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22085 Posts in 2155 Topics- by 216 Members - Latest Member: TrudaHannah

May, 22, 2012 - Loading...
LiteraryMaryWriting and Random Creativity Workshops Poetry and LyricsAunt Cecelia
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Author Topic: Aunt Cecelia  (Read 169 times)
paulfclayton
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« on: April 25, 2011, 04:41:26 PM »


Good old Aunt Cecelia
A lover of the arts,
She had a nice demeanour
But she did horrid eggy farts,

She suffered from her flatulence
At least umpteen times a day,
And if you stood too close to her
She’d take your breath away.

People opened all the windows
If she entered their rooms,
Some ended up on oxygen
From breathing up her fumes.

When she developed piles
The doctor had an awful task,
He bent down to examine her
And screamed for a gas mask.

This was many years ago
Aunt Cecelia is now gone,
She was only buried six feet deep
So there’s still a horrid pong.

« Last Edit: April 28, 2011, 04:39:57 PM by paulfclayton » Logged
 
Sana
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« Reply #1 on: April 27, 2011, 07:00:42 PM »


This was really funny, I mean farts and all, but I see an absolute absence of punctuation. Is that intentional or a hurried effort? Adding some commas and periods might set some structure to the poem.
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Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"

T.S. Eliot
--
VickieSALT
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« Reply #2 on: April 28, 2011, 04:17:43 AM »


except some format suggestion pointed out by Sana, the work is perfect. In a matter of fact so perfect and lucid, that it is a good alternative to a cold shower, which never works for me. Good luck at starting a new, aromatic page in life!!!
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paulfclayton
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« Reply #3 on: April 28, 2011, 03:40:39 PM »


thank you very much  Grin
Paul
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Sana
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« Reply #4 on: April 28, 2011, 03:44:34 PM »


Punctuated Smiley

Good old Aunt Cecelia
A lover of the arts,
She had a nice demeanour
But she did horrid eggy farts,

She suffered from her flatulence
At least umpteen times a day,
And if you stood too close to her
She’d take your breath away.

People opened all the windows
If she entered their rooms,
Some ended up on oxygen
From breathing up her fumes.

When she developed piles
The doctor had an awful task,
He bent down to examine her
And screamed for a gas mask.

This was many years ago
Aunt Cecelia is now gone,
She was only buried six feet deep
So there’s still a horrid pong.


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Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"

T.S. Eliot
--
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