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Pea and Honey Recipes
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I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.
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This isn't quite a poem
Although it rhymes and scans
The words just come a flowin'
And look best in Gill Sans.
I wish I were a sonnet
That perched upon a tree
But then would someone read me?
Yes, arborists certainly
O! if I were a petal
And you a honeybee
I'd love your sweet antenna tickle
As you crawl over me
All things that squirm and wriggle
Are a delight to me
Ooh, how I love those maggots
How they enhance a brie!
I wish I were a paper bag [Rosie] Deft!
For airsickness on a plane
I'd catch all those nasty bits
Your loss - recycling's gain. (Tuj) Cheers.
To loop the loop is my delight
All on a springtime morn - [Rosers] neat finishing on last two
When up is down and down is up
Invertedly airborne
It started in the treehouse
It continued in the shed
It traumatised my wee mouse
Which came into my bed.
I wish I were a critic
Of literary works
I just love lambasting authors
Solipsistic berks!
I swung my axe with gusto
I chopped something in half
I put the vid on YouTube
Please add an epitaph.
Three cheers for "last line" Rosie
He's really on a roll
No matter what our prose be,
With Rosie, it's not droll
I really am most flattered . . . no last line this time . . .
And so you should be, chum!
Because you have a way with words
Stand up to roll of drum!
In spite of all the plaudits
Pride's a Deadly Sin
Some rank it first of seven
But I think Sloth should win
[Simons] I was going to post that line. But then I couldn't be bothered.
I wish I were a sinner
Evil of intent
I'd take my cues from Lucifer
On chaos I'm hell-bent!
A-sitting cross-legged on a cloud
Reciting a Lim'rick out loud [SM] Are you in the right room?
With my head lowly bowed go with the flow
(I've no right to be proud)
I wonder if this is allowed
I'm glad I'm back to normal
Whatever 'normal' is
It's less than semi-formal
Just not quite the biz
I'm glad I've regained consciousness
I thought I'd be dead forever
But how shall I escape this box?
That's my next endeavour.
I'm taking half of your estate
I think it's rightly mine
Since I am your conjoined twin
Sign on the dotted line
As I awoke this morning
My little dream was scotched
I knew I'd made a boo-boo
'Cause my tartan sheets were blotched - I'll get my jacket then ..
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