I started writing poetry the other day:
That's coming along nicely.
I dig, you dig, we dig, he digs, she digs, they dig.
It's not a beautiful poem, but it's very deep.
There once was a man called Hawking,
Who got very bored of walking,
He got on a scooter,
Attached a computer,
And now it does all of the talking.
Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense
The difference between poetry and prose:
A woman at the seaside
Walking on the front
Went into the water
It came up to her knees.
That's prose, if she had gone in another foot it would have been poetry.
Roses are brown,
Violets are brown...
Okay, who shat in my garden?
Writing a poem
in seventeen syllables
is very diffi
Roses are red,
Violets are red,
THE GARDEN'S ON FIRE!
Roses are Grey, Violets are Grey.
I'm a Dog.
And when they were up, they were up,
And when they were down, they were down.
I'm no doctor but sounds like the Grand Old Duke of York's men were bi-polar.