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Poems
May 8, 2022 9:08:01 GMT
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Post by Firestick Frank on May 8, 2022 9:08:01 GMT
What’s your favourite ever poem? Here is mine…
The law locks up the man or woman Who steals the goose off the common But leaves the greater villain loose Who steals the common from the goose.
The law demands that we atone When we take things we do not own But leaves the lords and ladies fine Who takes things that are yours and mine.
The poor and wretched don’t escape If they conspire the law to break; This must be so but they endure Those who conspire to make the law.
The law locks up the man or woman Who steals the goose from off the common And geese will still a common lack Till they go and steal it back.
It’s a protest against the “Enclosure Acts” (or privatisation of public land) from the 15th Century onwards. The poem manages, in a few lines, to highlight double standards when it comes to rich and poor/power and peasantry, expose the artificial nature of property rights, and take aim at the idea of state power.
And it does it all in a simple, humourous way.
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Post by ivawhopper on May 22, 2022 15:55:30 GMT
Ten donkeys went to the bank. On the way home went via the taxi rank. The taxi was late, They got themselves into a state, And hit the driver with a lamb shank!
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Poems
May 25, 2022 20:16:38 GMT
Post by ivawhopper on May 25, 2022 20:16:38 GMT
Winky de wonky de woo, The mouse went for a poo, The clock struck one, He trapped his dong, Winky de wonky de woo
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Post by Lobster on May 26, 2022 6:31:36 GMT
My uncle Billy had a ten-foot willy And he showed it to the lady next door She thought it was a snake and hit it with a rake And now it's only four foot four
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Post by Lobster on May 26, 2022 11:48:00 GMT
Seriously, I like the work of Brian Bilston. Pertinent at the moment.
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Poems
May 26, 2022 16:42:05 GMT
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Post by Firestick Frank on May 26, 2022 16:42:05 GMT
Similar work to the Bard of Salford, John Cooper Clarke.
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Poems
May 27, 2022 12:11:34 GMT
Post by iandychesterfc on May 27, 2022 12:11:34 GMT
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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Poems
May 27, 2022 12:17:55 GMT
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Post by Firestick Frank on May 27, 2022 12:17:55 GMT
Bill Pullman, Independence Day
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