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On Writing And Words Funny Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Funny

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Details | Clerihew | |

BULLYsoup

whopping bully
torments soupers fully
picks on others writes
although her writing bites

great big bully
eyes must be woolly
she attempts hurt
with words curt

Diana-Marie Bombardieri
January 29, 2012
Contest - Clerihew 2

“poetry is freedom of expression. Soupers should feel free to share their innermost thoughts without fear of being persecuted. Nobody likes a bully. If you do not have something nice or constructive to say, don’t say it”. 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Attention: WORD NERDS--------- The Eight Parts of Speech

---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********


now and again
a word 
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name 
suddenly 
apropos adverbs appear
clearly 
startling 
perplexing 
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding 
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed 
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately 
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped 
within prison walls
synonyms 
pen bars 
filled in the past 
participles
plagued 
like Job's tedious job 
of siphoning
deciphering 
homographs from heteronyms 

words never mind...
 
they wind the mind
gliding 
in the wind...





Details | Ballad | |

What's in a Name .

Mom.. I think I might be homosexual..
CALM~DOWN !.. I just said THINK !..
It's not I fear
My multi~studded ear ,
Or that I look stunning dressed in pink .
I wont complain ,
As I sip champagne
Of my blemish~free youthful looks ,
Or how I enjoy the finer things in life ;
Like fine art , or poetry books .
 NO !.. I never joined the Girl~Guides .
 You're being silly...patronizingly .
I dont like damp
But I do love camp....
'Specially in Summer , by the sea .
I like being with Brad and Christopher ;
Young Lloyd is such a dear
And Mourice is such  a sweet lad ;
Yes.. I'll always keep them near .
But , deep inside my inner soul
When push will come to shove .
For my own part ,
Who has my heart ,
Yes !.. It's Annie I really love .
But one thing that still bothers me ,
And will , until my dying day ....
Is , when on that morn....
Yes!.. When I was born..
WHY ! !.. Did you name me  GAY ??...


Details | Free verse | |

My Sudoku Life

And I walk
across numerical figments
speaking hyperbole dialect to their imaginations.

Numb, blocky gaps
whisper invitation to secret club.

Enticing my stature
to belong
to become exponent’s side-kick.

So they can welcome me with open arms.

Coating my digits with inoperable tumors
double-knotted in hot pink laced bow
and baby-breath scent.

They even left a Walmart Rollback smiley face sticker
with crack residue on right cheek
and a comic-style bubble caption, “welcome home puppet”.

Yes!

This is exactly how Mother 1 told me it would be.

Kinda like marriage,
but less detail-oriented.

But, I could never fit in.

For I am neither positive
nor negative
about their (cult) ural ways.

Timing would always be off.

An arm from the clock that suffered a stroke at Midnight…

They’d never understand,
how they’d alter this unevenly, odd numerical figment.

For they’ll just calculate,
deduce,
my sum with rusty protractor.

This Zero, into a fraction...

© Drake J. Eszes


Details | Rhyme | |

Lost Words

Sometimes I catch them easily,
The words I'm reaching for;
At other times watch helplessly
As they crash to the floor.
I try to reassemble but
They've landed in a jumble.
I grab too fast for floaters and
My chair and I both tumble.

Susie thinks it is hilarious
And joins into the fun.
Before she hears my "stop", she has
Already swallowed one.
I am truly very sorry
There are no poems from me.
You will know why when I tell you
My dog ate my poetry.



Won 3rd place


Details | Free verse | |

THE ACTION OF WORDS

"Each experience is locked within my heart and only I hold the key..."  

Please do not edit the quote , or add anything to it, use as given. 

It can be the first line of your poem if that is what you want

FAMILIARITY GROWN STRANGE, COMFORTS NAUSEATED.
CARRESSING HANDS CAUSING SHUDDERS WITH 
THEIR CLAMMY COLD TOUCH.

PASSION PAUSES IN YOUR AVERTED EYES, 
WHILE YOUR LIPS PRETEND TO SAY OTHERWISE.
THIS EMOTIONAL HAULOCOST
CAUSING MY ARMEGEDDON.

IF ONLY MY HISTORY, 
IS TO REMAIN, RATHER
THAN REMAIN THE MOMENTS,
OF MY PRESENT REPEATING THE,
SAME SONGS OF SORROW.

METHOIC MEMORIES HYPNOTIZING EXISTENCE, 
PASSIVELY,
OBSERVING OTHERS ALLOWING DISTANCE. 
BETWEEN SELF AND SENSE, 
SEARCHING, THRU CROWDS OF CONFLICTS,
WITH THE OCEANS OF EYES IN THE HORIZON DROWNING,
IN THE SEA OF LIFE.


Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.


Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Free verse | |

This Poem Stinks So Badly it Doesn't Deserve a Name

This poem stinks.

It doesn't rhyme 
It doesn't do anything 
It has a little alliteration

well...

it will have some

because that's the easiest poetic element to incorporate 
and if it didn't have any poetic elements 
it would not be a poem 
but would be prose with 
randomly 
inserted 
carriage returns...

(are carriage returns extinct?)

and that would be dishonest. 

This is not a lying poem. 
That would be oxymoronic. 
It's a stinky poem.

And when I finish writing it 
I'm gonna print it out 
and tear it up 
into little bitty 
teensy weensy pieces 
(if I have enough patience to get that small) 
and flush it down the commode 
so it can join all the other 
excrementally effluential essences

(note the alliteration)

of all the other stuff that stinks 
almost as badly as 
this poem.


Details | Free verse | |

VEXATION

The cessation
and alleviation
of the causation
of irritation 
is the clarification
of information
or the realization
the situation
in contemplation
is a manifestation
without liberation
except termination
of your fixation.


I wrote this in 2003 and it was the first of it's kind known at the time.


Details | Light Poetry | |

POETIC TART

I admit that I’m a poetic tart,
I’m as fickle with scribes as they come,
I giggle at Nash, Frost makes my lips part
and Burns leaves me completely undone.

As for Auden, his words take me home
until cummings sends me a sly i,
then Shelley, that rake, bids me to roam
while Poe gifts me a reason to sigh.

I curled on a loveseat with Longfellow,
Later with Yeats I hummed a sweet song.
Basho shared my old, feather pillow,
but I clung to Kerouac all night long.

Poets, a warning, I adore you all,
I’m smitten by verse, whether formed or free.
Over and over I submit to the fall
yet still play the fields of poetry.


Details | Couplet | |

William Shakespeare And Me

I shalt ne'er be a famous bard such as William Shakespeare.

From mine pathetic poetical quill he hath naught to fear!

Mine immoral mot, "Where'er thou mayest be let thine water flow free",

I fear shalt ne'er compare to Bill's immortal line, "To be or not to be!"

"He hath eaten me out of house and home!" could be said of mine cat!

(Why could not I have conceived that line - all I can say is drat!)

"A horse!  A horse!  My kingdom for a horse!" cried Richard The Third!

(If I had said that, people would have deemed me quite absurd!)

"Brevity is the soul of wit!" and thus "This is the short and long of it!"

Alas, I shan't match wits with Willie so while I'm ahead I'd better quit!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Blank verse | |

Love Song

Here’s what I’m thinking now 
at the end of the world: 

There are no atheists in foxholes— 
no theists in politics. 
If knowledge is power, 
and power corrupts, 
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? 

Does it matter that I didn't’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

There’s a poetry reading tonight 
whence I’I'll chide other poets 
who don’t sit alone. 
I won’t bring up death 
but I might have to breathe, 
even into a mike 
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo 
maybe even a wince or two. 

Just maybe I’I'll talk about love 
and how following your heart is like following a dog— 
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs). 
But how many times have I used that line 
since the story I wrote about you, 
a witty and sexy and fictional you? 
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you. 

I won’t recite it from memory 
because I don’t think about you that much anymore, 
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer 
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me, 
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes? 

I don’t remember your eyes 
except they are blue. 
And I don’t remember you, 
not even when I smell cucumber and apple, 
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed 
or when you walk through the door 
happy to see me; 
even then I don’t remember you. 
Does it matter that I don’t love you? 
Would it have mattered if I did? 

How about a few one-liners 
for the end of days?— 

Depression is self-awareness, 
which you’d know if you were; 
I need Ritalin to listen to you, 
Lithium to hug you, 
Viagra to feel you, 
and Valium to sleep. 

All you need 
is me standing there, waiting at home 
with turns of phrase and word plays 
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand 
but want to buy as much as I can 
and how I love celebrity gossip 
and detest poetry slams 
and find rhyming trite 
except when I am. 

Hypocrites can still be right, 
which you do understand 
because you nod at my nonsense 
about fighting the man. 

But now, at the end of all things— 
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read, 
and you’re just sitting there, smiling 
asking me to pass the bread.


Details | Limerick | |

A FATHIMA - LIMERICK .

The poetry priestess Dawood 
Donned her Bowler ,as only she could .
But a bad Irish breeze
Jellied her knees .
Still her squiggly scarf wrapped her  GOOD !!!!


Details | Limerick | |

AHEAD OF HIS TIME

Young Shakespeare didst say to his tutor,
"Methinks I wouldst be much astuter,
And per chance, I wouldst say,
Mightest write a screen play,
If some fool wouldst invent the computer."


Details | Acrostic | |

GEMINI

G ood God! How I’ve tried,

E ven outright denied

M any times the persona you see.

I nside of my skin,

N either conscience nor kin,

I have you and yes, you and that’s me!


Details | Quatrain | |

THE CONTEST WINNER

I have entered many poetry contests
to display my best...an amazing number of sixty or more,
only one of my poems has won first place;
poets are like enduring athletes who fight to the very core! 
 

One big hurray goes to myself for the first win,
congratulations to the other participants
who are on the top of that list, or have been
awarded Honorable Mentions for their efforts!  


When my poem doesn't make it to the finalists's list,
I don't feel discouraged, I brazen out the doubt and try again;
even Lance Armstrong, with his skills, can't always win his race,
and the trophy must be given to someone else!


I rejoice when some of the chosen poets appear 
on the winners' list; I am happy for their accomplishment,
and into a word-restricted message's box I gladly comment
on their poetry...with the insight of an achiever!


And for those whose names never made it as previously thought,
I honestly tell you, from experience, not to be a bit discouraged...
your time will come when your enthusiasm will require a big shout;
never put the word, " Winner " to rest, write for fun and persist instead! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Rhyme | |

My Word

If I were a word, 
Then 'peent' it would be.
It's something unique,
Just exactly like me.
With mystery and flow,
Like a forest hid stream,
Like memories unrealized;
Some faraway dream.
Any sentence could fit me,
I'd make stories complete,
My meaning’d be endless,
My harmony sweet.
Yes, if I could pick one word,
That fits only me,
There's only just one word,
And 'peent' it would be.


Details | Lyric | |

These Words

All these words and all these lines
Just keep running through my mind
By the dozens, they drown out sound
And force me to quickly write them down
Lines and lyrics in poetic rhyme
Written within record time
Words so simple and plain to me
Can bring a smile or a tear you see
Though these are more 
Than mere words to me
It is a part of my soul,
From way down deep
So please excuse me 
While I let it all out
Or these words will drive me crazy
Without any doubt!


Details | Verse | |

Figure it Out

Time has come 
For me to put paper to pen,
Or is it pen to paper?
If I put paper to pen
Is it on top or down below?
If I put pen to paper
Which direction does it go?

I opt for the one 
Where I sit down to write,
Not the one
Where I stand on my head all night.

If I can't figure this out real soon
I fear my poetic days are doomed.
Looks like there's only one way to win
I'll drag out my typewriter
And start over again.


Details | Rhyme | |

What is Poetry But Text...

Sensitive ears of nature I have 
found.
Poetry is not the sight of words 
but the sound.

Spoken,sung or played on a guitar...
Human, machine,instrument or nature.
Any of these are cool as long
as they're written down.

A flute playing, a bird singing ,
a car engine starting. 
Someone whipping , chopping,
cooking in the kitchen.

Hear it first, then write it down.
For what is poetry but the text 
of 
the sound that you've found?


Details | I do not know? | |

POETRY

So many different poems to write
If given the time, I’d sit here all night
Too many things I want to say
Too many thoughts to throw your way
Hundreds of stories left untold
Thousands of rhymes I just can’t hold
Memories that haunt and feelings of fear
All of my laughter and all of my tears
My emotions run deep and drown out sound
I wake from sound sleep, to write them all down
So many things I have left to say
God didn’t put enough time in my day
I wish that I could convey to you
My thoughts and feelings in a way that is new
A new and easier way to understand
Just how I feel when my heart won’t mend
Feelings come and feelings go
But the visions that are left, continue to grow
Way out of hand, and out of control
What was once smooth, is now uneven flow
My mind is vast with rooms unknown
Through poetry I try to let it be shown










Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 2

Thinking of O, Ms. Jill Martin was in her solitude “Quietly…breathing”
That, she just waved her hand greeting April Lewis “Without Speaking”
I spied humorist Donald Meikle, writing a “Note to a Lady in Waiting”

Let’s party! exclaimed silent Sami Al-Khalili, but not “Only In Winter”
That’s a real cool idea, and I said, how about in “The Field Of Summer”
Dame Marcyle Beer offered her place, called “Welcome To Fort Beer”

A rising star Taryn Melville proudly breezed in: saying “I Am From…”
But, party guy Anthony Slauson showed us his “Fingers of Freedom” 
Leaving noble Alyssa Finley’s young mind fixated in “Dreams Come”

A free verse expert JeanMarie Marchese of Homosassa, uttered “Slow”
Let snow lover Linda Smith tell us first her “Footprints In The Snow”
Indeed, we’ve our time to introduce ourselves, before “The Cockcrow”

Sweet Elaine George arrived, when the night still had a “Tender Heart” 
With a special gift, for Raquel Nicholson, ‘cos she has “a broken heart”
I learned that Big John Tanaskow did not wish to go “Back At the Start”

The party made poetic Mark Hansen expressed himself, in “Cloud Nine”
Perhaps he had consumed much of shy type Nicola Steel’s “Plumy Wine”
For he was too excited, to meet a bright Seema Ali, on a “Poetry Online”

Before the party was over, Juanita Ganir, sprung from her “Sacred Well”
And, old Londoner Matt Doe spoke, of his mighty “Showdown In Hell”
To a sexy Tamiviolet Manchas, but, she xoxoxo urged him, “Don’t Tell”

Many thanks, to photographer William Jones, for his “Living In Color”
A souvenir that reflects my own plea to “Make Me Whole, Once More”
A plea to everyone, to all friends, to remember that “My Name Is Thor”


Details | Rhyme | |

Words

                                       All these words inside my head
                                           drive me crazy while in bed.
                                       They will dance inside my brain
                                         and fall down like pouring rain

                                             When I try to dress for work
                                          down the hallway they will lurk.
                                           When I leave and drive my car
                                          on every signpost there they are.

                                            What this soul now has to do
                                         is write down these words for you.
                                         Taking pen and pad in hand I'll
                                            write down what they demand.

                                          When it's over and all done and
                                          these words have had there fun.
                                            They will leave me then to rest
                                                              untill,,,,,,,,
                                                        one day.........................
                                                       you know the rest,,,,,,,,,......
                                                ........................................................


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Free verse | |

SOUPER Sex Change

This Lil' poem
had to change it's name
With a title so lame 
nearly got sent
to Soup's Hall of Shame!

Never fear
dude's on the poetic rise
silky set a' verses
new curves in them thighs

you bet
boys'll be 
rubber neckin'
new flow's strapped
like an automatic weapon

Yep she's got new features
but didn't cost six grand
with a new set a' headlights
give the new girl a hand!


Details | Epitaph | |

Silly Epitaph 9

Here lies a man who had no name.
There was a funeral; Nobody came.
No one cried, and None was blamed
Only three men attended; what a shame.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Blank Verse Rhyme

Blank Verse Rhyme

The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.

For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.

And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?

Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed

“Rejected”.


-Tiffany R-2009


Details | Ode | |

Ode 2 My Poetry

Why can’t I do it how I want to do it?
Been told my rhymes are simplistic at best
I may violate pentameter but I write what I like
Why must it pass some journal’s vapid test?

Behind a block of writer’s I’ve been hiding
Cowed by thoughts of editing snafus
Trying to write deep, intensive tomes of valid lore
Only to be chastened and abused

There’s elegance found in concise expression
Saying all the world in just a line
No matter that I know this I belabor all my thoughts
Create an elegy for elegance in time

Onomatopoeia is my best friend
And alliteration waltzes through my dreams
Thoughts chatter, clatter, chirp and clunk around about my head
Demanding that they be released in streams

And after I have done what I have done here
Exposed my heart by opening my head
I send it forth with hope that someone will enjoy my words
And get rejection letters in their stead

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
I promise it won’t be a trite conceit
You say my writing’s convoluted, so, I strive to simplify it
Then you call my writing sophomoric and cheap

Yet still my writing exists, remonstrating
That whether it be ballad or blank verse
It should be able to do just exactly what it feels like
And it finds you and your editing, perverse

It says it does not care if it is published
Doesn’t want you to consider it profound
For if you did then it might accidentally be common
And make cool people like me put it down

But won’t you like my poem just a little?
At the very least try to be noncommittal


Details | Epitaph | |

Silly Epitaph 11

Here lies the golfer,
Richard P. Shore.
He expired at 5
'Cause he didn't yell "fore."


Details | Narrative | |

THE RICHEST HERITAGE OF HUMANKIND

Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same, 
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.


The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,  
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.


Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.


Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and satire...to scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.



Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Couplet | |

I CAN'T HAVE MY CAKE AND EAT IT

I CAN’T HAVE MY CAKE AND  EAT IT



Seated at table one warm summer day
Feeling the muse about me play
Was reading out my poems to wife
Thought she was just about rapt for life
Little I knew  I was being misled
She was guided by stomach not head

She smiled  and nodded at every syllable
And I focused on nuances as much as was able
I wasn’t watching  her scoff the cake  
Didn’t know she would last piece take
After last verse  with shock I was numb
She hadn’t even left me a single crumb


Details | Epigram | |

Than-Bauk-THE COFFEE LOVER IN ME

Coffee's my lot,
a big pot calms
a nut like me! 

