Good evening fellow reds fans. Has anyone ever written any poetry? Georgio and I joined an online class via zoom last September and have really enjoyed it. I would welcome any critique and comments. Homage to Fromage By george spicer The greatest of all the trees if pressed would be the olive tree. Surely, created by mother nature. At a place where the Aegean Sea, stretches out to meet the land of Crete. Nature has bestowed upon her a majestic tree with a warm climate with rich fertile lands. Alas, there’s something that beats the glorious olive and that’s a pile of cheese. Cheese, cheese glorious cheese.
Ode to Lockdown - a haiku, by Tyketical Masterstroke Imprisoned at home By a fuckwit government Utter wankspangels.
There's some matelots in Portsmouth on the look out for you George. Way hey and up she rises, and all that.
All this talk of cheese, gouda and brie, The humble olive, gastric juices run free, Freshly baked bread, a table set outdoors, Kindred spirits, a friend, maybe paramores, The sun's warmth upon a face, nothing nicer, A postcard, a scene, set by our own George Spicer.
Mary had a little skirt, the split was up the side and every time she wore the skirt, the boys could see her thighs she also had another skirt, the split was at the front, she never wore that one though
Oh Bobby Hassell, Bonny art thou Booby and how, You make me aroused like a voluptuous pair of. Follicles red, the first rays of morning sun oer a deserted beach, Reflecting on an Atlantic sparseness never explored by the loan forward who flies like the bald eagle from Monk Bretton top. And now my heart pines and words dry up. Like the regal Mido prostrate cycles on, Perspiring fibres no more to give.
As I sat upon the the toilet seat It’s cold surface I’d not even had time to heat Barely had I rested my bum when I heard me dad shout, Hurry up am bustin Ez tha Dunn
There was a priest He was a beast His name was Ebaneezer He had a pr*ck ten inches thick My god it was a Beezer He tried it on a gipsy girl Her hair as black as charcoal But in the dark He missed his mark And stuck it up her arsehole
Ode to George Spicer... By Richard Kell It's been claimed that you'll never meet nicer Than George of the family Spicer Flamboyant and free With his olives and brie He mashes his spuds through a ricer Richard Kell - not nearly as prolific as he once was, but still s4lt
Through the back alley, into the deepest recess Plunged into darkness Sticky and warm Comfortable, but torn Is this what you expected? Neglected, the long tool Grab it, own it, make it go off Spoff
