Katie's Caning, A Poem by Katie

This is a poem I wrote based on a real caning I was given by one of my "Uncle's", I hope you like it, Katie.

KATIE's CANING
As soon as Katie’s uncle comes in,
Katie knows what trouble she’s in,
As he flexes his cane,
She knows she must bend again.

It’s twenty four or maybe more,
Now that will make her sore,
As she bends over,
How she wishes it was over.

Her skirt is then lifted,
And her panties are shifted,
For they are so thin,
And they fit like a second skin.

With a swish and a thwack,
The cane begins it’s attack,
How that first stroke dose sting,
It near makes Katie sing.

Then two, three, four,
Poor Katie doesn’t want any moor,
Five, six, seven, eight,
The pain she doesn’t appreciate.

By number nine,
She’s beginning to whine,
Number ten makes her howl,
At eleven she dose yowl.

He gives her twelve with a run,
Katie wishes he was done,
Her panties are then smoothed,
But her bottoms not soothed.

With twelve strokes to come,
Now they will stripe her bum,
The next six with the cane,
Just increases the pain.

Katie now cries,
There are tears in her eyes,
Number nineteen dose brake her,
And leap up is dose make her.
　
　
Uncle says, “that’s two extra for moving,”
Until there given there’ll be no soothing,
With a groan Katie bends,
As she tries to make amends.

Her panties are pulled tight,
She has no more fight,
As the cane strikes her again,
Katie screams with the pain.

With still six more to come,
She’ll have a well blistered bum,
They could come in a flurry,
But uncles in no hurry.

Each one is a scorcher.
For Katie its torture,
Number twenty four,
Really dose makes her roar.

After that six of the best,
She thinks she’s been sitting in a hornets nest,
Now the caning is over,
But Katie must stay bent over.

When finally told to rise,
And tears running from her eyes,
Her face wet with tears and snot,
This was beating not to be forgot.

When she stands up,
Her bottom she dose cup,
But the pain she can’t stop,
And it dose make her hop.

So round the room she dose prance,
Just look how the pain make her dance,
As her uncle watches the show,
He makes ready to go,
And with a rye smile,
Thinks “That will do for a while.”
　
　
　
　
　
　

Very good katie , although beware the spelling police don't read this as you'll get a right slagging off !!! Obviously i'm not mentioning any names hahah

Before the police come and give you a raking over the coals :

does not dose ,although you did get doesn't correct .

Until there given there’ll be no soothing? Until they are or they're .

But uncles (this is plural of uncle) in no hurry. But uncle is in no hurry .

Just a few wee pointers. Personally I tend only to correct people in class and not do it on the forums to make myself look like a smart ass ! .

Thanks for sharing the poem though :)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by KATIE TV

This is a poem I wrote based on a real caning I was given by one of my "Uncle's", I hope you like it, Katie.

KATIE's CANING
As soon as Katie’s uncle comes in,
Katie knows what trouble she’s in,
As he flexes his cane,
She knows she must bend again.

It’s twenty four or maybe more,
Now that will make her sore,
As she bends over,
How she wishes it was over.

Her skirt is then lifted,
And her panties are shifted,
For they are so thin,
And they fit like a second skin.

With a swish and a thwack,
The cane begins it’s attack,
How that first stroke dose sting,
It near makes Katie sing.

Then two, three, four,
Poor Katie doesn’t want any moor,
Five, six, seven, eight,
The pain she doesn’t appreciate.

By number nine,
She’s beginning to whine,
Number ten makes her howl,
At eleven she dose yowl.

He gives her twelve with a run,
Katie wishes he was done,
Her panties are then smoothed,
But her bottoms not soothed.

With twelve strokes to come,
Now they will stripe her bum,
The next six with the cane,
Just increases the pain.

Katie now cries,
There are tears in her eyes,
Number nineteen dose brake her,
And leap up is dose make her.
　
　
Uncle says, “that’s two extra for moving,”
Until there given there’ll be no soothing,
With a groan Katie bends,
As she tries to make amends.

Her panties are pulled tight,
She has no more fight,
As the cane strikes her again,
Katie screams with the pain.

With still six more to come,
She’ll have a well blistered bum,
They could come in a flurry,
But uncles in no hurry.

Each one is a scorcher.
For Katie its torture,
Number twenty four,
Really dose makes her roar.

After that six of the best,
She thinks she’s been sitting in a hornets nest,
Now the caning is over,
But Katie must stay bent over.

When finally told to rise,
And tears running from her eyes,
Her face wet with tears and snot,
This was beating not to be forgot.

When she stands up,
Her bottom she dose cup,
But the pain she can’t stop,
And it dose make her hop.

So round the room she dose prance,
Just look how the pain make her dance,
As her uncle watches the show,
He makes ready to go,
And with a rye smile,
Thinks “That will do for a while.”
　
　
　
　
　
　