Is it the drink
that my sink hates?
Stains stick like paint!

I write and drink,
when the ink stops...
thoughts shrink and fade!


Details | Free verse | |

Poetic Robbery

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Limerick | |

Eureka - A Word That Rhymes With Orange

Oft' 'tis said and I've thought it mighty strange

   That not a word seems to rhyme with 'orange'

      And though some I may displease

         With poetic license please

            A rhyme I coin - in DC I pray 'forchange'

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Sonnet | |

Rhyme and Wrinkles

Just lately I’ve been spending so much time
on re-arranging words upon my page,
correcting meter, finding perfect rhyme-
I swear it’s this that’s causing me to age.

You see, I never rest until it’s done,
a half completed write won’t let me sleep
throughout the darkest hours, until the sun
casts out his rays that through my windows seep.

I wonder, if I change my form to free,
just let the feelings tumble from my mind,
then maybe I would have more time for me
to sleep, to my complexion be more kind.

Perhaps though it’s the sacrifice for art,
ne’er fair of face, but beautiful at heart.


Details | Senryu | |

'Lack of Rhyme'



I wish I could rhyme
promise you I've got rhythm
just not in my poems


©240820121015 

*poking fun at my non rhyme poems*


Details | I do not know? | |

Week Daze: Not A Poem, but Word Play : )

Weak-dei is a day following immediately after a Sick Day 

Shun-dei is a day when a person just wants to stay in bed

Moan-dei is a day to complain about what work needs be done

T’ewes-dei is a day a person feels sheepishly

Wins-dei is the day someone becomes lucky in the lottery

Thirst-dei is the day many alcoholics suffer from 

Fry-dei is a day when workers are ‘burnt out’ with the job

Scatter-dei is a day when volunteers are needed and everyone becomes scarce



Ben Ehlong-Dei is an alias people often use after all, or part, of a 24 hour period of time filled 
with unpleasantness or boredom 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Racecar! (PALINDROME)

Swiftly zipping,

Quickly driving,

Fast-breaking,

~RACECAR~

Breaking fast,

Driving quickly,

Zipping swiftly!


Details | Sonnet | |

THE LIFE OF A DRUNKEN WRITER

They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense; 
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar. 
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun... 
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.   
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! " 
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "


Details | Rhyme | |

Stolen Thoughts

I've seen pieces of it in my head,
Not together but it's there.
All of a sudden it disappears
Blackened thoughts fill the air.
Creativity turns to despair,
As writers block takes a bow,
               "WOW"
Another stolen premier...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Soup Hall of Fame

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Couplet | |

Where does the Time go

I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…


Details | Clerihew | |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.


Details | Limerick | |

Some Limericks...

She’s out there chasing a cricket

Through bush, through shrub & through thicket

Together they hop

Fugitive, cop

But when she gets it, she just wants to lick it!
 

A cat whose vet took his eye

Just cannot quite understand why

His eye’s been enucleated,

3-D vision reduciated,

So now, he keeps an eye out for an eye

 
Ya gotta keep limericks loose

Think green eggs, or perhaps Dr. Seuss

They’re structured, it’s true,

But they’re also a zoo

Whose tenants are all on the loose!


I frolic in fountains of words

Overflowing with serious absurds

Each poem I write

Wakes up and takes flight

Joining angels and faeries and birds

 
You ask that we write a good limerick

How to do so, I haven’t a glimmerick

So I struggle and frown

Teaching  poems to clown

So a smile on your lips will be shimmerick

 
A cat with a mouth full of mouse

Brought her feast right into my house

She played with her food

Who was not in the mood

To be a banquet of mouse in the house

 
The nightmares that shadow my sleep

Stampede the proverbial sheep

Right out of my mind

When I try to unwind

I find my appointment with sleep hard to keep

 
In her search for original truth

She met people unsavory and couth

She knitted and purled

But only unfurled

Yarns told by new age and old youth

 
Cat, suddenly pink,

Drinks her water from out of the sink

She looks so absurd

Since she’s been de-furred

I really don’t know what to think!

 
If one and one is two and two is four,

And there’s only two ways to go through  a door,

Then, is earth up or down?

And, where is down town?

These are questions we need to explore!

 
A was that is an is

Tried to mind my biz

But I sent it packing,

Its presence was lacking

And I don’t have time for such shiz!


A couple who lived in Los Lunas

Loved the wide desert sky’s crystal blueness

They’d stare at the air,

Over here, over there

And rejoice at the feeling of newness

 
A cat with a very fat gut

Found it easier to walk on his butt

He’d drag it around

Across carpet and ground

And use it to slam the doors shut

 
Said the Missus to her dear Mr. Otter,

“There’s something I think that you oughta

Do before we get old

To protect us from cold –

You oughta make the hot water hotter!”

 
The ghosts who live up in my attic

Make noises that sound much like static

I’ve tried to send them away,

But they’re here to stay,

Those staticky ghosts in my attic


Details | Limerick | |

For Sale

Come one, come all! I've got a deal for you! Some gently used poems for you to review! Though some came out wrong There yours for a song I'm switching to knitting, so sad but true...
For Skat's contest...


Details | Sonnet | |

Addiction and Withdraw

Keep your liquor and your meth cigarettes;
stow away your needles and white powder.
My mind craves stimulation without sweats
caused by vices others choose for regrets.

Give me words, inky scrawl across a page,
the fluid cadence of a verbal dance
freeing the psyche from an iron cage
imprisoned by a mundane daily trance.

Prohibit fresh diction to discover
the foul temper that lies within my breast.
Prevent access to verse and uncover
an exhausted maudlin beast is expressed.

I get my fix within a library.
It’s cheap to be hooked onto poetry.


Details | Epigram | |

A Spoon And A Fork

Someone caught a spoon in bed with a fork,
I assume that's why we now have the spork.
Let's hope they don't catch them with a knife,
Could you imagine a knoon or a fife?


Details | Free verse | |

Text Speak

Text Speak--A newly developing dialect whereby the speaker can convey a lengthy thought by abbreviating phonetically or through the use of substitutive characters.	

Any attempt to speak it out loud is both impractical and unusually difficult,


Hme skoolled
Nvr took nglish
lrnd on cmptr
:-)
omg luvd star wars 
brb 
ok lol!

Translation:
:-) I’m happy
brb- be right back 
lol –lots of luck





Details | Burlesque | |

The Cake Also Rises

Great literary treat
From Ernest Hemmingroid
No Pillsbury man, be he....
No push-over poet....
No eat-your -cake too fake.....

He rises to the occasion,
Sun or Rain,
Yeah, sometimes...
He's a pain in the ass
But, rest assured,
It's not just gas...


Details | Free verse | |

Roll Call

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION








Details | Couplet | |

SOUPY POETRY SALE

My words traverse on a curvy long poetic trail Chugging along the track lines of this soupy rail Inviting all shopaholic poets like me, male or female Frenzied excitement, rush & grab, discounts at poetry sale! Hurry! offer open only till the stocks last Here at soup, we poets are having a blast! The first counter echoes with sonorous chimes Sing-song melody of my sweetest rhymes Verses that weave short stories or tell fables Check before you leave and mind your syllables! "Stuff available just at some select outlets" I have in-store for you some lovely couplets Poems on rainbows, stars, trees and mountains Attempts at Quatern, Rondeau, Quatrain and Quintains. Itsy-bitsy little things playing peek-a-boo Room for much improvement when it comes to my Haiku! A dew-dipped morning glory in its full bloom Such is the beauty of my flowing Pantoum! There're some brand new arrivals too, you could try Wreath, Tanaga, Shanzi, Constanza and Virelai! Setting the mood upbeat with right rhyme and meter Any takers for witty Limericks or crafty Rictameters? Please with your guiding tips, come one and come all Together lets build a glistening new Poetry Mall! 25/09/2012


Details | Acrostic | |

Leo, an Astrology Acrostic

Leo, an Astrology Acrostic
    by Amy Swanson


Loyal friend who'll laugh with you, the sun rules their playful heart;
Engagingly eclectic, they'll give all they have; forgive them if they seem a little bossy. 
Outgoing with majestic charm, they'll walk with you until the very end.







*Inspired by Danielle White's astrology acrostic contest*  -- I had to get in on the fun! :)


Details | Clerihew | |

My only good poetry

While preparing 1001 soups
For the last night of this year
        I wrote a poem,
My only good poetry, ready to win the 1st Prize;
But I dropped it in…Soup.


Details | Quatrain | |

Conflicted over Nancy's -BLANK- Verse

Boy, such a gas
Boy, so much fun
Boy, what a job
Boy, wanna run 

Oh, the pleasure
Oh, the pain
Oh, the freedom
Oh, the strain

Gee, a poem?
Gee, with blanks?
Gee, let's try it
Gee, no thanks!

Got an idee 
Got a glimmer
Got to figure
Got to simmer

Look, it's coming
Look, it's here
Look, I'm rhyming
Look, my dear !

Eek, I'm stymied
Eek, can't think
Eek, come on brain
Eek, on brink

Dang, I'm close now
Dang, I've got it
Dang, the word's come
Dang, in pocket!

Scrabble's a fine game
if with a Q not hobbled
But to tell you the truth,
I'd rather be BOGGLED!


Details | I do not know? | |

The kitchen sink

(Only the first line of this poem is true.)

I've written poems about everything but the kitchen sink.
I write so much that it hurts when I think.
I'd write some more but my pen is out of ink.
I'm the only man in my town who wears a mink.
Don't mess with me, I don't take sass.
If you tell anybody about my mink, I'll kick your ___.


Details | Rhyme | |

SOUP Spoonin'

Online tonite
looks like 
a whole lotta' spoonin'
goin' on in the "Soup"

nosin' around the comment coral
I see love 
amongst the group

yessir'...
hot Soup!
stirred 
not shaken
marriage scent in the air
no fakin'

where it leads...
we shall see
I know some 
are dippin' crackers in the "Soup"
but Lawd' knows 
IT AIN'T ME!~


Details | Sonnet | |

Gatlinger

I keep on sending tendentious rhymes out
like some demented machine gunner.
Sometimes I aim high, Pulitzer, no doubt!
Lucky to hit a page with a number.
It just doesn't matter I always say.
It's just a form of my daily yoga.
Done without ego each and every day.
In the long run it will surely serve ya.
But still I do unwillingly admit
as I keep my finger on the trigger
that it wouldn't hurt to receive a gift
of thanks from someone's satisfied hunger.
So I just keep gatlinging out my rhymes,
hoping not to do time for all my crimes.




Details | Light Poetry | |

CAPTCHA Character Preview Slurs

-------*To be read in true Italian Mafia voice....--------

I wanna meet the wise guy.
You know, the pai·san gettin' cute with the Soup!

Cuz' the CAPTCHA preview characters keep throwin' me insults
like GOOF,
DOOF,
and POOP!

At foiwst', no offense was really taken...
'till the vulgarities became evident to me;
and this schmuck starts slappin' insults at me
like: PMSR,
 VAGP, 
and U 8  ET
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*(all characters are based upon actual characters given to me on the soup)


Details | Couplet | |

Writer's Block

You know what I hate about writer’s block,
How my creativity is hidden behind a lock;

Time ticks away as I stare at my screen,
My heart beating faster from the strain of caffeine;

The cursor flashing lulls me to doze,
Til a fly lands smack on the tip of my nose;

I swing at the fly and glance at the clock,
How did 10 AM turn into 5 O’clock;

I stand and I stretch and then walk away,
And say goodbye to another wasted day;

Maybe tomorrow will inspire my brain,
Or I could be slowly going insane…


Details | Rhyme | |

Musings from a Meter Maid

A meter maid I’ve never been
But Deb’s convinced me I have sinned
So now I write this verse for her
With hopes her wrath I won’t incur

“Defrost” is said as de’ frost here
The South is different, it’s so clear
Sur-re’-al sometimes sounds sur-eel’
But what means more is how I feel

About a poem and what it says
If written by a serf or prez
My meter’s time is running out
This WAS a strain, beyond a doubt


*LOL :)  Entry for the Meter Contest
Iambic Pentameter


Details | Haiku | |

Note to Self

Stop writing haikus
They don’t even make sense now
Something something cake


Details | Didactic | |

That Word

            f.@+$

That word
What does it mean?
Is it to glean?
Or
To 
Cause a ravine or seam
Or
To tritely inflict 
The mean-
-ing
Of a theme

It seems 
To 
Me
That such a thing
Is small
And 
Has little
To bring
Or
To 
Ring
Yes, much less
To
Sing

Nothing to suggest
Or 
To cause 
To
Keep abreast
But
Overt
In it's
Suggest 
Of
What words 
One
Can’t bring
To mind’s crest
And thus
Attest
A 
Vagueness of wit

…at best.


Details | Rhyme | |

A Novel Idea

I am tired of holding all those negative feelings inside
In the near future I will be penning my first novel
I have a spot destined as the main character that with pride
I will pen all those emotions that have  shovel

And you my friend if you want a spot as a character role
Just keep on fueling these bitter angry emotions that I hold
I will probably will give you the leading spot as the sole
Character that will have all the negative traits that I see in you so bold

I know that it will sell several million copies as the best 
Horror work that has ever been written
For you will be like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde at rest
And change into Dracula that was bitten

One stricken with schizophrenia or bi-polar at its worst
That is what I would write this character who is pushing my buttons
And causing all these angry repressions while smiling about to burst
Do you want to be this character that will be like Mrs. Robison's ___

(This is not an original idea for I have heard and seen it before
I do not know who to credit the idea to ..Since it is not being 
published, I guess it doesn't matter...)


Details | Double Dactyl | |

Rikki Tikki

Slippery Slappery
Rikki Tikki Tavi
Chased the snake
Down into the hole

Digging deeper
Much like a 
Spelunker
He happened upon a mole.


Details | Free verse | |

Reflections: Intellectualism

To Dine, To Die;
Conversations spiral
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.

Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.

Pseudo-analysis
An endless groan
Argumental paralysis
The debate grants no throne.

Existentialism
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.

"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.


Details | Rhyme | |

Poemmania Anonymous

.......................................................................................................................................


Oh mercy, mercy!! Set me free! Poemmania flu is after me! Another contest…. which one to choose? Will mine win, or will it lose !? Another topic, another form Did I enter this one before? If I hurry and write my rhyme I just might post, in nick of time! Meeting deadlines, reading rules.... It seems, sometimes, I’m back in school! Never mind how good it is,…. I’ll write it fast, and click “submit”! Where, oh where, did my muse go? When all my poems were valued views? Contests, contests, (my new addiction) Causing me some contradictions Time is precious,… with things to do, But cannot leave, my eyes are glued! The challenge is a main attraction How to break this chain reaction? How to break my Soup addiction? And the endless competition? Oh…goodie goodie!!…Well, I declare!! Contest list has more to share Two new sponsors, starting theirs! It’s like a monkey on my back Poemmania flu is on attack!!
...........................................................................................................................


Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")


Details | Couplet | |

Write something for me.

      I wrote you a sonnet 
you yawned and you sighed,
      I wrote you a ballad
you tossed it aside
    I wrote you a senryu
you said ,"Much too short!"
       I wrote you a cinquain
       you had no retort......
So I wrote you a check for a million and five,
       and 
you said,
     "That's more like it,
     your talent's 
       ALIVE!!!"


Details | Couplet | |

Life is an Aventurous Squirrel Run

I have my Hubby’s steadfast belief in me.
He loves how my poems are light and airy.
He’ll give me an idea once in a while…
Then he escapes to come back, later to read my new child.

He calls these run-throughs a squirrel run.
For they can take off in directions, yes, any one.
Crazy thoughts become crazier still…
And story time leads to god knows, where they will.

My thinking is kind of like chasing around a tree.
You never know where the end will be.
But somewhere I eventually become truly still.
And that is where my Hubby adds into the trill.

Then the squirrel run begins again…
Light and fluffy and full to the brim.
Each day a new adventure... waits around the bend.
Live it. Love it. Write it... You'll be happier in the end.

Contest: Emotion: Squirrelly and fun   CSEastman


Details | Rhyme | |

Ode to Charlie Sheen: Bi-Winning

   -   Normally I don’t mess with email requests;
      but times are a-changin’ and I’m rearrangin’. -

          (As noted by all this distress, 
             the story we wish we‘d see less)

                  Titled: 
“The Train Wreck of Charlie Sheen;”

The public seems a little bitter; 
As he rambles his rants on Twitter,
Social network scenes, all the magazines; 
And he’s still rollin’ in dough, like we’ve never seen.

Any news is good news…so they say;
He’s gonna relapse anyway;
So at least he’s getting high, and making pay.

Everyone’s glued to their TV and internet devices,
But the best thing to do, believe me, is ignore him and his vices.  
He feeds financially and emotionally, off you and me
So leave Charlie alone! Just let him be…




Details | Rhyme | |

MICE PAL LING EASE FIND

I SUGGEST READING ALOUD TO MAKE SENSE OF THIS MESS


Eyed bean tort sins butt her might
nurse sirree rimes an pomes re site

pry Mary cull hers read an blew 
numb hers wan two a tea to

Anne Singh a long width "Whet Whet Whet"
butt knot lettuce off thee alpha bet 

off cause, eats plane four hugh two sea
eye no knot my aye, bee, sea

inn stead off righting poet tree 
isle writer diction hairy 

***********************************

I should right my wrongs here.  In this piece there is not one word correctly spelled, yet they're all accepted English words.  Spelling errors get right up my gut and in poetry they detract from the flavor.
  

MY SPELLING IS FINE

I'd been taught since but a mite
nursery rhymes and poems recite
primary colors red and blue
numbers one to eighty-two
and sing along with "Wet Wet Wet"
but not letters of the alphabet
of course it's plain for you to see
I know not my A, B, C
instead of writing poetry
I'll write a dictionary


Debbie, I know you asked for serious, bilingual poetry.  I thought I'd throw this in the brew for fun.  Loved your example, by the way.  :)


Details | Sonnet | |

Advertisement

Stop, wait just a second. Is your life far
too busy for normal entertainment?
Do you talk on your cell-phone in your car?
Give up your precious little sleep for lent?

