Bard Breath?
 

O tempura, o customs! I have a need to write an apologetic poem, slightly amusing if possible, about the tragedy of a late 20th century halitosis of mine (now hopefully held at bay); which (lest anyone not be informed) can be caused by undiagnosed GERD [gastric esophageal reflux disorder], spicy food, weak oral hygiene (is it I? No!), excessively sated male longing (is it I? Hardly), archaic marihuana smog (well, hardly ever), and malicious GERD. Do I repeat myself ? Very well, I repeat myself. Yet I lack ideas on how to breathe life into this aspirational poem. Thoughts, o Eratosphere carbon-based life-forms? I don't know if I can manage this project without pathos, bathos, and nachos.

There once was a fellow named Tice
whose GERD meant his breath wasn't nice.
No lozenge could mask it,
though his friends all would ask it.
I don't know if this helps, but as usual with Allen I'm not quite sure what he's on about although I've read his original post twice.

Ogden Nash would be proud, Simon.

I've moved this to Drills & Amusements, Allen, to comply with the "no poems on GT" rule.

I hope you get more offerings... but Simon's Nashian one has set the bar quite high! ;)

Jayne

The answer was simple, some say:
Not I, by a year and a day.
A lozenge, although fragrant,
Would've made me more flagrant,
So sorry! -- But I've no GERD today!

There's no way to retrieve the past,
Or bring close the people I gassed.
My ignorance weren't bliss:
I'd've stolen a kiss,
Risking slaps as though I'd trespassed.

But that GERD kept me virginal, pure.
Not what I needed, yet there was a cure.
Impulse would've prevailed
Then -- and today I'd get jailed!
GERD's ways are amazing, for sure.

I’m sorry, this has worried me to death
for all these years, but now I have to say:
“I used to suffer badly with foul breath.”
(At last I’ve plucked the courage up, today!)

It’s not an easy thing to tell your friends –
for halitosis tends to be taboo,
but now it’s time for me to make amends:
"Apologies if I offended you."

The elephant that’s in the room has gone.
I’ve finally admitted that I stank.
It’s not a thing I want to dwell upon,
but every time I spoke the air turned rank.

A miracle – my breath’s no longer gross,
so from now on it’s safe to come quite close!

Jayne, very good. If you still or ever have had this product in the UK (it is or was a type of breath mint), you should exult that you could title your work 'The Sen-Sen Sonnet, No. 1'. I would want a title for my lumbering limerick triode, except that it isn't as sublime yet as I want my holy halitosis apology to be. Still beating my head against the shower curtain.

Thanks.

Damn stuff didn't seem able to make up its mind whether it was mint or liquorice.

Did it work? Does Listerine?

Work, I mean.
.

Your stench, which even makes your stalkers scatter,
gains privacy served on a silver platter.

FIAT
The thread expressing such positions
about your breath, your weird conditions,
unfortunately, should not expect
my acquiescence in the least respect!
.

Erik, methinks thy stinks requireth inks or twitter links.
Methinketh too that "maketh" do dance better than thy "makes" for rhythm's sakes.

You, still dissembling away,
post but to keep the fools at play.

FIAT
The thread expressing such positions
about your breath, your weird conditions,
unfortunately, should not expect
my acquiescence in the least respect!

Erik, I come from the far future or else centuries before,
so my grasp of the when of whom I am talking to can miss the barn door.
That air of disstinktion flew from a craving to please.
All I wanted was gallantry, not to swing from the trees.
I failed to perfume or perform like Shakespearean heroes,
making ill wind blow good or bend ones out of zeroes.

Hey guys, if you're going to turn another thread into a Vanity Post, at least do it well. These last few stink. You'll have to do better, Allen, if you want to remain the brightest ten year old at the party.

Michael seems to have confused this with a workshop thread. In those threads, his insistence on high standards serves us all well.

I don't see any reason to be offended by Spherians having fun, regardless of how good or bad the resulting verse may be. From what I've seen, those who want to encourage quality in D&A do so by applauding the stuff they most like.

To Stink or Not to Stink

Bad faith and breath distilled as words
reek as the Asshole's latest turds.

His bardless breath, we have observed,
forms gastric fecal bombs he’s stirred

and greater logorrhea spurred
toward the Scatological Absurd,

where a gaseous mind makes words
from thoughts—as human food makes turds.

The silly party stinks less than the Pooper;
to pin some grievance upon every trooper,
he tries to join them like it was his class
but finds what children play is pin the ass.

FIAT
The thread expressing such positions
about your breath, your weird conditions,
unfortunately, should not expect
my acquiescence in the least respect*!

* The amusements’ chill shade after crit-overkill
is where sergeants-at-drills have their own stringent fill:
Wait till Cromwell invades your lax bacchanal
with a voice from the grave—absolutely anal.

I've done just enough to offend.
My purpose was rather to mend.
Mike thinks I don't care
For his air debonair,
But doggies will pant on a friend.

If he places his nose next my nozzle
I'll show he's much more than schlimazel.
With my voice that's now scented
With a drink I invented,
We'll bay in duets as we sozzle.

Those others who labor to score
With efforts I'll simply ignore,
Don't understand why
A boy such as I
Remembers things others deplore.

I've decided to also employ Porthos, Athos, and, of course, that manly manly manly scent, Aramis!

Sorry, guys, but I haven't changed my mind. Most of the stuff on this thread would barely have made it into the high school paper. There was a time when Drills and Amusements was not only amusing - but good. Someone would come up with an idea - and usually post a poem or two - and the emphasis was exactly the same as the Deep Drills section. Not just to post a poem, but to post the best, and usually funniest, poem possible. We still have some threads like that, but more and more often this Board is simply used as an excuse to post a poem, and then come up with a theme as an afterthought (not this case, Allen - but many others - you actually had a theme and no poem) and it becomes more and more of a Vanity Board. And occasionally I say something.

So - getting back to the Drills part of it, I'll give Ralph a D, Eric a D- (maybe "although it wasn't super-dooper" or something with "stupor" would help), and Allen a gentleman's C.

Lest we forget, I originally started this thread in General Talk as a call-out for ideas for a poem I contemplate, and I didn't include any verse. Then the thread was swept up by Fairy Godmother Jayne and suddenly I was resting unprepared and featherless amidst sharp drill bits, augers, etc. Thank you for your grade. I have often desired to post a grade on a deed of yours, but I'll rest my oars right now.

Participate, Vacate, and Shut Up
 

And we attribute stench to him
because he crits ad hominem.

But if the proctors cannot see it,
all I can say is holy sheeeeit!

It may come as a surprise to you, Rph. C. L., but I "ignore" on an individual basis too. Strike Three. Go roll in the sand for an inning or two, says your coach.