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Rhyming with Rosie


Ham
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"might in the earth your likeness beam, the sky would look, melt, shake and scream.."

:biglaugh:

moderators, feel free to put this wherever it really "belongs"..

:biglaugh:

One of "those" days here..

:biglaugh: :biglaugh:

Gonna have a poetry session in my literature class. Maybe I'll submit some of this stuff..

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Most roses are red,

Some Rosie's seem dead,

At least her southern drawl,

No longer gets in my crawl,

So glad I don't have to hear it,

or even be near it,

or indeed fear it,

I certainly don't endear it,

The Way of Rosie has no merit,

For they haven't Holy Spirit.

Just my humble thoughts if you will permit it!!!!!!!!!

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Here we have a figure of speech

Rosie thinks that she's a peach

Or we can use a metaphor

She munches carpet (not on the floor!)

What's that? You want a simile?

She looks like a chimpanzee.

I've stretched this poem long enough

I better go do important stuff.

:wave:

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The Guru of Ham requested rhyme

He seeks Rosie to malalign.

He needn't worry the task is light

For Rosie is her very own plight.

So, "Mirror, mirror on the wall.

Who is the fairest one of all?"

New Knoxville is not the place to look

'Tho queens may rule fools on a hook.

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Our friend Groucho makes a point.

Rosie can stink up the joint.

Her face is not the pretty sort,

Her eyes are dead, her teeth are short.

What ever where they thinking

When they thought she could save the cult from sinking?

Edited by doojable
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Man! ----Just when I was starting to feel good about leaving when I did, now I find I have nothing firsthand to bring to this thread. It does remind me of a funny OFF TOPIC story though. It seems I was having a conversation with a bluesman who had been around for a long time. I asked him why he thought audiences were able to relate so easily to him. He told me that early in his career, he decided never to sing about anything that wasn't real for him. "For example", he said, "I never sing about picking cotton because the closest I ever got to that was picking it out of aspirin bottles on Sunday mornings."

Darn! Now what rhymes with"hypocatastasis"?

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