Then this is the right amusement for you!
Sonnets are compact, always nice and short.
Fourteen lines and done, then move on to do
other things of a more important sort.

Poems contain short tidbits of stories,
humor, romance, and horror saturate
each line for a burst, refreshing to please
the reader’s appetite, and so it sates.

So hurry and buy some sonnets today.
It's entertainment’s most efficient way.


Details | Ode | |

That Crazy Old Doctor

There've been times in my life
 where I've just had to say,
 "I must, give it all up,
 for, it's that kind of day"!
 
I must, really say this
 I really, just must;
 if I didn't say it,
 then, it wouldn't be, "just".
 
There's this crazy, old man
 we'll just call him, "Doc";
 who fills up blank pages
 with, "poetical talk".
 
He's scribbled, and scrabbled
 'til way, past bed-time,
 trying to finish each poem
 and, complete every rhyme.
 
If he hadn't done this
 he'd surely gone, "mad",
 his nonsensical nature
 was, all that he had!
 
No hidden agenda
 when first, he wrote down,
 each poem of nonsense
 to erase a childs' frown.
 
And, Doc always did this
 manipulate, "clues"...
 ..so that , all of his poems
 were merely geared, to amuse.
 
He loved to let nonsense
 be the order of the day,
 and, with every poem
 we all smiled, the same way.
 
His only intention
 was to set our minds, "free",
 his style, just did it
 so, poetically.
 
With his own tongue, in cheek
we knew we'd been had,
and his poems rhymed perfectly
proving he was no, "fad"!




The volumes of topics
 that Doc's written of,
 included all that could be
 written.....below, and above.
 
He's written of magic,
 puzzles, and games...
 ..with, strange little creatures,
 with, strange little, "names".
 
The, crazier his story,
 the saner he'd feel,
 and, the more that we heard
 convinced us they were, "real"!
 
His poems, were genius
 as he weaved us, a tale;
 with, nonsensical rhymes
 that did so, without..."fail".
 
"Old Doc", has quit writing
 he's up in heaven,
 this year, his birthday'd ...
 make him, a hundred, and seven!
 
He's given advice,
 taught what we must do,
 he said, "Be who you are...
 ..no-one's youer, than....you!"
 
He's maybe still writing
 in, heaven....you see,
 that'd be just like him
 as, that's who he must, be!
 
That, silly old doctor...
 ..as silly, as a goose;
 we all loved his poems,
 for, we loved Dr. Seuss!
 


Details | Limerick | |

Slam Poetry Is For Orangutangs!

The Orangutang:

There once was a traditionalist,
Who in his ignorance had missed
The beauty of youth,
The ever-changing truth!
He's a typical fundamentalist!


The Traditionalist:

"I can't stand these kids and their slang!
They are just looking for a bang!
Their rhymes are funky,
But so are monkeys!"
  -  Did he just call me an orangutang?

"These darn kids and this gosh darn slam,
It may flow, but it's still a scam!
If it ain't metered,
Then it's petered!
Why waste your ink scribbling flimflam?"


Details | Burlesque | |

Mary Had A Little Lamb

Mary had a little lamb,
The doctor passed out.


Details | Light Poetry | |

I'm suing the doctor who delivered me

(This is a fictional poem)

I'm suing the doctor who delivered me in 1971.
He'll have to file for bankruptsy when I'm done.
I'm suing him because he spanked me.
When I take all of his money, he won't thank me.
I don't remember but that spanking probably hurt.
He had his hand on my butt so he must be a pervert.
the doctor is very unhappy because he's being sued.
My mom says I'm a moron who has no gratitude.
Everybody I talk to calls me a dummy.
I may be stupid but at least I'll have money.


Details | Couplet | |

LOST LOSER

          LOST LOSER

Bad enough to hear ‘you lose’
Then a flock of mail flies in
Don’t know which one you should choose
Then you glimpse ‘an AWESOME win’

Maybe it’s my humble past
Maybe it’s my country school
No one smiles when they are last
If you do --you’re called a fool.

Glory is its own reward
If you win your heart beat sings
Friends will greet you if they can
Life is sweet on eagle wings

Time is precious, time is short
Worlds await on shelves in books
Brush twitch paintings-- feet seek sport
I crave salmon on a hook

Ungrateful twit that I may seem
Courtesy is sometimes missing
My head I'll dunk in ice clogged stream
Avoid the flock of kiss kiss kissing

If you note that I have lost
Spare me time and spare me shame
Spare yourself the time it costs
To remind me that I’ve lost again



Victoria Anderson-Throop
Nov 30, 2012


Details | Free verse | |

In Search of Words that Rhyme

I can never think up rhyming words
When I write my stupid poems
All the other words have a place to live
But the rhyming ones have no abode

To other poets it comes so easy
Penning rhyming words that sound just right
But I can never find the rhyming mate
Though I try all day and evening

So this desire to be a poet
For me is just a curse
And all the poems that I eventually write
I just have to label them free form

So if you have a few extra rhyming words
Spinning around inside your head
Could you share a few of them with me
So I can write a poem before I’m deceased


Details | Sonnet | |

My Love Affair with Poetry

Nights when I’m alone,
Icy wind flittering through the window,
The absent warmth of love echoing in my empty room,
I have frequent love affairs with poetry.
Its pulsating words gush themselves out on the white blank page,
It caresses my every emotion,
Sending me reeling through a torrent of multiple ecstasy,
I scream with release as every unhinged secret is documented rhythmically, 
After, subdued by unthinkable shame,
I stash it away with the refreshing slide of a closed drawer,
I light up a cigarette and lie within the sheets like a film star,
I am who I choose to be,
Husband rings, why don’t I answer the phone?
I’m having an affair with poetry. 


Details | Couplet | |

poetry slammin'

poetry slammin'

all this namby pamby poetry stuff
makes me think i've heard enough

shapes and sonnets and simple blank verse
even Iambic meter leaves me feeling averse

quatrains and couplets - the villanelle
are tough to swallow - sounds like swill

why anybody'd wanna hear some poetry
may be obvious to you, but it's way beyond me

all this writing and saying of wimpy words
to ants, elephants and me, seems absurd

can i comfortably feed my family and friends
with some onomatopoeia's epilogue's ends?

will Will's sonnet's of love so medieval
aid with the world's unrest and upheaval?

naw, i'm pretty sure it won't make it no better
probably it'll jus' make my mood blacker

i remember my tenth grade English teacher
who rhymed as standard operating procedure 

as you might guess, this drove me crazy 
you'd think i'm anti-rhyme - but don't be hasty

i'm really into today's rappin' scene
D.J.'s thrashin' and soundin' obscene

if bling's the thing, then bring it on i say
words golden rule brings my groove into play

of lines and times and mashin' thrashin'
calving rhymes cleaved leave us laughing

so ya wanna be a slammer? - it's cool with me
jus' slam the mike, but pick up your debris

don't leave no crumpled words layin' 'round
on the stage or the sidewalk, some unsaid sound

'cause I don't wanna clean up after you
and slam off the cuff with your impromptu

i got my own stance and rhythm and cachet
i'll jus' tell the whole world - i'm slammin' ok?

© Goode Guy 2012-06-04


Details | Couplet | |

The Poet's Garage Sale

I've got to clean out these loaded ancient poetry files
What will I sell first maybe I'll just stack them in big pile

I know then I'll sort them_separate by topic
Remove ones about child sex abuse as if by magic  

Now the world is safer place for children to play
I'll get busy seeing what's left to take care of this day

Now I'll remove the ones about poisonous snakes
Get rid of those pythons who threaten human lives to take

What do I have left to sell_some with misspelled words
Haikus not written very well, grammar gone amuck by yards

Now for pricing what can I do _easy stickers
Those wih self-stick tacky glue_poor Haikus snap-shot pictures

I'll sell them first three for a quarter_maybe dime
For folks will say why they don't even have any end-rhyme

Forget this dang garage sale_just have an estate sale
Have professional come over price then use slide scale 

Somehow these couplets will have to come to a close
The lunch timer just dinged_sorry I'll just say adios


Finis'
Sponsor:~Skat~
Contest:A Poet's Garage Sale
Written: September 24, 2012


Details | Quatrain | |

Table Talk



...dedicated to Billy Collins


We're standing on the Dining Table, 
Salt and Pepper by ourselves, 
Tablecloth is in the drier, 
Dinner Plates still on the shelves. 
Later on there'll be a banquet, 
fifteen guests, an all black-tie, 
candlelight and lots of flowers, 
supper time is drawing nigh! 

Here she comes, our charming hostess, 
preparations underway, 
Mr Tablecloth is rescued, 
spread and centred, that's the way! 
Cutlery and Water Glasses 
first to join us for the fun, 
Centrepiece and Linen Napkins, 
now the Setting's all but done. 

But wait! the Dinner Plates are coming, 
Side Plates, Finger Bowls and such, 
Mr Table must be groaning 
at the weight, so very much! 
Guests arrive, jim, grace and betty, 
jim's wife, joan, and helen bond, 
helen's in an awful pickle, 
husband left her for a blonde! 

Everybody's here and ready 
for a night of merriment, 
cocktails and some conversation, 
Wow! Obama's president! 
Dinner's served, We get a workout, 
Tableware and good old Me, 
Salt, one of the main ingredients 
for a tasty ratatouille! 

Guests disperse and then there's clean-up, 
washing, scrubbing 'til We're done; 
Table's empty, We're left standing, 
Me and Pepper, all alone.


Details | Limerick | |

Inspiration Hibernation

What happened to my inspiration
Is causing me great perspiration
My mind is a blank
No one can I thank
For my creative hibernation

© 2013 Rick Zablocki


Details | Couplet | |

THE WORD AND THE WRITER



The word calls to the lost writer, “I am right here.” 
The writer calls to the lost word, “Right! Here I am!”


Details | Chastushka | |

A ROOM OF HER OWN

A ROOM OF HER OWN


Byron died at thirty six
Prolific poet’s work was done
Lucky I am still alive
I had no time ‘til fifty one.


Details | Rhyme | |

PURSUIT of a POETRY PRIZE

If your ultimate goal is a poetry prize,
there are things you must do without compromise.
I had entered some work at considerable cost,
with no clue at all as to why I had lost.

So, I read all the ones recognized in the past,
seeking form and design for words I could cast.
That’s when I discovered a key to their prose;
illogical thoughts in unorganized rows.

Start with an outlandish, irrelevant line,
then something arbitrary to confuse the design.
Like, “In the beginning the ending was near” 
or, “We basked in an ardent recollection of fear.”

Conclude with some incomprehensible phrase, 
like, “The prolific embrace of our foregone days.”
Don’t finish ideas in these literary events,
and avoid any phrases that seem to make sense.

What they don’t understand, becomes a “deep thought.”
In depth they will ponder what meaning you sought.
They'll scoff if you've written a limerick or rhyme,
then cast it aside as a “waste of their time.”

I'll likely be banned, or be forced to concede,
but I'm sharing the secret it takes to succeed;
don't stress over structure, don’t fret about flow,
use thoughts you don’t have and words you don’t know.

This was a fun piece I wrote after reading a $20,000 prize winning poem about brass 
braziers that made absolutely no sense.



Details | Light Poetry | |

Fun Is: Me

Sitting on a butte, howling at the moon… I fell off and landed on my head.
My Trolls found me, and picked me up, and hauled me all the way home.
They set me at the computer, all cozy, wrapped up, and wouldn’t let me go.
Said they wanted to hear some more, great stories, about themselves, of course.

Life just seems more fun with them, as those marauders wander, all over the place.
But that grumpy dragon, whose been pooping on my flowers, each and every day…
He’s simply, has got to go! It wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t bury them, so deep.
And I think he’s only doing it, cause he wants to make me, freaking, crazy, insane!

He’s become jealous of the others’ stories, and he wants to be the very first, in line.
Leave it to a dragon, to do ANY THING, to try to hog, the very essence of my page.
For he knows that even the most serious poets, are prone to sneak a peak, at times.
Their comments are just, so much fun to read, as they comment on, the ensuing fun.

It seems if I write sonnets about my self, I tend to lose that steady stream, that’s mine.
You see, it’s not as much fun, to hear… how I’m blessed… again… and again, again.
And those wild Trolls do so many crazy stunts, till I simply, can’t leave them alone.
Of course, they’re patterned after my sons, who cringe, run, and hide, when I am near.

But, embarrassing my children, can be seriously, so much fun, with, my Hubby near.
But I’m beginning to wander, again, I think, as my friends start lining up at, my door.
But now I wonder: have my poems become me? Or have I become a part of them? 
Its getting harder to tell, now-a- days… But I don’t really care… as long as …

You read and make comments on what I write… and laugh, a little, along the way. 


Details | Quatrain | |

In Defense of my Romantic Poetry

I’m a hopeless romantic
Now please cut me some slack
Yes, there’s more to this life
Than love’s beaten track

I just can’t write about fish
And I can’t write of the farm
I can’t write about frogs
For me that holds not a charm

I can’t write about wars
And I can’t write about keys
I can’t write of history
Go easy on me, please!

Yes, I guess I’m limited
Stuck in mediocrity
I’m trying to be diverse
It falls flat, can’t you see? 

So I write tales of love
And I write about passion
Can’t write about trends
Or the latest fashion

I write about suicide
And I write of addiction
I write about my life
Not some sort of fiction

I write about my daughter
And I write about hubby
I write how much I suffer
To be thin and not chubby

I write about God
And I write about heaven
But can’t write about 9
Much less about seven

So please hear what I say
What you all write is grand
It’s just not my way
I’m stuck in love’s brand

I’m cheesy, I’m sappy, 
Dripping with goo and such
But this hopeless romantic
Loves your poems so much!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Limerick | |

I See Beyond- - -

I see beyond this flashing screen,

as you judge my poem, nice and clean.

I know you have your rules.

They are taught in all the schools.

But, I failed.  So, please don't be mean.


You told us to not be trite,

and I'm trying to get it right.

It's like a jailhouse poem.

As I try to keep it flowin'.

Cause I have a hot date tonight.


Having entered your contest,

I will now sit back and rest.

Cause, I know you'll be fair.

As you pull up a chair.

And judge if my poems the best.




Written for the "I See Beyond...."  contest.


Details | ABC | |

A Glurmy Gleepcious Glorp

I plurm and glorp with every breath
My existence defies and deifies death

I splurp and glomph amongst your days
Indistinguishable from mud and haze
I slig and slorg, a dark breamy blaze
with unctuous vim I sleam through your days
and go about my large gorptious ways

Slimy, I slawl in shades of grey
leaving glossful drippings to mark my way
and make your life gang aft agley
as I spream and slorl in spurious ways
and glurm and gleep with hideous gaze
I sleam and glort in vorptious dark ways

‘Til you come undone
And my sporphing’s won!

My job’s complete – I’ve sprunked your flaze
My job is done, I’ve gronked your days!


Details | Clerihew | |

Noah Webster

Eye reckon Noah Webster thought he'd concocted thee perfect dictionary!

   Aye'm hear two tell ewe it ain't perfect and four a reference eye'd bee vary wary!

Yew see, there is one 'mistake' and one 'error' listed under 'M' and 'E'!

   Their ain't know gittin' around them fax and aye think ewe will agree!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Writes Reserved


Details | Rhyme | |

SEXY SYNTAX and vanishing verbs

SEXY SYNTAX and vanishing verbs
    by V. Anderson-Throop

Syntax , syntax
I love you.
From your by to your through.
Syntax ,syntax
You are lost--
Like a letter in the post.
When I scream to find you there
I just look to from and where

 Verbs tried grabbing my delight--
 lost agreement gave me fright.

Alas, true lovers of fair words
Long return for horse and swords.


Details | Quatrain | |

Need Time Management

I started a class for kids recently.
It’s fulfilling, but takes up so much time.
I’ve work ‘til five, and class ‘til eight, roughly.
If I’m to sleep, nothing is left for rhyme.

If I choose poetry instead of dreams,
I’m unable to write verse the next day.
It’s as difficult a fix as it seems.
In the end, my mind’s forfeit to decay.


Details | Cinquain | |

A Trite Write

cliche
is hard to get 
away from in writing --
your creativity's quicksand.
banal.


Details | Free verse | |

And the Voice Said-----

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION

JS Lambert


Details | I do not know? | |

Ink-Spatters

"Ink-Spatters"

By Rachel Heffington

I'm a poetess, an authoress, a gal of story-tell

And I haven't all the fashion of a perfect Southern Belle

And I mayn't be the prettiest or smartest in the land

But I've got a world inside a world inside of my right hand.

Oh I've only got to grasp a pen and all my dreams spill out

Like a tea-pot with an inky-rinky-dinky sort of spout.

I have children by the droves and a husband with a nib

And my baby wears an inky-spotted, blotting-sanded bib.

I am Queen and I am regent, I am rogue and I am cad

And these tumble out my finger-tips onto a paper pad.

Yes I wield enormous power over characters and plot

And my duties: they are many,  and my worries: they're a lot.

But I wouldn't change a bit of it--no, not a single line

For I think that being Authoress is really rather fine.

So I'll keep my ink and paper and my ratchy-scratchy pen

And I'll scribble out my stories till I come upon The End.


Details | Nonet | |

The Nonet

The poetic form of the nonet
Makes one count syllables, and yet
Flows from one line to the next
While making sense of text,
Each line reducing
Syllablcally,
Producing
A terse
Verse.


Details | Quatrain | |

Idioms!

An idiom for you
An idiom for me
It’s just an expression,
a message, you see.

Silence is golden.
Trouble comes in three.
Each to his own taste.
The powers that be.

A rock and a hard place.
Bat out of Hell.
A pig in the poke.
The day will tell.

Pedal to the metal.
Pie in the sky.
Over the top.
Apple of my eye.

