Best Rumoured Poems
We decided to turn Paradise into real estate.
Trouble was, we weren’t too sure where to find it,
Though experts had located it somewhere
Slightly west or east (left or right, looking north)
Of a point midway between the Euphrates and the Nile.
According to some, it moved sideways a few inches each year.
Computer systems would relieve us of Adam’s curse,
Which many wanted back as soon as they had been relieved,
And Eve discarded more and more items of covering,
And everything (a forgivable exaggeration)
In the garden (the upkeep of which had to be paid for by taxpayers)
Was lovely (or at least pleasant enough for most).
The Devil, who no longer existed (save as a literary metaphor)
Had been extradited on a drugs smuggling charge
And was last seen heading north.
The Forbidden Tree had been cordoned off by
Security people and no serpents were allowed near.
One day we woke up to discover
That Paradise had absconded in the night.
The more sensational headlines read PARADISE LOST,
But this was watered down in a subsequent official press statement
to read PARADISE MISLAID.
As to its new location, even the pundits failed to agree
Whether and if so, by how much, it had moved left or right.
It was even rumoured that the Devil
Had bribed the Angel at the Gate
and infiltrated the Intelligence Service.
The Ministry of Defence reported that a large flying object
Had appeared as a blob on the radar before slipping off,
And some wag even suggested that this was Paradise in fact.
Adam uttered “What the..” under his breath,
switched off the telly – it was an old war film –
And gave Eve a knowing look.
Eve didn’t fancy an early night,
And the ensuing row
Raised Cain.
The prime objective of school dinners
Must have been to make them taste as awful as possible
Too runny or to thick
Aesthetically disgusting
And the result was they make you gag and sick.
The screwed up faces in the dining hall
Said it all
But you were made to eat it by our ever watchful
Captures
And had no choice at all.
The mashed potatoes were like cement
And I'd never seen green carrots before
The sausages must have been made of sawdust
Picked up off the floor.
The gravy was always full of lumps
The tea cakes fill of flies
Every term they'd be a few less of us
And it was rumoured that they'd be poisoned and died.
Desert was no better
The trifle was like a bowl of sick
The cookies were so hard they'd break your teeth
And you had to chip away at them with a pick.
Tapioca pudding we called it frog spawn
Or jellied eyes
I once put some in a teachers brief case
And when he opened it he got a big surprise.
It was like some dark scene from the movie
Oliver But no one ever asked for more
They were to busy being sick
Behind the toilet door'
Still as the saying goes, ''School days are the best days of our lives''.
Smelly Nelly was quite a charming girl,
She wore her hair in braids instead of curls,
Bathing several times per day in the Jewish way,
Yet many scoffed and sniffed,
exclaiming she smelt like manure in hay,
Nelly used expensive oils and attars,
some came from lands very far,
Her raiments were made of the finest silks
but people still told her she smelt
like days old milk,
They shunned and booed her,
talking behind her back,
hoping and praying she would have a heart attack,
The gripe they harbored had nothing to do with
Nelly's smell, it was because her family owned
several oil wells,
Neverthelss, she brought her own lunch which made
her naysayers feel as if they were incompetent bunches,
The farce of living as the Joneses do, never appealed to
Nelly because she knew the value of a dollar,
So while folks snickered and stared, corking their noses
causing her despair,
She sat and ate her snicker doodle sandwiches with her
little pinky waving in the air,
Smelly Nelly they chanted everyday, but she shrugged
her shoulders and continued on her merry way,
Cartier, Chanel and Youth Dew were always in her backpack,
but she knew it was hard for critics to understand her modest lifestyle,
They all rumoured that she lacked!
Afterall, she rather "enjoyed" their ignorance,
watching them treat her as if she were a rotten as mere happenstance,
But Nelly soon conquered her critics by blossoming into a
lovely swan, forgetting about the negativity, and meanness,
leaving the penny section to stew in their own mess......
The full moon lit up the night sky
A wisp of cloud passed it by
To add to an eerie atmosphere
As if something gruesome might appear.
