Poetry Forum

dano - all messages by user

5/16/2011 1:03:31 AM
The Epitaph of an unbeliever	The Epitaph of an Unbeliever Where would you like to be buried they asked Well really that’s not my concern It won’t bother me if I’m under a tree Or stuck on a shelf in an urn Tell me what kind of a casket you’d like Cardboard or wicker or oak Put me in a sack for I won’t be back Nobody laughed at my joke Tell us what music you’d like us to play By me it would never be heard Not music said I at the end of the day I would just like the song of a bird Tell us what prayers should we pray for your soul I tried hard to stifle my mirth I don’t have a soul, just dig a big hole And let me go back to the earth I have seen what religion has done to the world With it’s misery, murder and dread I despised all religion for all of my life Don’t force it on me when I’m dead Don’t patronise me with a guy in a frock With a mitre a cross and a crook Demanding that fools live by his kind of rules That he reads from a dusty old book Religion has not took control of my life Or though this may sound a bit odd I’ve been blessed with the love of a wonderful wife And for that much at least I thank God
5/17/2011 1:46:52 AM
The End	Alas I find it quite perverse, that I can only write in verse, the habit has become a curse It’s time I though of quitting I’m very envious of those, who effortlessly turn out prose, that without rhyme just some how flows Their skill is unremitting. Even if I take my time, my poems somehow end as rhyme, becomes a literary crime To all who are discerning At spelling I will always fail, my grammar too is very frail, therefore I feel I’m bound to fail, To satisfy my yearning Though I try with all my might, to make my poetry sound right I simply am not erudite. enough for inspiration Therefore it's very plane to see, the thing that is obstructing me, I lack perspicacity I have no education I should have listened more at school, stopped behaving like a fool, my pen could have become my tool To fulfil my ambition To write with style and panache, in literature to cut a dash, instead of which I come down crash Trembling with contrition Now it’s time to turn to drink, and put away my pen and ink, give up the quest that makes me think That I could really write No more to comment on the news, giving vent to biased views, or writing of the global blues It’s time I said good night.
5/18/2011 6:01:42 AM
Old Bert	I was being shown round a factory the other day when I noticed a member of the workforce gesturing vigorously with his fingers. I asked the foreman showing me round what he was doing?. "Well" he said "that’s old Bert and he is deaf and dumb". "Well what does he want?" I asked "Nothing" said the foreman "he’s singing" edited by dano on 5/18/2011
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