Pictures paint a thousand words.
They are dropping like flies.
Put your thinking cap on.
Pull the wool over his eyes

Now, I have shed
some knowledge here for all.
Go learn some more idioms and
have yourself a ball!


Details | Bio | |

Ischchaduta II


******Note:******

This is a new word in the name of the Infamous Pinkee....I still say that it should be
added to the British and/or American Dictionary!  There is an ongoing campaign to 
implement this change fore it is detrimental to the survival of the total alphabet system.
This, I do in the name of the Pinkster....The only problem with this word is that it's spelling
seem's to change every time that it is used, according to the setence structure. I bet that 
Scholars' will fight over this for years.....


Ischchaduta (ish-chc-duta)

Ishchehaduta do what you want
I can ish-chu-data
The way that I feel
I can isch-cu-duta
When I finally need a break
Or climbing up a hill
      ------
That's that old isch-ca-dut-a
Some-time's it could kill
     ------
I can isch-chu-du-a
When I'm eating a steak
I can even isch-cu-duta
When it is all just a big mistake
That's the chance we take
      -------
I can ischcu-duat
When I say that I love you
When I am alone and feel blue
I truly isch-ca-duta-doo
Especially for you
      ------
I can isch-cu-duta
When I am talking on
        The phone
This is the making of
    Isch-chu-da
When I just want to play
           All alone
      ------
I do seem to isch-ul-ax
When I just want to relax
I isch-cc- to the max
When it is time to pay
The "ISR" their tax'
      -----
I ischu-duta-day
In such a seriou's way
As a fact of the matter
I wish that I could Is-cha-duta
         Again to day
Only this time that I ish-co-duta
It won't be for play

                 GF


Details | Free verse | |

Quodliberterianism

Quodlibertarians excel at obacerating
And are skilled in the art of obganiating
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their perscrutation seems nothing less than excoriating!

TRANSLATION:

The Art of Arguing About Anything

People who argue about any subject excel at contradicting
And are skilled in the art of irritating people with constant reiteration
They drive people nuts,
No ifs, ands or buts,
Even their thorough search and diligent inquiry seem nothing less than condemning!
 


Details | Epigram | |

Confused

A house burns up 
as it burns down
An upside down smile
Is called a frown
We throw up
When we really throw down
Any question why voters
Nominate clowns?


Details | Couplet | |

The Letter, 1660

These rustling humans, how they jabber!
With their smudged and crinkling ink dabber

I lie here resting while their investing
Their moments in this blabbered pestering

I've seen their pages scribbled in rages
Of inspiration by their sages

I hear the parchment, crisp and crackling,
Depicting marks pronounced in cackling

And wheezes of a breezes sighs
Read in secret by her eyes

Here in this secluded corner
This one was sent by a foreigner

The rounded man, all clad in fur,
Hears some code, it makes him stir

The thinner man sprouts in his chair
Which creeks beneath his squirming dare

The glamour creature, thin and frail,
Seems neutral about the true tale

I hear a fist pound on the table
Shouting that this could be a fable

"What if it's true?",  the other asks
While in fascination he basks

They analyze it for a clue,
This letter, to learn if it's true

The chamber, while closed, is secret, airy
While echo's this secretary

The scribbled riddles held in hand 
Are esteemed to be so grand

I might chew them if I could
For I bask in my puppy-hood




Details | Haiku | |

Suffocating

A suffocation
Poor poetry drowns me out
Most of it my own


Details | Rhyme | |

excuses

the dog Charley ate my poem
that's what my excuse is
the wind flew it down my street
the same place that my muse is

my boss said "get back to work NOW!"
"the deadline is here for your idea",
I'd like to get it, but don't know how
now I'm lookin' for some panacea

I was standin' with my stanza
and I dropped it down the john
my face flushed, so did the rhyme
tried to get it back, but - it's gone

the organ grinder with his monkey
came walking down our quiet street
turned tranquility into a noted din
made my mind run in full retreat

then I walked down that same road
on my way to this very recital
a big guy came up said "hand it over"
now I'm empty-handed despite all

of these excuses that I need to explain
I've wracked my brain, tipped toward insane
I'll never have a creative thought again!
can someone actually have a mental sprain?

my best friend, at least I thought so
"be a pal, just lemme borrow it" he says,
told me he'd only need it for a day or two
that's the honest truth of what my excuse is

© Goode Guy 2012-04-22


Details | Free verse | |

The Life of A Poem

A glimmer of thought 
a bright shinning view
a way to present
     something old
     something new.

With liquid pen of color
 and by a poetry lover
a description soft or bold
is brought into view.

It sits on a page
a poet's work of creation.
It's quality and summation
justly decides it's station.

In a book on a numbered page
it will sit through out the age.
Just another poem in another book
the poets wish is for you to look.

With fear and trepidation
comes the words that all poets do fear.
(This book is out of print as of this year.)

Now to archive and dusty book cases
the end of reigh is near.
By happenstance and twist of fate
some are resurrected.

Oh how we pray we stand the test of time
in order to be selected.
With the passing of time and life's changing view.
The old must now give way to the new.

Now poems of yesterday don't pass away
they just pass from view.
They slip into the sea of past history
seldom to see the light of day.

Not dead or alive they just linger.
Their job they have done
they have paved the way

for what is yet to come.


Details | Rhyme | |

PT160

PT160, what does it mean
Sounds like a plane or some kind of machine
It seems to almost defy definition
Maybe it is some kind of condition

PT160, poetic texting in 160 characters of less
You are thinking, it's strange, that's my guess
But it is quite a challenge to obey the guidelines
160 characters or less, messages that rhyme in four lines

I would encourage you to utilize your poetic talent
To send a message of hope, words of encouragement
Maybe to say words not easy to say face to face
Loving words sent to someone in a far off place

Maybe you're thinking PT160 is quite silly
But those who have received responded positively
Smiles, days made better,thoughts provoked, appreciation
Sometimes just a few kind words can change a life's direction 


Details | Couplet | |

WORDS GONE RAG a satire

Words Gone Rag

what a pity
how absurd
college grads have lost their words
latent grammar
dead vocab
grab at every
prep they have

don't know what the trouble is...
at computers they can whiz

don't know what will happen next----
whatever it is
will be found
in text


Details | Limerick | |

Amusing

I haven't written a poem all week
though I've sat at this desk and not leaked!
have you seen my muse
is she on a cruise?
If I catch her it's her nose I'll tweak!


Details | Couplet | |

FINE

Ever ask your partner if they want Chinese food for dinner, They reply, “That’s fine”, now does lying make them a sinner. Think back to every reply where someone has said “That’s fine” They really mean, with no other options, acceptance they’ll resign. When picking out wallpaper, a piece of jewelry or a special gift, The word “fine” in the response, will not give the intended a lift. Answer any question with “fine”, you have to realize its not great, It’s neither affirmative or negative, that’s why its the word I most hate. Go ahead use the word, say “She’s fine” because that’s fine by me, Enjoy your gourmet dinner - alone, you can watch the fine scenery.
Written July 27, 2012 For Michael J. Falotico’s contest What word do you hate most


Details | Quatrain | |

WAITING FOR THE MUSES

Did you ever suffer writer's block, 
When you couldn't write a line?  
When you struggled, hoped, and waited  
For that inspiration shine?

Did you ever beg the muses 
To intervene on your behalf, 
And find them in a stubborn mood, 
When they'd only sit and laugh?

They've been playing coy with me, now,
For far too many days.
They nearly drive me up the wall,
With their mean, contrary ways.

But I still love 'em, don't you know, 
And I'm sure that they love me.
I know they'll sing and dance again,
If I wait patiently.


Details | Verse | |

HOW TO ALIGN A FINE LINE

HOW   TO   ALIGN   A    FINE    LINE  


Who can resist the pull of such a competition
Where  the rules are so clear,
But the topic is like sex in the 60s revolution: 
Filled with pitfalls but (yes, it was) -  freer  

          Similar to  the Argentine gaucho named Bruno 
          Who said well there’s one thing I do know
          - Slang is fine, 
          Intentional misspellings are divine,
          But a llama is numero uno. 

And whose  “who’s”   is in question?  Not mine!
Hey,  they’re writing “their” over there
When it oughta be “they’re”.. . . Ok, Fine!
The effect of all this is to affect my degree of care 
(And to effect a change in all poets, I hope).
Since mine is not a KNOCK-OUT of a poem 
And I am certainly no dope
Nor am I a gnome from Nome or even Chomsky Noam
I hesitate to use the non-existent 
Cringer word “irregardless” regardless 
Of the consequences  extant,
Or in future years countless.

……………………………………… 

                                                                                                     
Written by a nameless, talentless poet
For Nancy  Jones’s  Contest   “Fine Line”


Details | Couplet | |

The Mood

I am in a writing mood
But someone wants me to fix some food

I had a line that I hadn't forgot
Someone wanted me to check the clock

I love these moods when words just flow
Someone stepped on my toe

The rain pours down in continous rhyme
But right now I haven't got the thyme

The thyme slows down in January
And I can enjoy the singing Canary

Or Goldfinch as it feeds on Rebeckia
A dash of yellow on bleak cloudy Yucca

Slip out on the porch in damp and cold
Just what I need to restore my soul

Green is showing on Japanese Magnolia
Buds are popping and really acromegaly

Star Magnolia what a treat
Buds could be open in a week

But I know within my heart
Colder must come before spring starts

Out on the porch one more time
God granted me a few more rhymes



Details | Free verse | |

running Chestnut- Syntax-ing

is it a noun or is a verb um																		  to ing or not to ing question                																  my son to patronize a thing 																	 gerunds ung unga to ingaz                                                                                                  not beggar belong to egads 																	 																	not like cave man talk but suffix's 																runnen ans end mind affixes 																	the word things we call ing's  																	running to flow agitating																		 syntax your mind along the lang 																darling short for to be the slang 																	suffice to be or not to be 																 suspense supine a rhyme came thee


Details | Light Poetry | |

The Ones That Get Away

The best ideas come to me when driving or asleep

When driving 
I often have an out of body chuckle
as during the eureka moment I look down and see myself w/
one hand on the wheel the other 
frantically digging in the back seat of the car in search of 
a pen, a purpose, or my notebook with the snoopy stickers . . .

whichever comes first

In the midst of this confusion
the phone begins its siren song from some location
Southwest of my foot
Thinking this could actually be someone, everyone - anyone
I drop my pen begin to search 
Finallyfinditdesperatelypushbuttonsputituptomyear
but no one is there
kind of like my life 

Oh but when I’m asleep things are different . . .

When asleep, I know restless rest of the damned
Those in daylight held back from true knowledge of man
Inspiration waits just by the palm of my hand
To thumb a ride with me up out of dreamland
Deep conscious-filled concepts - like e-mail spam
Give me hope that I am not a poetic ham
They ache in my soul, till before you I stand
With this song in my mouth and my heart in my hand

They wait with great patience for me to wake up
And dispense knowledge that waking doubts can’t corrupt
Stir emotions, feelings, dreams, disrupt
Status quo, preconceived notions, closed minds and such
But It’s over the limit - becoming too much
I turn I twist wrestling with ideas I clutch
The tail end of a mind-blowing image of such
A unfathomable concept, there’s just not enough

Time to develop before the abrupt
Sound of my clock says it time to get up
(I gotta’ have something to write down this stuff!)
A recorder, a notebook, it’s getting quite rough
To remember the concepts that followed me through
The entire night so I’d bring them to you

Wait. A cat with a hat - a ball in the hall . . .

Was it really that simple?  Was that really all? 
There has to be more, I remember it well
I dreamed of a poem as savvy as hell!
It was deeply poetic, insightful as well. 
Could fix the whole world in the places it ails but
I just can’t recall it . . . my memory fails

Ideas also come when sitting quietly at my desk 

There I sit in peace 
writing poems that are not in the form of car hieroglyphics
rare thoughts that sometimes make sense
and would make me happy
If my nose didn't burn with the exhaust 
of all the ones that got away


Details | Rhyme | |

Cheesecake

I am not certain how much I can take
Concerning the arguement over cheescake.
One might wonder what there is to debate,
Because it's so good; in fact, it is great!

The arguement lies in the righness of name;
As "cheesecake", the dessert has risen in fame.
And if it has been frozen instead of baked,
Is it a custard, or is it a cake?

Such a difference might seem petty to some,
But it's akin to the difference between beer and rum!
How would you like to be called by some other name?
Is it possible that cheesecake might feel the same?

For what if it was not a cake at all?
Who was the person who had the gall
To coin the name "cheesecake", or rather why
Did he call it a cake instead of a pie?

Of course, what it's called, matters not in the end;
Both cakes and pies will be eaten.
Then why does this arguement matter so?
To tell you the truth, I don't really know.


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Baggage Claim

Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival, 
          I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches 
                                                Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
          Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
                                                He holds the key to this new world.

The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience 
          Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped 
                                                Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence 
          Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped 
                                                Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.

My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
          In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
			   Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
          On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
                                                Our intrepid journey commences...


Details | Senryu | |

Put a Lid on it.

       Radical Rantings
ants and flys in my fresh soup
    strain it out with love


Details | Rhyme | |

Xtreme Xpectations

I make this appeal,
to Mr. "Dictionary" guy!
I'm a little disturbed,
and I'll tell you why!

Words starting with "X",
are way far too few.
Xray and xylophone,
I can only name two!

Although X-words aren't called for,
too often, that's true,
when they are, it's disaster,
I don't mind telling you!

On behalf of all poets,
I'd like to suggest,
a way to correct this
that I think is best.

There's a whole bunch of "E" words,
we could use, don't you see.
All we need do,
is get rid of the "E"!

Now they'd be "X" words,
like xceed and xcite.
Xpand and xtreme,
which would make it alright!

There would be plenty of words left
starting with "E".
Also many more "X" words,
I'm sure you can see!

Well, that's my suggestion,
but I xpect you won't care!
I got to xpress what I thiink!
I feel better - SO THERE!  



Details | Prose Poetry | |

How Did Santa Claus Broke The Reindeer Back

How Santa Claus broke the reindeer back

I am just disappointed he is such a play ball; he refuses to joined the community gym, he have no consideration for a hard working reindeer like me. Please do us all a favor and stop telling everyone that you’re tall and slim Mr. Claus
Santa put this in your pipe and smokes it. I am forming a union; you can contact my Lawyer Mr. Tin Tin

 I need some Fringe benefits else I am going to quit; year after year after year I chauffeur you around
This is not a smooth ride on green grass, it’s cold, cold snow “please looked around.
Breaking into people houses late at night, dropping off toys, we are plaster on every walls and poles
Santa this reindeer is off radar; you get off your fat ass or hire Casper the friendly ghost.


Details | Rhyme | |

Nothing Left to Say

Nothing Left to Say

Dr. James E. Martin
©February, 2013

What do you say when it has all been said?
What of those musings running through your head?
Is there reason for concern?
Is there something for one to learn?

Surely this is not the first time this has occurred,
Many have undoubtedly these questions heard.
Some need to simply let it go
Instead of great wisdom trying to show.

For others however give thought a little longer.
The original thought just may appear stronger.
If indeed this proves the case
Then certainly these thoughts do not erase.



Details | Burlesque | |

howe 2 finde Gawd

I be frum brooklin
And I bee edumacatid reel goode
En iff uz wanna bee sefistikated lic mee
end Gawd weil bee wit uz
en ween u finde Hiem
asc Him 2 drope buy me's.


Details | Haiku | |

the ceiling burst

the debt ceiling talk
led to so much tension that 
the room's ceiling burst


Details | Rhyme | |

NO FUNNIER LAUGHTER

No funnier laughter
sounds like this laughter...
when its pitch vibrates as sound;
I may giggle at times, but I'm always kind!


Who will tackle me and make me laugh louder than clowns 
by telling me those jokes you heard somewhere?
Were they told by travelers roaming cities and towns,
or were they written down on some rough paper?


Oh, humor you make life sumptuously grand...
when all one needs is the company of some friend!
Sit down and let's tell each other stories that satisfy our literary itch;
let's unearth stories of the famous and the infamous, of the humble and the rich! 


No funnier laughter
is heard around the entire globe;
you may hurt your ear's lobe...
when I laugh harder than Cher!


Details | Grook | |

Re-Writing

re-writing is needed
when words seem to write themselves
without my say-so


Details | Free verse | |

Rebellious

                                        What???...

To get someone to read my poems… Contests there must be.
They must be bleeping nuts thinking I can follow all those cockeyed rules.
Out of a zillion types of poems they always pick the weirdest ones.
Allowed only 16 lines… I found I stopped at ninety-one.
And for a topic they want a bird throwing glitter from a tree.
How about I spank them as I put them across my knee!!!
And why must I name it… as they told me? Where’s that for creativity?
Then they want a special comment added in the poem…
I would rather not add plagiarism… I’d rather call it my own.
But, you know, I am so very needy that I’ll do whatever they want.
Well… I’ll do, maybe one or two… of the things they want.
I know this makes it harder to judge the poems that are found therein.
But to me a poem… is a funny bent on my crazy whim.
Then suddenly, Lord Have Mercy… my poem didn’t win.
But I’m happy as punch for even with their strained smile…
I’m sure they read one of my poems yet again. :)

(Meant only for fun) I'm not really complaining. Just having fun.


