Three poems I wrote a while ago...

Saved here solely for the sake of posterity: -

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Gather round all, and attend the tale,
of a creature called Rob, a man made of fail.
He'd prod us and bug us, in infantile bliss,
"Go away Rob! You're taking the piss!"

So off he would go, in a miserable skulk,
in to his room, for a bit of a sulk.
Though a bit later on, this he'd forget,
he'd baffle and bug us, regardless of threat.

So on it would go, his crap we'd endure.
He could go on forever, of that I am sure.
There'd be something wrong, with whatever he said.
Myself I'm convinced, he's wrong in the head.

For ages he'd waffle, though I'd stifle a yawn,
About transformers or his masses of porn.
"To be honest Rob, I don't really care,"
"I'm sick of your face, and your long girly hair."

It may be appear obvious, that I might have a grudge,
But Rob is a menace, on this I wont budge.
This opinion too, I know you would keep,
if he'd threatened to kill you, as well in your sleep.

And now that you know, about this odd man,
You may stay away, or run if you can.
Whether you dislike him, or think I'm not fair.
I've just one thing to say: Saying that, chair...

I'd explain that last last line, but I don't want to. It's something of an in-joke...

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a poem for Phoeni ^_^

(Apologies for it's suckiness...I was rather sleepy when i started it)

Our forumspace is filled;
with a multitude of class;
But beyond them all there happens to be;
a certain type of lass.

A prettyful case of lithe and grace;
to which we all adore;
And she's cute, to add to the list;
of charm and so much more.

And if, by chance, you meet this girl;
myself I'd know you'd find;
A radiant glow about her smile;
(and a rather cute behind).

Propertied with nymphian wile;
a sparkling wit and keen in guile;
And if you saw I know you'd smile;
Enraptured, held in lost beguile.

Held in gaze of gentility;
In awe of favoured kin;
Our Phoeni, whom we love so much;
Is undoubtedly made of win.

---

W00t.

With hopefully some birthday cheer;
And may it last until next year;
Resplendant now, with cake and booze;
The celebration now ensues.

So quaff your fill and then be merry;
'Til sense and action be contrary;
And hopefully you'll find a lass;
And gleefully the night shall pass.

And when you wake, dry and wappened;
And quite unsure of just what happened;
A roynish romage upon the floor;
We wish you well for ever more.

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That's about the extent of my poetry attempts thus far, although I must admit that I enjoy it somewhat. I may have to give it another go sometime ^_^

Have fun kids.

HMR