Merde Poems | Examples


Premium MemberCallgirl’s Trump Card

There once was a small hand
Upon a big blow hearted man 
Wasn’t for divorce that he went to court
But for a call girls wealthy plan

He cries wolf that he is a victim
So karma continues to stick him
Can’t make this stuff up he’s merde out of luck
But so big no jail will fit him
Categories: merde, america, corruption, for him,
Form: Limerick

Singing With Scouse

Wandering down a country lane
Hearing singing on the breeze
But it seemed to be coming
From the region of my knees.
Scouse was sitting in a dyke 
Singing with heart  and soul
Waiting for the time when
His body came under control,.
Vintage cider did that to you
Left the mind crystal clear 
But from below the waist
Made a body hard to steer
Scouse was my mate 
So, Nothing else to do
But climb in there with him
And sit in the water too.
A mate is a mate
And that’s what mates do
If he’s stuck in the merde
Sit in the merde with him too. 
Scouse was the only  scouser
At That time I’d  ever met 
More than sixty years later 
I still find him hard to forget.
While we sat in the water
Old Scouse taught me a song 
Which we sang along together
When we finally staggered along.
It’s not a very long piece
And I’ve never ever. Forgot
One day I might sing it to you
Because  I liked it quite a lot
Categories: merde, friend, friendship, nostalgia,
Form: Rhyme


Hunger

He yelled he was hungry
As he crashed through the door
Stood there yelling and swaying
On the billet room floor
He demanded satisfaction
But as no one wanted to fight
He crashed back through the door
And out into the night

He’d said he was hungry
Said he needed to eat
He must have had a need
For a taste of raw meat
We saw him next morning
A penitent sort of thief
Returning to the cook house
With a side of frozen beef

He never got charged 
For everybody swore
He’d found it that morning
Outside our billet door
An unsolved crime
Which cost him dear
With so many kleines
Of cool Pilsner beer

For a squaddie is a squaddie
The creed never heard
You never ever drop a fellow
Into the deepest merde
For a Rupert is a Rupert
And it always will be so
And sometimes there are things
No Rupert needs to know
Categories: merde, drink, humor, memory, military,
Form: Rhyme

Premium MemberPardon My French For Jan

I'd like to say merde 
pardon my French it means poop 
in English its  s...
Categories: merde, hilarious,
Form: Haiku

Premium MemberThe Evils of Crt


They sat home ordering luscious pizza.
Some just drank cold beer or snorted pot.
Nothing was “ really” going to happen!
As they rode unicorns, this lost, hapless lot.

Stoned efficaciously, by the likes of CNN.
America haters, all, each last one of them.
And we citizens buy their “merde”daily.
Will grovel on the earth, cracking jokes
about the future.
Have you forgotten Hitler or Stalin?
Read their writings and on films is their
inhumanity to man.

This CRT is just the beginning...
To apologize for your color and past!
Insane beyond words is such thinking.
Endorsed by the so called “educated”?

A skull and  crossbones, no free thought
allowed!
Shining, screaming, unfurled, on their most
disgusting mast!
Bow to the ground, you of wrong color and 
confess, you are America’s most evil past.

                            7/8/2021

                  No, not for any contest!!!
Categories: merde, america,
Form: Verse


Premium MemberFear Belongs In the Trash

Fear Belongs in the Trash



I no longer drive, I may have an accident.
Nor do I walk, after all, I might fall down.
I am brainwashed to believe, only the garbage 
news falling out of my TV??
I stay far away from my neighbors next door.
They are possible maskless killers after all??

Such utter merde, will it be never cease?
Political know nothings,stole our freedoms
including the local police.
I cannot watch God's sun setting on the Pacific, 
unless I am in constant motion?
I will receive a citation for that such insane,
and idiotic commotion!
 
        

            Faith belongs in your heart
            Fear belongs in the trash.

