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  1. Banzai

    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Weekly Poetry Contest (188) - Black Irony

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Apr 2, 2012.

    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Eighty Eight

    It's that time again!

    The Rules
    • All entries must be on the set theme.
    • Only one entry per member.
    • No editing of entries once posted without my express permission (i.e. PM me and ask).
    • Poems must be titled
    • Entries must not have previously posted on the forums, and are not permitted to be posted for critique until AFTER the contest is completed.
    • Any violation of these rules will result in disqualification of entries, and possibly infraction.

    I'm going to be away and very busy over the Easter period, so this contest is going to be open for double the usual time. So the entry stage will be open for fourteen days, closing on Monday 16th April 2012.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 19th April 2012.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of Dullener) Black Irony

    The next (189th) contest's theme will be (courtesy of Soulfighter-123): Loneliness, and it will be opened on Monday 16th April.

    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing.


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
  2. superpsycho

    superpsycho New Member

    Feb 28, 2012
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    Virtue in the Blackness

    Does it matter if you are white, black or grey?
    Not to me, I can honestly say.
    Does it really matter if it's day or night?
    No, why should I care if dark or light.
    Does it matter if sky is bright or dreary?
    Not really, I can still be cheery.
    Is it by virtue I leave these cares behind?
    No, just simply a case of being blind.
  3. RowenaFW

    RowenaFW New Member

    Apr 7, 2012
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    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Made a most interesting study of everyone’s feet.
    Whether stockinged or shoed, fluffy or bare,
    Professor Ship-Shapely watched them with care.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Looked at every foot he happened to meet.
    Stone feet and bone feet, furry and bird;
    And not from his lips would a sound be heard.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Would sit for hours and hours, looking at feet.
    He would frown and would smile and would not say a thing;
    Then Professor Ship-Shapely would declare like a king:

    That the feet of this person, told him that he
    (For they told him the gender), was 6 foot and 3.
    He worked as a barber and had seven dogs;
    All from the Professor examining clogs.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Would go on to say that this lady was neat.
    She foretold the future; had an arm made of steel;
    He knew this, of course, by her angular heel.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Would tell us some more things; indeed he would bleat!
    Then all of the listeners, would clap - he was right (!),
    And say that he seemed to have a sixth sort of sight.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Was sent all over the world, to strangers to greet.
    Down, under their ankles, he’d grimace and glower,
    And know them insides out, in less than an hour.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Was given a prize for his knowledge of feet.
    He was chuffed (how he grinned), but he just couldn’t speak (!):
    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat.

    Professor Ship-Shapely-Muffetonbleat
    Had a rather fantastic obsession with feet.
    So, before he himself died and his knowledge was lost,
    He cut off his own and sent them out to be glossed.
    1 person likes this.
  4. -oz

    -oz Active Member

    Jan 20, 2011
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    The Great Sandy Waste

    Black Irony: he is my cat, that royal
    Whatever, he just sleeps all day, that furry, lazy bum.
    1 person likes this.
  5. Malisky

    Malisky Fuzz Overdriver Contributor

    Apr 11, 2012
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    The Middle of Nowhere The Center of Everywhere
    Black Irony is Now

    There's a joy in cheapness I embrace
    It forms black coals into a maze
    All shiny walls that lead you
    To Nowhere in Particular.

    How they love to hate what I enjoy
    It turns a man into a boy...
    Be little me.

    Black irony is joy.
    Black irony is now.

    Sick of crystal food I can't enjoy
    I take a turn to smoking
    Spicy flavoured ciggarettes,
    That curls the mind into a bow.

    How they love to try and take a place
    Into a war with such a grace...
    Learn to be grace.

    Black irony is how.
    Black irony is now.

    Tears of laughter melting on a face,
    That pretty soon will get replaced
    By other fools, that target
    To be the face of the replaced.

    Sorrow has no use into a world
    That crumbles down, with such a grace...
    Oh, what a grace.

    Black irony is back.
    Black irony is now.
    1 person likes this.
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