With apologies to the late Joyce Kilmer...

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as PC.

Coddling non-Euros deemed oppressed
Encouraging slurs against the West;

Promoting misleading euphemism
Blaming human difference on capitalism;

Imposing comforting slants on news
(Except about Christian Right or Jews)

Encouraging bland and mindless speech
Giving diversiphiles courses to teach

How can discussion be truly free
When ideologues rush to impose PC?

A couple more lovey-dovey poems that I wrote that I wanted to share with you.

Despair and Redemption

Some of us were born to shine,
Others crave the shelt'ring night
And never know the exhileration
Of standing in the light.
Now, one of those is you, my sweet,
And one of them is me;
Take a guess at which I am
And which I'd hoped to one day be.

In your arms I am a star,
In your eyes I see the light
Shining from above me,
Piercing through my night.
By your side I find myself
As I've always longed to be;
I've never felt this way before:
You bring it out in me.

Like a phoenix from its ashes,
By your love I was reborn.


Jon

I know, my dear, we fight sometimes,
And our tempers can flare hot:
We disagree -- musically --
More often than we do not!
We've loved each other harshly
And felt its hurtful sting;
We've borne each other through the pain
As only love can bring.
But you don't care which side I take
On nights when I stay over,
And I've never been more satisfied
Since you became my lover.
You bring excitement to my life,
And I know we shall live blissfully;
For when we fight and reunite,
I know we love realistically.
Our roller-coaster romance
Has its ups and downs, I see,
And you may not be perfect, love,
But you're just right for me.


That Day (Or, Alternately, The Story of Us)

I feel that I was ill-prepared,
And just a little blind;
But, then again, how could I know
Just what I was to find
That day?
That wonderful day!
You didn't know I looked at you;
I didn't know you looked at me;
And neither of us realized
Quite how happy we would be,
That day.
That glorious day!
Too far apart we drifted,
Our own scars we amassed,
But ev'ry time we'd reunite
Was like no time, at all, had passed.
Until that day, that special day
When I found you and you found me.
And now we stand; two hearts, one soul,
For one precious eternity.
All because of one day.
That day.

Hey, I'm still waiting for Lefois to post one (come on precious, we're all friends here)

Here's a new one that I've written...it's a bit different to my usual (read girly and sappy) stuff, but I quite like it

Dreams

It’s all become much clearer now,
Like I’ve awoken from a dream.
The songs I sang in sleeping time,
Have now turned to a sullen scream.

My eyes are open, my hands are tied,
I now see what you really are.
A morbid mass of little lies,
A black hole that was once a star.

But all the troubles
And the woes
Are nought but dreams
And so it goes...

You know i cant get past the idea that poetry is self indulgent muck, and yet i cant stop writing it!! It must be love.
My favourite poem i wrote was for a young lady i know, i didnt want to do the usual thing so i wrote a whole poem comparing her to Cheese!! Amazingly it worked, wish i'd kept a copy.

And who was it that said Aussie guys aren't romantic?

(tries desperately not to use the word "cheesy" )

yep and there wasnt a single mention of blue vein!

and while im here ill just knock up my 200th post, thanks.

Oh why not

So are you a big cheese fan, or was it just the first thing that came to mind

We both have a fondness for cheese.

Aye, but what rhymes with cheddar ?

This is a poem I've had published. I wrote it in my college honors English course, for the child I would have some day. Then it was titled "Bees Knees" but I have added the subtitle "To Katherine, though I did not know you yet."

A child in the grass, cavorting with dandelions.
From the window I strain to see her,
Barely three,
Arms working busily to swoop down on another ill-fated blossom.
Her hands rubbed yellow,
And plump-pollen legs with bees knees.

It is the only poem from my younger years that I can read without thinking "Oi! What a bunch of rot that is!" My teenage poetry was filled with that well-known angst people like to talk about. Makes me cringe. But the one above I still love to read.

This is kind of sad but it's how I am feeling.

I have sweeter ones and will share them later. But for now I need to express this. Thank you for reading.

I'm tired of life's lessons

teaching me:
loniness
aloniness
seperation

Antonyms for:
togetherness
closenss
companionship

defining:
independence
quietness
patience

making me hope
dashing that hope
echoes try again
try again

Waiting and hoping
seem to be oximorons
while continuing
life's endless lessons

Today is another day

Yesterday: tired
Today: energized

Yesterday: sad
Today very happy

Yesterday: lost
Today: Found

-----------------------
Thankful

Something clicks though you didn't hear a thing
Ready for the day but didn't see it coming
Peace and Joy coming in the side window
Finding you waiting for just this
You smile inside and it's nice
You're thankful for today
Deep sigh fills you up
Inner strength
Warmth, joy
Now

Well, I've had several of my poems published, And I'm hoping to one day have a lil book published, mainly for myself as a keepsake than for anyone else.

