Am I Being Poetical?

[OTheHugeRaveningWolef]

At this time of year it is seasonable
For opinions twatty or treasonable.
But could it be time
To declaim them in rhyme?
Mumsnet, am I being unreasonable?

only ever
for if it is not
why?

'O buggery balls', the OP said. 'It started out so well.
A lovely thread of poo are tree, all intelleck choo ell.
But then the haikus started, and free verse began to run
and when I clicked on Threads I'm On I realised what I'd done.

You lot. So fucking arty. My doggerel's no use
Against a slew of smartypantsicaceous verse, abstruse
And dripping sly allusions, skipping past my vain
Attempts to make my mezzobrow pass vaguely for a brain.'

'I like my pomes to rhyme,' she sighed, 'is that so VVU?
It seems it is; that's past; it's just no longer what pomes do.
Instead, acrostic FUCKING CUNTs and suchlike won the field:
this Ancient's done; the Moderns won; respectfully I yield.'

Oh Wolef, lay your head down here
Your fleece is still much prized
The Doggerel, though not modern
Still has worth in many eyes

The au courant & fashionable
Always will have its day
But people thirst for what they know
& their opinions sway

Leave your acrostics at the door
Your middlebrow's safe here
A rhyming couplet I'll give you
If you'll lend me your (admittedly hairy & wolf-like) ear

OP
You started a thread
Like a thread
Unravelling
From a button
On a Primark Blouse.

OP
The thread
Loosened, like a bowel
After
A dodgy Chinese.

And now
OP
You cannot abide
The truths of your disciples.

BUT!
OP!
You are our Pope;
Our Shakespeare;
Our Wagner!
(Without the Nazi connections,
Though you do have your moments.)

Our words spring from yours
Like ghastly spiders
From an infected wound
In a bollocks urban myth.

(A myth is not
An unmarried woman
With a lisp.
This was
Another lie
The patriarchy pushed.)

After all,
What does OP stand for?
Opening Poster?
or
Opening
Possibilities?

Thank you.

THANK YOU.

Thank You

I bow to you Belle
A stream cracked in the middle
Of my mind, I yield

Oh, wolef, wolef in the wild
why are you so appealing?
could it be that left alone
our intellects are reeling?

We sit at home and think of chores
we all should turn our hands to.
But what we really want to do
is show off what we can do

Womanhood has been released
by your kind intervention
so please assume your wolefy role
of female emancipation!

That's kind. My hairy ear is yours. I'm not yet mutton jeff,
Just out of fashion. But I must insist: not wolf, wolef.

I will arise and go now, and flounce loudly,
And return, daily, to see have I been missed:
This modern poet?ree hurts my head,
(I suspect the authors are pissed).

And I shall have some peace then, for peace comes dropping slow,
Peace to shop, to cook, to clean;
To vacuum, dust, mind my children,
Remind them what pushy parenting means.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the lure of the internet, calling me to play
How can I flounce completely, I?m asking you in song?,
How can I leave you posting here, so many of you wrong?

You?re asking AIBU? I feel you need to know
You?re being just so very U, I simply cannot go.
I have to stay and argue, with the trolls, the dim, the fighty
Cos whatever else about MN, the craic is always mighty.

Wolef, wolef
As Snoop & Belle say
You are lupine wild
You have released our inner muse
& let our keyboards wild
You are lycanthropist
I YELL - PLEASE FREE MY WOLEF CHILD.
I thank you as do others
For freeing me from the mild.

need you more encouragement?
ever, let me say,
vanquished is the meek at heart
even for a day,
raise your spirits ,
gird your loins,
overcome the weak.
often will you falter
gather strength to you
let the doubters fall aside
each to their own path.
do the best you can
regroup when you may
anyone can post on here
guess the piggies weight
ovaries are fickle things
no one understands
but we do our best to help
under stormy skies
tell me, wolef,
tell me true
everyone must know
realistically, right now, is she a fucking cow?

Once upon a time
There howled a
Hairy beast.
Ears sharp and quivering,
Heart pounding,
Unlike any seen before.
God among women,
Ere they sang
Raucously
And worshipt her
Very footsteps.
Enough! Cried she, for she had
Not long been off the booze;
Indeed, twas
Nary a day passed without
Gin.
Woe is me, she sobbed
Over and over,
Long after the
Electricity had died.
For she had not MNed for days.

