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

Forgive me ma'am but I thought Germans
Were inordinately proud of their Germanic Soul
- that's why some of them are up the pole -
And so would recognise the Beauty
That lies in Poetry
Sublime -
Especially mine.

It would
be good
If you, such a promising inferior,
Really studied me - your rhapsodical superior
I do not (to servants and to women) ever mean to be unkind
But you must concentrate your pretty, feminine, mind.



Vergeben Sie mich meine Dame aber ich habe gedacht, dass Deutsch Waren übermäßig stolz auf ihre Germanische Seele
-deswegen einige von ihnen auf die Stange sind –
Und würdedeswegen die Schönheit,
Die in Dichtung Erhaben liegt –
Besonders meiner erkennen.

Es wäre
gut,
wenn Sie, so ein Versprechen minderwertig Wirklich hat
studiert mich –
Ihr rhapsodical überlegen
ich nicht (zu Dienern und zu Frauen) je bedeutet mache, ungefällig sein,
Aber Sie müssen Ihr hübsches, weibliches konzentrieren, Gemüt.


by The Hon. Algernon E. Crabtree

A toad
sitting
in a field

Sang an ode
while knitting
as he kneeled.

Sitting and kneeling - they do say
Hurts if tried simultaneously,

Shouldn't it be that
He was knighted as he kneeled as he sat?
- Much easier all round
If your knees must touch the ground

And more prestigious
Though admittedly
similarly
oddly
Humourous:

"Arise Sir Frog
and hop it
Back to your bog."


by Sam Giggles

If you accidentally sit,
As I once did,
Upon a toad,
Instead of the grass,
It's hard to expain,
To your mum,
The stain on the seat of your trousers.

From the
Abberant es Addicts
Bowdlerised versions.

I meant to say, Post 61 puts the rest of us to shame. Bad German poetry translated into English is quite something but the reverse is stunning. Permission to borrow for tomorrow's Casa Poetry Club (which I am trying to get closed down). It might do the trick!!

PS -
I know I am an awful typist
But 'ES' instead of 'PEW'
I think Pedantic must be pi**ed,
Whatever next will he do7

The Hon. Algernon writes:

Most gratifying, Mr. Pedant. I accept your admiration graciously. Would that there were more people who knew their place and had the good manners to show it.

Rebuked

I take the hint, and so it seem,
My knuckles have been harshly rapped.
An consider that, consensus deems,
I should desist and shut my trap.

Meine Herren, ich hoffe ihr sprachet im Scherz
Seid friedlich und macht keinen Terz.

Dear Sirs, I hope that in jest you spoke
Be peaceful and no strife evoke.

When dressed in just me vest I jest,
When dressed in just me pants, I rants,

Lâabis sleeb – bourhadis,
Lâabis garson – kenkhâasm

(alliterated Moroccan dialect)

by
PDCT - I want a bad beer

Algernon ist zu sensibel, um auch ästhetische Witz
Aber ich bin nicht (ich bin wirklich ein sehr netter bloke)

Algernon's too sensitive, too aesthetic to joke
But I'm not (I'm really a very nutter bloke)

Jab

I'm off. It seems these untaught menials
Demand that every genius be merely genial.

Hon. Algernon E. Crabtree.

Now that's the very least we can ask of thee

as the founder of Bad Poetry.

Wannabe Poet

Quite right Wannabe!
His verse was lousy,
As awful as can be.
Too bad even
For 'Bad Poetry'
And he had a Bad Attitude
To our company

He could never be
A really good poet, like you and me.

by Dorothy Evadne Prune

Nomen est Omen
so jedenfalls sagt
ein lateinisches Sprichwort
das ziemlich betagt.
Also bist du 'ne Pflaume
dear Dorothy E. Prune.

Nomen est omen
at least that is what
claims a Latin saying
which is old and odd
So you are a plum,
dear Dorothy E. Prune.

La plume de ma tante est bleu.
C'est l'evidence de mes yeux.
Si elle est vraiment orange,
Mes mots je vais mange,
Car je suis aveugle at vieux.

The pen of my aunt is blue.
At least it seems so in my view.
If 'tis orange instead,
I'll eat all that I've said,
And leave all the rest up to you.

by SPIKE MILLIAN

not lastnight but the night before
three tom cat's came knocking at the door
one with a trumpet one with a drum
one with a pancake stuck to is bum

the last bit of poetry
is to good for this thread
i should have waited and gone to bed

by fly

The pancake line certainly deserved to be in this thread.

Besides, I have extra maple syrup. Or, given the feline nature of the poem, maybe you would prefer catsup.

I fly through skies of celadon.
I see things grand and quaint.
She walks with just pajamas on.
Renoir just loved to paint.

i walk in to a door
that hurt's