Today's poems [5.5.07]

Vote for the poem that you really like by checking a box next to it. Then press the VOTE button to submit your votes. Also, links to poem categories and "Send to Friend" will open in a new window, so as not to interrupt your poem reading.

Said a swinging young girl named Lyth
Whose virtue was largely a myth,
"Try as hard as I can,
I can't find a man
That it's fun to be virtuous with." 

                    There was a young man named Sweeny
                            
                    Who spilt some gin on his weenie,
                            So just to be couth,
                            He added vermouth
                            
                    And slipped his girl a martini.
                            

To quote, or not to quote;
That is the question.
Whether 'tis cluefuller on the Net to re-post
The tos and fros of diverse opinions,
Or to take arms against such attributions,
And, by excision, end them. 
                             To trim, to snip:
No more, and by a snip to say we end
The widows and the thousand orphaned words
That posts are heir to,  'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
                        To trim, to snip.
To snip, perchance too much. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that joyous chop the sense we lose
When we have taken out the fluff and dross
Must give us pause. 
                     There's the factor
That makes calamity of so long threads.
For who would bear the tos and fros of chat,
Th' cascader's screed, the geek's anality,
The pain of misplacéd tags, the reeking trolls,
The cliquiness of in-jokes, and the flames
That studied satire draws from clueless fools,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a mere bobbit?
                     Who would cudgel brains
To write a piece, witty and thoughtful too,
But that the hope of making people laugh,
That blesséd gift of humour from whose touch
No traveller is safe, spurs on the soul,
And makes us rather bear those ills we read
Than carve them up,and mayhap lose the joke?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And Usenet posters of great sense and content
In this confusion quote more than they should,
And lose the name of Clueful.
                               Read you, now,
The fair Emilia! [1]  Nymph, in thy reminders
Be all my posts remembered.

            Have you heard of the Widow O'Riley 
            Who esteemed her late husband so highly 
                That in spite of the scandal, 
                Her umbrella handle 
            Was made of his membrum virile. 

Stuffing the turkey at Christmas
Reminded me of you
The melons in the market
The pears and peaches too
Cracking open Christmas nuts
Brought memories of your gentle touch
But all the while it hurt so much
'cos I'm still in love with you...


Copyright: D. Harvey 1998.

By voting you are helping select today's best poem. This helps us provide you with better quality humor in the future, as well as to select the best poems to send in our daily best humor mailing.

But wait! Don't forget to read Today's Jokes Today's Stories Today's Quotes Today's Funny Pic   May '07 Poems Issues: S M T W Th F St 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31