Bad Pipe Poetry

[Houtenziel]

WK, I think your poetry is a little to amazing for a "Bad Pipe Poetry" thread.
I was expecting something more along the lines of:

All the roses are dead,
The violets turned black,
For the Dunhill is gone,
And will probably never come back

Or maybe:

The FDA did regulate,
And filled our hearts with burning hate,
They keep on changing the deeming date,
So we shall never know our fate

[Whalehead King]

WK, I think your poetry is a little to amazing for a "Bad Pipe Poetry" thread.
I was expecting something more along the lines of:

All the roses are dead,
The violets turned black,
For the Dunhill is gone,
And will probably never come back

Or maybe:

The FDA did regulate,
And filled our hearts with burning hate,
They keep on changing the deeming date,
So we shall never know our fate

You've got me beat, hands down, Houtenziel.

Poetry is in one's heart
The way a pipe's in one's hand.
Don't let your talent go dark
When you have an empty pipe stand.

Write what you feel and write what you know
We're all in this together.
Write what you want and write what you feel
'Til dottle is all that's left from a pipe bowl's dead ember.

Bad pipe poetry is a state of mind
We're not good judges of it.
Good pipe poetry is like the smoke itself.
It is gone and disappeared before we even know it.

Brothers of the briar are lit by the muse's fire.
They scribble and rhyme until they run out of time,
And until they run out something to say....

At the end of the day, we do what we may,
Trying to make the world better through pipe smoke and letters.
If I can take a tip from the pipe poet Wooda, which I shoulda, if I coulda....
Refrigerator.
Haiku.

[Wooda]

WK posted the worst composed pipe related "poem" ever posted to the interwebs as soon as the thread opened, and it won the thread.
He now has license to post whatever the heck he wants, even if it rhymes

WK, I think your poetry is a little to amazing for a "Bad Pipe Poetry" thread.
I was expecting something more along the lines of:

All the roses are dead,
The violets turned black,
For the Dunhill is gone,
And will probably never come back

Or maybe:

The FDA did regulate,
And filled our hearts with burning hate,
They keep on changing the deeming date,
So we shall never know our fate

[Whalehead King]

WK posted the worst composed pipe related "poem" ever posted to the interwebs as soon as the thread opened, and it won the thread.
He now has license to post whatever the heck he wants, even if it rhymes

PSF...
PSF...
Does what no other effing forum can.

Is it strong?
Listen, Bud.
It's got cellared gooper blood.

Does it swing or is it dead?
This isn't a figment in your head.
Look out!
Here comes the PSF!

In the chill of night,
You've got a question about a tin and what's in it.
Like a steak of light,
You'll get an answer in a couple of minutes.

PSF...
PSF...
Friendly neighborhood PSF.

Wealth and fame, this forum has ignored.
Enjoying good company and good pipes are their own reward.

Whenever you have a question,
Don't be afraid to mention.
There'll always be an answer,
From some other tobacco fancier.
You know you'll have a friend,
at the end of each forum thread.

----Look out for PSF!!!!!!!

Loosely adapted from memory. Keep the following music in mind when you read the above. That's the music I had in mind when I wrote this ode to PSF.

[Whalehead King]

WK posted the worst composed pipe related "poem" ever posted to the interwebs as soon as the thread opened, and it won the thread.

It's not about winning or losing. As I said at the beginning, I don't really want to flood this thread but this is something that is in my wheelhouse of skill sets. Writing nonsense is something I do for a living. I enjoy reading everything that has been and will be posted here and I look forward to more "bad" pipe poetry. I'm gonna take a break from posting on this thread because I really can flood it with nonsense that isn't worth reading. I should be flooding other threads with folderol (Look out Fr. Tom!). I apologize for the firehose of stuff that has wasted everyone's time to read it here thus far.

Please keep up the poetic fires burning, ladies and germs, and keep this thread going strong. Arturo was onto something when he started this and I do not want to commandeer it. It's a great idea. Set the pipe muse free.

In the spirit of Muriel Hauptmann, let loose!

[arturo7]

I was seven when I had my first cigar

My mother told me not to smoke it in the car

I pleaded Why? Why? Why?

My dad said “Please don’t cry,

You can light it when we get inside the bar”

[MikeDennison]

I was seven when I had my first cigar

My mother told me not to smoke it in the car

I pleaded Why? Why? Why?

My dad said “Please don’t cry,

You can light it when we get inside the bar”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

[Whalehead King]

There has been a shortage of poems on this heartfelt thread.
I think it's too early to declare this thread dead.

If anyone has any rhymes to share,
They are invited to do it, if they dare.

Pipe smokers are poets in their own way,
They don't always say it; they do what they may,

They exhale, they puff, and they fiddle with their pipe tool aerator spikes.
We knows what we loves and we knows what we likes.

Come whatever will come, there's some things we'll always hold dear
And those are the words that have been written earlier here.

Thoughts and musings drift on pipe smoke, we all know that.
Sometimes the muse is M79 and then all the poet can say is, "Drat!"

Good things can come from Mixture 79
But many people don't think they're really all that fine.

Toppings and room notes and flavor profiles be darned,
It's not every day that a pipe poem is born.

----Until the next poem is published, keep the faith, fellow Brothers of the Briar!

[MikeDennison]

"All ya need is smoke!"
(da da dadadahhhhh)
"All ya need is smoke!"
(da da dadadahhhhh)
"All ya need is smoke, smoke...
smoke is all ya need."

(With apologies to the Beatles. And can somebody please tell me why, with lyrics like that, they were/are considered to be pop music geniuses?)

[arturo7]

As I sat down to play my kazoo

One of the few things I know how to do

A man with a pipe

Let out a gripe

You’re doing it backwards, Magoo!