I would like to share with you one very special poem.

Their Tale

When the cold harsh winds they cease to blow
And the sun doth cease to shine.
When north and south and east and west
Do unite for the final time
When mankind has long since gone
One thing of theirs remains,
And that one thing, that shall stand the test,
And shall never be destroyed,
Is one womans love for one single man
That she loved throughout her time.
Their names shall be in legend wrote
Their tale told for an age
That she Nemesis the Goddess of hate
Once threw down her sword,
Throttled the snake that forbid her love
And stepped down from the heavens so high
For she had gazed upon he
That brought to life a feeling forgot
As she walked in newborn lands
She saw the perfect man
Upon his head a golden crown
Fingers ringed with silver
Her heart it skipped and missed a beat
When his voice it said her name
She gazed into his clear blue eyes
And saw a wisdom there
When she looked upon the window of stars
Her past corroded away
Her future stood proud before her
And there in his arms she knew
She would never stray from by his side
He looked upon her and said three words
To which she did repeat
From there on after let legend be known
That she, Nemesis, her life commit
To him, Sunesis, who instantly stole her heart.

This and many more poems I have written (although none of my new stuff I admit) are on my website
I always get an urge to annote poems that I have written, It's my one annoying habit!

Wow, that is brilliant. If you ever do publish a book you must tell us.

Thank you, I'm supposed to be getting a number from a friend who's already had their work published. The above one Is all about when I first met my lovely hubby, and practically nothing to with Greek Mythology!

"Thursday Tomorrow"

An orchid was discarded
On the subway Thursday midnight.
There were slivers in the lamplight
When I saw it lying there.
And a man, I knew it, said "Goodbye"...
But he will try again someday.

And that fallen flower said his story.
The glory of Love and the love of glory.
That lamp shines with the thrill of hope.
All will cope. That orchid's mine now.




Pretty sappy, huh? Just had to share. That poem was actually based on a classified ad I unexpectedly read in "The Village Voice" some years ago. Someone searching for who dropped that orchid.

Thats very nice gatsby The first stanza quite sad but the second I feel is happier It's like the person in the poem found hope from the orchid where before the person felt there wasn't any. It's like the orchid reminds the person theres a little bit of hope to be found everywhere I like it!

I wrote this one when I was 12 years old to read out at my step mum's funeral:

Parting
Whenever I see a beautiful view,
I will always think of you,
I'm sorry that you had to go,
But I am very glad to know,
That it's put you out of pain,
And it will never come back again.

It's a sad thing when someone passes away, and also a great inspirer of poetry. I've wrote several poems inspired from that certain inevitablity in life, and many more make refreces to it. However, just because death is a morbid subject area, it certainly doesnt mean that the poetry is as yours has demonstrated. I'm sure your step-mum would of loved it

A silly one by me. Perhaps for the children:-

I went inside my shed
And found a bee, stone dead
What a shame it had to die
Never more to fly

It never made the honey
That ends up in a tummy
Or flew around some ears
making fun of human fears

When it didn't come back for hours
After visiting the flowers
It must have caused a buzz
...Like missing family does

Lots of words in bee were said
But I bet no 'bzzzz' ever lead
to the fact the bee just flew inside
my shed and simply went and died.

Awwww, that's so sad!


I thought I'd share with you another of my poems.

Dawn

I walk in a daze around my room,
Was this always how it was?
Clothes tossed carelessly on the floor,
Bed unmade,
Curtains drawn.
Your scent still clings in the air.

I shut my eyes,
And dream of the past,
Me and you together babe,
Always together,
Together forever, and ever together,
I open them.

To a blurry vision,
Of yesterdays memories,
Time stops.
I kneel,
I pick up the broken pieces,
Of a shattered life.

A life shared.
My eyes sting,
Sting with the pain,
Sting with the tears,
Face stained.
Blackness awaits.

I await,
The passage of time slows,
But gradually starts,
As I leave the room,
I shut the door,
For the memories are past,
And the past is no more.

For those who find dieting difficult:

There's half a pizza in the fridge I'd love to go and munch
But I ought to leave it where it is for tomorrow's lunch.
Eating it so late at night should be out of the question
It'll keep me awake half for the night with dreadful indigestion.

But I can't resist that lovely cheese, the toppings and the base
I can almost hear it calling to me, "Get me in your face!"
I make my way towards the fridge, drawn as if by magic
The digestion problem I'll endure, even though it's tragic.

OK, this is the last one (maybe). Just as daft and unromantic as the first two I'm afraid:

A tableleg's a useful thing. It keeps a table flat
Fixed to a corner underneath, it's very good for that
Take a tableleg away and the tabletop will tilt
Then drinks upon the tabletop are certain to get spilt.

You can tell I like Spike Milligan

Hehe, I like your poetry Tellwellies. They crack me up.