Mumsnet for Poet Laureate

[Swedes]

Please add a verse.

I see Queen Liz in her mother of the bride dress and coat ensemble,
Unchanged in colour and cut throughout her long reign,
Same old, same old, but new.

Her recession weary subjects battle on in tunics not from Primark,
Better an ethical tunic today and an Individual Voluntary Agreement later,
Than a Chinese child appliqueing a Western conscience.

The Grandsons, beyond the help of grade inflation, tsk,
And Waity Katy, what does she do?
Apart from wait, and cover her ears to calls for "doors to manual" from the thinning grandson's boozy chums.

Please add a verse/ write a new poem.

Oh, very good, George! What a bloody talented lot you are..

Diptique's Au jardin du dame Brasilia is less smokey.

(those candles are quite... pungent, aren;t they?)

[whispers...have I made her day just cos her name had the right number of syllables to scan?] Actually I did like her verse.

Grimma, she's gone to lie down and carefully consider her future, in verse.

I'm not in the least bit upset that you should prefer her verse. Hell no.

Swedes you must stop fiddling with your quiver. Think of your optometry bills.

lol (and faint nausea) at brazilians less smoky.

now I really must go to bed!

Good Lord.

We could sell more than Gina Ford.

Bravo Ladies.

LOWERS TONE

There was a young woman from mumsnet
Whose posts were filled with regret
She confessed to some smelling
In her deepest of dwelling
And forevermore was known as fishsweat

The sex, the gasp, the wee on a stick,
The sex, the gasp, the wee on a stick,
The sex, the gasp, the wee on a stick,
The sex, the gasp, the wee on a stick.

The waddling, nesting, guessing the sex,
The waddling, nesting, guessing the sex,
The waddling, nesting, guessing the sex,
The waddling, nesting, guessing the sex.

The panting, puffing, screaming fuck you,
The panting, puffing, screaming fuck you,
The panting, puffing, screaming fuck you,
The panting, puffing, screaming fuck you.

The bliss, the smell, the joy, the love,
The bliss, the smell, the joy, the love,
The bliss, the smell, the joy, the love,
The bliss, the smell, the joy, the love.

But I'll never have sex again.....

(more 'musical' than poem. It's meant to be read to the tune of 'the lips the teeth the tip of the tongue etc ala stage school)

Not by me, by my bestest friend.

TDWP, I love it. I think your bestest friend should get the job.

Swedes, George's circus poem is lovely. I would have said before, but I went to bed before you posted it. Without saying goodnight, how rude of me. Must have been the candles.

I spent a good deal of the night tossing and turning, excited by the poetry I might write today.

Do post some more poems Swedes. I'd love to read them, and it's fun.

I've got to do some work tonight. But I think we should keep this thread in our watched list and revive it whenever an important cultural or world-event moment arises. Or the urge strikes.
We are all exceptionally talented women.

Plus, I haven't written poetry since I was in love with Daniel Day Lewis at 13.