DaveN 1,118 Posted September 8, 2014 Report Share Posted September 8, 2014 Here's a little ditty I've written tonight. If with the Queen of the Midlands you have linksThen you should join Nottstalgia methinksWhere your fond memories with others you can shareAnd get answers you probably won’t find elsewhereFrom schooldays, teen years to more recent timesHistory, games, workplaces and pastimesThere’s something on the site for everyoneSo why not join – you’ll have some fun Quote Link to post Share on other sites
DJBrenton 738 Posted September 8, 2014 Report Share Posted September 8, 2014 Poetry rhymes Only sometimes. It always should. But. Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Karlton 582 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 YOU ARE THE SUNLIGHT ON THE FIRST FLOWER OF SPRING THE SUMMER SUNSHINE GLISTENING A SONGBIRD ON A BOUGH OF TREES AN ENCHANTING PATH OF AUTUMN LEAVES A PURE WHITE FLAKE OF FALLING SNOW A SHINING LIGHT IN WINTER GLOW. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Karlton 582 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 THE GLORIOUS DEAD HANDS REACH OUT OF FRIEND AND FOE FINGERS DRIP WITH BLOOD NO FURTHER MUD AND MIRE TREAD BRAVE HEARTS NO MORE WILL GO NO WAVING BANNER OR FLYING FLAG NO BAND TO MARCH THEM HOME ONLY MEMORIES IN SOME CEMETERY OF MEDALS MADE OF STONE 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Karlton 582 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 Thanx melissa kelly I keep having a go. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
tomlinson 879 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 I spend so much precious time Trying to find a proper rhyme To round off every precious line. I find one, then I say 'That;s fine', But when I check it, I say 'Strewth'! That don't rhyme, and that's the truth'! Then I turn and sadly bin it, And that's the best thing really, i'n it! 3 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Michael Booth 7,364 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 Instead of drinking water, They gave me thinking water Now I’m really smart. And instead of ice cream, They gave me nice cream, Now I’ve got a big heart. Instead of hot sauce, They gave me snot sauce, Now my tongue is gooey when I talk. And instead of candy bars They gave me sandy bars, Now my mouth is full of rocks. And instead of tribal stories, They read me bible stories, Now I want to be a preacher And instead of kool-aid They gave me school-aid. But I still don’t like my teacher Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Karlton 582 Posted September 9, 2014 Report Share Posted September 9, 2014 We'll mek us way down ter th' shinny tek a bottle o' watter wi' thi' pick n' pockle apples meller play hide n' seek down us cellar wip' n' top n' patterns twirl blu' fer a boy n' pink fer a girl click us clogs on cobble stones jump or' t' puddles filled wi' t' moon. Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Bilbraborn 1,594 Posted September 11, 2014 Report Share Posted September 11, 2014 On my favourite topic...................... Steam Fitter 1967 For steam locomotives the end is in sight, We work on those engines all day and all night. So ill-maintained, nobody cares, The giant steam locos are running on prayers. Steam leaks from every nut joint and gland, Side boxes empty, devoid of sand. Shortage of fitters, shortage of parts, He needs the tools before he can start. Brake linkage sticking, blocks bare and worn, Cab full of dirt, the fabric all torn. Big ends all knocking, easily heard Smoke boxes clogged, and boilers all furred. Fire tubes a-leaking, struggling to steam. Those engines are dying, they'll never redeem. We patch up an engine if there's any hope Of it pulling a train, if it can cope. Tighten up nuts, put on make-shift brake blocks, Make sure the valve gear and rods interlock. If the boiler can steam no matter how poor, We dispatch the engine to do one day more. But if it is past it or there are no parts, It goes to the scrapyard, deluded and stark. But this is just how they are all doomed to end, When they are finished, too far gone to mend. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted September 12, 2014 Report Share Posted September 12, 2014 My first poem, about the destruction of buildings in Nottingham, was in the Demolished Memories thread back in June. I said that it was one of only two that I had written, and had put them away. The other one, written over twenty years ago, is reproduced below. I have no idea what prompted me to write it, but it was obviously in one of my soppy moments - I get them from time to time! Suki Murden Suki Murden, lovely girl, Brown in eye, hair acurl. Cheeks in bloom, loves to peep, Gingham dress, dimple deep. Started school, doing well, She's a clever little gel. Lots of friends, lots of games, Lots to learn, lots of names. Growing now, in her teens, Gone is gingham, on with jeans. Make-up on, full of song, Going to work, courting strong. Down the aisle now Mrs Smith is, Cutting cake, amid best wishes. Honeymoon overseas, Just the two, sans families. Married life, abloom like heather, Doing lots of things together. Going here, going there, Mr and Mrs, the devoted pair. Time goes by, expectations, It's a girl, congratulations. Five years on, a gingham kid, Goes to school, like mum once did. Older now, daughter married, Lonely though, husband buried. Slowing down, aches and pains, Features wrinkled, grey in mane. Looking back, life was worth it, Providing her with naught but profit, And of her memory none deplore, Darling Suki is no more. 1 3 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
