mrs smith
on the perils of internet dating by conny lingers
25 Jun 2006, 3:30 PM
cunt
cunt
mrs smith
on The Ballad of Fraser Allonby Q.C., Barrister-At-Law by wFraser Allonby Q.C.w
25 Jun 2006, 3:32 PM
cunt
poor
Yep, satire.
This is a satire Edna.
fucking shit
Thanks Al.
As for the last lines... it merely means.... come and take me away lest I'm history.
This is super - I'd get rid of the lines 'I wonder why I was ever born/To feel humanity's wrath and scorn' though.
Powerful stuff.
The last two lines are a little hard to understand. Do you mean something like "or else I'll be one of those lost to history"?
I don't have the time to give my usual full-length essay, but you would benefit from injecting a little of the 'show, don't tell' aspect into your writing.
dunno, paw. kinna make thunk this edna is pickin on all the good folk livin' south of the mason dixon line.
does edna ever write anything BUT satire?
I read this out to my five year old and the first thing he says after I read it is... "what is her name?"
Would anyone like to do the honors and name this unfortunate nameless child of my poem?
Could call it a limerick, except that most of those are light, insulting, or funny. This isn't.
The blooming bough from Autumn's tomb escapes me; and how is a bough blown away except in strong wind. Maybe the crabtree of verse 3 could work in here. But is that a Crab tree? You bring the Autumn back, why not the tree?
The last two lines are great.
It's a nice setting.... one that got me thinking. My kids often play with toy guns and I think from now on,watching my kids play, what's going to play on my mind is this..... somewhere, somebody will never become old due to probably my encouraging my kids to becoming so insensitive to violence and war. I think I need to do something about it, in my own way.
Great repeating lines, they make this catchy and cool. A bit more punctuation wouldn't go amiss though.
How did the year go? The ranker's missed your presence recently, hope things are going well!
How pathetic.
And illiterate too, a bonus.
Alway's the fine craftsman Cad.
Oh poor old mad English poet.
You wish for the days of yore
when the world spat at your name
and called your queen a whore.
But alas your torch has been passed
to a younger more vibrant shore
as your empire rots away like your teeth
and the world now thinks you're a bore.