Poetry
- Thread starter Leonidas
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Get yourself down to the library,Leonidas, and look at the work of Claytonian Nicholas Freeston (RIP) In my view, he was our finest local poet. Similarly, see that of Joan Pomfret (1913-93), who was the finest female Lancashire dialect writer there has ever been. She lived in Gt Harwood . She also wrote in standard English - both poetry and short stories. If I lived nearer, I would like to look at the poems which were published in the Observer during the Great War. I suggest that you look at the Lancashire Authors Association website and consider joining.
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Re: Re: Poetry
In which case, I wouldn't call the above poetry.
Where have you started it? Unless this is it!
In which case, I wouldn't call the above poetry.
Well here goes There was a young man from nantuckit who............
better leave it there.
better leave it there.
Once wrote a poem about a frend of mine, he was in the SAS in his younger days, after he retired he did some sky diving at air shows and stuff like that, it goes a bit like this.
ALAN THE SILK WING PILOT.
Alan the silk wing pilot, they call him the hero of the clouds
With his stunts of skill and daring, he really gets em staring
Young Alan he knows how to pull the crowds
One day he's doin free fall from twenty thousand feet
His shoot didn't open, Alan thought "I'me dead"
He thought he'd pulled the rip chord but when he looked into his hand
He'd pulled the lastic from his underpants instead.
Next he did an airshow, he jumped out of the plane,
He pulled the smoke, he wrote his name, you should have seen him fly,
But everyone was laughing, young Alan wondered why,
He's dyslexic, he'd wrote anal in the sky.
Now, if muff diving's like sky diving we'd all be heroes too
But its not you'll all be hearing with relief
cause if your chute don't open then yer gonna wind up dead
But with the other you just get hairs between your teeth.
ALAN THE SILK WING PILOT.
Alan the silk wing pilot, they call him the hero of the clouds
With his stunts of skill and daring, he really gets em staring
Young Alan he knows how to pull the crowds
One day he's doin free fall from twenty thousand feet
His shoot didn't open, Alan thought "I'me dead"
He thought he'd pulled the rip chord but when he looked into his hand
He'd pulled the lastic from his underpants instead.
Next he did an airshow, he jumped out of the plane,
He pulled the smoke, he wrote his name, you should have seen him fly,
But everyone was laughing, young Alan wondered why,
He's dyslexic, he'd wrote anal in the sky.
Now, if muff diving's like sky diving we'd all be heroes too
But its not you'll all be hearing with relief
cause if your chute don't open then yer gonna wind up dead
But with the other you just get hairs between your teeth.
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Hi Bob, I will check those poets out. Thanks. Do you write poetry yourself?
I once composed a ditty for the office journal in response to a regular contributor.
The Rambler -
In sturdy boots he climbs the hills (his hobby was hillwalking)
to escape satanic mills
Open vistas fill his mind
with words of quite a different kind (his strange 'poetry')
Glad at his joy after having it rough (his recent divorce)
Please, someone tell him
enough is enough
The Rambler -
In sturdy boots he climbs the hills (his hobby was hillwalking)
to escape satanic mills
Open vistas fill his mind
with words of quite a different kind (his strange 'poetry')
Glad at his joy after having it rough (his recent divorce)
Please, someone tell him
enough is enough