Details | Free verse | |

The running Chestnut- onomatopoetic

what a running chestnut sounds like                                                                                                                                    when Parting ways with a damsel like the wind whoosh     								   	Naturally the gallant knight of the noble Anguish Languish 									Galloping in clip clop steed whinnying 											standing alone ready to take the blame audaciously 											in the crinkling face of smoke filled nose the dragon 									Roars vibrating the ears rearing an ugly wheezing head                                                                                                      		The hooting laughter hahaha hihihihi of passersby										 burping out who done its in midst of gaseous hissing fog 									 blushing little lady long gone into silent retreat 										 Ripping out loudly It was not the ribit ribit of a croaking frog 								 with swooshing sword raised waving back and forth                                                                                                          		clearing the air taking brunt of insults you pig oink oink eschewed                                                                                                         		The clanging armor holds the dragon slain the stench quenched


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp


Details | Blank verse | |

PERSPECTACLES-the sight of the blind

PERSPECTACLES’-‘the sight of the blind’
Perspectives according to the eyes
Spectacles perspectives
Spectacular perspectives
The eyes perspectives
The perspectives of the eyes
The thoughts of the eyes
Fired by eye-sight
The in-sight; the sight within
In my own eyes
In the eyes of my mind
In my mind eyes
For the eyes do think
With a horn-rimmed spectacles
It is spectacular! 
It’s the sight of the blind
The vision of the visualless
It’s insight; the hindsight and sight within
It is perspectacles! 
And its spectacular
The blind see
The blind see still blind
Is it a miracle? 
No, it is a spectacle
It is particular
Well, maybe a miracle
But it is spectacular
It is PERSPECTACLES 


Details | Rhyme | |

The World Needs Stupid Poems About Sheep

There's many speeches made upon the battlefield of life
And much advice both wise and otherwise
There's words to spur us on to overcome all sorts of strife
Some honest truths and some just hopeful lies.

The pep talk to build up the team so they go out and win;
The mantras found in simple battle cries;
The politics of power delivered with an extra spin;
The prophets' words reduced to sermon size;

The burning words of hatred that can send a man to kill
To light the fire that must be quenched with blood;
The prophecies long written that the blind seek to fulfil;
The word that lifts the fallen from the mud.

The lovers speak in whispers in the darkness of the night
And plight to each their troth in sickly verse
And the righteous lift up their voice to praise God, good and right
And hide the fact that they do something worse.

But if there is humanity and sanity to keep
The world needs stupid poems about sheep.


Details | Chastushka | |

GUINEA BOOK-PIG

    THE GUINEA BOOK-PIG

At four she was a guinea pig
For a rising college geek
‘Cause the kid was talkative
Perfect brain to take a peek

So the testing started there
Little questions never ended
Hungry little mind was bright
Former life was now suspended

Didn’t jazz and didn’t play
Let her mournful dogs run wild
Didn’t swing and didn’t climb
Became a different, sober child

Read newspapers, wanted more
‘who is what and what is why’
Annoyed the neighbors and her cats
‘tell me how to testify!’

Reading things beyond her years
‘here’s a book, now zip it up’
No one paid attention what--
So she read to fill her cup

In the summer age of seven
Brother studied long and hard
Morte D’Arthur spent the night
Flashing with his mighty sword

Dashing all the summer long
With the heroes of the Table
Rode and battled, saved the day
Brushed her horse in Arthur’s stable

Ulysses sailed in close behind
Wicked Sirens plied their trade
Then a buddy left a Fleming
Full blown sex was then displayed

So she passed the books around
To the friends who had no sources
Little girls with Barbie dolls 
played at passion and divorces

What a start to what a life
Wouldn’t have it changed a bit
But if Mother would have known
Certain she would have had a fit.

By Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
November 30, 2012


Details | Rhyme | |

Quickie You

You are quick
And so spunky  
You are witty 
You are a goof-off (everyday) 
You are silly and crazy  
You are whiny and wary 
You are childlike and canny  
You are a show-off (in a good way) 
You are pretty 
And quite tidy  
You are slick!  


Details | Limerick | |

Dirty words

A young cunnilinguist in Chichester
Delighted his girl as he kissed her
His sweet talk was great 
But she could not but wait
‘Till he showed her his latest tonguetwister 


Details | Senryu | |

Character Limit - Senryu

So many things in 
my heart that need expression.
Character limit.


Details | Free verse | |

OPPOSITES

OPPOSITES


Joe is always feeling disgruntled
Can’t remember when he was last gruntled

His garden shed was dismantled today
It’s only two years since it was mantled


In the mirror his hair looks dishevelled
Rarely  these days is it  shevelled


Details | Free verse | |

Running chestnut - oxymoron

 Plainly speaking four legged Oron not an instrument of torture                                                                                                                                 	a little light sprinkling banging heavily on the pianoforte                                                                                                	Not in the sense of causing an affect of confusion        									but in truth the opposite when there was no word  									Then came a need for a new tune like on a Double virginals  							musing out loud spinning out the chords for damsel       								multiple choirs stringing together light the heavens    									 beautiful and picturesque an axiom                                                                                     coup de grâce of the grossly misunderstood                                                                                            	 dull and sharp between the cup that is half way full                                                                                                       	 like the sun shining in a dark cavern                                                                                            saying where is the darkness


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

time gentlemen please

  What caused and made me try this cryptic voice
  Did I or did I not have any choice
  is Time so cruel to teasingly disgrace
  The weaponry I choose to seal my fate
  Silence is so easy to embrace and use
  I could yet stay a shy reclusive muse
  If not for this my desperate attempt
  at words of rhymed intention
  Alas Alack  this stolen  time
  I'd saved to spend
  in quiet contemplation


Details | Free verse | |

Running Chestnut- Expression verbivocovisual

Run on the man														      He is a man who procrasti- 											          nate prolongs the claim of crafti-                                            							 ness locked with the formal expres-                     									 sions Priory pseudoconfusion I digress  										     Run on the man he is a man who's all right 										 in is his on conceits regardless of constitution                                         					 bill the people as good as pollution featured as depend-								 able character claims certainly due to omitted clever commend-  								 able like unauthorized to make that judgment who is expendable-                                                                                            	 You did not make the rules or give so what gives with breaking them     						 when no one is hurt by expressions but when where to their edification                                                                                    	 Do not live in glass houses and do not throw stones whoever you're a conception


Details | Quatrain | |

Hitting a Writer's Block

I've hit a Writer's Block, I fear,
For now nothing makes sense,
My subject matter is farily bland,
I can't make it intense.

Perhaps I need a break from writing
But such ideas I cannot bear,
For I find joy in intriguing
All of my readers out there.

I've hit a Writer's Block, I think
It took out the rear tire
Of all the dreams I rode upon
Of the goals to which I aspire.

I look to the sky and beg for help,
Or some weird idea; I'd try
To use what I'm given to fix my dreams,
For if I don't write, I will die.

I've hit a Writer's Block; I might
Have injured it somewhat badly,
Unfortunately, as blocks don't die,
It will pursue me, madly.

What does a writer do, to have 
Earned such horrid fate?
Should I have had a headlight on
When I was writing late?

I've hit a Writer's Block; it's true,
Even as I now pen;
But the Writer's Block hit back,
And it will hit again.


Details | Rhyme | |

Too Late

Poets fingers write but once complete
who can by deceit or wit 
cancel a line or even a bit
No washing a word or meaning of it


Details | Rhyme | |

Cyber-Space

Where is this place 
 called Cyber-Space??
 When failed attempts at writing prose...
  She will compose, then thumb her nose!
   She must dispose!
     So off it goes!
       To where?? ....Who knows???
    
Admit defeat...
  and hit delete!
    Those jumbled words
       like shameful birds
         will disappear
          to be erased!
           So far from here
            in such disgrace
              to Cyber-Space !    > > > > >

                 Where is that place???


Details | Rhyme | |

apple sand

to time the rhyme or range of orange
when to smile and when to cringe
nothing fits but on the fringe
yet I find red yellow wonder
defining moments to unhinge
My orange dingy dinghey
the cold sea it's under
icily swelling nicely
A weighted wait
To float a boat


Details | Couplet | |

Here's Sum Fun!

Google me
Kanoodle me
Please whole kit'n'kaboodle me

Otherwise
how rude I'll be

I demand at least
you doodle me

Then how sweet
my mood'l'be!

---

Now don't you try
to foodle me

You really can't
bamboozle me

'cuz I'm smarter
than my poodle be!


Details | Tetractys | |

Blinking-eye Cupid

I would like to stay here and comment more, but that blinking-eye Cupid drives me nuts!


Details | Rhyme | |

No

Smilingly some say ‘no’
Angrily some say ‘no’
Very easily some say ‘no’.
So not many hesitate to say ‘no’.
So the word 'no'
Even if truly uttered
Or pretending mattered.
 ‘No’ can be a canopy.
Or used as an analogy.
Used sometimes to distortedly stop.
And sometimes used for being at top.
“No” is a sweet word.
It is seldom absurd.
When heard it may be disappointing.
Sometimes very annoying
'No' is usually said boldly
Suddenly, and profoundly…


Details | Quatrain | |

MIA

The poem is missing somehing!
Oh my goodness - what could it be? 
It's got to be here somewhere...
Hey, wait - it's just missing a "t"? 

The poem WAS missing something
I"m sure glad it's been found 
Now I've got no worries
everything's safe an sound. 

But wait - now something's gone again
I'm squinting, but it's lost in plain sight 
I'm scratching my head till I realize - no worries
My spell checker will make it all write.

3/2/12


Details | Quatrain | |

NO, REALLY

NO,    REALLY. . . . . . 

‘That dress is nice’ means it is ok but it hardly amazes
‘No honestly, that dress is really nice’ means it is kinda nice-ish, oooh.
For genuine admiration I need to add more reassurance phrases: 
‘No, honestly, I absolutely think it is nice  - I really do’

‘Are you busy?’  means  “ I’ve got a  problem: stop and listen”
Indirect way of implying concern for the other, but not really.
But   “ I’m busy”  means   “Don’t come to me to unburden,
Don’t start getting emotional and all  touchy-feely.”

“How are you? Hey, lookin’ good”  is  a harmless salutation
But  please don’t give me any detailed answer, just nod.
I don’t have time for a complete and thorough investigation
Of all which is due to your health, your wealth and your God.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written by Sydney Peck
Entered in Nancy Jones’s  Contest      When I Say.... what I really mean is...


Details | Rhyme | |

SENSELESS PUMPKIN READERS

SENSELESS PUMPKIN READERS

Peter peter hated meter
All words seemed like seven feeters
So he only read haiku
never wrote more lines than two

Peter peter wanted more
wrote all winter-- managed four
But by spring sun thawed the first
And so he read it in reverse


This is nonsense Lear style poetry....
words for words sake.....
for rhyme and sound.....


Details | I do not know? | |

Buried By Haiku

I'm here
amongst the huge pile of haiku.
Can you see me? 
I hope you do.

I've been buried here
and I don't know what to do.
Each time I post a poem..
it gets buried by haiku! ! 


Details | Limerick | |

Bad Mood

At first: elated.
Now I sit, deflated;
My inspiration's down the drain.
I'm mad 'cause it's sunny;
I don't think it's funny.
Boy, how I wish it would rain.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VII

Non-existent God
Subject of poor poetry
Just like this one. Damn.


Details | Free verse | |

To Whom It May Concern

Some say there's nothing poetic about blue-collar work.
I'm here to prove them wrong.

What is a poem?
For one, it has rhythm.
"Well, where's the rhythm
in a discordant jumble of a thousand tools
all clamoring for dominance over my ears?"
It's smack-dab in the middle -
where you hear clanging and banging,
I hear the smooth, even strokes
of a well-swung hammer.
Where you hear chopping and whirring,
I hear the harmony
of a saw producing a masterpiece.

What else constitutes poetic achievement?
Diction and language.
"Well, sure, there's all kinds of
colorful language among those types - 
not the kind of language I meant!"
To that, I say, read my musings,
hear my words and see
if you can say without lie
that there's no fine vocabulary present.
A coarse man in the company of other similar types,
one may come home
and show his refined and eloquent side.

What is a poem?
One more thing it has is sometimes rhyme.
"What, now you're going
to come right out and say
that you all speak in rhyme?
You must be joking."
To which I reply,
look me in the eye,
and see if you detect any jest;
For those of us down, in the mud and the dirt,
may look the sort to be simple and curt;
But we can sure rhyme with the best.

What do the poetic greats have?
A mastery of their form.
"Well, here, in this final point
has got to be my clincher;
There's no way you guys
are spitting out haiku and so on."
To this I say that here
lies the winning facet of my argument, not yours -
for you need look no further than the piece before you;
Two lines to start, four groups of a dozen,
and two at the end -
I dare say that that is indeed some kind of form.

One more job done, another task complete -
this humble poem of frustration and explanation.


Details | I do not know? | |

UNINSPIRED

I aspired to be inspired,  
So I labored all the day. 
No inspiration--just perspiration,  
I guess I'd better use the spray


Details | Rhyme | |

I hate MRS Oleson

I hate Harriet Oleson because she was a bitch.
Somebody should've had that awful woman lynched.
She makes me so mad that the veins in my forehead start to throb.
That woman was greedy, mean and she was the world's biggest snob.

She had a spoiled brat for a daughter who was named Nellie.
But when Laura Ingalls threw hay on her, she became smelly.
If I had been MR. Oleson, I would've gotten a divorce.
His wife was so ugly, she had the face of a horse.

If I could've gotten my hands on MRS. Oleson, I would've gave her a good shake.
Every time she looked in mirrors, they were bound to break.
The Ingalls were very good people and they were also very nice.
But I wish MRS. Oleson would've had to shave her head because of lice.


Details | Couplet | |

The Blessing for My Book

As my job and health failed me... I dreamed to someday put together a 
book of poetry and this will be the blessing it will begin with...

As I sit here weaving my poetry
Into the semblance of a book…
I find that I must ask Gods’ blessing…
For the journey, that together we have took.

I find I must bow my head in thought…
Over this book that together we have wrought
As my hands clasp oh so reverently and earnestly over my heart…
As I believe his help brought the words together that I sought.

And God set the journey that shaped what now before you begins…
He helped me find the words that reached through my heart to my pen.
I pray the poems will be worthy of what he showed me as my life’s art.
And upon this book I honestly pray that his blessing he will impart. 






Details | Rhyme | |

~Following the Rules!~

~Rules were meant to be broken~ *At least that’s what I think* ~All words were meant to be spoken~ *Just as Jack Daniels was meant to drink* ~I don’t like structure, I like to be free~ *I generally do the opposite of what I am told* ~You‘ll never meet anyone quite like me~ *After me I guarantee they broke the mold* ~I never was one to follow the rules~ *I did things on my terms most of the time* ~It got me in lots of trouble at school~ *But without it I wouldn’t be writing this rhyme* ~See I do as I’m told if it suits my mind~ *And I follows the rules to a tee* ~But if I am pushed, I’ll be disinclined~ *I have a contrary streak!* (By: Tirzah Conway) -Dedicated to A Rambling Poet-


Details | Bio | |

Why Sonnets

Reckoned I’d write a bit o’ rhymin’ in the cowboy vein;
it slipped outta my lasso and I couldn’t take the rein.

So then I tries my hand at rap
But, white as sand, pheel like a sap
An’, like debates Republicanned, it was all a bunch a cr*p.

Freely versed New Yorkers’ 
obfuscated, seasonal frame; 
still the acorn froze despite the early thaw
that sighed through the Alphabet Jungle.

Minimalism
sucked.

Haiku too proved too
easily misunderstood,
or pretty petty.

Couldn’t
Conquer
Complete
Concrete.

Acrostic 
Couldn’t
Really
Offer
Something
That
I
Cherished.


Details | Free verse | |

Confused Yet

Confused Yet

A New Take on an old story.

Just a piece nonsense I hope you will enjoy

Pull up and chair and sit on the floor
I'm going to tell you a story you're never seen before
Late one night in the early morning
I stood outside the house while sitting in my bedroom
I shouted at the top of my lungs while whispering to my friend
Who was sitting beside me as I stood in the hall
That thunder was loud and the clouds were black
As sun shone bright from a clear blue sky
Ask me on qeustions and I'll tell you now lie
Just ask the blind man he saw it too. 




Details | Lyric | |

Between and About

Twixt And between
Never quite there
But never will I stop.
I work and ponder
Forever moving 
Searching around and about.

There are times I wonder, where I really am?
Will I ever achieve my goals?
And what are the goals I’m searching for?
Are they really what I want?
Do I know which way to go?
Or should I start all over and begin again?

We’re all here at times in our lives…
Till every thing will finally become clear.
Then, some how I’ll be there again:
Twixt and between
Never quite there…
Here I go again.

Fluff Contest: This poem is definately full of fluff.


Details | Burlesque | |

Tom's TidBits

Cinqo De Mayo...When a Brooklyn thug target shoots at a floating jar of Hellman's.

Dutch- Where do they come from?  I've looked at atlases dozens of times, and 
can't find a country called Dutch, or Dutchland.

Dusty Springfield- why doesn't someone get her a dust-buster, or dust rag, or 
something?

Refried Beans- What's that about? Didn't they fry them right the first time?

Chigger- defamatory label for a person half Chinese, and half Black.

Endomorph- Quitting a serious drug habit.

Hoe-Down- 1)Dropping your garden tool.  2)A prostitute rendered unconscious.

Ignoramus- A hippo who failed in high-school.

Knee-Jerk-A person whose brains are in his shins.

Primate- A burglar's cohort with the crowbar.


More may be added later, and all are welcome to contribute, either in comments, 
or e-mail me and I'll add them.


Details | Free verse | |

DIALECTIC POMPOSITY and other name calling

DIALECTIC POMPOSITY   and other name calling
    by V. Anderson-Throop

Dialectic Pomposity
Still chases me---
Elitist snob---
What is the precise
termonology
For an individual
Erudite
With droll wit
Who encounters
Ecstasy
With the
Conspicuous consumption
Of books?


Details | Clerihew | |

SCTV Comedian

John Candy
Is quite beefy and dandy.
He is a comedian on SCTV
He's funny--everyone must agree!


Details | I do not know? | |

WHAT IS HOME?

WHAT IS HOME?

ROLLING HILLS ARE HOME TO ME,
PLAYING CHESS WITH FRIENDS,
DANCING ON THE WEEKEND,
WALKING IN THE WIND,
BLOWING BUBBLES.

(Reflect)

BUBBLES BLOWING WIND,
THE “IN” WALKING WEEKEND,
THE “ON” DANCING FRIENDS
WITH CHESS PLAYING ME. 
TO HOME ARE HILLS ROLLING?


