~ Just a Handfull ~

[Stanley Brown]

The light burned bright, the room spun fast, I felt a hand take mine,
Though some were speaking from my past, my eyes were clear yet blind,
Oh Lord come on my face and give me a sign
But I could not see just who was she, no wings could I perceive,
Was this to be my destiny, or, is this make believe,
As a great fart in my peeeping nose I did receive!

A multitude of faces through misty eyes peered down,
As a gentle finger probes my rear and a pulse is found,
Methinks tis my prostate which must weight over a pound.
Though unaware she had such care just holds my world for me,
With flashes of confusion and no hint of flushing sanity,
As she wiggled it and caused me to giggle with boyish glee!

All time had been suspended, a dark void filled my mind,
Yet still vigil unended, her hand still holding mine,
With her fat thumb embedded just an inch below my spine.
O how increasingly reality replaced this worlds illusions,
With old friend reason at my side dispelling my confusion,
And a thrust dispelled all my toiletry delusions!

Thankyou. Stanley Brown.

[Edna Sweetlove]

Nowhere else on the World Wide Web could you read such SHITE as this! That is the wonder of Edna's Poetry Website! Yippee!

[spamheid]

There's nothing like a good handful. And this is nothing like one.

[montez]

Very tasteful Sir Stanley, but I wish you would read, reread and edit : you might see how badly your poems flow in general (plus you could correct mistakes!)
Very ordinary.
Thank you.
Robin.

[Barry Hodges]

I fear you take our Stanley too seriously, Robin. Stan is our resident mental defective.

[montez]

Oh, I see bazza, thanks 4 enlightening me!
Rubens.

[Edna Sweetlove]

Stanley is a major retard.

[montez]

Thank you.
robin.

[spamheid]

There was an old fellow named Stan-i-ly
Whose verse, it was really uncannily
Like that of Belloc
I.E., pure cock
And appeared to have been written manually.

But really, 'twas virtually writ,
Though it still was a lot of pure faeces (or poo-poos)
Some thought it was fine
Like pure claret wine
But some didn't like it a bit.

Still if there's one thing that I've knew
Since the year nineteen fifty and two
Is that poetry can be
Many things, as you see
It is really chacun à son goût

Nae sae bad fer a fuckins Scottie basterd, eh? Up the Saltire! ;D

[montez]

There is one thing I'd like to make clear
I'm impressed with your French Spammy Dear
Though one thing makes me frown
You deride Stanley brown
Are you resurrected Ed Lear?
R.

[spamheid]

Well, whit can I best say tae that?
Eddie Lear, that Old English twat?
Who simpered and leered
Right intae his beard
And wrote of an Owl and a Cat?

Naw, I'm no' Edward Lear. But your Limerick is a pure cracker.

Your humble servant,

Sir Angus MacShug Spamheid of the clan MacHaggis, late of the Glen McTeauchtar clan.

Bonnie Prince Cherlie sends his love frae across tha waater! Hoots!

[Stanley Brown]

How can you mock me with your uncouth humour, you do not deserve to breath the same clean air that I breathe, you are a load of philstines. Do NOt dare to comment on my new poem which is a fresh approach for me as it is quite erotic. Just go away you scum of the earth or I shall complain to Edna.
Thank you so much - Stnaley

[spamheid]

Okay Stan, we've gone too far. Accept my apologies. Keep up the good work. We can only try our best. We all maun dree oor ain wird in this life, and you have chosen tae dree yer verra ain. Best Wishes from Spammy.

[montez]

Thank you Sir Stanley.
But I wish you wud lern 'ow to spell "breathe", "Philistines", "peeping", "weigh","oh" an' "world's" - perhaps then, we wud tek u more seriarsely!
Thank you ever so muchness,
R. Sole.

[Edna Sweetlove]

I just re-read this and I poo'ed myself with laughter.