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Your day was not nice.
The morning is harder.
The spa is filled with rice.
Definitely not fish tartar.
The heaters dryly heat
These little white grains,
Past the temperature of meat
But below the cooking of brains.
So following work you leap!
Directly
into this spa,
And sinking down deep,
You grab your loofah.
The heat it surrounds you
Anaesthetizing hurts,
Yet as long as your breathing is true,
All yer agony inverts!
It may smell a bit cereal,
But that lasts for a day,
From there it's mercurial
- depends how vigorous your play.
So - Just jump into these seeds,
Relax, you, and enjoy!
Forget those daily needs,
Imagine Helen of troy!
For she was all about rice
and Paris and Rome.
Torino was also quite nice
But this is best at home!
Rice packs
https://www.etsy.com/shop/theferriswheels
Current state of technology in this domain [mylodon, Nov 05 2017]
[link]
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//Your day was not nice.
The morning is harder.
The spa is filled with rice.
Definitely not fish tartar.// |
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This has to rank as the least ept piece of poetry of all time. |
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As to the idea - is the rice cooked or dry? |
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The concept of bathing in a vat of lukewarm rice pudding is one which we can unhesitatingly state that we wish had never been drawn to our attention. |
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I recall recently inviting someone to spend time sewn into a blanket, that was then immersed in week old porridge. |
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Yes, and there's a special place in Hell for you, and people like you ... |
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Not to give too much away, but it involves porridge ... lots and lots of porridge. Have you watched "The Road To Wellville " ? Remember Mr. Lightbody ? The man who was ordered to be "taken to the yoghurt room and given fifteen gallons ..." ? Eh ? |
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Well, very like that, except using porridge. And a mere fifteen gallons seems a piffling amount. |
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I've just had a call from the International Guild of Poets, Oders and Lyricists asking if I know [mylodon]'s address. |
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Don't you listen to the naysayers mylo.
I wrote the posting Thesaurusoetry, then somebody from here, (still no idea who), submitted it somewhere and I received a cheque in the mail for winning some poetry contest I had never entered. |
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Ha! and the tagline just read:
Like gliding backwards through porridge. |
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No, no ive been misunderstood.
The rice must be dry!
You can't in porridge breathe true
You'd clog up and die!
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Thesaurusoetry made my morning [+] |
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" I've just had a call from the International Guild of Poets, Oders and Lyricists asking if I know [mylodon]'s address.
— MaxwellBuchanan, Nov 05 2017 " |
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Are you certain it wasn't POEM ( Professional Order of English Majors ) ? |
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The thing about poems that rhyme
Is that they really ought to scan correctly all the time.
If a word doesn't fit
Then consider omitt-
ing it or leave until the next line. |
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I think someone needs to post an idea for a porridge
fountain. I already generated the baked beans fountain, so
the porridge is a natural successor. Leave it with me. (see porridge shower idea) |
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Are you sure this Idea is not about rice pudding for
cannibals? |
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