Best Slattern Poems
Colorful Sins.
What should I do with my pain ?
Throw it away again
What have you done with your love
You once told me that it goes above
Above all the limitations of sky
you even painted it, but did it dry ?
Go ahead and wash me with fire
Enjoy my sorrow, it is your smile that I admire
Burn my sins with clean water
And drag my heart to the slattern
Just please let me whisper the sea in your ears
Let it feed your soul with my fears
I shall be a native heart breaker
An international crime maker
Will you Emancipate my soul from sanity
And free my useless body from gravity
Clean my eyes from all that sparkle
Let them participate in the real battle
Explode my hallucinations
Grief on my imagination
You can turn me to ashes
Watch my little heart crashes
Change the architecture of my smile
Rebuilt it in the Greek style
So my laughs will be philosophical thoughts
And we shall be two ghosts
You who hunts my dreams when I an awake
You have always been an ocean, yet I can only be a lake
Sweep my touches softly from your skin
But know that it will become so thin
And then wave me goodbye
Ill bow mull think am just shy
Until you will see these drops falling in the yellow grass
That same grass that used to be green before you pass .
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
Dialect from around Aylesbury Vale ,England in 1940's
Listen to me read this in this dialect on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
As I stood before the porcelaneous basin,
And streamed into its already uric and xanthous-stained depths,
A stain, a sight and a liquid yet yellower and more urinary;
And as cloudiness, not of mind, but of that which is uric attended the
Deposition, a thought occurred unto me, and it poetically and psalmically
Collected and gathered and arranged itself, so that it was as follows:
Does she of a morning stand before some wicked ablutionary sink,
That vile whorish slattern who devoutly believes that only dulcet voices
Emanate from the mouths of the damned in the pits of the lowest Hell?
What fell and foul rites does she with hands cleansed with foulest,
Blackest, evilest water; which of these wickednesses does she perform
And practice, she who washes her hands in the black-flowing waters of
The Stygian pit?
Who is this damned damsel, dame, and maiden fell and foul and not a bit
Fair, who as a fool believes that there are melodious voices echoing in a
Mellifluous and delightful chorus in the lowest pits of Hell?
Though I doubt not that therein there be many an ungodly maiden:
Indeed, the blackest, foulest, ungodliest of fell and evildoing maidens:
Plaguing and blighting the very pits of Hell, who is to say that their
Feminity alone endows unto them a felicity and a melodiousness of tone?
That is doubtless the (unsound) thought that crept into the very
Black heart of she who wrote those foul, foolish words;
But to me, not even the godliest or the goodliest of men,
But inditing ever of good with heart, and tongue and mind and pen,
For such is the great purpose of art such as this, no?
Withal, to me, she spoke of foolery, and of folly.
Lest she be speaking facetiously, in her daft assessment
Of foulest Sheol, she surely was wrong.
Wronger than wrong, if such a thing ever be.
And in my mind, as I urinated, I thought these poetic, psalmic thoughts.
And, though there be hundreds of characters and spaces remaining,
Touching this and that and all things else
And any number and all manner of good
Or e'en fell and foul
Matters, I haven't a word else to say.
The poem is expended, completed, done today
And so am I, with it at least, I must say.
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
Dialect from aound Aylesbury Vale ,England
hear me read this on youtube @ http://youtu.be/RfQCyNiNDAY
He dressed as a jack-o-lantern
costumed in uncommon pattern
strode through the park
though it was dark
and was mistaken for slattern
re-post inspired by Constance D form contest
A BUCKS BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
In my local English Dialect
There once was a married cosmonaut
Who out in Space did what he shouldn't ought--
Kissed a pretty Mars bar
Made love to the North Star--
Sex with a slattern from Saturn he bought
BUCKINGHAMSHIRE BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
DIALECT recited in an English dialect &
by definitio
n is best heard than read-please go to the above youtube link
here is the words inmy local vernacular English
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.