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Give it up Max (Free verse) by Stephen Robins
Bury your beard in your hands, And your chisel in your face, Face up to facts, Your behaviour's not ace. You've upset poor Dovina, Whose had problems enough, Without you blundering around, On her broken muff. You try to be all folksy, With your use of "cute" and "critter", But underneath your beard, It's clear you take it up the shitter.

Down the ladder: Darkest Room

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Arithmetic Mean: 5.3333335
Weighted score: 5.0397344
Overall Rank: 7072
Posted: January 18, 2007 5:08 AM PST; Last modified: January 19, 2007 7:39 AM PST
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[8] Ranger @ | 18-Jan-07/8:51 AM | Reply
Top closing stanza.

I have a David Gower-based poem in production for you.
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > Ranger | 19-Jan-07/7:35 AM | Reply
Behold now virgins, David Gower,
Examine the weight of his willow,
He'll soon be whacking his balls,
Whilst your biting hard on your pillow.
[n/a] ecargo @ > Stephen Robins | 19-Jan-07/8:23 AM | Reply
Hee--nice. s/b "you're." (Sorry, can't help it.)

Oh, the things one learns because of the 'ranker. From Wikipedia: "Gower was an elegant left hand batsmen and has a reputation for being aloof, perhaps because of his privately educated background and upper-class accent and manner . . . Its [sic] also worth mentioning that David Gower has been immortalised in cockney rhyming slang as the term "shower" - e.g. 'I'm feeling a bit rank, i'm off for a david, where I'll strip me willow'." (Okay, I added that last bit about the willow.)
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > ecargo | 19-Jan-07/8:35 AM | Reply
Willow? as in the film? I wouldn't strip him, he's only little and he's the guardian of a baby.
[8] Ranger @ > Stephen Robins | 22-Jan-07/3:03 AM | Reply
Here's your Christmas present:

Dream Gower (sonnet) by Ranger

Shall I compare thee to a morning's play?
When England open first on Lords' fine ground
And Aussies o'er the world watch in dismay
As fifties! hundreds! double tons abound
With front foot forward - front knee bent, the click
Of willow meeting leather brings a cheer
Then when the ball's pitched short, a subtle flick
Shall bring four more! The bound'ry swiftly cleared
In graceful flight. But thou art just a dream
O noble dream! To make me ever yearn
For cover drives borne from the spinning seam
And hair as white as hats which stop sun's burn
But Test match scores shall never run this way
Now glory's over. English sport is gay
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > Ranger | 22-Jan-07/3:08 AM | Reply
Ranger, that is the best thing you have written.

No one played with a straighter bat and a benter knee.
[8] Ranger @ > Stephen Robins | 22-Jan-07/3:12 AM | Reply
I'd submit it but 99% of the poemeranker users aren't qualified to read its content, and I fear getting comments about baseball.
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > Ranger | 22-Jan-07/3:15 AM | Reply
That would be terrifying. I have never understood how not hitting the ball three times allows you to advance to go.

I think you have posted in the safest place if you don't want anyone to see it.

[8] Ranger @ > Stephen Robins | 22-Jan-07/3:18 AM | Reply
Come on, it's an American sport. How could you possibly pick up your two million dollars if you don't get a freebie move?

Are there actually any rules to baseball, or is it just rounders played on steroids?
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > Ranger | 22-Jan-07/3:29 AM | Reply
I saw the Oakland A's play the Minnesota Twins. Firstly what rubbish names.

I watched for about two hours and thought they were just warming up but apparantly the game had just finished in a comprehensive stalemate.
[8] Ranger @ > Stephen Robins | 22-Jan-07/3:36 AM | Reply
It's the caps and oversized socks which strike the fatal blow. When compared with a gleaming set of whites, and a hat with a brim wide enough to shade the pavillion, well, there can be no such comparison.

The question is, though, was two hours long enough to finish a kingsized Coke and an imperial-galactic-overlord sized tub of popcorn?
[7] Dovina @ | 19-Jan-07/8:53 AM | Reply
His behavior’s not ace
Nor is his face
He tugged on my muff
But it’s sturdy enough
What’s amazing to me
Is he can’t find his 3.
[n/a] Stephen Robins @ > Dovina | 19-Jan-07/9:03 AM | Reply
He can't see his three,
As it lies under thee,
He possess no strength,
To search you at length,
Surveying your scribblings,
And incessant quibblings,
To find number three,
Would break him or me.
[7] Dovina @ > Stephen Robins | 19-Jan-07/9:10 AM | Reply
Nay, but the three is not hidden
Nor under my skirt, ridden
He possesses no strength
And could find it at length
With ten thousand poems
Even more.
[6] Edna Sweetlove @ | 19-Jan-07/9:00 AM | Reply
I don't know to whom you refer with "cute critters"; but rhyming shitter with it is very fine indeed. And well worthy of a 6.
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