got no artistic bent

Barely literate, I'm outside the tent

Of the talented Freepers

Who can crank out rhyme keepers

Hope they know their prowess is lent

Okay, that was bad. I'll go back under my rock.

7 posted on 09/18/2003 1:35:54 AM PDT by FlyVet
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To: paulklenk
I'm hoping this brief rhyme inspires better works,
Share your efforts with FReepers and lurking DU jerks.
Some people say that there is no rhyme for orange...
You'd think people had never heard of a door hinge.
8 posted on 09/18/2003 1:47:15 AM PDT by weegee
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To: paulklenk
Let me reach back 30 years... the following was written to my first wife before we married, and is engraved on the ledger stone over her grave in Palmetto Cemetary:

Flowers I give for their beauty
As I give myself for my love
and a sweet whisp'ring song
to go drifting along
with the pale dreaming stars up above

For until your days have been measured
and until there is peace at the end
I'll than the grey Powers
that have given me flowers
and made You
my Love and my Friend
9 posted on 09/18/2003 2:20:05 AM PDT by backhoe (Just an old Cold Warrior, draggin' his BAR into the Sunset...)
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To: backhoe
Beautiful, backhoe.
10 posted on 09/18/2003 2:22:40 AM PDT by Miss Marple
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To: paulklenk
Of God and Honor

It’s not by flags we won our rights;
Nor parties holed away from sight.
Neither song, nor verse in bloody fights;
But men of God and honor.

Their memory should be never still.
Within me rises yet a chill.
Was more then guns at Bunker Hill;
There were men of God and honor.

When time begin to dim these deeds;
And their harvests overcome by weeds;
Find among us more to lead,
Like these men of God and honor.

C. Plante
11 posted on 09/18/2003 2:27:59 AM PDT by becounted (Of God and Honor)
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To: backhoe
Indeed, soulfully romantic. My wife passed as well, in Jan 2000, from an aneurysm, at 41 yrs young. Subsequent to that, I was sitting on a bench outside a bar fairly intoxicated, and a gal came up to me and said "You're a poet. I can feel it." even though I had written prose and narrative, never poetry. I bacame somewhat enchanted over a gal and wrote this:

Should I?


Should I curse my flowing tears,
That left me feeling blind for years?

  Should I damn my open heart,
  and lock it shut, make sadness part?

   Should I turn my soul to stone,
   and be content, myself, alone?

    Should I turn myself to greed,
    and care not for anothers need?

     Should I live a life of lust,
     and forgo tenderness and trust?

Begone! I cry, to thoughts like these,
they are not what my soul believes!

  The greatest gift He gave to me,
  to share my open heart with thee.

   If I should ever win loves gain,
   I must have strength to bear the pain.

    I shall not live my days in sorrow,
    True love may find me on the morrow.

     The pain inside is the seed that grows,
     when all is right to a fragrant rose.

      The tears that flow are but the mist,
      with which this flower of love is kissed.

       Both grief and joy I lately discover,
       halves of the same, bound to each other,

We shall not suffer eternal damnation,
but find again loves sweet salvation!


Inspired and dedicated to Bridget, can't help it, my wife was a blue eyed blonde too.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NOT FOR PUBLICATION
Sep 29,2001
12 posted on 09/18/2003 2:42:38 AM PDT by djf
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To: Miss Marple
Miss Marple, I have perhaps written more polished or passionate, or even more profound pieces... but that one came from the heart.

How do you define another person's life?
I could tell you she was tall & slender & redheaded... and that is one set of definitions.
I could mention that she was passionate and vain, funny and irreverant, polished and well-educated... and loved a funny dirty joke, too. And those are more... but they only give a little hint of who Helen Rollinson was.

All I truly know is that life goes on- yet when I pass her grave every day on the way to the store, a little bit of me lies within it.

13 posted on 09/18/2003 2:46:43 AM PDT by backhoe
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To: backhoe
Love never ends. Thank you for sharing a bit of yourself and your life with me. I am honored.
14 posted on 09/18/2003 2:48:29 AM PDT by Miss Marple
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To: djf
I thank you for sharing your words. A berry aneurysm is what killed my first wife. Ironic beyond words, since she had just survived Kaposi's sarcoma and melanoma.

It's a long and lonesome road to walk down.

15 posted on 09/18/2003 2:51:49 AM PDT by backhoe
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To: backhoe
Indeed. Sad that the greatest blessing can turn into such a horrible curse.
16 posted on 09/18/2003 2:54:03 AM PDT by djf
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To: paulklenk
I'll go with sillies. Here are some silly verses about saints. You could call this a three-doggerel night.

1.
Of holiness St. Fronto had no lack
Except for his indulgence in tabac.
All said, "toBACco's silly for a FRONTo."
Yet if you needed blessings, he came pronto.

2.
Harvey Sweeney became St. Frumentius
After a career selling dubious debentius
And to this day becomes contentious
When someone mentius his dentius.

3.
St. Fulbert ate so much it was unnerving
To watch him gobble down each extra serving.
They'd ask him, "Aren't you Fulbert?" He'd say, "Nope."
He cost so much they had to make him pope.

17 posted on 09/18/2003 2:54:17 AM PDT by T'wit
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To: Miss Marple
Love never ends

You are so right.

Early in our marriage, Helen asked me the "unanswerable question"-- she was referring to her first husband, whom she loved beyond words, but could not live with...

The question being,

"Where does that love go?"

I had no answer then, nor have the interviening 28 or 29 years provided a better answer than the silence I had back then.

18 posted on 09/18/2003 2:57:44 AM PDT by backhoe
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To: paulklenk; Miss Marple; Brad's Gramma; mrs tiggywinkle
I wrote this for my paternal grandmother after granddad passed away in 1976:

For Grandma

Life seems without meaning, no tomorrow.
Time just exists but day to day.
She's lost in grief and absorbed in sorrow,
Although he's but a step away.

Slowly she walks toward the grave.
Lonely, lost, she kneels in prayer.
Thankful for all the love he gave.
Sad for memories buried there.

The time has come that she must leave,
But yet she wavers, then pauses at the gate.
A message whispered on the breeze
Tells that further mourning will have to wait.

From behind a cloud, a sunbeam's directing
Lovingly tells her she'll make it somehow
For grandchildren's babies will be expecting
Some candy-filled pockets from grandma now.

Copyright © 1976-2003 Pamela Rice Hahn
All Rights Reserved

19 posted on 09/18/2003 3:10:50 AM PDT by Fawnn (God's in His Heaven (always true). All's right with the world (prayers needed for the last part))
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To: T'wit
OK, here is useful but silly poem I wrote in college to help me distinguish between two phyla in zoology class. Sing it to the tune of "Yankee Doodle."

Sponges are Porifera,
Corals, jellies, hydra-
These have metagenesis
And are Coelenterata.
Collar cells--Porifera.
Sting--Coelenterata.
Both lack mesoderm and are
The diploblastic phyla!

20 posted on 09/18/2003 3:17:16 AM PDT by Miss Marple
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