goose Posted April 25, 2015 Share Posted April 25, 2015 So...inspired by the She=Shed Thread (say that three times fast), here's a thread for posting your favorite nonsense poems. I'll start with a Carrol classic: Jabberwocky. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought-- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One two! One two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 (edited) Antigonish Hughes Mearns Yesterday, upon the stair,I met a man who wasn’t thereHe wasn’t there again todayI wish, I wish he’d go away... When I came home last night at threeThe man was waiting there for meBut when I looked around the hallI couldn’t see him there at all!Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!) Last night I saw upon the stairA little man who wasn’t thereHe wasn’t there again todayOh, how I wish he’d go away... (Inspired by Toymaker) Edited April 25, 2015 by goose 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 (edited) I Met a Crooked man Mother Goose There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile,He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse,And they all lived together in a little crooked house. (Inspired by Lorraine) Edited April 25, 2015 by goose 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 I remember liking the Little Wille rhymes as a kid... Willie poisoned his father’s tea;Father died in agony.Mother came, and looked quite vexed:“Really, Will,” she said, “what next?!” 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 Wille saw some dynamite,Couldn't understand it, quiteCuriosty never pays...It rained Willy, seven days. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 (edited) There was an Old Man with a beard,Who said, 'It is just as I feared!Two Owls and a Hen,Four Larks and a Wren,Have all built their nests in my beard!' - Edward Lear Edited April 25, 2015 by goose Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 (edited) There was a Young Person of Smyrna, Whose Grandmother threatened to burn her; But she seized on the cat, And said, 'Granny, burn that! You incongruous Old Woman of Smyrna!'-_ E. Lear Edited April 25, 2015 by goose Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lorraine Posted April 25, 2015 Share Posted April 25, 2015 I used to be able to recite this by heart when I was eight years old. The Owl and the Pussy-CatBy Edward LearIThe Owl and the Pussy-cat went to seaIn a beautiful pea-green boat,They took some honey, and plenty of money,Wrapped up in a five-pound note.The Owl looked up to the stars above,And sang to a small guitar,"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,What a beautiful Pussy you are,You are,You are!What a beautiful Pussy you are!" IIPussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!How charmingly sweet you sing!O let us be married! too long we have tarried:But what shall we do for a ring?"They sailed away, for a year and a day,To the land where the Bong-Tree growsAnd there in a wood a Piggy-wig stoodWith a ring at the end of his nose,His nose,His nose,With a ring at the end of his nose. III"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shillingYour ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."So they took it away, and were married next dayBy the Turkey who lives on the hill.They dined on mince, and slices of quince,Which they ate with a runcible spoon;And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,They danced by the light of the moon,The moon,The moon,They danced by the light of the moon. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
laughedatbytime Posted April 25, 2015 Share Posted April 25, 2015 Half the world hatesWhat half the world does every dayHalf the world waitsWhile half gets on with it anyway Half the world livesHalf the world makesHalf the world givesWhile the other half takes Half the world isHalf the world wasHalf the world thinks While the other half does Half the world talks With half a mind on what they sayHalf the world walksWith half a mind to run away Half the world liesHalf the world learnsHalf the world flies As half the world turns Half the world criesHalf the world laughsHalf the world tries To be the other half Half of us dividedLike a torn-up photographHalf of us are tryingTo reach the other half Half the world caresWhile half the world is wasting the dayHalf the world sharesWhile half the world is stealing away 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted April 25, 2015 Author Share Posted April 25, 2015 (edited) Half the world hatesWhat half the world does every dayHalf the world waitsWhile half gets on with it anyway Half the world livesHalf the world makesHalf the world givesWhile the other half takes Half the world isHalf the world wasHalf the world thinksWhile the other half does Half the world talksWith half a mind on what they sayHalf the world walksWith half a mind to run away Half the world liesHalf the world learnsHalf the world fliesAs half the world turns Half the world criesHalf the world laughsHalf the world triesTo be the other half Half of us dividedLike a torn-up photographHalf of us are tryingTo reach the other half Half the world caresWhile half the world is wasting the dayHalf the world sharesWhile half the world is stealing away :laughing guy: :laughing guy: :laughing guy: To clarify, this thread is meant for artfully written nonsense. Your post does not qualify. Edited April 25, 2015 by goose Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Babycat Posted April 30, 2015 Share Posted April 30, 2015 Thanks for the tag, goose! :D 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