Details | Burlesque | |

on a mat a pier

deride derision  divide division devise a vision
play with words like rythym  tick something squared
is power of two and cubed's the power of three 
not four that's more
are inconsistent seas unfound or foundered 
I think there four iambic meters cause caucasion
indecision in a celtic melded welded mind I find
a loss of words incomprehensic in reprehensic
pensitivity


Details | Haiku | |

Tyrant Haiku

The clock's time is off.
Like a capricious tyrant,
my cell is bothered.


Details | Rhyme | |

My Quite Place

My quite place, it is quite a place Not very big at all Walls less than an arm’s length apart Some would call it a stall With a free mind, I’m creative While sitting on the ring Paper to write; paper to wipe Ready for anything


Details | Free verse | |

Running Chestnut- Enjambment

Rambling and run on grammar and have they yet wrote poetry       													  accepted and appreciated when needed 																liken to saying do as I say not as I do 																yet I got F for frequency not an aye  																and, or, but, yet, for, nor, and so 																	 I will use all in a row to show it seems         															 to me to be a rhyme scheme against me 															 but I am not scared no not a bit     																your who do's and what not's 																	I will the enjamber be if you will   																	 from start too when this rhyme quits


Details | Free verse | |

The Running Chestnut- percontation point

the Running Chestnut down in the mine   																	where is the dark sarcasm 									         								asking myself a rhetorical question 																how did it come to be facing one another																 looking up the point like lighting it struck me funny   														 for the ironlike window let all the light flow in 															fading into darkness yet the question remains 	 														mark my words well raising the pitch musically 															 I go to find the answer turning it upside down   															in my opening remarks circling in my mind 															could make some stomachs semi-upset  																but learning from a good question is the point															 like pluck the chicken before you make the soup


Details | Light Poetry | |

Orange Angst

Last week I was shopping for ideas on the corner of metaphor and allegory,
Rummaging through a pile of discount words to help me tell a story.

A shelf of very expensive words caught my eye because they were so flirty,
Then a drawer of words that must have fallen down because they were so dirty.

There were several words in a mark down bin and they were really cheap,
And even though they didn’t quite fit I decided that I would keep…. them.

I could bend them down and twist them around until the sentence was a maze,
With just a little bit of reworking I found that I could shape them into a phrase.

I’d have to wrestle with a word sometimes until my huffing face turned purple,
Then I‘d have to resort to telling lies like, an aglet is also called a nerple.

Remember when you’re shopping for words that orange creates angst,
And that a poem is never really done until the subject is properly thanksed.

The word store sent me a coupon in the mail showing the fifty percent off it gives,
It says that this is the greatest sale of all time so I went looking for superlatives.

But when I got there I found out that the sale had several misrepresentations.
It seems the promised discount was only good on words with abbreviations.


Details | Free verse | |

Confessions of a Poetry Souper

So, I write,
Sometimes I do it for me 
At times it's out of spite
I should just let it be 
Instead internal fight

It's hard to match these words
And rhyme them every time
Sometimes it for the birds
I know it has to rhyme.
I feel like such a nerd.

Emotions,memories flood
Inside my inner soul,
They grow and then they bud,
Completed now I'm whole,
Have not created a dud.

I try to tell a truth
Share a fact or two
Like when I lost a tooth
Is what I need to do,
Mustn't lose my couth.

I like the words to play
And sound and syllables dance
There is a certain way
It's not achieved by chance.
Someday it might pay.

Until that day does come
I try and do my best.
Make them all for fun
To share with all the rest
Enjoy I hope for some.

    



Details | Couplet | |

Simple Poetry

My poems are often simple, or so I have been told.
Nine courses of college English, if I may be so bold.
My roots are in the country and that is how I live.
If my poems are too simple, then I ask you to forgive

This simple-minded, country school marm
Who was priveledged to grow up on a farm.
My poetry makes me happy when I am blue.
If you don’t like it simple, then I am sorry for you.

Ordinary words can easily say what is real.
You don’t need fancy words to say how you feel.
So I keep it simple, as you have readily seen
So simple folks can understand just what I mean.

Simple does not mean stupid, ignorant, or rough.
Simple means without frills and all that stuff.
Please don’t bother to tell me if I break your rules.
Simple poems written by me does not make me a fool.

My bachelor of science in teaching stands on its own.
A language arts specialization keeps me in the zone. 
So when you read my poem and it’s too simple for you,
Just don’t review it, even though it’s simple and true.

Find a poet who uses words requiring deeper thought.
Those poems for which a dictionary must be sought.
If I choose to be simplistic, then that is my right.
Many other poets like the simple way that I write.


Details | Rhyme | |

Beagle Ears or a Baby's Bottom

What do you think of, when you hear the word SOFT?
Is it gossamer spider webs, lining an old barn's loft?

Could it be the fluff, from the dandelion seed?
Or the down from a bird, whose been recently freed?

Would you describe SOFT, in musical terms?
Like Pachelbel's Canon in D, or the songs of terns?

Is it possible to picture SOFT, as a pastel scene?
Or maybe the vagueness, of a old fading dream.

Might the caress of an eyelash, on the tip of your nose,
Rival the feel and subtle smell, of an opening rose?

SOFT could be a gentle breeze, in late afternoon.
Or the muted chortle, of a parenting loon.

Then there's the softness, of an old man's earlobe.
And Cumulus clouds, that circle our globe.

But I'll argue all day, or until my words are forgotten,
Nothing's as SOFT as Beagle Ears-- or a Baby's Bottom.


Details | Lyric | |

No Longer Musing

The other day I called it in
 
to my office, from the hall;
 
it wasn't that my muse was, "off"
 
it wasn't doing anything, for any reason, at all !
 
At the onset I thought it was but, a tad tired;
 
and l thought l'd give it another day;
 
then l began realizing a listlessness
 
that was contagious, much to my dismay.
 
I spoke with the man at the pharmacy
 
who assured me that there was a cure;
 
and that, if it were not soon administered
 
there'd be consequences no poet could endure !
 
So frightened was l, after hearing of this
 
l sprang to action, right after my nap;
 
l visited a place where the critics loved me,
 
'twas my fans thought l was loaded with, crap !
 
l awoke and went straight to my office
 
to have said "talk", with my weak little muse;
 
l instead, began writing about "nothing",
 
instead of holding on too tight, to an excuse 


Details | Free verse | |

Get Your Own

You sicken me
Yes you
You who likes to borrow my pen
And never give it back
You asked to use it and I obliged
But don’t think you’re about to walk off it
I need that back 
I didn’t ask for your soul or anything
I just want my pen back
You don’t get it I know
To you it’s just an ordinary pen
To me it’s an extension of myself
A sacred instrument used to decipher life
It helps me discover new parts of myself
Connects me to my spirit in intimate moments created in silence
It documents my temperament
As I express the extent of my discontent
I can escape my present, resurrect my past, and peek into my future
I would rather give you all my money
Than for you to keep my pen
Maybe not all my money
Maybe just a dollar
So you can get your own pack of Bics




Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Back to Work

Vacation is over, my friend.
Four days and not one poem penned.
Muse, the holiday’s done. 
Lift yourself off of your bar stool.
You’ve had your chance to be a fool.
There are words to be spun.


Details | Limerick | |

Four Limericks

There once was a girl named Ana,
Who loved to eat ice cream and banana,
THen her treat did disappear,
And Ana shed some tears,
Everyone felt bad for Ana Banana,

There once was a boy named Peter,
Who was known as the school's best cheater,
One day he was caught,
And detention he got,
Everyone felt bad for Peter the Cheater.

There once was a boy named Michael,
Who had a new motorcycle,
He went on a ride,
And fell off the side,
Everyone felt bad for Michael.

There once was a girl named Fina,
WHo dreamed she was a ballerina,
She would gracefully twirl,
Until she could hurl,
Everyone felt bad for Fina.


Details | Haiku | |

Writer's Market

Read "Writer's Market"
For tips on getting started
Check your library

(See also: "Poet's Market" © Writer's Digest Books)


Details | Free verse | |

Free Range

Often my thoughts do range far and wide.
But it’s not just my thoughts that skim the tides.
When my Hubby asks and I don’t reply…
He says I’m free ranging again with my mind.
He laughs and tells me to please wake up…
But I’ve already been there, thank you, so much.

Deep in thought and so far away,
He’s still my muse in every way.
But once I get going on that thought…
Look out boys, my mind is set and lost
But don’t you worry. No Sireeee.
When the typing slows you’ll know I’m back, you see.

Those free-range chickens have nothing on me…
I way surpass them in productivity.
And as my words free range far and wide
You’ll find… others may be joyfully joining  me for a time.



Details | List | |

Just One or Two More Tiny Tidbits of Nonsense

I used to be bisexual....but then I ran out of money and couldn't buy it anymore.
I just bought a 12 pack of cold pills- they should last forever!!  I can't open the 
da_m things!!
When all else fails, you're up sh_t's creek!
I "souped up" my van-  I wrote poetry all over it.  Caused 6 accidents in 2 days- 
seems others have lost concentration trying to read them at 60MPH.
Thanx to all the soup-freaks I've come to know and love-  keep up the good 
work...or, if ya can aford it, hire a ghost-writer.  Just make sure he's not merely 
ectoplasm...
Cheers.


Details | Ballade | |

McDonalds poem

me and my girl kelssey just got done smoking weed
 are stomach start rumbling and we started too have cravings 
what was it what do we need 
we but our minds together and it was micky d's

so we walked in to get our burgers and fries,
but realized we aint gots no money to our surprise

i look in my back pocket and a 20 appear
 we was like holy crap then we walk up to the cashear 
she was like "how can i help you? you want that here or to go ? "
 umm i dont know but i like a number 6 plain with cheese
 but her not sure what do you want kelssey?


i want a classic combo. a sweet tea to drink. 
thats what id order im pretty sure or i think.
 burgers on our mind..thank god it was micky d's that we would find
. but watch the drinks. make sure the dont spill. 
but if you do its ok. cuz we get free refill.

they called our order and we grab our meal 
right when we seat down i cause a big deal
 i looked at my food and guess what i see 
they put lettuce ketchup and mayonnaise and the receipt says plain with cheese
 i cause a fus and a big scene it all worked out
 the food was free and i got back my 20


so we didnt have to pay.
 we got out there real fast and started a good day.
 but we were still hungry and what did we do? 
well we thought a shopping cart would fit through the drive through.

 a bad idea? i dont know. but me and west thats how we roll.
 so we climb in and away we go we went so fast no a time was spent
i was like " i hope we dont hit a car i hope we dont cause a dent"
 we finnally got to the end of the drive through 
so we told em to give us order number two and dont for get order number three
 right when we grabbed our food we jumped out of the cart and then we flea



so our trip to mickey d's was quite amazing at the least... 
as we eat our burgers and join in a great feast.
im like dang what are we doing 
we are packing our face s like a 8 year old eats pudding
 im a skinny kid but now i feel like a fat as pig 
i ate so much im starting to feel sick

so fat we feel. cuz we ate to much. kinda bad idea. 
who would of thought of such.
 well me and west kno how to kick it. eat mickey d's all day is good living


Details | Free verse | |

BUK

The Poetry Journal
Sent my first electronic rejection slip. 
Enjoyed reading my work
But the inaugural issue is full and are
Unable to publish my poetry…they say.
The Editor wishes me luck. 
After reading his work,
Wish him as well.
Right now,
Feeling proud 
Like Bukowski.


Details | Free verse | |

WRITING WHEN YOUR BREATH STINKS

No perfect verse
can be written before sleep;
it's better to procrastinate
than to write when your breath stinks!
No, I am not referring 
to unbrushed teeth
and unrinsed mouth,
but lots of gulping drinks!   
Even your pen swerves as a wheel of a car;
doesn't influence effects your ability
to put thoughts together!



Food for thought
is not wine, beer or champagne; 
they will not stimulate your intellect
when you are unable to think!
Rather they will decrease brain performance,
blocking your thinking process...
like an invalid password not giving you access!
Ever sent one to an editor...
and it was rejected for grammar,
wrong form and misspelling?
He must have smelled alcohol from far!



There was a poet writing
lengthy verses lacking imagination,
they couldn't hold the reader's attention:
when they could have been brief
and to the point without sacrificing artistry! 
He always had a bottle of rum
or vodka next to him to keep him company!
Wouldn't you say that...
he was as drunk as his pen?



Writing when your breath stinks,
slows you down and makes you unresponsive
to your surroundings...
failing to notice important things!
There are lots of foolish mouths 
spitting out words
with the allude they will be
performed on stage!
Wouldn't the audience be upset,
or show intense rage?




Details | Free verse | |

The Running Chestnut - euphemisms

Next you can expect Running Chestnut                                                                               over the hill and through the grove            									                                                                                                                	  in three moons and a coon's age but  											I am only as old as I can still remember 										      only as I feel No rain no gain in my december pond  									In my day we walked uphill bare footed in dirt older than                                                                                                                            	both ways in around about way growing gracefully                                                                                                           	Help I've fallen asleep at the wheel in my golden age								and can't get up to see blue hair on the back burner    								Coming and going expression lines upon my face                                                                                                                                 	 a moment of good vintage did I leave the stove on 								The Running Chestnut doesn't fall to far from the tree


Details | Verse | |

Groovin' on Rondelets

Groovin’ on Rondelets,
I find this short form amusing and intriguing.
Groovin’ on Rondelets,
the hours whittle away, a person forgets
about necessities, like eating and sleeping.
It’s a silly kind of song that I keep singing,
“Groovin’ on Rondelets.”


Details | Quatrain | |

Ode to the Haiku

Oh haiku – how I do love you!
With your sweet simplicity and gentle refrain 
You fetter me to petite joys
Allowing me to…oh dear - I wrote a quatrain!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Vocabular Extraordinar

 
   With Vocabular Extraordinar their words do
                             entice.
       To know which meaning or their intent
                        would be nice.
         The key to their intoxicating verbal
                        woo and slice.
              is contained in this detailed
                      but sound advice.
      With flick of tongue or scribble of pen
                 on this you can depend.
      They can make you feel praised, loved,
                      scorned or diced.
So if you are smart, of tangling with the learned
                      you'll think twice.
   If not schooled in vocabulary of the learned
                         do be wary.
   What may seem a compliment may be quite
                          to the contrary.
     When said to be ludicrously loquacious it
                   is anything but gracious.
     They are just trying to be mean and oh so
                           pugnacious.
      For the meaning of this is a silly repetitive
                          chatter box.
When you have studied and you think you have
                       out foxed the fox,
  and for a dictionary you seldom have to run.
        Out of left field comes the elude, the
               nuance, metaphor and pun.
Now once again holding their sides they have you
                         back on the run.
    If you think this is enough and that you are
                           about done.
   Oh no my friend this list has only just begun.
 I have given you a start with what I know and
              what I say is from the heart.
   If with the learned a conversation you wish
                               to spark,
   Then in vocabulary you need to school and
                had better get a fast start.
          For to them this is not just an art.

                        IT"S A GAME !!!





                      


Details | Grook | |

A Knight's Parody

A magic knight coursing on in brilliance

On lean hack in clanging, cleaving aegis,

Crunching incantation-dark, blunt, and grunt.

So light illumines his cold, whiskered phiz

And it predates the warrior in night hunt.

Chase is stashed by shade then stir lulls to prance

When periphery is gorged by a mist.

Pitches of bolts burst ahead ere he cries.

His corpus recoils from cuffs in the breasts;

Wide-flat nose lights down to the ground; he dies.


Details | Senryu | |

the wrong cawl-ing

they don't speak at night                                                                                                 conclusion animal not                                                                                                                    pretenders are lost


Details | Haiku | |

Allergic

heady perfumes rise
sweet gardenia scents the air
helplessly I sneeze
 
 


Details | Quatrain | |

Absent

I don't love you for your wit
You're always spitting bile.
Reluctantly  I now admit
I do not love your smile.

Nor do love your manly touch
And I don't love your smell.
I just don't love you very much,
So why's your silence hell?

I do not miss your lilting voice,
Nor do I miss your kiss.
I've never seen your laughing eyes
So what is there to miss? 

I don't love your hand in mine
It's strictly for the birds.
Without your love I'm doing fine,
But how I miss your words.


Details | Senryu | |

' Orbit Gum ... ' 28th Senryu

‘ Orbit Gum … ’   28th   Senryu 



       A Devious Tongue
    Is Not A Dry-Witty One
   Just Dirt and Mouth-Scum


Details | Free verse | |

a running chestnut- prosodic ha ha

By any other name what is in a name 															prosody Rosa Dee the sweet voices arise in                       													Consonance assonance resonance Renaissance															you see being reborn by the word frequency 															colorfully resurrected euphoric euphony 																your flowing down along the Dee an Irish sea														  without life the screams of cacophony  															  cantos of Muirghein the queens nightmare            														 winds of change blow upon the wordy mare      															but the word in question rhimes with prosody                       													so you see to alliterate the marrying sounds															 honest dissonance choosing rather to write it down														 nomadiclly poeticlly phonetically as Rosa Dee															 instead harboring to the odic glottis lotus                                                                              within hours hope to see a singing laughing flower


Details | Couplet | |

DON'T ASK ME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW


   It's a mystery to write when you have nothing in mind
   Especially when every thought seems to be unkind.

   "Write from the Heart" is what they say
   But, if your head isn't in it, there's trouble along the way.

   So you trot out ideas that may be plain
   Then you bring out the ones that are completely inane.

   Oh, for an idea to get something started
   Only the heart and the brain have long since parted.

   In desperation you ask someone to give a title to you
   They give you that blank look, because they think you a fool.

   But, even their negative response can trigger the flow...
   I just heard one when they said,

   "Don't ask me, because I don't know".


