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Solomon's poetry thread

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Well Vera, no Celia and me


Decided we would see

If Weymouth offered

To open it’s Coffers

All by the side of the sea


Now Joe was my brother-in-Law

And I thought we would ask him for

Vera and me

To live by the sea

And have cockles and mussels galore


Now Vera was longing to dance

And Joe gave her a chance

For her dreams to come true

And between me and you

Vera was about to make her entrance


She wore her red satin shoes

And knew she had nothing to lose

When she took to the floor

The shoes that she wore

Made her difficult to refuse


Now Kate and Beth were a treat

But I knew they had 2 left feet

Its as well they declined

Because I think they would find

It difficult to compete


Now all things come to an end

And I must follow the trend

So with tears in my eyes

I said my goodbyes

So Good Luck be happy my friends



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The Residents meet


Robert, Doreen Dorothy and me

Are having a residents meeting to see

Where our Agency money goes

What it’s spent on God only knows.



It’s risen from £124 per quarter

(and I know it didn’t oughter)

to £216 paid 4 times per year

as much as that ? on my little flat


So we are inviting one of the McDonald team to explain

Why his fees are not playing the game

Landscape gardening is on our list,

Terrorism too---is he taking the p***


Who is going to bomb Doreen and me

Or Robert and Dorothy, whilst having our tea

So come on McDonalds what do we get

For the£92 extra that we’ve not paid yet





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Through history past ,

The good tends to last ,

What's new isn't always what's better ,

When my age left school ,

The tunes were so cool ,

And a job could be gained with one letter ,

Think old skool was best ,

In my luminous vest ,

Njoi , sweet temptation , hardcore ,

Just can't stop my feet ,

When I hear English beat ,

Or the prodigys take on their law ,

Now the internets king ,

In socializing,

The world on a screen in our pocket ,

Perhaps somethings lost ,

In gain without cost ,

But in knowledge

I guess we can't knock it ,


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On one of the seven hills above the five streams

In his stone manor house, lived our Lord Fairflats.

A handsome man with dark curly hair,

Broad of shoulder and square of chin, an intelligent man

Not to waste of time in the ale houses and brothels.

But to read of books of arts and sciences,

To search the scrolls of histories ages past,

And to formulate of times not yet come.

But took he by the pestilence and took him all.

No longer heart nor will nor thought to stay,

Ate he of the nightshade and err he passed away.

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Right this is spoken word poetry but I figure this thread is the most appropriate.




The file is around 4mb, you just need to click 'download this file' in order to get it. I'm a little nervous as I've been writing spoken word for quite a while and this is the first time i've recorded and uploaded any of it. I know the quality isn't perfect as I don't have a proper microphone yet, but any feedback is appreciated :)

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Alone in the drawer by malice for sport

Spoon had a job, or so it had thought

Try eating a supper with only two forks.


Knife draws a line, serrated or straight,

While fork pokes a hole, and picks up the meyt,

To finish a meal before it’s too late.


Not blade nor tine to slice or to skewer,

Pity the spoons that lay fewer and fewer,

Swimming in stew and casting their lure.


Knife and the fork are edgy and mad

Can’t draw the gravy, no juice to be had.

Laid back in the drawer old spoon he is sad.


Plates still lay empty why should they care,

The cutler by trade gave out a fair share.

Everything equal then all may declare.


Supper is served and desert it is fixed

Not one lay angered or even betwixt

Life tastes best when flavours are mixed.


So polish your silver and turn a new leaf,

Live for each other, be it ever so brief

Edited by Waswiggy

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Happy birthday to me

I’m only twenty three


Well at least I am inside my head

But my body thinks I’m nearly dead


I have an ache in my back

And a pain in my knee


And gaps on my head

Where my hair used to be


I used to love my mullet

It was cool back in the day


But the hair I have left

Has now slipped to my chest

And it’s looking rather grey


When the barber trims my eyebrows

And shaves around my ears


I think back to my younger days

And have to hold back the tears


But age is only a number

And I’m as happy as I could be


Cos’ you’re only as old as the woman you feel

And my wife’s a bit younger than me!



Even though I wrote this myself it still makes me smile :)

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