"gemme" poems - Hello Poetry

So aye We wir watchin that David Attenborough or tryin tae - fower weans tearin up the joint, an she's like, See if youse dinny shut it...! an aw that, ken - You no gonny tell thum? So ah'm like, "Aye. Wheesht, youse." But it wis amazin, like. These fish. Years oot at sea. Tiny wee at first, dodgin sharks an jellyfish an aw sorts, awa oot, miles fae land. (*God! Youse! Take it up the stair! Tell thum, you!* "Aye, boys. Listen tae yir ma.") Then wan day, like they get the urge, ken? Got tae go. An in they come, surgin fae the sea, these sleek, silver bullets fat wi feedin. (I'll no tell yis again!) Nothin, an ah mean nothing is gonny stop them. Waterfalls? Nae bother. Just pure hungry fir the lassies, ken? The boy Attenborough sais they dinny even eat! (*That's it! Ah tellt ye! Here you! Take some responsibility, wull ye?* "Eh? Oh, aye. Away tae yir rooms, boys - yir ma tellt ye.") These pure ***** divils will loup up sheer cliffs, baws burstin, bi the look ay it. Poetry in motion, ken? Like, ah dinny ken, pure water brought tae life, an that. Jist pure savage. An then, haw - they find the lassies! An it's jist, like, 'splurge'! Done the deed. Gemme ower, job done, deid. An there's this shot. Ripplin shallows, just fill ay the twitchin bodies. Craws an bears an that, queuin up fir the bonanza. Jist, like, totally spent. An she's aw, *Here, is that no terrible? Pair buggers! Eifter aw that!* An ah'm like, "Aye." But see inside, ah'm thinkin, "Lucky, lucky ********

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Mar 14, 2016

Mar 14, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC

alan-mcclure

Salmon

So aye We wir watchin that David Attenborough or tryin tae - fower weans tearin up the joint, an she's like, See if youse dinny shut it...! an aw that, ken - You no gonny tell thum? So ah'm like, "Aye. Wheesht, youse." But it wis amazin, like. These fish. Years oot at sea. Tiny wee at first, dodgin sharks an jellyfish an aw sorts, awa oot, miles fae land. (*God! Youse! Take it up the stair! Tell thum, you!* "Aye, boys. Listen tae yir ma.") Then wan day, like they get the urge, ken? Got tae go. An in they come, surgin fae the sea, these sleek, silver bullets fat wi feedin. (I'll no tell yis again!) Nothin, an ah mean nothing is gonny stop them. Waterfalls? Nae bother. Just pure hungry fir the lassies, ken? The boy Attenborough sais they dinny even eat! (*That's it! Ah tellt ye! Here you! Take some responsibility, wull ye?* "Eh? Oh, aye. Away tae yir rooms, boys - yir ma tellt ye.") These pure ***** divils will loup up sheer cliffs, baws burstin, bi the look ay it. Poetry in motion, ken? Like, ah dinny ken, pure water brought tae life, an that. Jist pure savage. An then, haw - they find the lassies! An it's jist, like, 'splurge'! Done the deed. Gemme ower, job done, deid. An there's this shot. Ripplin shallows, just fill ay the twitchin bodies. Craws an bears an that, queuin up fir the bonanza. Jist, like, totally spent. An she's aw, *Here, is that no terrible? Pair buggers! Eifter aw that!* An ah'm like, "Aye." But see inside, ah'm thinkin, "Lucky, lucky ********