Shall I Compare Thee To A Mooseburger aka The Bad Poetry Thread

[Ms Duck]

There once was one from an Angelic Clan
Rhymed with wit as only our chum Relic can
spake with Blaze bout Duck
but curse his lout luck
the fowl she led him too was a dumb Pelican

<-- despire similarities, not a Duck   

[angel relic]

Behold the Duck whilst in flight
flaps it's wings, try as might
cannot ever rise to sun
or ever retire a quacky pun.

Wise is Duck, deep and wide
but try as might, she fights the tide
and pokes her winged cousin Relic
not knowing her prey has stache like Selleck.
 
She commits the sin that cannot abide
and losses chance for mustache ride
And so sad Duck is forced to nest
all alone...for solo fest.

 

[Ms Duck]

I gigled myself sick

this is insired by recent events in poke:
http://www.jimbutcheronline.com/bb/index.php/topic,14637.msg677357.html#new

The townsfolk cried against the gathering gloom
a zillion Blazes blasted from her Zombie tomb
the wept and cried
lost hope and died
till Duck flew down with her trusty vacuum

they went to thank their stoic schollar
but then let out most heroic  holler
shed give them the bill
pay a hero? but still
"sucky sucky still five dollar"

[angel relic]

Again and again and again and again
I see the Duck and begin to grin
One moment she quacks, another she sings
Behold Duck lands with vacuum in wings
To and fro she sucks about
but fowl humor follows no question or doubt
I'd pay a kings ransom to settle the bill
No matter the cost, whom ever to kill

[Ms Duck]

the geek chorus soars for their star wars
witty repate zings for lord of the rings;
pirates some adores; ninjas the rest implores
DF held for buggy wings; Duck argued fury things

rock from the sky? or vord ship on sly?
I try this to see tis come clear to me
Lara Raith ally? Did Gaius realy fry?
well argue annything wont we 

[angel relic]

The place where we post
is full of smart peoples
though at times we tolerate
some trolling, mean bleep holes.

We match the Author
and also his issue
we strive to create
understanding of situ.

Hew and cry,
back and forth
in this we find
our truest north.

Watch now then
a Mod spring soon
and deliver all
a Board-wide gloom.

 

[Blaze]

O Priscellie!  In her Mod
Go go boots and lissome bod
and Iago in his evil hat
a white council cool cat,

and Mickey Finn -- you know about him
an Apocalypticdisestamblishmentaricalifragiliticexpialidocious ism!

Three whom no gloom would truck
Three who fight to boot each schmuck
Who might this forum subvert, subsume
Turn from the light and into gloom.

So is it safe from those we dread
due to Mickey, Cellie and Fred.
Allowing me, the grateful undead,
To poke a relic, duck, redhead.

Now poetic combat with aplomb
is engaged each verbal bomb
launched with bungee and pluck
toward the Angel or the Duck

One thing I wish to straighten
while I can...
This poet is in deed
a Pelican!

[Ms Duck]

there once was a Blaze, an enobled bird
in questions of rhyme ive off confered
ive heard Relic a raven?
count they now engraven
would make of Blaze Fowl the third

[Blaze]

Flying together
Like those of a Feather
In syncronous wing
Gathering
High shall we go it
Together, all poets.

[angel relic]

Off in the land of Mooseburger
deep in the thread of rhyme
lived a colony of fluffy hero's
all commited to stanza'd crime.

Each in turn, they mucked about
and sought a lower path
crapulence and debasement
served as guideposts to a laugh.

So nom de plume and satire
reigned supreme amongst the lines
trumped only by innuendo...
the refuge of deviant minds.

With heavy heart I end this farce
and troubled spirit too,
I present a silly limerick,
composed for winged friends anew.

-------------------------------------

A duck, a relic, a pelican
all waddled into a tavern
each ordered their drinks
and started, me thinks
driving posters to flappy distraction.

 

[Ms Duck]

in this place, a tavern called Mac's
dwelled a base of poets eating snacks
a wizard name Harry
chose not to tarry
yelling "what next, a penguin playing sax?!"

[Ms Duck]

In this game, we must get more involve'
for this truth, our sacred selves resolve
weird is on part one eighty
our thread a bit less weighty
a problem only more poets will solve

[LavinChen]

To a Young Ass
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Poor little foal of an oppressèd race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread,
And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head.
But what thy dulled spirits hath dismayed,
That never thou dost sport along the glade?
And (most unlike the nature of things young)
That earthward still thy moveless head is hung?
Do thy prophetic fears anticipate,
Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate?
The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
"Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes"?
Or is thy sad heart thrilled with filial pain
To see thy wretched mother's shortened chain?
And truly, very piteous is her lot --
Chained to a log within a narrow spot,
Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting green!

Poor Ass! they master should have learnt to show
Pity -- best taught by fellowship of Woe!
For much I fear me that He lives like thee,
Half famished in a land of Luxury!
How askingly its footsteps hither bend!
It seems to say, "And have I then one friend?"
Innocent foal! thou poor despised forlorn!
I hail thee Brother -- spite of the fool's scorn!
And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell
Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell,
Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride,
And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side!
How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play,
And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay!
Yea! and more musically sweet to me
Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be,
Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest
The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!

[Blaze]

The few the proud
The poetic'ly inclined
Doom'd not to be read out loud
Tho' intricately rhymed.

Whose world sense be skew'd
Who would rather
Be kind than feud
and see more poets gather

(The Duck wants me to draw a nude,
and so would Ol' Dan Rather.)

[Blaze]

The above poem is called:  Ode to a Derailed Plot Rhyme, and is dedicated to my kitten, and her need to run across my keyboard.