tomlinson 879 Posted September 12, 2014 Report Share Posted September 12, 2014 The poetry of Bilbraborn on the whole is not forlorn Like that one posted up by Carni, her grandad made quite a barnie, Unlike writings done by Chulla, of romance they could not be fuller. Lines of youth by Michael Booth are not the sort of thing to sooth, As those transcribed by Hippo Girl, who went and gave the art a twirl. Offerings by one Dave N, they edify us now and then, Karlton lent artistic grace, (is she named Karlton for the place)? And to the pen these poems call us, as they do with poet Paulus, And as they do indeed to me, and call they do to Mick2me. So all these poems De Da Pete, must have left you quite replete But if you haven't had enough, ask Shakespeare, he knows all that stuff! 6 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted September 14, 2014 Report Share Posted September 14, 2014 B is for its beauty, out of six give seven, U, it's undeniably, a residential heaven. L tells us let's live there, with the intelligentsia, W is the wonder, that always overwhelms yer. E for expectations, it never lets you down, L is for the mighty Leen, it flows right through the town. L again for lovely place, please excuse my mirth, Together they spell Bulwell, a paradise on earth. Well, Albert Brown liked it! 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted October 8, 2014 Report Share Posted October 8, 2014 Saturday mornings On Saturday morns a long time ago, with our thepenny-bit in hand, To the flicks we would go, like moths to a flame, so throughout in the land. Every week it was the same, a western, Disney's mice, To get you back the following week, a serial would entice. Bedlam reigned, no-one kept quiet, but heard above the din, Came six-gun shots, horses hooves and voices from within. For me it was the Vernon, and the Aspley I did attend it, For you, perhaps, the Metropole, the Forum or a fleapit. Every week it never changed, the routine was a must, Come rain or shine we had to see the cowboys bite the dust. Rogers, Autry, Hopalong, and don't forget their side-kicks, Twirling guns, cracking whips, all demonstrating their tricks. Their aim was true, I kid you not, I swear it is no riddle, A tossed-high dollar coin was shot right through its middle. Bullet wounds quickly healed, especially for our hero, They had to live another day, the black-hat baddies not so. Now and then a cowgirl showed, skirt among the chaps - geddit? Interest waned when they on screen, though perhaps none said it. Not for us the female frame, that interest anon, Just men of steel, tough as boots, who tamed the West now gone. Picture houses, glory past, other uses put to, Gone for good most of them, replaced by prospects anew. Those days are gone, nothing lasts, and this I say so sadly, Today's young lads and girls will never know the joy that was our Satdy. 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
tomlinson 879 Posted October 8, 2014 Report Share Posted October 8, 2014 If ever you should go and choose to follow your poetic muse, Never think it has to rhyme, I found this out myself for I'm Always trying to find a word, and really folks, it's quite absurd To follow such a rule pedantic, for who knows what this means - 'iambic'? No, just give to your creation that thing called 'alliteration', And having done so your work might be just like mine, a load of sh----------te! Quote Link to post Share on other sites
StephenFord 866 Posted October 8, 2014 Report Share Posted October 8, 2014 There was a young man from Rome Who wrote such a wonderful poem (!) It had rhythm and rhyme. It had metre and time - But he couldn't quite get everything that he wanted to say into the last line. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted October 16, 2014 Report Share Posted October 16, 2014 Here's a rhyme we used to chant when we were kids - anyone remember it? Scab and matter pudding, green phlegm pie, All mixed up with a dead dog's eye, Wash it down quick with a bottle of sick, Scab and matter pudding, green phlegm pie. Quote Link to post Share on other sites
carni 10,094 Posted October 16, 2014 Report Share Posted October 16, 2014 Our version, scab and matter pudding green snot pie all mixed together with a dead dogs eye get a slice of bread and spread it on thick then wash it down with a cup of cold sick. Followed by multiple shouts of errrrrrr yer detty bo66ers Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted October 31, 2014 Report Share Posted October 31, 2014 Remember this one Carnie and katyjay? Pounds, shillings and pence, I saw a dirty wench, Picking her nose and eating the crows, Pounds, shillings and pence. 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
