mc5 - Pea and Honey Recipes

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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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Serve them with slow roasted game

On cloths of golden chambray

I wish I had a few more days

To perfect this little verse

But others, with their clumsy ways

Barge in and make it worse.

I wish that I’d just spoken up

But now it’s far too late

Instead I'll just go and hide

These sprouts left on my plate.I love sprouts akshully

I love fresh peas with minted sauce

And new potatoes too

Surrounding roast Sumatran rat

Topped with beetle poo.

Next year, or else the year beyond

I'll go to Burning Man

And when I leave, I will abscond

At least, that is my plan

The food you get in Czechia

Sustains the locals well

But in Civitaveccia

It has a nasty smell

555

Is quite a boring number

Though it once represented a cigarette

Still bored. Time for slumber

I wish I didn't have a job

And could laze upon my yacht

But I'd have no yacht if I'd no job

A conundrum, is it nacht?

Olympic fun in Paris town

Radox The Green

And everyone's in Seine

E'en those in academic gown

But not those faire du plein

I know I must, I think I might

But perhaps I'd better not

I'm not quite sure that I'm quite right

So far left's all I've got.

Some think that a riot is fun

All that broken glass!

Until, that is, they all get done

Except the upper class

I've got an old typewriter

I can’t get ribbons for it

I'm trying to write a poem

I'll scribe it on a post-it

If I no longer had my arms

I'd join the Paralympics

But if instead I lost my charms

I'd photoshop my gym pix

If your skin is always yellow

Check your liver function

If it's fine then just be mellow

And apply a little unction.

When my toes just touch the water

They go completely numb

But if I run and leap right in

I'm bound to freeze my bum.

Walking in the rain is nice

Says Cherrapunji girl

The monsoon has not arrived

So she executes a twirl

Careful with that axe, Eugene!

The blade is razor-sharp

You'll slice my leg and my blue jean

's And the gut strings of my harp.

I wish I were no longer here

’Cause there is so appealing

The grass of home is not as green

As that big roundabout in Ealing

If I had an eel today

I'd make eel pie and mash

A good old east end staple

Which fails to cut a dash (vomit emoji)

The tumbrils roll along, along

The executions never end

But I face it with a merry song

Ascend, ascend, ascend, ascend.

You'll meet with Madam Guillotine

In mcios

So smear your hair with brillantine

You'll still be one head less. all right, fewer

[Rosie] During the French Revolution, the Parisian supermarkets had to put in "one head or fewer" aisles, I understand.

How about a reverse glow worm?

Until I can't no more

Pressed his point

most forcefully

The man there smoking a joint

What was that?

I mean...

The man there smoking a joint
Most forcefully
Pressed his point
Until I can't no more

Have we invented the modern poetry version of a glow-worm?

Probably the least competent reverse engineering I've seen in a verse game (although I think CdM was trying to append his bit to the end of Chalky's foreshortened line). I think we should have another go.

And still it makes no sense.

I've read it inside-out and back

Radox The Green

Nor who, nor why, nor whence

I don't know how it went off-track

[Projoy] Yes, that was my intention. I was imagining something like

I pled my case remorsefully
He still had points to score
Pressed his point most forcefully
Until I can't no more

which is at least vaguely coherent. :)

I wish I were a versewright's mate

With my quill in hand

I'd scribe the words he doth dictate

And ~~adjust~~ fix them so they scanned

I wish I'd been more skeptical CdM neat

'Bout what I see online

Now I don't know which step to call

forget that, try this: My brain's now the receptacle

For sinker, hook, and line.

I wish had some Chapstick

For my little chap-struck knees

I'd smear it very carefully

And put myself at ease.

I wish I could go back again

To glorious Timbuktu

The Athens of old Mali

And pre-Brexit too

If I were a dinosaur

Which I am, but that's a joke

I'd surely be the cynosure

As fun at me they poke

of mice and men and rats and sots

i weave this ’structive tale

A bunch of gin has sure gots

More alcohol than ale.

I wonder why there are not more

Friv'lous twats like me

I think it's 'cos you're getting old

At almost thirty three

To sleep, to die, to fade away

Is not how I shall go

I'll rant and rage and lead astray

And put up a real good show

I wish I had some stollen

And a glass of hot gluhwein

A dash of fresh bee pollen

Will ease its path just fein

I'm looking for some Christmas soul

But only found this wine

Radox The Green

There's also an old sausage roll

Which I must decline.

Try saying no to deep-fried snacks

They surely will obey

Crisps and chips and other things

Are out — make do with hay.

Chocolate seem more appetizing

Chocolate seems more fun

Chocolate makes you feel quite good

When all is said and done.

I wish I were a 5 year old

For whom he world is new

All day I'd have adventures

Pretend I'm in a zoo

But Now We Are A Six Year Old

And almost all growed up

I'll read the works of Kierkegaard

Around my Tommee-Tippee cup

I wish the (UK) Online Safety Act (2023)

Had withered on the vine instead of ending all our poetry (Iambic octameter, AABB?)

Still, maybe we could try and make it scan

Alas I don't believe we can, still that's legislative language for you eh, no sense of elegance.

I think I'll have just one last blast

Before the feds arrive

It's as though my lot is cast

In 2025

Oh, boys, this march will be my last

Our certain doom draws hear

But perhaps there'll be a miracle

And no-one sheds a tear

Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord