Quotes about smelly, page 3
Cry Petey, I See Bards Rounding the Bend
Cry we all toward places unnamed
Rise above the crested hills
Yell we will - shattering door frames
Plundering thoughts of plovered wills
Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain
Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills
Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game
Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill
Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks aflame
Ridding netted fish of scales and smelly gills
Driving forward, driven onward - scourging rain
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Tears of Blood
If you are free then I am happy for you because it seems that my love had arrested you into a prison. If my love was so dark and so painful for you, then why did you spend six years with me? If I was so ugly and so smelly, then why did you kiss me so many times? How can it be that for such a long time, you never noticed my faults? Only now I appear to be so bad to you. Tears of blood are pouring from my eyes since I am so lost that I am leading towards complete destruction.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Meaning Often Lies Enveloped In Meaninglessness
A humping dog
A peeing frog
A laughing mole
Some burning coal
A focal twist
A spreading mist
Some green some blue
A daunting hue
A rotten fig
A smelly pig
Lovely house maid
A masquerade
A leaking patch
One lit match
A perfect catch
That egg will hatch
In given time
One dumb mime
[...] Read more
poem by Parul Panthri
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As Bald As My Boot (Fun Poem 79)
I woke up one morning
my hair all over the pillow
where my head should be.
I looked in the mirror
and was shocked at what confronted me.
My head was as bald as my boot.
My wife screamed, “We’ll have none of that! ”
She then started combing like mad
our poor old cat.
“I’m going to make you a toupee.”
Now whenever my hair gets wet
I start smelling like something
that popped out of a smelly old dustbin.
She never did say which end the hair came from,
the front or the rear.
I’ll leave you to guess that little bit of fun.
23 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Theatre of the Self (for my old pal Al)
Incense
& music
candle light
& stained glass
these
my religion
the church
of the senses
my only existence
lost
in the sweet jangle
of the swinging brazier
prayer
[...] Read more
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Sleeping With Cats, Or Trying To
From 'Dating at Fifty' a collection of poems about the quest for love in middle age
Trying to sleep with cats,
Cats not content to use their box discretely
But compelled by strange ambition
To dig to China after each smelly deposit.
Trying to sleep in blankets
Full of cat litter
Tracked in by the cats.
Trying to sleep with cats, not content
To sleep or read or wait quietly for the dawn
But driven to actively stalk
The largely fictitious wildlife
Of a two room apartments.
Trying to sleep with a new woman
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poem by Allan Thorne
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Blind Lover
Thee avoided me
I have nothing to avoid
my heart is for ye
imagination started
when it began
thus my hard heart
never knew thy status
All thou do
busting my notes
I gave thee all
now that ye
dried my lips,
mouth is smelly
thus no lipspath
All thou do
made me ice
instead of wet
thus lonely ye gave
[...] Read more
poem by alfusainey Sonko
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Deceit
Inside my world of cherries trees,
And bumble bees,
And summer breeze,
Inside my world of cherries trees,
Take all you wish.
Take it, please.
Inside my house of stately poses
And vibrant roses
And jolly toses
Inside my house of stately poses
Take all you wish.
Take all the doses.
Inside my treat of fine courses
And tasty forces
And smelly sources
Inside my treat of fine courses
Take all you wish.
Take from all the sources.
[...] Read more
poem by Andy Greenwald
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The Crocodile that ate Spaghetti
I came across a crocodile
Who nibbled noodles by the Nile.
I wondered why this weirdo wished
To favour food not flavoured fish
Or flesh, but something soft to savour.
What was behind this bad behaviour?
I asked him why he hated hake;
He answered he'd lived by a lake
Which dried out in the desert drought
So rotting rancid fish ran out
And, faced with this dead-fish disaster,
He chose to chew on plates of pasta.
I felt at first this croc was crazed
But I was left shocked and amazed
Since he'd got sick of smelly stuff
Whose nasty niffs were quite enough
To put him off from fish for ever.
This croc's not crazed; he's clearly clever!
poem by C. Richard Miles
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But, I Can't Stop Fishing! ! !
But, I can't stop fishing,
I told my new wife.
It's an integral part,
Of all young men's lifes.
But she laid down the law,
It was fishing or her.
Get rid of the tackle,
The rods and the lures.
She wanted no part,
Of those smelly fish.
To tell you the truth,
She was really a...pain.
Well I don't know what happened,
But after a while,
She just let it go,
Like a bright eyed little child.
[...] Read more
poem by Juan Olivarez
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