Davina, darling, you've made 2!!

No, I mean 2 threads!

OK, as you requested: 1 very bad poem from moi!

The flirty shirt, the dirty shirt,
The shirt that makes him hot,
The taut shirt, the naughty shirt,
The shirt of …

It's actually . . .
(That's what we say at school when we're pretending to be good and not say S.E.X.)
Oh, and it makes it rhyme.

Last edited by Molly Hooper (June 30, 2012 10:26 pm)

This is a nice poem by a prominent Sherlockian named Vincent Starrett.  The poem is written about the vintage gas-light Holmes but it captures nicely the friendship of the two and that timeless place called  221B Baker Street. There's a yearning in this poem to escape to this wonderful place of the imagination as the world is torn apart by war and horror.

Here dwell together still two men of note
Who never lived and so can never die:
How very near they seem, yet how remote
That age before the world went all awry.
But still the game's afoot for those with ears
Attuned to catch the distant view-halloo:
England is England yet, for all our fears—
Only those things the heart believes are true.

A yellow fog swirls past the window-pane
As night descends upon this fabled street:
A lonely hansom splashes through the rain,
The ghostly gas lamps fail at twenty feet.
Here, though the world explode, these two survive,
And it is always eighteen ninety-five.

OK here's mine:



Afghanistan and all I’d meet
Was naught compared to Baker Street
The limo rides to dark garages
All those post mortem massages
Strapped to talking high explosives
Tipping beakers with corrosives
Phantom hounds from LSD
Made a better man of me

Who was this man, this boyish imp?
Who quickly made me lose my gimp?
The bullet holes and all the warring
Hide the children when it’s BOR-ing
I watched him dance with eyes a smilin’
When the corpses were a pilin’
He put me in the shape I’m in
With moods like nitroglycerine

But now I sit in therapy
Reduced to what I used to be
I watched him jump to full disgrace
But that will never be my place
My blog will do the best it can
Defending honor of the man
The public said he was my lover
I only know there was no other

Absolutely love your poem SP.
It tells John's story perfectly.

Compared to the other great submissions above, here is my "lame" contribution:

There once was a man with a cane
Who encountered a man with a brain
The smart one, being logical
Said, "It's all psychological."
Now they're both on the hunt for the game.

SusiGo wrote:

Applause to you all. SP, this was really beautiful, wish I could do one like this myself  .

So far I can only contribute my modest limerick inspired by Veecee:

The voice of the man was seductive
His manner of thinking deductive,
So who can he be
Is what I‘m asking me
Could he be Goodness me a detective?

Thank you for the nod, but you deserve all the credit.

KeepersPrice wrote:

Compared to the other great submissions above, here is my "lame" contribution:

There once was a man with a cane
Who encountered a man with a brain
The smart one, being logical
Said, "It's all psychological."
Now they're both on the hunt for the game.

Not lame at all, KP, more of a racing car  .