h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This may seem weird to you, but the concept of a Vogon druid had never entered my head until now. ... I wonder if my head will ever be the same again? I'm off for a cold shower!

Pattern-chaser

"Who cares, wins"

poems and verse, on any subject accepted, except any with bad language(gets yiped of course)





don't matter how either,everyone is unique, makes for the thread

The Babe With No Name

I have a new nephew called Zayn,
Who spent his first weeks with no name.
This he didn’t mind,
He trusted they’d find
A worthy one leading to fame.

He joined us a week or two early,
He was small; not at all burly.
Ten fingers and toes,
A rather cute nose,
His hair was quite straight, not curly.

We did visit him early one day.
Took a train and a bus, walked some way.
We took a car seat.
It was such a treat,
To see that he fitted OK.

We pray that he grows big and strong.
That he’s guided away from what’s wrong.
To the path straight and true,
Gains happiness too,
And contentment all his life long.

I know he will be guided in the right direction, he has his aunt on his side


welcome to the world, my little friend

Ah Yes. The sweet innocent aunt.

for better or for verse ??

You asked for worse verse ?

Selling faith by the pound.

It’s sin that sells, the Vicar said,
And hellfire and damnation.
Keeps the pews all filled up,
With a fearful congregation.

No, its guilt that sells, the Rabbi said,
And mother’s kosher nosh.
Give them one day off a week,
When they can dress up posh.

Jihad sells, the Imam said,
Don’t listen to that Rabbi.
It’s a pity about the alcohol,
So I’ll just have half a pint.

Harmony sells, the bald monk said,
And it’s the key to happiness.
The punters love the tantric sex,
Whilst wearing an orange dress.

Sex does sell, the priestess said,
If you just have the knack.
And no matter what the rede requires,
We all look good in black.

Bollywood sells, the Yogi said,
And the Kama Sutra too.
If you’d like another god,
We’re not short a few.

Freedom sells, said the medicine man,
And lots of drums and dancing.
So come smoke the pipe of peace,
And then we’ll all be trancing.

Magic sells, the wizard said,
It gives you a sense of power.
Oh I wish I lived in Crowley’s days,
With young virgins to deflower.

Leather sells, the heathen said,
And all the Viking gear.
The Chainmail undies chafe a bit,
But hey there’s lot’s of beer.

Stone circles sell, the druid said,
They’re mysterious and chunky.
But we tend to take too many herbs,
Which is why we’re all so funky.

You’ve nothing I’d buy, the atheist said,
Not clothes, nor sex nor grub.
But we all blessed him just the same,
And went off down the pub.

Blessings,
Matholwch /|\

that ain't worse, thats ace.

ps, I'm the last one, see you in the local

I enjoyed that!

Matholwich!
Best I have read in a long while.
Maybe because it does express *my feelings so well!
Nothing tops dealing with serious topics using a touch of humor and grace.


Welcome little oneyou have a wonderfully poetic Auntie.
I love being an Auntie.....

Manimal

OH dear - smiley alert!

Thanks Abbi.


Wow, Matholwch that is brilliant. Rhyme rhythm and meaning. Well done

poems and verse are nice, 's are better, thanks Abbi

My friend sits with me on the train,
And looks confusedly all around,
At the faces worn with care and pain,
Like a spiritual lost and found.

Through my eyes she bites back tears,
As in each soul she sees the source,
Of all the loneliness and petty fears,
Lack of belief in the living force.

For the Awen flows in fits and starts,
Dammed by despair and channelled by hate,
They don't know what troubles their hearts,
They've lost the way to the forest gate.

They cannot see through tear-frosted glass,
Life flashing past in man-made haste,
The sands of time are running fast,
And the truth they have not yet faced.

So my friend reaches out and touches some,
Turning thoughts to past loves and hopes,
To woodland walks in dappled sun,
And picnics held on grassy slopes.

Where childish dreams were not bound,
By adult cares and calls to reason,
Where understanding could yet be found,
That to each dream comes its season.

The jarring travail of the winter train,
Jolts them back to the world they've made,
Where dreams are lost to reason's reign,
And my friends touch does quickly fade.

So we walk on down the path,
Helping some to dream anew,
Losing more to reason's wrath,
Yet hope lies in that happy few.

So when you walk in reason's sway,
Carry her with you in your heart,
Feed the dreamers along your way,
Be strong, be happy and do her part.

Blessings,
Matholwch /|\

you and your words, enhance this thread, thank you my friend

The fields were green and damp
Across the grass tramped the tramp
Singing to the beautiful birds
Singing his mourful song.

On this bright day he had a calling
To sing of spirits falling
For they are going and gone forever more
And he is left tramp alone and sore.

The birds were cheerfully cheeping
But to him, they were weeping
On this bright day he was in the dark
And nothing could save his clinging spirit
As it slipped away, on the warm sunny grass.

What do you think?

lol xxx

spreadthelove

not my best, but i have lost a few, will hunt them down for you though!

not bad,

with this thread, it has to be peoples own wrote and each poem/verse makes this thread better, its worth reading from the start. Your welcome to post more

i did write it! So was it ok, or rubbish. i kinda liked some of the poems on here! Whe i have found my other poems, which i wrote on scraps of paper during boring lessons, i shall post them up!

lol xxx

spreadthelove

peace out loud.

I am not a critic, I enjoy reading all of them, the main thing is, that they are wrote by my friends

Thanks! I shall hunt them to the edge of the earth!

lol xxx

spreadthelove

except that the earth is round, but i shall find them anyway.