 
                    May 13, 2020
                    12:30pm PST


                    Poem # 1,265
Categories: merde, character, courage, culture, faith,
Form: Verse

Premium MemberRecipe: Poulet Roti - French Style Le Chant Royal Instalment 3

RECIPE: “Poulet Roti” French Style – Le Chant Royal (Instalment 3)

(Note: Rhyme scheme of “Le Chant Royal” where capital “E“stands for refrain, thus – Stanza: ababccddedE, Envoi: ddedE) 

STANZA  II

Cut the hot-water supply, make chicken freeze
Tear up the electric connections, the telephone
Ensure chicken swallows upstairs dust, e’en sneeze
Fix the plumbing, flood coop with merde from heaven 
Funnel exhaust fumes into coop car cabin
After fixing the engine – closed doors – unseen
And when chicken leaves coop to forage for food
Invade the coop, sabotage shower for good
So as to keep chicken skin in constant stink
See that chicken pays for all damage in blood
Give the Alien Crowd free rope’s nodding wink!

ENVOI 

Use the migrant lêches culs, the all-willing brood
Rejects from anarchic lands up to no good
Kitchen-help strut as Mason Chefs in a blink
Make their Masters’ ev’ry wish come true for good
Give the Alien Crowd free rope’s nodding wink!

©  T. Wignesan – Paris, 2017
Categories: merde, bullying, child abuse, father
Form: Ballade

Premium MemberOn Becoming French

To be French means I’ll need to stop a few things, 
Whilst other small details I’ll seize.
I'll need to start smoking a lot, and
Start eating a whole lotta cheese.

But I wont wear berets with striped shirts,
Or hold a long skinny baguette,
Or say words like merde or putain, 
Va te faire foutre, or even say couchette.

But, I will talk as though I am in love, 
And eat frogs legs whenever I dine,
And be happy, with passion, with all that I am, 
Then, with friends, share all of my wine.
Categories: merde, freedom, french, love, passion,
Form: Quatrain

Premium MemberBbc News Alert Bossy Cow

BBC News Alert


Somewhere in France
In the Countryside
A farmer has been arrested
For molesting an old cow
A drunken old hag was on all fours
Crawling around in his field
He, having had his wine and baguette
Thought he had forgotten one cow
Off he went to fondle and milk her ****
Turned out they were as dry as prunes
The cow in English barked; get your hands off of me
To which the pour farmer replied in absolute shock
Merde! Why you cow who barks, you speak English!
How can this be?
She replied I am not a cow you blind old farmer
I am a mooing poet of sorts
I dropped my dictionary in some cow dun here
Can’t seem to tell the difference between the two
I understand replied the farmer
Like me looking at you and a cow
Was very confusing indeed
Well I shall take me leave you old blind fart
The farmer snorted
Let me cut the fence open for you
She crawled back onto the road
Whereby the farmer was arrested
(Alsace has left wing laws it seems)
For letting his cow wander
Upon the intellectual property
Of France
Categories: merde, angel, anti bullying, crazy,
Form: Light Verse

Premium MemberCredit For Foreign Language

Merde!
Nous sommes a la plage
Is all I can remember how to say.
Merde!
Was back in the (high-schoolish) day
when French was all the rage.
Merde!
Nous sommes a la plage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HA!  And I actually got admitted to college!
Categories: merde, education,
Form: Triolet

December In Paris

December Paris  

Winter Paris pavement cafés vacant chairs and poor sparrows look for 
baguette crumbs. Artists had gone to their loft conversions, in bed with 
their models and plates of goose liver pate, waiting for a better time. 
I came across a posh bistro people inside wore silk suits, doors locked;
 invitation only. A famous philosopher came out, said something deep 
about peace- in broken English- then asked where the camera was. 
When he saw I wasn’t a journalist he said: Merde, and walked back in. 
At the bookshop Shakespeare, academic tourists had assembled they 
looked through books of famous writers, thought of saying that two of 
my poetry collections were there, but they looked so educated, wore 
capes of superiority and poetry workshop shoes I lost my nerve. Rain,
found a bistro at a side street, had coffee with an Armagnac, thought 
of the days when Ernest Hemingway scribbled away here, other writers 
too, when Paris was not so haughtily conscious of her artistic status.
Categories: merde, satire, paris, poetry,
Form: Blank verse
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