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Peter Bryce Poem
My neighbour friend? His life is through -
He bit off more than he could chew:
His teenage daughter caused much grief -
Dropped out and got knocked up, in brief -
Dad lost his cool and spanked her! Twice! -
Recorded on a smart device.
She called the cops and they drove him
Straight to the bad dad asylum.
April 1, 2023
On Wendy Watson’s Snappy Ending
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Bryce Poem
There was a young man from Nantucket,
Whose logic for life was to duck it.
Scoffed “ignorance is bliss”
Till the fates took a piss,
Now life’s gone to hell in a bucket.
February 6, 2023
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Bryce Poem
Poor people posit that cupidity
Is synonymous with stupidity,
I argue the incessant zeal for more
Is just a canny craving to keep score.
June 24, 2022
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2022
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Peter Bryce Poem
There was a young Scots lass named Lilt
Who wondered, “What’s under Mac’s kilt?”
She asked him politely,
He answered contritely,
“It used to be braw but it’s wilt”.
There was a young Scotsman named Vin,
A wench tossed a coin with a grin.
He hoisted his kilt,
Said, "Keep yer wee gilt -
I forgaw ma knickers agin!"
March 8, 2021
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Bryce Poem
the cripple limped through the crush for his tipple - with nary a ripple
February 14, 2023
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Bryce Poem
Tabula rasa, pristine way
To start afresh each nascent day;
Turn your back on toils and troubles,
Spurn old struggles, burst their bubbles,
Cast off shackles, unfurl your wings,
Free the puppet, cut off all strings,
Lighten the load, write off the weight,
Embrace each dawn with a blank slate.
February 6, 2023
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Contest: Blank Slate
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2023
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Peter Bryce Poem
He dresses in robes, carefully coiffed
He enters the nave, mitre is doffed
He preaches a tale, to eager sheep
He fleeces their wool, his tithe to keep
He blesses the flock, they’ve had their fill
He slithers away, forked tongue now still
January 1, 2022
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2022
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Peter Bryce Poem
Peter’s prestidigitator progeny perambulated peripatetically with prodigious prowess. Perhaps his precocity precluded presumptuous perspicacity?
January, 11, 2021
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Bryce Poem
Constrained, calm and cold, absent all strife
Puerile, placid, flaccid in life
Nothing to venture, little to gain
No bones are broken, no blood to stain…
...The tipping point looms, brain barely roils
Testosterone screams, blood pressure boils
Guts gorged and griping, grab for the gun
Head for the highway, ripping to run
Relentless reaper, sight seems to shrink
Sirens start shrieking, lights locked in synch
Neighbours take cover,
Strangers take flight
There is no pity, dark in this night
May 20, 2021
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2021
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Peter Bryce Poem
Paris, paradigm of “je ne sais quoi “-
Great Gallic mystery, almost a law.
Evincing an essence, cannot say how -
Shrug of a shoulder with lift of a brow.
But stroll down a street called La Rue Cadet -
The enigma abates along the way.
Senses succumb to a Confiserie,
Snuggled in tight next the Charcuterie,
A few doors down there’s the Patisserie,
Juxtaposed close to a Fromagerie.
“Je ne sais quoi”, astute tourists still say,
This riddle’s resolved on La Rue Cadet.
January 2, 2023
Copyright © Peter Bryce | Year Posted 2023
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