The gates to the graveyard groaned in the wind
As did the groans of the grave stones twinned
And the night demons were on the prowl
As the wolf cried out with a harrowing howl.
In the chapel attic a light appeared
And the girl in the red dress everyone feared
Was staring out with blood shot eyes
As the living dead heed her cries.
The door slams open, a priest appears
Holding a silver cross that the demon fears
As the holy water burns the skin
Of a possessed soul steeped in sin.
The ghoulish corpses to the girls demands
Descend on the chapel, as the devil commands
And the sweating brow of the terrified priest
Does little to ward off the devils beasts.
Reciting Latin, the priest persists
As the decomposed bodies in the graveyard mist
Aim to transform him into one of them
So he keeps reciting over and over again.
The girl morphs into the devils form
But the priest refuses to conform
And so with a scream the girl is thrust
Way up high, as she continues to cuss.
‘Lord save this soul’ the priest declares
‘Release this soul from this evil affair
And with this water I purify thee!’
And with that, in an instant, the devil did flee.
It is said that the girl did not perish
But became a nun of the local parish
And yet on every full moon night
It is rumoured that the nun was nowhere in sight.
And so tonight, as you lay in your bed
If you think this chapel is somewhere else instead
Beware as the full moon glows
That the girl in the red dress never shows!!
Paranormal Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Robert James Liguori
29th December 2021
- [ ]
A centipede found its way into our home
My hairs stood on end for hours on end!
And while we tried learning about it on Google search,
in a dark and damp crevice it made its perch
All the cyber net did was to amplify my fears
It also yielded that our azure electric-blue vermin
was quite hot on the market
Making me wonder how people could fancy
such a nightmarish pet!
For this wasn't just any pest
This had hazardous venom
I fearfully wondered if they had
its antidote serum.
We couldn't just ignore
a pair of painful pincers on the loose
There wasn't way to rope those
like bull horns in a noose.
Here was a venomous predator
complete with stinging apparatus
Its bite portended pain
and complications humongous!
It did appear to have those rumoured hundred segments
but count scaredy me out from counting those myriad ligaments.
This insectivore when we tried then to shoo,
with lightning speed it zig-zagged out of view!
So now it lurks but we can't find it anywhere
and gosh its stingers triple their size in my nightmare!
besides leaving us with a proliferation scare.!
And but timid me thanked God once again
to my great relief how thoughtful of Him indeed
to create venomous creatures that inflict stinging pain
but atleast are unable to zoom in flying at us at flying speed! .
(a flyin scorpion, centipede wud have been far more terrifyin n dangerous eh) .
His beginning was his end, being swallowed by Cronus
Fortuitously his fortune averted when through Zeus he was saved
With his trusted trident his magnificence reigned
Amphritite at his side, after Delphinius convinced the nymph majesty
God of the ocean, second to none, his wrath was his ultimate fury
Recall the flood to Attic Plain, hark the drownings and shipwrecks!
His magnificence unrivalled, albeit to Athena’s olive tree
His rumoured son, none other than the legendary ruler Theseus
He had his way with Medusa, Caeneus and the mortal Tyro
Subtle yet truly defined, his earthquakes lie testament
Fear the wrath of Neptune, the God of the ocean
His gold teeth glistened in the sun
As ‘Long Ben Avery’ turned
To face his captives, head lowered,
Their providence to learn
For Avery was a pirate bold
Trained in the Kings’ Navy
Who, disillusioned with his lot,
Captained a mutiny
He seized ‘The Fancy’, in Cadiz
An act both rare, and bold
Then set out on the briny sea
In search of ships with gold
He plundered every vessel met
With not one man set free
And soon, his name spread fear and dread
Across the seven seas
For two years, not a ship was safe
As treasure he amassed,
But his biggest booty taken
Would prove to be his last
He sailed down to the Mandab Strait
And other ships did meet
Who chose him as their Admiral,
To raid the India Fleet
The ‘Mogul’s’ flagships, tried to flee
Chased by the pirate fleet
But a brutal, two hour battle,
Ended with their defeat
The pirates tortured those they caught
Without a thought, or care
As they searched on board for treasure
For each, to glean their share
The ‘Mogul’, proffered swift revenge
Hunting the pirates down,
Swearing each villain, had to hang
For crimes against his crown
The pirates scattered, far and wide
To skirt captivity
But most were caught, and hung with rope
Strung from the nearest tree
But Avery, was never found
Or his share of the hoard
It’s rumoured that his crew killed him,
And threw him overboard
No matter what became of him
Or what, was ‘Long Ben’s’ fate
No man’s ever bettered his feat
In history, to date.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Stagecoach Mary
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: January/2014
Mary Fields,
(1832-1914).
