As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going!
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Lass |
The Everlasting Poem |
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem And see how long we can all keep it going!
Last Edited By: Pip at Home 01-05-08 15:29.
Edited 1 time.
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Allyson |
#1 | |||
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On the garden theme or just on anything? Don't think i've ever written a poem...only rhyming thingies, like Pam Eyres (sp) and
not very good ones at that. I think it would be fun though
How about you
set a theme for every one, that way everyone knows where to start?
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Lass |
#2 | |||
Ally. no theme needed just continue with a rhyme. My first two lines was intended to be the start !
As well as the limerick lets start a poem And see how long we can all keep it going! |
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Allyson |
#3 | |||
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(Sorry, what an idiot i am
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Allyson |
#4 | |||
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Sorry...have i got it wrong again? Perhaps i'm not getting what goes on...i can be bit thick you know.
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Lass |
#5 | |||
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No that's great Ally, let's hope someone else joins in.
As well as the limerick lets start a poem And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. |
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eileen |
#6 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs |
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Lass |
#7 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. |
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Pip at Home |
#8 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill.
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MacT1 |
#9 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill. But surely a garden is there to give pleasure And keep you fit and healthy just for good measure ?
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eileen |
#10 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill. But surely a garden is there to give pleasure And keep you fit and healthy just for good measure So on with the gardening gloves and wellies to tackle all things nasty that crawl on their bellies. |
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Allyson |
#11 | |||
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Sorry, two of us must have been writing at the same time, so i have deleted mine. (Hense the empty post !)
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Allyson |
#12 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill. But surely a garden is there to give pleasure And keep you fit and healthy just for good measure So on with the gardening gloves and wellies to tackle all things nasty that crawl on their bellies. But along with some bad, there is always some good, The flowers with their perfume, and the trees with their wood The planting, the pruning, the digging and the spraying, Are why you won't find me, very often straying
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bilnrobn |
#13 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill. But surely a garden is there to give pleasure And keep you fit and healthy just for good measure So on with the gardening gloves and wellies to tackle all things nasty that crawl on their bellies. But along with some bad, there is always some good, The flowers with their perfume, and the trees with their wood The planting, the pruning, the digging and the spraying, Are why you won't find me, very often straying I'm still not sure I understand this game If I mess up real bad do I get the blame? and what happens when the poem gets extremely long Do we leave out the beginning ? Or would that be quite wrong? |
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Kitty58 |
#14 | |||
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I thought the same so you're not to blame
If you were on dial up you'd end up insane An idea from me, which I give for free Just post the last verse and I'll be the first (if I'm wrong and to keep it long, just copy from Bills and continue the thrills)
Last Edited By: Kitty58 03-05-08 08:37.
Edited 1 time.
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Tybeanie |
#15 | |||
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That's a good idea Kitty
And your ever so witty Just use the last verse Or you'll end up with a curse ![]()
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Lass |
#16 | |||
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As well as the limerick lets start a poem
And see how long we can all keep it going A book or a sonnet, a ballad or verse All about planting the seeds in the dirt. There's bulbs and there's seedlings small, medium and big things and colours in abundance where the sun rays flicker and dance. Broken fingernails, aches and pains all mean nothing when you see all the gains from those lovely, scented, flowering shrubs and the colourful flowers appearing in tubs Oh! but then there are slugs and snails Leaving their revolting trails. Whitefly to spray, weeds to kill The thought of it all is making me ill. But surely a garden is there to give pleasure And keep you fit and healthy just for good measure So on with the gardening gloves and wellies to tackle all things nasty that crawl on their bellies. But along with some bad, there is always some good, The flowers with their perfume, and the trees with their wood The planting, the pruning, the digging and the spraying, Are why you won't find me, very often straying I'm still not sure I understand this game If I mess up real bad do I get the blame? and what happens when the poem gets extremely long Do we leave out the beginning ? Or would that be quite wrong? I thought the same so you're not to blame If you were on dial up you'd end up insane An idea from me, which I give for free Just post the last verse and I'll be the first (if I'm wrong and to keep it long, just copy from Bills and continue the thrills) That's a good idea Kitty And your ever so witty Just use the last verse Or you'll end up with a curse. A curse scares me not What a lot of rot! Talking of rot, how's your manure? To flies mine is proving quite an allure. |
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Allyson |
#17 | |||
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A curse, well how rude, to that we all boo'd,
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Lass |
#18 | |||
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A curse, well how rude, to that we all boo'd,
You are right, it is simply all rot, Put the curse and manure, i am totally sure Well away from that great beauty spot. Manure it is said is good for the rose But certainly not very kind on the nose! |
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bilnrobn |
#19 | |||
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A curse, well how rude, to that we all boo'd,
You are right, it is simply all rot, Put the curse and manure, i am totally sure Well away from that great beauty spot. Manure it is said is good for the rose But certainly not very kind on the nose! Our cow poo is lovely; doesn't smell at all And the plants in the garden are having a ball! |
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Allyson |
#20 | |||
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Poor Robyn i fear, must be out of good cheer,
Must have felt real bad in the morning, But a still life she made, when she did as was bade, And all on her own without warning
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