---

I come from the Cape of No Hope
or the Cape of Good Grief
Mouth washed out with soap
(Not my idea of oral relief!)
Bad, naughty words, spill forth from my lips
Which is why my Master reaches for canes, paddles and whips.....

Just my wee contribution!

Cherry x

Hi Cherry, that wasn't too bad. The best I can come up with is:-

I regularly attend school in Fife
Where Barbie's legends are rife
Her big three tailed belt leaves a bloody great welt and her cane it cuts like a knife.

I have no doubt the Fife Fuhrer will want to discuss this with me on my next visit but I have found it avoids unnecessary (nearly spelt that wrong) torture if you present her with a simple reason for leathering your backside.

All the best with your Master.

BB73

Quote:

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Originally Posted by anarchistic_masochist

I come from the Cape of No Hope
or the Cape of Good Grief
Mouth washed out with soap
(Not my idea of oral relief!)
Bad, naughty words, spill forth from my lips
Which is why my Master reaches for canes, paddles and whips.....

Just my wee contribution!

Cherry x

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by covspank

Well, I don't think that Carol Ann Duffy has anything to fear, judging by the poems submitted in this year's competition! Have you two never heard of metre and syllables? As for correcting the spelling in Katie Television's poem- I wouldn't dream of it. It's the one feature that makes it worth reading! I do suspect, however, that "she" probably lost "her" signal at the changeover! Barbie, there is absolutely no chance of you appearing to be a "smart ass" - either on or off line! What was Westey saying about turnips and Fife?
TDH

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Metre? Dunno what that is! However, I do know what you mean by the use of syllables as in making them "fit." It was only a quick ditty; sorry it wasn't in iambic pentameter!
Perhaps you could illustrate its meaning by example ('cos I learn best by example) by writing a poem yourself, Sir?

Cherry x

Hi Cherry, don't worry about it. When at school I often wondered as to what use poetry was in the modern world. I did enjoy listening to a few bits of Robert Burns because there was a bit of humour in it. Other than that I regarded it as a total waste of my time at school.

BB73:D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by covspank

The metre of the poem is what you choose to refer to meter ( iambic pentameter). I speak and write British English, as opposed to an American bastardisation of the language! In BrE, the correct spelling is metre. A meter is what the gas man reads! I think that I have made its meaning sufficiently clear - even for you, my dear Cherry!!!
TDH

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That the best you can do Westy

BB73

Quote:

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Originally Posted by westender

Heres another wot he writ. "Be a man" You call yourself Bluebell and a Fife broad beats your arse with a big belt. Just how much of a man dose that make you look? Oh and Barbie has summed me up. I will loose sleep now because of this.
Why dont you meet me for a big pint as you call it. I would love to meet you now.




Westy why don't you grow up and be a man, You really are a joke. You are like a primary school child who has gone in the huff. I am going to take great delight in showing Barbie your childish comments, but then I know that Barbie has already summed you up. Why don't you stick your dummy teet in your gub and shut up. I couldn't care less about you and mentioning your name will not interest me at all. You really are a very weak sort of person. Perhaps that is why you only like beating females and hanging on the shirt tails of Covespank. The two of you deserve each other.

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Quote:

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Originally Posted by covspank

The metre of the poem is what you choose to refer to meter ( iambic pentameter). I speak and write British English, as opposed to an American bastardisation of the language! In BrE, the correct spelling is metre. A meter is what the gas man reads! I think that I have made its meaning sufficiently clear - even for you, my dear Cherry!!!
TDH

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Oh no, did I really write in the "American bastardisation" of the language?? Christ, that really does make me hang my head in shame! Ironically, the Americanisation of our language and culture is one of my biggest pet hates! Now I'm starting to turn into one of them! ArrGGGggggHHHhhhhh!!!!!!! *Runs screaming out of the room....*

Cherry x

Quote:

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Originally Posted by covspank

An educated person would never make such a crass statement! Perhaps you should reflect on some words of one of my favourite poets - "All knowledge is precious, whether or not it serves any useful purpose."

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Like it! I personally like "if ignorance is bliss, then wipe the smile off my face."

Cherry x

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Bluebell73

Hi Cherry, don't worry about it. When at school I often wondered as to what use poetry was in the modern world. I did enjoy listening to a few bits of Robert Burns because there was a bit of humour in it. Other than that I regarded it as a total waste of my time at school.

BB73:D

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That's an incredibly ignorant and misguided thing to say, as was your comment asserting that "Shakespeare should be confined to the libraries of the past." WTF?? A lot of the phrases we say are nicked from him! "Wearing your heart on your sleeve" and jealousy being a "green-eyed monster" for instance. We're still using the words written by some bloke from Stratford 600 years ago! Also the themes from his plays: jealousy, madness, love, betrayal etc are just as relevant now as they ever were. Christ, even I realise that, and I'm a total pleb!

Cherry x