carni 10,094 Posted October 31, 2014 Report Share Posted October 31, 2014 Can't remember that one Chulla, but you have started my day with a laugh. Feeling lazy this morning, so I am browsing the threads, to see what I have missed. You inspired me to read through the poetry, and what a talented group of Poets we have on Nottstalgia. Afraid i don't seem to have the Knack. I might give it a try one day. Some thing for you all to look forward to! I think not! 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
katyjay 5,091 Posted October 31, 2014 Report Share Posted October 31, 2014 Chulla, I remember that one, most likely chanted when juggling 2 balls up against the kitchen wall. (And mam yelling from inside, stop that bleddy thumping racket) 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Trevor S 2,003 Posted October 31, 2014 Report Share Posted October 31, 2014 A Poem About TomatoesWe are blessed in Australia to have such an abundant wealth of talented story tellers through whom future generations can learn of their history and 21st century lifestyle.Here is a classic example:A Poem About TomatoesI know a bloke whose name is Jim,I really love throwing tomatoes at him,Tomatoes are soft and don't hurt the skin,But these feckers do, because they're still in the tinThe warmth and heart wrenching simplicity of Australian bush poetry can bring a tear to the eye. 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Annesleyred1865 137 Posted November 1, 2014 Report Share Posted November 1, 2014 Bonfire Night 1964 K It’s Bonfire night the excitement grows The dark night creeps up over Annesley Rows We started collecting way back in September Our wood for the fire on the Fifth of November A branch form an Oak tree a Larch and a Birch Tarpaulin and tyres, a roof from a stable, A Gorse bush some plywood and next doors old table Don’t stack it early for someone to light You know what happened last Mischievous night Old clothes, string and paper, we made us a Guy When on top of the bonfire he must touch the sky Fried onions, roast taters hot dogs and peas Ketchup or mint sauce just as you please Everyone had the best bonfire that night Ours was so big it took ages to light Get your old togs on and wear a wool hat Shout in the dog and bring in the cat At seven o’clock the village is aglow Hey! Look at that one just up the row He’s lighting a Rocket as everyone flocks You never get Bangers in a Two an Six box Sparklers were only a tanner a packet Hark at that Air Bomb, don’t half make a racket Volcanoes and Snowstorms don’t last very long Some nippers are singing the Bonfire Night song The Spinning Wheel brightens old Dan’s garden shed Don’t touch that Sparkler it’s only just dead The fire now is roaring you have to stand back Look out! He’s lighting an Old Jumping Jack The bangs and the screams and colours galore I’ve run out of sausage I’ll fry up some more The sky is lit up by a Ninepenny Rocket Don’t keep Bangers down there in your pocket Stand clear be careful you’ll have lots of fun With Canon, Little Demon and old 3-2-1 I’m feeling the cold take my gloves from my pocket Get ready you lot, here’s the last rocket Just a red glow now the fire is dying My dad has gone in and my mam has stopped frying The night’s chill gets to me but the smoke still lingers I’m feeling the cold in my feet and my fingers The bathroom’s steaming the water feels fine I’ve stayed up so long it’s about half past nine The times now have changed as I write this odd ode Now we teach our children the Fireworks Code Gary Roe © 2 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
carni 10,094 Posted November 1, 2014 Report Share Posted November 1, 2014 Annesleyred1865 I love the poem, it sums up the old feelings of Bonfire Night brilliantly. It brought back the names of some of the fireworks for me. Particularly the Bangers. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Bilbraborn 1,594 Posted November 1, 2014 Report Share Posted November 1, 2014 Here's one from my boring railway theme. Signalman Call attention! A single bell. Return the signal, you know it well. Four single beats, once and again, Is line clear for express passenger train? Check all the instruments, safety first, Send four back in a single burst. Set up the route, the levers crash, Then lock the points, see the cables flash. When the line is safe for the train To come into your section on the up main. Pull off the signals, distant and home, There they will stay 'til the train has gone. |Meanwhile, send one bell to the forward box, Carefully checking your instrument blocks. The train is approaching as you receive a bell back, So you send him four beats, you must never slack. He accepts your train as it passes you by With a wave and a whistle, you watch and sigh. Then send Train out of Section to the box in rear. Without this the next train is going nowhere. Put your signals to danger, you know the rules, They are accepted as safety tools. This is a snapshot for people to see How running a railway once used to be. 3 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
Chulla 4,946 Posted November 4, 2014 Report Share Posted November 4, 2014 Here's another one - this time from my dad. Remember it katyjay? Keiler's jam, Keiler's jam, How we all love Keiler's jam, There's plum, pineapple and apricot, All put in a two-pound pot. When I'm asleep I dream that I am, Having the fits, having the shits, Through eating Keiler's jam. 1 Quote Link to post Share on other sites
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