it's good.

A chipper poem indeedy.

Formulaic, yet I applaud the end it was impounding. 6

Intrinsic, full of rapture and I so enjoyed the last line for I too wished i would be picked to play football but sadly one was deemed too lanky for a central midfielder, so I brought the oranges on at half time. 8

Whenember would pull it off better, and I feel this is an Ode.

I too have just been shafted at the craft market for what i thought were a set of Royal Gloucester china tea cups, alas they are made in Madagasgar.

Not bad my boy but one cannot help mourning the use of 'beautiful' , you should only use this word as an introduction or crescendo or else overusing it makes it a tad cliched. Maybe if I just pull it against my wrist without pressing down the urge will go away The stanza above is your strongest. Thank you for obliging me with your effort. My vote: 6 Good day Sir

I left you a note in the suggestion box my darling.

Are you Poet and know it? this has his distinctive hall mark of castigating put downs. I found English teachers about as accessible as wading through glue, yet it made one laugh a little so 6 tank tops for you.

And the point is?

A Splendid Ghasel.

The opening line sounds like a voice over for a chick flick so lose that, Stanz 2 is the most interesting and I wanted more from it and it left me a bit frustrated for I see you have the potential for possibly a grandoise work. Sorry I wanted to 8 or 9 this but it needs more to it. ^6

1 finger, there's a lot of potent emotion here. weed out the typos. read it aloud, and smooth the rhythm. you want your lover back? make these words your surrogate until then. it's worth it, as you well know.

pimple. yes. excellent example of the genre.

Behold, the massive whitehead!

You are briliant, dealing out these dada postcards. I truly love them.

Dear PoemeRankers, This will be my last post on the website: www.poemeranker.com I came to this site, over one year ago, because poetry, for me at least, is the most powerful instrument for dealing with issues known to man. I was eager to showcase some of my finer works, and to learn from the many virtues and mastakes of the terrible poetes on this site. But the vile torrent of abuse that ensued can only be described as "unbelievably appalling". Still, I soldiered on. I continued to tackle the issues of the day with as much maturity and charisma as I could muster, bravely turning a blind eye to the perpetual onslaught of filth that bombarded my work on a fortnightly basis. "IDIOT", "HOMO", "DUNCE", "BALLS" - just some of the expletives I have had to endure, and for what? To have three of my poemes in the bottom 15. Pushed to the brink by the blundering efforts of bugger-loads of top notch dullards, I faced physical and emotional ruin. In a last ditch effort to extricate this site from the tangled web of immaturity that now runs wide rife, I wrote to nentwined (c.f http://www.poemranker.com/suggestion-browse.jsp?id=50725) demanding that a Maturity Award be purchased and presented, with immediate affect, to my good self. This award represented, in my opinion, the final bastion for what little maturity remained on PoemeRanker. My application was rejected. Whittled away to mere husk, I write to you now in my sixtieth year. The marauding criminals of www.poemeranker.com have had their fill, and my strength remains sapped like a massive nappy. My beloved Maturity Award has become the object of shame and ridicule at the hands of hooligans whose names don't bear mentioning here. There is little left to live for; this is the beginning of death. Let us pause and reflect a moment. A broken man stands alone in a field. The cool breeze billows pleasantly about his shining groin. He turns, naked, and walks into the distance. To follow would be folly; we can only stand and mourn the loss of the darkest of all poetes. "For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night." We'll withdraw now, as he slowly disappears among the tall sheaves of rice.

Who exactly do you think this would piss off? The Canucks? They already hate Yanks and looking at the poem would assume that you are one. Besides you blame all their problems on the Frogs. They do that anyway, and you're helping them. The their in the that part of the poem could easily mean the French Canadians' flag. I repeat, they don't like the Frogs. So I ask again, who are you pissing off? Who ever gave the 3 votes with too much generosity.

My, it's been a long time Mrs God - I really like this, especially the 'ass-hat' and the conspiratorial feeling at the end.

MUHAHA...perfect