It would appear (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/tayside_and_central/7402920.stm) that people may be prepared to pay good money for awful poetry. So is there anyone here who can outdo McGonagall, preferably on a running theme.
I'll start off with a homage to McGonagall's "Tay Bridge Disaster"
I did prepare for my first 10k
My trusty Garmin show'd the way
Despite my laces which had started to fray
(but lasted till well after race day)
and the chafing which took a bugger of a long time to heal.
Comments
pmpl
you are too clever for us SOG
Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink."
that is ace
i went and tried to do a tri
i trained enough to just get by
but on the day it was too hot
and a pb i did not got
More Lurker, more of your fine poetry sir
*picks up rotten tomato with a glint in her eye*
ooops,
Sorry Lurker
I ran I ran I ran I ran I ran
then I moved to Runcorn
Inspired by "The Miraculous Escape of Robert Allan, the Fireman" . To be read with a Scottish accent...
'Twas in the year of 2007, Sunday the eleventh of November
A date that for years to come many will remember
A host of sporty people assembled, but not to jog
They came to run in the famous Sodbury Slog
Just after the eleventh hour the hooter sounded
And hundreds of feet the streets of Sodbury pounded
But not for long on pavement smooth and hard
That ankles jarred and quiver'd those with ample lard
For 'cross the common these athletes swiftly sped
Eager for the slurry and mud that lay ahead
And soon, those whose lace tying could not match the sticky goo
The race would be completed minus a shoe
Across the fields of mud and yellowing grass
Gasping up the hills and sliding down on arse
The mighty runners ne'er deterred by slurry
(Save those who overdid it the night before with curry)
And so to the finishing line at Sodbury's famous secondary seat of learning
With aching knees for some, and muscles burning
Desperately in need of the weary legs to scrub
So into the Stygian murk of the communal hot tub.
I like to run
it is a lot of fun
I like to run fast
It is a blast
I is a poet
So here I am once again, it's race day
I glanced at me map, I'll know the way
I woke really early to get under way
and breakfasted on toast, cereal and a milky way.
The course is quite hilly so they say
and in one of the fields they are cutting the hay
I'm sure I can win it, you never know, I may,
Oh, there goes the hooter, sorry I can't stay.
Well, I'm back and what can I say,
It obviously just wasn't to be my day.
Pass me my muscle rub, no the gel not the spray
just look at me socks, they used to be white not grey
I listened to the marshall and I did obey
when he said keep to the left and I said "'ay?"
Then slid into a substance quite smelly and grey
Excuse me now but I lost me shoes in the clay.
I is not a poet and I knows it!
Oo, thank you very much.
Did you write the Sogbury one? I liked that! And Kitten's too, is that your own work?
And shimmy shimmy's is of an outstanding quality
In fact, I think we could all quite easily be poet loreal ... coz we're worth it!
Sadly yes, 'twas mine. I particularly liked the last line of KK's. Very much in the spirit of McGonagall.
Such eloquence, such passion....
And all so neatly summed up in just 3 little words!
With apologies to Wordsworth, and anyone who enjoys poetry:
I plodded slowly as a toad
That creeps and croaks o'er bogs and crags,
When all at once I saw a load,
A host, of Tesco's carrier bags;
Beside the road, caught in the trees,
Flapping limply in the breeze
Wow, there is real kwality on this thread.
I like SOGs latest one.
SoG - you are quite brilliant.
And did those feet in recent time
run upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Apple iPod
Banned or was it seen?
Hmmmmmmm, apologies to Mr Blake for this poor attempt!
Excellent, both!
Pity the sorrows of the poor runner,
To fail to get a PB really is a scunner.
As they run along the street,
They know they're likely to be beat.
And it brings them no joy,
To hear a shout from a very small boy:
"Call that running? Ye're miles behind the rest!",
As they wipe their sweaty face on their vest.
Kind people all, both great and small
Pity the sorrows of the running kind,
Whose tender parts are chafed, they sadly find;
Therefore we ought to be content with our lot,
And for the PBs we have got,
And pray to the Lord at night and also in the day,
To make our feet run swiftly on our way,
And be always willing to help fellow runners in their distress,
And the Lord will surely bless
And guard us by day and night,
For doing the things that we know to be right.
that's too good slo sho!!!
Closely based on "Sorrows of the Blind" by the great man himself! I have to confess to being a lifelong fan of his.