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Forum Index > Groups, Guilds, Clubs, and Services > The Prestigious Poets
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Author Thread Post
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 10:34 AM Post #21
Hating puns is a PUNishment within itself.
What do you call a pile of cats?
A MEOWntain!

Don't let me write poetry when I'm angry:

Roses are red,
There's fluff in your head,
I hate your guts,
I wish you were dead
(I'm not writing about you, Shardstar8, so please take no offense.)


Edited By Nafariaandulin on 5/8/2017 at 10:41 AM.
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 10:36 AM Post #22
Lysie's my husband.
We changed our names to Lysandre and Augustine while we were dating... Perfectworldshipping is real!
We're pokemon nerds... lol
Xenios
Level 68
The Tender
Joined: 8/3/2016
Threads: 114
Posts: 2,151
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 10:47 AM Post #23
lol...that's really cool. how long have you been married?
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 11:07 AM Post #24
About a year.
Shardial
Level 70
The Perfectionist
Joined: 2/12/2017
Threads: 62
Posts: 1,991
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 2:35 PM Post #25
NO PPPPPPUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Don't worry, no offense taken)

But still. PUNS ARE EVIL!!!
Edited By Shardstar8 on 5/8/2017 at 2:37 PM.
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 2:37 PM Post #26
Shardial
Level 70
The Perfectionist
Joined: 2/12/2017
Threads: 62
Posts: 1,991
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 2:55 PM Post #27
No axes!!! No acts!!! No kindness!!! But most of all, NO PUNS!!!!!!!!
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 2:59 PM Post #28
A Coffee Merchant was the first man to find,
The corpse as he started off on his daily grind!
What he saw filtered through, so he had grounds
To send for the Police, to investigate what he'd found!

He'd found the corpse lying by the side of a well,
It didn't look too good, which was not hard to tell,
For it showed no signs of life. In fact looked dead!
We have a grave situation here, the undertaker said!

We must lay out the facts so all can see,
How to solve this man's death, shrouded in mystery.
Let's uncover any secrets that might be buried,
He's dead, there's no cause to be quick or hurried.

First there are several litres of blood by the head.
But no regular marks of shots! No lead!
A young attendant said he was likely gassed,
For by his pumps, earlier, he'd driven past!

A gardener, wondered if he'd forked over money for "weed"?
And spade work from the police, this case would need
If Junkies had planted him here as they passed!
Maybe they'd dug up, that the man had grassed?

Next a plumber ventured the man had been plugged.
Or with a piece of lead pipe, fatally slugged?
And the facts were fitting, for his elbow
Had been trapped in the drain below?

A chisel faced carpenter, who was getting bored,
Next hammered at facts and saw dust others ignored.
Thought it was plain, to nail the culprit down
They shouldn't rule out all footprints found.

A shoemaker with a brogue stopped by at last,
But quickly turned right and left again fast
Showing a clean pair of heels, well polished.
So the case against him was demolished!

The cloth maker next, said he couldn't believe,
The twisted yarns that people could weave.
That they were warped and cobbled was clear,
And a pattern was surely beginning to appear.

The boat maker then came and put in his oar,
Said it was not plain sailing, then keeling o'er
Gave a sigh and collapsed on the deck!
Submerged in grief, the man was a wreck!

The clockmaker came next. They'd had to wait.
His hands were on strike, and so he was late!
He was old. He'd seen his Spring long ago.
But to wind it up, this man he didn't know!

A fisherman they netted, was caught on the fly.
Had a terrible cast, in his one real eye!
Speaking with barbed tongue, he spun a line to state
His views. After weighing the facts, they rose to debate.

So one after another, the artisans came through,
With their own pet theories, convincing and true.
Until the truth emerged later, when his wife came by,
And told those gathered, how her man came to die!

That he never died of natural causes is a fact.
But he's only himself to blame for this dreadful act!
His death came about by his continual persecution
Of the English language! "It is fit retribution!"

The cause of death was extreme paronomasia!
For he lived in a world of literary dysphasia.
After murdering language for years in fun.
With alliteration and rhyming, then bad puns!

His end was coming for all to see, it was clear,
And although I loved my man, and held him dear,
The end results of all his atrocious punning,
Was a blow to his intellect! Fatally stunning!

You my friends, who are gathered here today,
Please remark upon what I have to say.
If you make puns of the language you speak,
It will leave your articulation weak!

One day when epigrams flow, you're fluently witty,
A repartee, or double entendre, with no pity
Will coup de gras your bon mot, and end your fun!
And you'll fall victim to a violent vengeful pun!
Edited By Nafariaandulin on 5/9/2017 at 9:00 AM.
Shardial
Level 70
The Perfectionist
Joined: 2/12/2017
Threads: 62
Posts: 1,991
Posted: 5/8/2017 at 3:03 PM Post #29
NOOO!!! NO PUNS!!!!!!!! DX *suddenly smiles hugely* AWESOME POEM!!!!!!!!!! XD *glares again* That is, it would be awesome if there were no puns. XP

Edit: Though seriously, amazing poem!

Edit #2: *claps wildly* I. Love. The. Ending. So. AMAZING!!!!!!!! XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD
Edited By Shardstar8 on 5/9/2017 at 3:35 PM.
Nafariaandulin
Level 57
Fright Master
Joined: 1/10/2017
Threads: 102
Posts: 3,672
Posted: 5/9/2017 at 2:58 PM Post #30
The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd

A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun

They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audiences grasp

Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jesters charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells

I can do this once more and for all she convinces her mask
I may crush my persona for no one to see grimace or not

Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen

Fools cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
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