born a slave,
somewhere in
Tennessee,
on the
Dunnes
Plantation -
She became
the first
African American
(male or female)
to deliver
the U. S. mail
in
America -
She was
a tall
woman,
over 6 Ft,
and
strong,
weighting
over
two hundred
pounds,
who
didn't shy
away
from
a brawl
or
two
if need
be -
She rolled
cigars,
chewed gum,
drank
plenty whiskey,
and
was famous
for
caring
a pistol,
and
rode a mule
name
Moses -
Mary,
had
also
a
pet
eagle,
and
a
penchant
for
baseball -
She
wore
buffalo
skin
dresses
that she
made
herself -
She
must have
been
an
intimidating
figure
to
behold -
In 1892,
Benjamin Harrison,
was
President -
During
those days,
Wells Fargo,
had
the
U.S. mail
contract,
and
needed
a
stagecoach
driver
with
a
strong will,
and
survival skills
for the
rough route
between
Great Falls,
Montana
to
Fort Benton -
They
chose
sixty year
old
Mary Fields,
who was
more than
capable
of
doing
the job -
It was
rumoured
that
she could
hitch
a team
of
horses
faster than
the boys
half her
age -
Mary,
became
a legend,
tales
of her
adventures
was
well known
in
all the
pioneer towns
of
Central
Montana
and
neighbouring
states -
Her
reliability
and
work ethics,
earned
her
the
name
"Stagecoach,"
Mary,
by
the folks
along
the mail
trail -
Mary,
and
her mule
Moses,
never missed
a day
of
work
in
nine years,
and
was never
held up -
Mary Fields,
retired
in
1901,
paving
the way
forward
for
African
American's
to
follow -
A West Saxon King of Wessex and grace
He dealt with the Danes a convincing deface
Father of Navy and military blow
A legalised system the people should Know
Nation divided the Danes bowed to truce
Example in history for Robert the Bruce
Before this great stand 870 anon
He fought with the Danes 9 battles not one
Three elder of brothers fought till they died
Their wounds from the battle for Alfred did cry
During the wars in the marshes and mist
Alfred did hide and men did enlist
Athelney Marsh the bravest remained
A muiscal lyre for Danes he refrained
Marching and planning the lady of lakes
Thought and great planning he burnt all her cakes
Beaten by besom for burning the grate
She fell to her knees in humble prostrate
Stumbling on but lost on the Heath
Broach of gold lace that Alfred had sheathed
The Danes flag of battle broken and torn
A truce with old Guthrum eventually born
All is at rest for subjects now prove
Schooling begins and the hunger removes
His wife Ethelwulf with Nation at peace
Religion and taxes Westminister keeps
The Navy rebuilt and challenge at sea
Alfred for saint now rumoured by me
Ian Foley
On the dark side of town the Ogre lives
His only friend is the refection he sees
On pondering on his shade of green
He boomed out a hearty groan indeed
Tired of being a lonely soul
He thought up imaginary elves and trolls
‘Too tiny for me to see’ he moaned
‘I might squish their tiny bones’
So who could be his ideal mate?
Maybe a banshee? Could this be fate?