toymaker Posted July 5, 2015 Share Posted July 5, 2015 (edited) There's a verse about a duel or something . . . they stand back to back but shoot each other. They're already dead but they kill each other . . . something something . . . this isn't very helpful, is it? Edit: never mind, I found it: One fine day in the middle of the night,Two dead boys got up to fight,Back to back they faced each other,Drew their swords and shot each other, A deaf policeman heard the noise,And came to arrest the two dead boys,If you don't believe this story’s true,Ask the blind man he saw it too! There's more to it, I think. Edited July 5, 2015 by toymaker Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
x1yyz Posted July 5, 2015 Share Posted July 5, 2015 Haiku's inventorMust have had seven fingersOn his middle hand. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted July 7, 2015 Author Share Posted July 7, 2015 Haiku's inventorMust have had seven fingersOn his middle hand. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
goose Posted July 7, 2015 Author Share Posted July 7, 2015 There's a verse about a duel or something . . . they stand back to back but shoot each other. They're already dead but they kill each other . . . something something . . . this isn't very helpful, is it? Edit: never mind, I found it: One fine day in the middle of the night,Two dead boys got up to fight,Back to back they faced each other,Drew their swords and shot each other, A deaf policeman heard the noise,And came to arrest the two dead boys,If you don't believe this story’s true,Ask the blind man he saw it too! There's more to it, I think.I remember this! Who was the author? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
foghorn-leghorn Posted July 29, 2015 Share Posted July 29, 2015 William McGonagall was renowned as probably the "World's worst Poet" during his lifetime.. Here's one of the reasons why.... Saving a Train ’Twas in the year of 1869, and on the 19th of November,Which the people in Southern Germany will long remember,The great rain-storm which for twenty hours did pour down,That the rivers were overflowed and petty streams all around.The rain fell in such torrents as had never been seen before,That it seemed like a second deluge, the mighty torrents’ roar,At nine o’clock at night the storm did rage and moanWhen Carl Springel set out on his crutches all alone —From the handsome little hut in which he dwelt,With some food to his father, for whom he greatly felt,Who was watching at the railway bridge,Which was built upon a perpendicular rocky ridge.The bridge was composed of iron and wooden blocks,And crossed o’er the Devil’s Gulch, an immense cleft of rocks,Two hundred feet wide and one hundred and fifty feet deep,And enough to make one’s flesh to creep.Far beneath the bridge a mountain-stream did boil and rumble,And on that night did madly toss and tumble;Oh! it must have been an awful sightTo see the great cataract falling from such a height.It was the duty of Carl’s father to watch the bridge on stormy nights,And warn the on-coming trains of danger with the red lights;So, on this stormy night, the boy Carl hobbled alongSlowly and fearlessly upon his crutches, because he wasn’t strong.He struggled on manfully with all his mightThrough the fearful darkness of the night,And half-blinded by the heavy rain,But still resolved the bridge to gain.But when within one hundred yards of the bridge, it gave way with an awful crash,And fell into the roaring flood below, and made a fearful splash,Which rose high above the din of the storm,The like brave Carl never heard since he was born.Then; ‘Father! father!’ cried Carl in his loudest tone,‘Father! father!’ he shouted again in very pitiful moans;But no answering voice did reply,Which caused him to heave a deep-fetched sigh.And now to brave Carl the truth was clearThat he had lost his father dear,And he cried, ‘My poor father’s lost, and cannot be found,He’s gone down with the bridge, and has been drowned.’But he resolves to save the on-coming train,So every nerve and muscle he does strain,And he trudges along dauntlessly on his crutches,And tenaciously to them he clutches.And just in time he reaches his father’s carTo save the on-coming train from afar,So he seizes the red light, and swings it round,And cried with all his might, ‘The bridge is down! The bridge is down!’So forward his father’s car he drives,Determined to save the passengers’ lives,Struggling hard with might and main,Hoping his struggle won’t prove in vain.So on comes the iron-horse snorting and rumbling,And the mountain-torrent at the bridge kept roaring and tumbling;While brave Carl keeps shouting, ‘The bridge is down! The bridge is down!’He cried with a pitiful wail and sound.But, thank heaven, the engine-driver sees the red lightThat Carl keeps swinging round his head with all his might;But bang! bang! goes the engine with a terrible crash,And the car is dashed all to smash.But the breaking of the car stops the train,And poor Carl’s struggle is not in vain;But, poor soul, he was found stark dead,Crushed and mangled from foot to head!And the passengers were all loud in Carl’s praise,And from the cold wet ground they did him raise,And tears for brave Carl fell silently around,Because he had saved two hundred passengers from being drowned.In a quiet village cemetery he now sleeps among the silent dead,In the south of Germany, with a tombstone at his head,Erected by the passengers he saved in the train,And which to his memory will long remain. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
librarian Posted July 29, 2015 Share Posted July 29, 2015 Little Miss MuffettSat on her tuffetEating her curds and whey.Along came a spiderWho sat down beside herand -she picked up her spoon and beat the hell out of it. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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