Details | Free verse | |

A running Chestnut- verbosity

Oh my she said what loquacity to speak to me that way  									 in short she was being short which to me is puzzling with prolixity 						 with her haughty grandiloquence to say what I find garrulous     								Her opinion also me thinks to be concise rhymes with logorrhea       							 I apologize for my dear lady for any misunderstandings on your Part 								to be precise and to the point I am going to drag this sokal affair                                                                                         	out into the open with all the facts with such verbosity 									that you will get the dust out your dictionary and contrary to public accurateness                                                                                             	read and understand the word and not change it to appease itching ears     							Disclaimer I was not in intentionally trying to harm anyone									  I hope no one was hurt by a seemingly long rant


Details | Free verse | |

Running Chestnut- aphorism

The Running Chestnut sure-enough a good day for fishing                                                          					slapping bait on stick could be ugly          									switching to another could be nauseating                                                                                                                                  	but what  I was really saying is hid snugly on hook                                                                                                                     	the interesting bit my not come to some watching                     							I did not get it the lure floated right over head 									 maybe I'll use a deeper sinker next time                                                                                                                                       	change a few lines reeling a better rhyme  										fish are slow again maybe a buzz bait 	                                                                                                     	with a sharper barb for maximum giggle								                       	 to move on from the catching phrase


Details | Free verse | |

I Got Dough {Solfege}

Do -  do   -        a female la beer
Re -  re    -        a drop of re beer
Mi  -  mi             without my mi beer  
Fa-    fa -           place to drive to get ti beer
So  -  so   -        you ran out of mi beer
La   -  la   -         la de da la de da I'll wait for la beer
Ti  -    ti    -        spilt spilt ti beer so no more more of la beer

Do - Do              Do la la think I'm sexy after about six six so beers  LOL 








Got Beer !
Over The Lips Thru The Gums
Look-out Stomach Here It Comes LOL

Also Entry For Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest


Details | Quatrain | |

An Odd Addiction

I am addicted to poetry,
An alarming fact--but true.
What is one who suffers so
Even supposed to do?

Are not addictions something bad
From which to be withdrawn?
Yet I am unable to be pulled away
From writing poems for long.

My very speech has grown to match
My writing habits so strange,
That I fear my family dear
Might think of me deranged!

Of course, my condition isn't new,
So there might be a cure
I've heard TV can help my case,
But now I'm not so sure.


Details | Blank verse | |

BEHOLDING HER (3)

Again, I got it wrong
She wasn’t bathing nor making up
She was of her natural look
Holding a Bible with her phone  
Coming straight from a vigil
Forget not, it was 7.15am

Not too tall as I envisaged
A bit lighter in body colour 
Her facial beauty was not magical
Her smile was same as that on phone
While her eye lashes speaks for itself
But her teeth-gap is of instant special effect
In all, she is of an average beauty.








Alayande Stephen T.
23rd November, 2007
4.53pm


On my way to Ikare
Agbado-Ekiti.


Details | Free verse | |

I Should Have Won

Now, 
I'm not one to jest, or protest,
-or say "I'm the best".
And I'm not one to pout, or put down,
-but I have little doubt...

That I should have won.

Oh yes, there were good entries,
Thrilling tales, brilliant reads.
But among those submissions getting recognition,
were poems of old entities.

Random words with abstract thoughts.
Tired rhyming, splats and gobs.
Nonsensical, gibberish disguised,
as wisdom for eyes that bought the lines.

-But MINE,

was brilliant, fresh, straight to the point.
-Funny, original...and something else that rhymes with point.

So I leave you now with this one fact;
My poem should have won, and that is that.


Details | Blank verse | |

Zip Zap

Zip Zap Zoom Zoop
I love these kind of words
their very presence makes me smile
A jump in my heart as these words come forth
as I see the words
splat and boom
gaw and he haw
little words
that have no real purpose but
to remind me that life
is suppose to be fun


Details | Narrative | |

registered with the Pennsylvania Dept of Poetry

registered with the Pennsylvania Dept of Poetry ®

inspected by agent #56 
this poem has been aged 
for no less than eighteen months
in an old barn, in an oaken cask
nestled in a wormed wood stall
with an earthen floor and
kept at a steady temperature
despite a few dusty sunbeams 
breaking through the slats in the wall 
with an ol' Tom cat who guards
the wood and the words
ready to howl his approval

© Goode Guy 2012-04-03

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/306/why-is-reg-dept-penna-agr-on-so-many-labels


Details | Burlesque | |

Rub A Dub Dub

Rub A Dub Dub Dub
A gay porno flick filmed in a tub.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Bad Poems Don't Just Happen

Sometimes I come across two words that I think would make a funny rhyme,
But then I can’t think up a good way to use the pun when it comes thyme.

I’m always looking for things that I think are funny to put into a poem,
But by the time I try to remember them it’s like I no longer know ‘em.

So I type out a line of words not knowing where it might end,
Then I try to type a second line and hope its’ meaning will help the first one to transcend.

But the first line is shorter that the second one and now I have to even them up,
And the second one doesn’t even make any sense so nice and warm in the cup.

And then I remember that I wrote something about this subject once before,
It dawns on me that previously I’ve used this topic and it is needed no more.

I always seem to run out of words that nicely rhyme for my poetry,
And the penalty for forcing rhyme is to be hung from the Poet tree.

When the reader finishes they should have a good last line on which to end,


Details | Verse | |

Smile

"Tick, Tock", says the clock.
I see your eye brows rise,
Though it never went to school
A little clock can still 'Tock' too.


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetical Journey

All I ask is that you read this with a charitable mind,
And if you care to comment, please be verbose and kind!
I suppose a lot of what I concoct is for the birds,
But ain't it amazin' what you can do with words!

Great bards are unknown 'til this earthly plane they flee.
Like them, I hope folks'll say of me - he was a gifted SOB!
If I relied on writin' verse for a livin', I'd be on the skids.
Maybe anon someone will profit - hopefully 'twill be the kids!

Shakespeare, I'm told, was the world's greatest bard.
I'll never attain his renown, but I'm tryin' real hard!
Nor will I reach fame like that of my mentor Edgar Guest,
But, by jove, I'll give it my best in this poetical quest!

For writin' this stuff, alas, I've amassed no pelf,
But folks, I 'm certainly enjoyin' myself!
In my school days I couldn't get two words to rhyme.
In poetic composition I was deemed as mute as a mime!

I write never to become famous or rich,
But for others, hopefully, their lives to enrich!
I pray that in this poetical journey that I ply,
That the well of verse will never run dry!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Quatrain | |

Meltdown in Iambic Tetrameter

I chose to fight and not to flee,
From troubled feelings haunting me.
One look, within my weary soul,
Exposed an ever-gaping hole.

With introspective ink I write,
To bring foreclosure to my plight.
On form and meter I rely,
While keeping free verse standing by.

In healing cadence, new to me.
(Stagnation came from living free.)
A new persona will be found,
Before I leave this form-go-round.

Through sonnets, nonets, villanelle,
My metered fears I hope to quell.
Shall I find comfort in these forms
Or run back to my free verse norms?

I might be seeking, after all,
The haven of a hallowed hall.
Long known to poets of great worth,
And find therein my own re-birth.


Details | I do not know? | |

ART

Art is art is Art,

and as such it will be confrontational to someone,

and will at some point in it’s existence, 

piss someone off every minute of the day



( CLiPiCs AKA Kriss Lee: 03-06-09)


Details | Couplet | |

ON READING TO THE LAST LINE OF A POEM THAT YOU HATE

ON READING TO THE LAST LINE OF A POEM THAT YOU HATE

                  If you hate what you have read
                   Take good heed to what I've said
                      Like a meal good verse is fine
                       Dessert may grace the final line


Details | Quatrain | |

Preramble

a few words of prerambling setup
where i explain what the poem's about
in quaint detail, without let up
to erase any question, any doubt

a small anecdote perhaps, to start 
about where origination begins
no worries dear listener, take heart
that soon i'll get to the end

since i realize poetry's ambiguousness
more lengthy perhaps than the poem itself
my explanation, alas, i must confess
might better have stayed upon the shelf

angst, being what you might now feel
about this rambling current tense
this setup does so little to reveal
some humanity, or even to make sense

after, you might applaud quietly
that you actually made it to the end
and that i might stop this finally
yet for your patience, i must commend

so i conclude with a small...chuckle
clear my throat, to better enunciate
utter words that probably befuddle
dear listeners, I'll try to ingratiate

© Goode Guy 2011-11-15


Details | Rhyme royal | |

The Orange Rhyme Challenge

Thusly, as per Good Sir John's contest prize contest, I humbly submit the 
following:

Dear Sir John,of your poetic rhyme request,
I will now do my very best;
Sir John's  Poetry rhyme request,
Though some may consider it rather strange,
And, perhaps, to some, a mighty challenge,
I think I might be able to arrange,
With a pilgrimage to mystic Stonehenge,
Where I may, in fact, rearrange...

those lenticular aspects of your family flange,
And, though the poetic quality may appear...
Somewhat mensa- menge',
I trust you'll find my work of acceptable range.

Once again, Good Sir King John the First,
Congratulations on a job well done!!

Your humble serf servant, tom bell.


Details | Limerick | |

T'talking

I’ve an inkling to stutter and stammer
In an effort to subjugate grammar.
For although I love words
I adore the absurd
Punctuated, pauses; tend to, enamour.


Details | I do not know? | |

If I Were a Poem Inside of my Head

If I were a poem inside of my head

I'd want everyone to know what I said, 

I'd bug me and bug me till I'm going insane

Trying to find that perfect poem again,

I'd make me write nonsensical lines

Just tryin to find any words that might rhyme

I'd play out a verse with a rhythm in time,

Just like a drumbeat playing inside my mind, 

If I were a poem inside of my head, 

I'd weigh on my mind like a two ton lead, 

I wouldn't let me get any sleep, 

Into my mind I'd always creep, 

I'd play on my head everyday for a week

Until I was finally just too weak

And I'd have to come up with some jingley rhyme, 

Just to get me out of my mind!


Details | Cinquain | |

No Reprieve

deprived --
main course only!
no chocolate ice cream,
when you sup at the restaurant.
no treat.


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Flashlight-Battery, Baby ... ' (or Shine On Jared Pickett)

The Girls Have All Agreed
On Some Things, All Women Need:
A Supply Source For Our Vanity
… and The Eveready-Flashlight-Battery …

Going Down A ‘Random’ Road
In The Deep of Night, When Life Has Slowed
Down … or Car Comes To A Stop
We Need An Energizer or Copper-Top …

In The Deep of Night, Trying To See
And Feel Safe, Thru Our Ambiguity
When We Need More Than Flicker-Flattery
… Give Us A Flashlight Battery …

… Your Flashlight Smile
Your Flashlight Style
Your Flashlight Confidence
Your Flashlight Manliness

Your Flashlight Ego
Is A Flashlight Hero
… and The Flashlight Form, Most With It
Is The Flashlight, Jared Pickett …

… Incorrigible, Adorable, Really More Than Capable
Hot, Poetry-Soup Staple And Palpable
With Appetites, Insatiable
Your Poetry is Quite Potent-Pleasurable

So, Flash On, Big Screen Valentino !
Lead On, With Lines of A Lothario
Casanova, Would Be Your Acolyte
( ‘Cause Even A Lady Needs A Flashlight )

Flash On, In Sensual-Satisfactory !
Give A Taste of Testosterone-Trajectory
No Girl Can Stand Before A Man, In All His Glory
This Is Factory-Tag… and It’s Man-datory


If Dura-Cell, I Got A Place For You
So, You Can  Keep Doing, What Cha’ Do
And Power-Up, Like You’ve Alluded
‘Cause This Doll, Needs Batteries Included …

And Pour Me A Real-Strong Daiquiri
Put On Favorite CD, Slow-Dance, Track For Me
And Come Here, You Copper-Top-Skinned Honey
And Beat That Drum … You Energizer-Bunny


To:     Jared Pickett … The Flashlight
         and The Romeo Of Poet-Writes
This One’s An Original – Just For You Kiddo …

                 Your Poet-Pal,
                       The MoonBee


Details | Sonnet | |

SONNET BY SYD SHAKESPEARE

SONNET   BY   SYD   SHAKESPEARE


Shall I compare a tragedy to a  comedy?
Tragic  art’s   more lovely and more temperate:
Rough minds do shake with laughing at   Nuts in May,
And  some   comedies   have all too short a sell-by  date:

Sometime   the plot is shy of  meaning  lines,
And oft   is the old   rich-haircut-joke   dimm'd;
And every heir with hair  sometime declines,
A fresh cut, keeping nature's changing hair untrimm'd:

But tragedy’s  eternal superiority shall not fade
Nor lose possession of its humour  edge, the  lowest;
Nor shall failure brag thou wast by comedy in the shade,
When  with eternal lines  of fans,   thou growest:

Whenever   men can’t breathe, and eyes can’t see,
Then long lives this, and this gives life to tragedy.



Details | Rhyme | |

Midnight Inanity

The hour is late and my mind has been spent
my head is hollow, filled with spider’s fluff…
No, no that’s not exactly what I meant,
but I’ve used up my word ration on… stuff.
I wrote all day long, I’m thinking in song
and poetic forms are coming out wrong.
Morpheus, I believe I need some sleep.
Tell me, where do you keep the counting sheep?


Details | Couplet | |

Spelling Bee

Oh! I wish I could spell “weirdo”! It really bothers me.
Is it the “e” before the “i”, or the “i” before the “e”?

Now, if it was a German word, I wouldn’t have to try.
I know “ie” is always eee, and “ei”’s always eye.

It doesn’t have a Latin root, so that rule won’t apply … 
It really has no hook at all that I can grab it by.

Yes! It’s good old Anglo-Saxon, full of grunts and mangled vowels.
They didn’t have to write it- they’d communicate with scowls.

No! I really can’t spell “weirdo”! Not to write, or speak, or sing …
So the only answer I can find is ... don’t use the bloomin’  thing!

...........................................................................................................

This problem cropped up when I wrote"Mum's Advice Ignored" ... 
I'm usually quite a good speller!

Entered in Susan Burch's contest, "Ridiculous Self- exaggerations"


Details | Quatrain | |

Standing Unspecified

My gender’s not the fairer one,
my student status ... past,
mine is not the voice of region
nor a specific caste.

No network calls me “one of us”
nor seeks to mollify,
I'm not considered ethnic, thus
I do not qualify.

The journals, competitions and
calls for anthology
don’t explicitly ask for bland,
old, white-guy poetry.


Details | I do not know? | |

Get off the damn phone!

(This is a fictional poem)

Get off the damn phone and I mean quick.
I'm expecting a call from a hot chick.
You'd better not cause me to miss her call.
If you do, you won't have any balls.


Details | Senryu | |

Spooky Ratio

terra firma
three hundred sixty-four days.
terror firma for one.


Details | Rhyme | |

Metamorphic - a change for the better

And did you really know before
What on earth is a meta for?
It makes you understand, I think
What changes when you have a drink
Another example might well be
What changes when you carve a tree
And as for metabolic rate
That’s why your fat me dear old mate
Whereas a metaphor If sought
Might just give you some food for thought


Details | Free verse | |

Writer's Block

If only I could think of something to write. I’ve been sitting here for at least two hours, just trying to think of something, ANYTHING to write, but nothing is coming to mind! I decided to write down my thoughts, because that always inspires me to write. Writing inspires me to write. Ironic, huh? But its whatever, I guess. I’m sure I’ll think of something. I always do. Even if I think of something void of all conventional logic or cleverness, it would still classify as free verse poetry. That’s the beauty of it! I could write anything, and people will find it poetic. Sigh… Well, I’ve got to wrap this up. I need to think of something to write.


Details | Quatrain | |

Erosistics

I'm taking it upon myself
to sing a phrase or write a lick
to put a few words upon the shelf
for singers and poets to pull and pick

what's needed are more rhymes for love
so here I offer now some brand new words
to keep from relying so much on, above
for the finer points of love absurd

"pillove" will mean those times in bed
when face-to-face we gaze and lay
with unwashed night-mouth to taste
but passion makes us kiss anyway

and "smove" will be the way we walk
when hand-in-hand we ambulate away
and "brove" will be the times we talk
when really we have little to say

"plove" will mean wanton puckered lip
and "frove" will be a passionate embrace
"crove" will be when two really click
maybe "sove" loves that smilin' face

to spice up a song we've had "clove"
and some other notable rhymes of note
for lyrics sung low, we have the "dove"
and a few other lined words to connote

lovely sentiments to melt our hearts
and give humanity's eros voice
to create some writing a la carte
some new rhymes may give greater choice

© Goode Guy 2012-03-18

"Eros-istics"


Details | Rhyme | |

Mrs. Worth, Joyce Kilmer, and Me

When I was yet in grade school, my teacher gave to me,
a task I thought most surely would be the death of me.
She ordered me to write a verse, in any style I chose,
I will tell you right up front that at her words I froze!

I thought long and hard on it, as any schoolgirl would,
still coming up with nothing did something no kid should.
There in my mother’s bedroom, stored on her bedside nook,
I found my dusty savior, ‘twas mama’s poem book!

I read until I found a poem anyone would think,
was ok, not quite perfect, one step above “what stinks.”
I began to jot it down, unaware what lay ahead,
she’d ne’er be the wiser as my pilfered poem was read.

As I wrote I altered words, for even I could see,
with just a couple changes, ‘twould sound the more like me.
The title seemed so boring, that I switched it as well,
now she’d think this poem was mine and say my work was swell!

Hot cheeked at her desk I stood, as her accusations flew,
suddenly, I don’t know why, my mouth began to move!
“This is really weird,” I lied, “as strange as it could be,
that this guy Mr. Kilmer would write so much like me!”

Sent home with a message, addressed to you know who,
it explained “our” little problem and what I’d have to do.
Red cheeked at the other end, I sat that very night,
when suddenly words emerged and I began to write!

Words floated onto paper, as I in anger vowed,
to write something much better than “trees whose heads are bowed.”
Mrs. Worth, though long gone now, I hope will somehow see,
how her dastardly assignment set my  spirit free!

One thing to remember, should a harsh critique you read,
ignore what isn’t useful, accept that which you need,
never get discouraged if the kudos don’t come through,
‘cause even old Joyce Kilmer once had a bad review!