Certainly not, he thought. The hour late
Her screams and shrills would make me quake
In the crooked mansion down the street
Lived a vampire with smart clean teeth
It was rumoured that he had turned a new leaf
He now drank fine wines not blooded meat
So the gigantic ogre rang the bell
A smartly dressed enchanted friend
Offered the ogre an ear to lend
They now share tales till eternities end
By Emma Buckeridge
For contest : Fantasy Land
7th place win
A BRIEF HISTORY WITH PLATO
At the beginning Plato reigned
in a way they never quite explained
or understood; the mutual attraction
obviated thoughts of sexual satisfaction.
For so long being together sharing time
was enough, and in retrospect sublime;
beyond that moment when Nature took the course
it did, bodily coincidence foretold divorce
from the friendship they had shared
lovingly, eschewing known conventions, they cared
for each other, defiant in the face of rumoured lust.
Lust once only in the mind now turned to the dust
of disappointment, racing to the point of satisfaction,
stuttering to the depths of disaffection
from the moment they confirmed Society’s fashion,
eternal friendship sacrificed on the altar of instant passion.
The lifelong friendship abandoned in momentous heat,
an experience of life they can never, ever again repeat.
THE SECRET OF THE FOREST
The truth was concealed with many branches
Well cushioned with intertwining vines
In the dark forest at the foothills
It lay hidden since ancient times
After the demise of the reigning emperor
The enemies broke into the fort
Scouting every nook and corner
For the rumoured treasure of yore
Within the palace and outside
The quest continued far and wide
Empire combed for a fortnight
the elusive cache lay out of sight
Exhausted to their very bones
The soldiers gave up the fight
After looting and plundering
Melted into horizon,horses astride
Unknown to all the loyal guard
Sat still over it throughout
The retreating army trampled over him
His blood spilled ruthlessly over the boughs
Centuries later, this very ground
Was visited by an excavation squad
Within weeks of digging around
The rarest truest gem was found!
Resubmitting for Brian Strands any theme any form max 26 lines
Date Dec 26 2016
by nature i'm a dreamer,
the stars have deemed it so.
the mysterious fish of the zodiac,
content to go with the flow.
ruled by the shadows of neptune
and basking in it's beauty,
ever-changing and rearranging
the enigmatic pisces.
prone to drug addiction
and alcohol abuse,
it appears that i should be more careful
whose company i choose.
a people pleaser by my nature,
the ever-gracious host.
a magnet for losers,leeches,bums
and other unsavory folks.
blessed with certain talents
and psychic abilities,
i've been rumoured to have taken leave
of my sensibilities.
living in a dream world,
bordering unrealistic,
often times delusional
and something of a misfit.
still i keep on swimming,
floating where i may.
fighting in a losing battle
upstream all the way.
Our gracious Queen, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary
Came to the throne aged twenty-five, which proved quite scary.
In every walk of life she sets the pace.
When post arrives she's met by a familiar face.
Philip, of noble stock, her blunt but dashing prince,
Is apt to put his royal foot in it which makes her wince.
He fathered offspring Andrew, Edward, Charles and Anne.
It's rumoured that he's 'Lisbeth's greatest long-term fan!
12/01/19
'Clerihew Couples for Valentine's Day Poetry Contest'
Sponsor : Carolyn Devonshire
Footnote:
Royal etiquette demands that no-one must walk in front of the Queen
The Queen's profile is on British postage stamps
I have yet to see a copy of my book...
Schrodinger’s Book
It’s dull in this box, thought Schrodinger’s Cat
Waiting to not be, or be
I fancy a look
At a curious book
'Cos I'm well intellectual, me
I’m partial to verse, thought Schrodinger’s Cat
A nice bit o’ poetry
There’s this book that I’ve got
That is here, and is not
Just as Enoch was rumoured to be
It’s an odd sort of book, thought Schrodinger’s Cat
Made from a mythical tree
A strange kind of cup
From which wisdom to sup
For it is, and it isn’t, you see
Am I dead or alive, wondered Schrodinger’s Cat
What might come at the turn of the key
Will a curious look
In the door, or the book
Kill off a cat like me
Nothing to lose, thought Schrodinger’s Cat
As it opened the book at page three
How curious is that
Just a book, and a cat
Waiting to be, or not be
by Gail