Jump to content

ODE TO SHATTAF


Recommended Posts

ODE TO SHATTAF


 

 A quandary as old as time itself,

 

You reach for the roll, but there's none on the shelf,



 

Scanning the room engulfed in panic, 

 

to mop the mess that was routinely volcanic. 



 

As your steamy behind sits engulfed in mush, 

 

Your wiry gaze spys the toilet brush. 



 

Alas tis too far for your arms to reach , 

 

As you flounder whalelike on a toilet beach. 



 

Whilst the bowl emits olfactory toxins,

 

You morosely consider your spiteful options.



 

Yell in shame to your wretched wife,

 

or chance your luck with a pocket knife.



 

Option B gets approval as you pray to Bog-God,

 

You'll only scrape muck and not draw any blood,



 

With the gloomy grin of a morose mortician,

 

Slowly you start your solemn mission.



 

But just before in deep you wade,

 

You catch a reflection in the steely blade.



 

Over you hip just out of sight, 

 

Beckons redemption glimmering in light. 



 

Merrily resheathing your swiss army sword,

 

You sing praises to the toilet Lord.



 

Glistening chrome with a flexible hose, 

 

charged with 3 bar pressure she blows. 



 

About to begin the washing game, 

 

steady your hand and take careful aim.



 

pull the trigger with a mighty whoosh, 

 

commences the act of the cleansing douche.



 

Chuckling as you splay and spray,

 

Gushing your defecation troubles away. 



 

Stand and shake with a euphoric howl, 

 

And dap the drips with the bathroom towel.



 

You exit the WC with a proclaiming laugh,


 

"CIVILIZATION HAS ARRIVED, ALL HAIL THE SHATTAF”


 

Iceverge 2022. 






































 

  







 

 














































 

  • Haha 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Quite unselfconciously, my sister used to sing on the loo. She never understood why we all roared when she sang Onward Christian Soldiers. 

Diaphram compressions helped formulate the correct emphasis: thats when my brother - a Shakespeare student muttered

 

Speak on Sweet Lips that never told a lie.

Families eh?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 hour ago, Dreadnaught said:

p.s. I could not think how to make that ↑ rhyming (I tried).

Poetry does not need to rhyme

 

When our daughter was younger I attended with her some function in a nearby community wood for parents and toddlers.  One of the tasks set was to compose some poetry about the wood.  Well I am not a poet, never will be, so to try and prepare for this task, we walked around the wood a bit writing down notes about the sounds we heard and the things we saw.  This was just random things like "the sound of an ice cream van in the distance", "A robin singing in a tree"  all stuff like that just written in the order it happened.

 

We "won" for the best bit of poetry and I was told it was a beautiful piece.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...