The Forum's Favourite Poems.

Withnail

Withnail

Well-Known Forumite
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up (reap?) {that which is planted};

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to get, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to tear (rip), and a time to sew (mend);

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

(a time of war, and a time of peace.) ?

...

12 I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life.
13 And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.

(12 I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice, and to do good in their lives, 13 and also that every man should eat and drink and enjoy the good of all his labor—it is the gift of God.)




20 All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.
(20 All go to one place: all are from the dust, and all return to dust.)

21 Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?
22 Wherefore I perceive that there is nothing better, than that a man should rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring him to see what shall be after him?

21 Who[g] knows the spirit of the sons of men, which goes upward, and the spirit of the animal, which goes down to the earth? 22 So I perceived that nothing is better than that a man should rejoice in his own works, for that is his [h]heritage. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him?
 
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Theresa Green

Theresa Green

Well-Known Forumite
Prego, prego
Anywhere you may go
Make each day be a day full of fun
If there's a game or a girl to be won
Do it with a bing bang bong
(A bing bang bong)
A bing bang bong
 
Glam

Glam

Mad Cat Woman
ONE THOUSAND MEN ARE WALKING

One thousand men are walking
Walking side by side
Singing songs from home
The spirit as their guide
They walk toward the light milord,
they walk towards the sun
they smoke and laugh and smile together
no foes to outrun.
These men live on forever
in the hearts of those they saved
a nation truly grateful
for the path of peace they paved.
They march as friends and comrades
but they do not march for war
step closer to salvation
a tranquil steady corps
the meadows lit with golden beams
a beacon for the brave
the emerald grass untrampled
a reward for what they gave.
They dream of those they left behind
and know they dream of them
forever in those poppy fields
there walks one thousand men

Joshua Dyer 2019 (aged 14)

Lest we forget
 
Glam

Glam

Mad Cat Woman
Brian Bilston

Queueing for an Ice Cream

although he didn’t smoke, grandad never went anywhere
without the old tobacco tin in his pocket

one day me and my brother asked him what he kept in it
some sand, grandad said
why do you keep some sand in a tobacco tin, we asked
where else would I keep it, he said

but why keep sand at all, we asked
it’s special sand, grandad said, it’s come all the way from France

we peered into his tin and stared for a while
French sand didn’t look very special, it looked like ordinary sand to us
why’s it so special, we asked

each grain represents an old friend of mine, he said
grandad must have had a lot of friends, we thought

did you go to the beach with them when you were a boy, we asked
yes, something like that, grandad said, snapping the lid shut,
asking the man for three 99s, two with red sauce
 
Glam

Glam

Mad Cat Woman
Dear Mum


They've said this will all soon be over and then I'll be coming back home,
Back to the White Cliffs of Dover, You won't believe how much I've grown.

I can't wait to see you again Mum, have I got some stories to tell,
I can't tell you where I am right now mind you, but it does seem a little like hell.

It's all very quiet this morning, nobody's laughing and joking,
We're up to our ankles in puddles and mud, Oh, and I'm thinking of giving up smoking.

Tell Uncle George, I remember, I know I still owe him two bob,
But they've said this time will soon be over, and I'll pay him when I'm back at my job.

I suppose Dad's out racing his pigeons, then he'll go for a brown ale or two,
There's pigeons here carrying notes from the Generals and they seem to know what to do.

Tell Ethel, I'll be home before Christmas and we'll be wed by the end of the year,
They've said this will all son be over, I can't wait 'til I get out of here.

Well, I ain't got much left to tell you Mum, but I wish all these whistles will stop,
They've said this will all soon be over, 'cos today we're going over the top.

Chris Ross ©

1731178990590.jpeg



Captain Blackadder : "How are you feeling, Darling?"
Captain Darling “Ahm - not all that good, Blackadder. Rather hoped I’d get through the whole show. Go back to work at Pratt & Sons; keep wicket for the Croydon gentlemen; marry Doris. Made a note in my diary on the way here. Simply says: ‘Bugger’.”
 
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Glam

Glam

Mad Cat Woman

The Spider and the Fly (1829)​

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,
"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to shew when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome–will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple–there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue–
Thinking only of her crested head–poor foolish thing! At last,

Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour–but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Mary Howitt 1829
Poem © Out of copyright
 
Glam

Glam

Mad Cat Woman
Mr Spike Milligan.

Granny​

Through every nook and every cranny
The wind blew in on poor old Granny
Around her knees, into each ear
(And up her nose as well, I fear)

All through the night the wind grew worse
It nearly made the vicar curse
The top had fallen off the steeple
Just missing him (and other people)

It blew on man, it blew on beast
It blew on nun, it blew on priest
It blew the wig off Auntie Fanny-
But most of all, it blew on Granny!
 
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