Today's poems [1.1.08] 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 lovely young lady named Lake, Pervertedly fond of a snake, "If my good friend, the boa, Shoots spermatozoa, What offspring we'll leave in our wake!"
Mary had a little lamb, The news made every front page, With pictures of her being taken to jail, Cause you see, he was under age.
There once was a fellow named Dave, Who kept a dead whore in his cave, The smell was grotesque, The pussy the best, And look at the money he saved! Sent by dave
To the shrine which was Pallas Athena's Young Bito (who'd learned about penis) Brought her needles and thread And scissors and said, "You can stick them---I'm changing to Venus!"
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.
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