To be, or not to be !

[mikkh]

As some of you may already know, I write a few poems now and again and I've just been on yahoo answers and wandered over to the poetry section.

I expected to see the pretentious ramblings of wannabe poets, but I wasn't quite prepared for this beauty...

Boy can speak to him,
then it would say to her,
the end to return my section
for the small post offices.
They continue,
come to shelter to me
the one of the knowledge of the dynamite method,
The right of me, the control,
the one that is for you.

I've spared you the rest of that nonsense, but what amused me most was the description above the "poem"

It's about my first sexual experience - he said !!

The "poem" ends like this ....

If you see the spark in me and my strong desire,
believe, of that we can do and you can do,
the whole night,
when demanding in the order to believe to me.
The Elk will arrive soon.

Have I gone insane, or is that the most mindless bit of nonsense ever?

[ken]

They will probably give him some kind of award in Glasgow. Particularly as his tim'rous beastie, is an Elk and not a Moose.

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

[Lynnrose]

No, you're not insane, the poem is ridiculous, if you can call it a poem...post office, what's that about?

[ken]

I think while sheltering from the rain in the Post Office, he met someone who knew how much dynamite it took to blow up an Elk. He speaks the BB dialect, normally only heard in Broadmoor and Bedlam.

[elvisuk]

I am not into poems and that was not a poem as far as i know

[mikkh]

He was asking for opinions, so I duly obliged

It's absolute drivel of the highest order IMO.
I can just about live with non rhyming 'poetry' but that is disturbingly bad

I got to the 'post offices' bit and my head imploded with the absurdity of it.

Then a reply from one of the other inmates at the lunatic asylum

Watching Mikkh's head explode alone was worth the price of admission.

I wish you hadn't said it was about your first sexual experience, because that ties it together too much.

Very Ionesco. The fact that I can't shuffle the lines and make sense out of it really makes me deeply satisfied.

I look forward to the Elk by the end. I want to have the taste a second time.

That made me laugh out loud, and I particularly liked this bit

The fact that I can't shuffle the lines and make sense out of it really makes me deeply satisfied.

Oh dear, oh dear, and that person is probably walking amongst us, frightening!

[Lynnrose]

Amazing comment from the other strange person. I am not into poetry, but surely it has got to make some sense. It's a bit like abstract art etc, no point to it all, worth millions, but any one of us could do it

[ken]

One poem our resident Scots lass must love and doesn't make a lot of sense to anyone from south of the border.

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't.

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Or maybe thats why she chose to live in England

[Lynnrose]

My dad is Scottish and this is what I learned off by heart when I was a wee bairn. It was on a T-towel on the wall at home and my relatives always said it before drinking whisky..

May the best ye've ever seen
Be the worst ye'll ever see
May a moose ne'er leave yer girnal
Wi' a tear drap in his e'e
May ye aye keep hale an' he'rty
Till ye're auld eneuch tae dee
May ye aye be jist as happy
As we wish ye aye tae be

In English...

May the best you have ever seen
Be the worst you will ever see
May a mouse never leave your girnal
With a tear drop in his eye
May you always keep hale and hearty
Till you are old enough to die
May you always be just as happy
As we wish you always to be

[nocky2]

Beautiful. English as it should be spoken, or written even. That's made me homesick so I'm off back home.

[elvisuk]

"my relatives always said it before drinking whisky.." glad you side before drinking whisky LynnRose

[Lynnrose]

Lol Elvis...wonder what it would have sounded like after a few drams.

Cute animation Nocky

[buzzy]

Lol Elvis...wonder what it would have sounded like after a few drams.

As a fellow Yorkshireman it may have been something like,

"midadzgorrajag" - My dear Father owns a Jaguar Motorcar.

Or on Sunday in Church,

"gerrusimbux" - Would you please pass me the hymn books.

"shesezittintizburraberritiz" - She rather thinks the baby isn't her boyfriends, but I am inclined to disagree.

[elvisuk]

Well buzzy i am a bit worried as i understood every thing you was saying

[Lynnrose]

[ken]

The way this string went, it must be confusing the hell out of the Yanks. Its confused the hell out of me from the start, but I only speak 63 dialects of English.

[elvisuk]

Well i don't know wear he came from but it's not Yorkshire as i don't understand much of what he said

“
To be or not to be– that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep
No more – and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.[1]
”

[ken]

He was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon Elvis, but he made most of his money ripping off people at the Globe theater in London.

[elvisuk]

That explains it then KC ;D

[mikkh]

Well he died nearly 400 years ago (2016 will be the 400th anniversary of his death) so his language is a bit dated you might say

He was reckoned to have been born on the same day he died (St Georges day) but there is no concrete proof of that and it's just a common myth really. He lived to be 52 which was fairly normal in those days

[elvisuk]

He should of been a Yorkshireman he would of talk right then

[ken]

Yorkshire dialect hasn't changed in about 800 years Elvis. If he had gone to Yorkshire they would have thought he talked too posh and burnt him at the stake, or whatever they do to posh people up there. Its the only place apart from Wales where sheep stealing is still a hanging offence.

[elvisuk]

We feed them black pudding if they still talk posh after that we feed then trip that will cure them or kill them ;D

[ken]

I like my tripe fried with onions and tomatoes, lubbly jubbly.

[movieman36]

Is this all tripe which I see before me?
Come, unfold thyself
There on yonder brow a sheep
She awaiteth you...


Ode to a Yorkshireman/Welshman

Anon

[elvisuk]

That's a good one MM but what's a Welshman got to do with it? apart from his wellys

[ken]

Welshmen have got the same traites as Yorkshire Terriers Elvis, they like to chase sheep. They even put red dye on the backs of ones that kick.

[elvisuk]

OK KC i always wonder what the red dye was for