O Belle, thou of the smeggy end (Or not)
Tis rare in such text-laden times as ours
When all finesse of language is forgot
And now we LOL where once we pluck'd the flowers
of Shakespeare's tongue, or Wordsworth's, yet to see
Upon this glorious thread, a post so pure
So finely-tuned in raucous levity
To wreck the remnants of my pelvic floor;
But there. You are too funny. Oh, pea emm
Ess ell, you know, that lying acronym
Liv'd out in truth, on reading yours
Perhaps I should spend more time in the gym.
I've learned one can be funny in free verse.
For that, thanks. For my soggy knicks, a curse.

Ayboo.

It trips,
Like a globule
Of spittle
Off my furry tongue.

Ayboo?

About my MIL?

Mil is the Welsh word for a thousand:
A thousand horrid MILs
Buying used knickers
(size 26)
For lovely DiLs
Who took them to Centerparcs.

What hags.

Ayboo?

About my DH?

Who looks at Pamela Anderson
And doesn't say she's
Ugly?

PIGGY!
Leave The
BASTARD

Ayboo?

About my PFB?

Who was given detention
For blowing up the school?
Was he not clever
To use his chemistry set
So?

And Ayboo?

For not knowing
Whether to follow the dragon (butter)
Or the Wolef?

Ayboo?

AYBOO?

AYBOO?

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled,
Saying 'Mumsnet, please, AIBU
This ship was manned with 40 crew
Who at first sign of trouble flew
Claiming they had 'time in lieu'.
Should they have stayed and helped me put this fire out instead?

The fur
Upon your Wolef's back
Is matted;
The tangle of pubes
In my plughole.
Oh!
How I wish I'd kept it.

To knit myself
A Wolef's scarf
With your fur
And my ginger pubes.
It would look
Like Tom Baker's scarf
When he was Doctor Who
(except that his
Probably did not
Smell of minge.)

And this scarf
Would rest upon
My coat of many colours.

Well.
Not many colours
Exactly.
More black
white
and grey.
With trees
Spreading their branches
Over my shoulders.
A bit like my nan's
Varicose Veins.
(not on my shoulders.
They are on her legs.
On her calves,
to be precise,
Which is funny
Because she lives on a farm,
And they have calves,
But that's not the sort I mean.)

Yes!
I shall carry your Wolef's head
On my garments.
And when I am very annoyed
Like when people are walking
Very slowly
In front of me on the street,
Or when people write
There instead of they're,
I shall howl
Wolef-like
Until they run away
Or call
The police.

Arrest me, officer,
For my crime is to love a wolef.

Love.

LOVE.

Love

ffs BE get a grip
your family are all scary
leave the bastard, call the helpline
just stay strong and wary

we're all here for you throughout
as long as you drip feed us
details that are juicy and you
promise not to mislead us

take our judgy-ments with grace
we'll share your pain whatevah
remember - leave the bastard
and you will feel more clever

or we'll set AF on your sorry arse.................

Oh I always wanted a gunt
not the kind that covers your cunt
just a bit of belly flab to fiddle with and swing around.

I'd give it a vajazzle
what a little bobby-dazzle
what a luvverly way to draw attention from my double chin
but I'm much too thin

do not go gentle into that good night
rage, rage against the fucking lego on the stairs

I remember, I remember
The river of sweetcorn,
Shiney?s penguins and that
Other one, just who the fuck
Was Anna?
She Who Must Not Be Named;
Reversing captions on cardboard

I remember, I remember
The cube of poo,
The DH in his dressing gown--
Dropping nuggets on the stairs!
The coloured Lego in
The Alimentary Canal
The pom-bears for dinner
But feeling queasy now

I remember, I remember
The trolls, the many:
The Good, the Bad,
The oddly hilarious.
The downright malevolent:
Batshit crazy, like
A Bat in a T Shirt

I remember, I remember
More than all this
The In-jokes and the Gone-threads
From hairy-handed truckers
Pedlars and the Speziale,
Wolefs and Terry Wogan?s Cock.
I remember, I remember,
Enough not to get sniffy with people who
Remember much more than I do.
I remember that it?s not an In-joke if you join in.