Tags
Humour, I lost myself on a cool damp night Gave myself in that misty light Was hypnotized by a strange delight Under a lilac tree, Let's dance For fear your grace should fall Let's sway Under the moonlight the serious moonlight, limerick trick, Mamamama Pogo Pogo Whenever I go out to a club There is one who looks at me crookedly I'll eat their little ties, Poetry, Progress isn't achieved by preachers or guardians of morality but by madmen hermits heretics dreamers rebels and sceptics - Stephen Fry, Put him in the sucppers with the hose pipe on him x3, the jukebox has to take a leak and the carpet needs a haircut
P.S – all comments published must be in the form of a follow on verse.
esme bows, palms together, hiccups, then blows a kiss.
Esme's Cloud 
I narrowed my eyes at the sight
And I listened hard so I might
Make some sense of the tune
As this discordant loon
Played on and on into the night;
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Wait! You can’t do this to me:
I thought that you had said, you see,
That one had to progress
(Even under duress)
In the same form — don’t you agree?
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I do indeed dear Pend,
So my brain I must amend;
And on shall I tweak
With a squeak and some cheek,
And hopefully no-one rear-end!
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I do indeed dear Pend,
So my brain I must amend;
And on shall I tweak
With a squeak and some cheek,
And hopefully no-one rear-end!
LikeLiked by 3 people
I perceive you’ve amended your ways
And hope nobody else here strays
From the path that you’ve set
And with luck we will get
Some entertaining arrays 🙂
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I thank you for setting me straight,
‘Tis the effort of a good mate,
Most would be affeared
I’d part their ‘ead from their ears,
But I’ll just lock you in a crate!
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To some trepidation I’ll admit
Fearing boundaries crossed I’d commit
Glad to hear in the end
I remain a good friend
And not some unconscionable shit
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Down below a fellow heard grunge
So looked up fearing she’d plunge;
What he saw made him pause
Look! She’s wearing no drawers!
Said he with a face full of clunge.
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H’s clunge has Esme in fits!
By the Gods the man has some grits
With a roar at his balls
To the floor then she falls
With a flash of her thruppenny bits.
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Untied are my lyricking tools,
no longer I shake like in schools,
but unknotting my wiggle,
now makes all the folks giggle,
but I’ll never dear hang up my cool.
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Those badaboom hips are quite crackers,
With the wink and you pursing your smackers,
The sombrero is cool though,
And by gum you’re no fool no,
Dancing shaking your atheist maracas!
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Love when I score badabooms,
but my hop now will clear crowded rooms,
though onward I move,
when grinding my groove,
to death I will pelvicate tunes.
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Wiping tears at the size of his rear,
Esme giggles snorting half a beer,
She wonders will his arse,
Even fit in a hearse?
And ends with a guffawing cheer!
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I fear this could play on four days,
like techno-chicken repeatedly plays,
at some point I’ll quit,
go out to the spit,
and scope out some hungry young babes.
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The wife must’ve overheard,
I spy a rolling pin raised at your bird,
I’ll speak on your behalf,
As I try not to larf . . .
But I’ll always have the last word!
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I’m with you in commenting here
I’m bored – is it time for a beer?
Don’t look at my belly
See what’s on the telly
We’re going to be locked down all year
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Esme’s tickled no end by your ditty
At a time when the world is so shitty
Pardon her blue French
She’s drunk on a bench
And she thanks you for being so witty!
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A frog in a muddle did not get kissed
By the beautiful princess who had a lisp
Her lips they pouted
Then repelled she shouted
As frogs go your less prince more a wisp
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The maid looked athkance and thaid ‘Tith true!
‘With botox stuffed lips like a Gnu;
The frog thought ‘Daffy duck’,
No longer moonstruck,
And hopped off to woo a loose shrew !
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can’t bear the POTUS
Much more than the VIRUS
For he has been lying
Even to the dying
About his true FOCUS
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’d prefer there were POCUS
With a serving of HOCUS
Than this narcissist fool
Whose rule is so cruel
I believe he’d coldly CHOKE US
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I’d rather have the PIANO
To play a tune of TANGO
Than to deal with a bully
Whose mind is so unruly
As to spiel MUMBO JUMBO
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If only the bugger could spell,
The dangerous orange dumbbell,
But instead he talks bollocks,
Slimy Reps tug their forelocks
I wish he would bugger off back to hell
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“No outings,” bawls the government,
“So invent your own amusement.”
Self-sufficiency, mind,
Will make you go blind.
For opticians though a gift heaven sent.
(https://bennaga.wordpress.com/2020/05/05/couldnt-see-that-coming-limerick/)
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Time for some good old fashioned fun
Batteries on solar/a hand and a thumb
Grinned the people on mass
(Some holding a magnifying glass)
As they hobbled about proper numb!
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The Last Square has no corners
The Last Shout comes from whispers
The Last Smile is a lifetime before
The Last Memory is beyond recall
The Last Rag echoes the golden eras
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The First Circle was no wheel
The First Whisper was a lisp
The First Grimace was pursed lips
The First Memory was a word
The First Mantle was a piece
LikeLiked by 1 person