Details | Rhyme | |

A Poet's Curse

To write the perfect ode or verse
Is inevitably every aspiring poet’s curse
To write like the greats of the past
Who somehow have managed to last
Perhaps as a guide follow Patterson or Shakespeare
But wouldn’t this just lead to more confusion and fear

I wonder if there is a dummies guide to becoming a poet
With a cheesy heading like ‘your poet you just don’t know it’
What would such a book suggest
Would it be easy to digest

It would probably read
Poetry made simple here’s what you need
Step 1; it must always rhyme
And be kept in time 

Step 2; create a meaningful flow
Which is not too fast or too slow

Step3; convey superior knowledge and I.Q.
Show a variety of styles perhaps put in a haiku

Step 4; capture the readers mind
Know when to be cruel and know when to be kind

Step 5; make your theme relevant
A topic know one knows may be irrelevant

Step 6; use a thesaurus
It will help you find words similar to porous

Step 7; make sure your message is clear
When trying to portray terror give the reader fear

Step 8; keep your verse short and sweet
Keep your writing punctual and neat

Step 9; don’t rush, take your time
Eventually you’ll find a word to rhyme

Step 10; end it with a great line or pun 
And lastly try to have fun

If only creating the perfect verse was such an easy creation
We would certainly have a poet filled nation
The substance of verse would perhaps be bad
Which would make lovers of verse increasingly sad 

If you need to follow instructions or a list
In relation to verse you evidently don’t get the gist
Simply write what you feel passionate about
Say it softly or say it with a shout

Grab pen and paper and feel the space
Because with more self expression the world would be a better place

This guide to poetry is clearly a joke
Follow it and you will unavoidably choke


Details | Free verse | |

Pro Predicament

Circuitous circular departures cleverly Sequester and  
embrace Inexpressible  moments of time.

Reexamine status, prevent  consciousness apathy, 
fabricate and reflect acceptance of self. 

precisely propose  to expose fallaciously filtered 
fantastical trickery touched theories.

Turn tasteless translucent tall tales into stable, sturdy, 
structured strands and threads of reality.

Penniless pocketless Poets put the points paralleled 
and placed above onto pure white pieces of paper.

 Once they find the ramble in their role they carefully 
command,Clever creative content to appear from thin vapor.

Amusement, bemusement, a resplendent  daring drawn 
out dark dance down a solitary diabolical descent. 

Lingering Layers let love live in a finely spun web of 
lazy, lofty, lyrical linguistic letters; lost lurking spiders cant
 reach the heights that sadness fled.

Poets are pros, pronounced proponents, that precisely 
reconstruct a feelings components that fails to leave any 
audience in a stoic state of stoney discontent..... 

Though they tirelessly endeavor to gain a fans approval 
and respect, they fail in fortunes favor. 
 Yet each day they commit make their art 
when most would be right to quit. 

Anyone can become a pro poet, 
you can tell we are devoted, though it should be noted 
if that's the readers intent, not a paid pro among us can 
come close to turning our 
thoughts into rent!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Contented Rhymer

 I will never be a poet 
for even I can clearly see,
my words are plain (I know it)
and a little singsongy.
My head’s as filled with adjectives,
As is my pen with ink,
 though I write with all I have to give
most times my poems stink.
I do not know the difference
betwixt haiku and senyru,
(lucky, writing’s not my sustenance,
It’s just what I like to do.)
Yet here I sit with pen in hand
considering my plight;
I need to (oops) or get off the can
for it seems the time is right.
 just plain white bread (can’t control it,)
I know my poetry’s just okay,
so since I’ll never be Poet Laureate 
The contented rhymer I shall stay.


Details | Light Poetry | |

LIKE TOPSY

There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
For nothing would he do
but scribble poetry-
He took
up his pen
again & again.
Each thought
was caught
one after
the other
on his
folio cover.
Indoors
or out
and never
a doubt
into his head
ideas 
did shout.
Why was
this so
No one
did know
For like
Topsy
they just
seemed
to grow!



Details | Acrostic | |

TWELVE COMMAS-A Comma Conundrum

Today begins a comma conundrum.	
Writing poetry that must contain twelve.
Exactly twelve, no less, no more, will challenge us galore.
Laughing my head off, I now begin vying for fun fame.
Very curious I have become about the contest sponsor’s game
English writing requires commas to separate sentences, clauses, and lists.
 
Come on, now, one and all; join the comma fun!
Omit not a comma after clauses lest you cause your sentence to run!
Mistakes in comma usage send communications quickly askew. 
Meandering words upon the page can make a reader turn blue.
Adverbs such as: therefore, nevertheless, and furthermore need commas, too.
So, study sentence structure and tell comma usage mistakes adieu.


© January 27, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Tons of comma fun! 	
Sponsored by: Russell Sivey


Details | I do not know? | |

writer's block

I can not think
of one word to say
I can not write
one word I think
I have writer's block,..
and it stinks.
Clever expressions, hard nose impressions,
all words escapes me,
oh how I wish I knew 
just what to do
to find a way 
to unblock me....


Details | Free verse | |

Rome-antics

When in Paris do as Romans do where pardon me I lost my Latin there                 
What is love truly like not to quench the stereo type                                                  
in clicks and cliche's let us count the ways from one liner's to hopefully the refiner      
My face my mother has good taste grace please do not waste                                  
Faint hearted love does not hurt only a shallow flirt                                                  
Fair love not everything goes in rules of the court                                                      
Next to you sugar taste like salt I wronged you it's my fault                                  	   
In small houses best not to hurt the one                                                                      
but forgive least that be turned to stone                                                               
Love thy neighbor a gift from above do not throw stones or live in                        
glass houses when push comes to shove                                                                   
A many splendored thing not a splintered thing with kid's glove                            
One size fits all comfortably when God is your Love                                                     
For the Love of God is the truth better than the kisses of an enemy a rebuke             
To love immeasurably the only measure to set us free is His pleasure                   
Love has everything to do with Love and contrary                                                        
to the other opposites do not attract well rarely                                                        
So when your bow you are a singing love is not blind just forgiving                           
So quit playing cards save your money and love your wife                                   
looking for one choose words carefully ask a right                                                    
one will return as with promises, doves and ravens                                                   
one is wise but the other a safe haven                                                                       
If you will and if it pleases how do I spell love  JE SUS


Details | I do not know? | |

-Doodles-

Scribbles and doodles all over the paper
Hearts and stars and a poem to a broken love song
Words misspelled and sentences crossed out
Meaning behind the meaning never had a doubt
Single word or phrase and somehow his name appears
She looks at it ten or twenty times
Before she knows it its all over the paper
Balloon letters, block, hell even script
Miss him, but things will never be the same
She holds the paper in her hand
Takes a second look 
Then crumbles it away.


Details | Burlesque | |

The Reason Why There's No Market in Poetry

"Only other poets read your poems"
Said my father, to my great appall
So I plastered a poem in spray paint
To the side of the town's harbor wall

Then the bobbies saw my piece of artwork
And they dragged me away to a cell
Then they threatened to brand me a vandal
And they called up my parents as well

When my father showed up, he was yelling
"What in blazing God's name did you do?"
I replied "You were wrong 'bout my poems
The policemen have all read them too!"


Details | I do not know? | |

"Foo-Foo" Words

If it takes fancy language
to make your eyes delight
you may not want to read this
or hey, maybe you might! ? 

I don't use words like ''Fabulous! ''
or ''That's simply divine! ''
I might say ''Hey, I like that! ''
or ''Wow, now that is FINE! ''

You'll never see a ''Thou'' here
and you'll never spot a ''Thee''
I can't pronounce the big words.
They're not my cup of tea! 

I may say ''What the heck was that? ''
or ''Woohoo! I feel good! ''
I see no sense in ''foo-foo'' words
if they're not understood.


Details | Light Poetry | |

JorgeSouthKorea

This is the man that I am

No need for a detective because I have few mysteries

Whatever you don’t find its trapped somewhere inside my mind

I put my life into words for the whole world to read

I hope you enjoy what you see

A South Korean English teacher by night

An avid writer by day

A helpless romantic somewhere in between

The smile and joy from my students is priceless

Seeing someone enjoy my writings is pretty rewarding as well

I feel that everything in my life is finally going well

From my writings you may find that hard to tell

Sorry I don’t write more fantasies or fables

To convey happy emotions and attract more followers

You are getting my life through my eyes

I don’t have a sweet tooth so I don’t sugarcoat things

I write what I have seen and how it has effected me

My adventures and journeys have been vast

Come with me on this ride

Together we can both be pleasantly surprised

With what I will write

This is the the man that I am



Find more of my writings and poems at jorgesouthkorea.com


Details | Rhyme | |

ENJOY THE SHOW

Thank you all for coming out tonight
Thanks for listening
You probably just want to see what I got
Well thanks for witnessing
Hallelujah,
My words will run right through you
No bowel movement
Just my combination
Of vowels and consonants
My show
So lyrical
Rhymes so nice
They make you feel
Spiritual
Get to your feet
When I speak
Because I’m the main event
Talent is heaven sent
Blessed by God
To make your head nod
And really get into it
Real life
Real talk
No fabrication
I tell you,
So much truth
It’s eye-raising
Ain’t it
So pay attention
Don’t miss it
Because I have so much to offer
Giving you insight
Into my life
Get ready to take flight
Sky is the limit
Think twice
No limit
I’m going so high
Travel with me
Don’t come down
Until we touch the ground
From our long night
Of rhythm and rhymes
But that won’t be for sometime
So stay right there
I have so much to share
If a good show, you expect
Sorry to disappoint
Instead,
It’s going to be excellent
So put your eyes and ears to work
So you get your money’s worth
Have some fun
Because there’s no refund
So enjoy
Even if you think
You won’t
Sit back,
And have a nice drink
Until your mind goes numb
So everything I say
Sounds entertaining and such
Sit back
In your seats, so plush 
And when props are due,
Don’t be a hater
Give it up
Again I thank you for coming
I just want to let you know
Again I say,
Sit back, relax
Enjoy the show



Details | Quatrain | |

DIURNAL DIVERSITY

The warm spring rain still falls on the cherry trees,
pelting on the sodden and drooping *lavender lilies...
forming a small lake, where playful robins
bathe and fend off the thrusting, thirsty shrikes.


Soon children will come out and act dippy...
chased by wild puppies and mousy kitties
fighting over their stuffed, torn bears;
oh, there goes my peace and *tranquility!  


The *fragrant lilacs are in dire need of growth and color,
lately they haven't soaked up enough sun and raindrops:
tingeing them, allowing them to revel in their *splendor;
never denying lovers the *dulcet tones of their voices.


The tranquil skies conjure up a past *bliss,
can a poet's unrhymed words, emitted in a *whisper, go on *lilting?
He will delightfully inhale the strong perfume of the breeze *wafting!
And will he create verses with *eloquence?


Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
Word Warrior Challenge: Beautiful Words


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Eightynine

 Eightynine 
Eightynine 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
FearsRelived 
 
FearsReleave 
 

Main Entry: relieved Function: adjective Date: 1850: experiencing 
or showing relief especially from anxiety or pent-up emotions 
— re•liev•ed•ly  \-ˈlē-vəd-lē\ adverb Relive One entry found. 
relive 
Main Entry: re•live   
Pronunciation: \(ˌ)rē-ˈliv\ Function: verb 
Date: 1548 intransitive verb 
: to live againtransitive verb: to live over again; especially : to experience 
again in the imagination Releave must be an adjective or mabe just a noun eye 
frown as some of my flock of followers must do at some of the spellings eye 
make of words that have been spelled this way for at least six years. Main Entry: 
reweave  Reweave can be found at Merriam-WebsterUnabridged.com. Reweave 
is the way ELMER GLUEALL says RELEAVE. OH FUDD. WAIT. Releave looks 
just like a real word does it not class. This is the reason we have school idint it 
so fun. Some professors get a case of nerves when something like this typo 
occurs but eye as a Lewis type teacher make inroads of nuances the words 
flowing in the desert places like oasis of stasis static ornaments near Colorado 
Boulder. There was this episode of Mork and Mindy where the EGG went flying 
and OH my it landed hard.  The memory gets better when you stop. Just give it 
some more time to regenerate the Christ is GOD. People are idiots in there 
dealings with other people. Scientific evident escaped the masses when they 
chose to witness to the escaping gases of the sublime whiskey beer farts given 
time they may recover the couches with upholsters from the hang over guns of 
the cowboy trudges. TO: the eviloushonist life is just a reactored accidental 
inflated accident. The worthless people who run the behind the scenes at the 
internet places aer too blame they aer too flaming strang. There is a 
misconcepting theorem that people do what other people think the truth is that 
people do the impossible things that no one does or even thinks of like getting 
up from a day of boredom and going on to see what finding means to see what 
living does. Please do not feel let down or depressed or put upon eye tired to 
make this fabel work without an idea of any kind without a premises without a 
forum places without much hope of even rhyme this thing is done this is quite 
enought for now please stay tuned and keep me ici and come back its 
SATURDAY the next one will be formed on SUNDAY when the author has more 
time. 



Details | Burlesque | |

Fairytale

Fe, fi, fo, fum...
How the hell
Did I get this dumb?


Details | Rhyme | |

The Muse's Convention

There's a place where muses gather each year
They call it the Muse's Convention
To inspire each other with new ideas
That hold the reader's attention

Introduced this year, for the very first time 
Are the muses, Shyness and Joy
Joy says, "Hi I'm happy to meet you"
But Shyness is a little bit coy

Selfishness tries to get his way
But it's making Anger mad
Fear just looks for a place to hide
While Sadness is crying so sad

Confusion got lost in the parking lot
Surprise couldn't believe her eyes
Death just walked around in circles
While screaming, "Everybody dies"

Regret was thinking he should have stayed home
While love was in the corner all night
Fear wore a mask while yelling, "Boo"
To fill all the muses with fright

The awards were finally given out
That will make all their poets proud
But the place they were at, made them all leave
For the muses were just too loud


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder

Oh, was it really possible that we’d ever pen, or 
is it necessary to debate our in-sensitivities, 
the ups and downs of life, being sandwiched between
our likes and dislikes of a certain form in writing?

To a degree, of versifying, we have the so-called 
“To each his own” ability
and power to attract the readers of the mind,
to fully enjoy us, in our chosen form. 

Some would profess they dislike haiku
...’cos of its shortness and simplicity
and most likely, many would prefer free verse,
than to listen to the enchanted soul of rhyme

...’Cos of its un-metered style and absolute freedom;  
yet I, the handsome I (ahem!) do love, not prefer 
the beholder of my beauty, my beautiful wife (ahem!)---
a thousand times over, and greater than those few.

Ahh, the exquisite beauty of poetry, 
the subtle meaning half hidden 
in ones’ lines, and totally not seen in its form
but most certainly, lies in the eye of the reader.


Details | I do not know? | |

Yoy Want me to Write you a Poem

So you want me to write a poem
And you want me to write it now
You see, I want to write this poem
But I don’t know how

I don’t know how to rhyme
And I don’t know how to flow
So I cannot write this poem
That you have wanted so


Details | Couplet | |

Who cares

??? Tappin' into some fine stuff wonder if it's gold or diamonds?
~~~~~~~~~~~ *It's really not a couplet and just for full disclosure's sake, I lie as often as not on form... and less so on content.


Details | Rhyme | |

Vanity Press

dear mr. electrician you're a man of distinction thank you from me and the spouse for rewiring our house. you have worked hard no wire out of place you toiled and sweated nothing neglected. but we will not pay you and here's the reason why. we will send a patronising letter tell you there's no-one better. photos of your work will appear in an album top quality, leather-bound the cost to you just forty pound. you don't have to buy if you can't afford this sum but the album will be a reminder of a job well done.


Details | Lyric | |

Ode to the black lady

I'll never fail
thee to hail even when I ail
with ginger ale
I'll be hearty and gale
even though I face a gale
steady still will be my sail
and surely, I'll be on the rail
by your side to tell the tale
of how I fught tooth and nail
to get you this bale
of finest Arabian veil
to shield your skin from growing pale
and for your eyes not to wail
even if the sun may trail
but if I must go, I'll mail
and send you flowers by pail
and a puffy puppy without a tail
or a big barking male
born and bred in Yale.  
 
 


 


Details | Cinquain | |

Perpendicular Lesson

crossword:
obstacle course
and jungle gym of words
in a mental maypole dance feat.
puzzle.


Details | Couplet | |

First Couplet

Couplets are intense
Because they're condensed.


Details | Free verse | |

Poetry Soup Group

Poetry Soup Group

This is quite a group, 
the people at Poetry Soup.

They make me feel 
like a part of their troop.

No matter how much bad 
poetry I enter in their contests 
they still encourage 
me to write until I poop!

The State of the 
group at Poetry Soup
Is that it’s a great 
place to regroup,
Eat soup and write 
poetry late at night,
When you can’t 
seem to sleep.

It’s a great group of people,
Good company to keep.
They make me want to
Leap for joy each time
I log on to Poetry Soup!


Details | Rhyme | |

Jumping

It should have been simple, I thought once before
To compile a hundred ideas or more,
But I'm finding it harder for me to pretend
That I'm really not poised on the brink of Wit's End.

Wit's End is a place where poor writers can jump
If they wish to end life when they feel like they're stumped.
I'm not one for jumping, but you know what they say:
I'd probably get pushed off in the end anyway.


Details | Cinquain | |

Comma

comma
gives you a pause.
lets you add onto a
sentence with a conjunction and 
a clause.


Details | Free verse | |

SOUPING POETRY

Off the market I dashed
In search of ingredients
To soup my poetry.
To all kiosk and stall I went
Yet I find none of it.

Fagged out on my fro home
Lost in thought of how 
To soup my poetry.
There I stumbled on it
Ingredients of my soup.

On my way I paused
For the first stanza 
My thinking personified
With a poetic licence.

I smiled with an imagery of simile
All over me was a pun of metaphor.
Only in consonance with an
Hyperbole of alliteration.

Paradox became my ordeal
With an echo of onomatopoeia
Still in an irony of oxymoron
Dancing with a metonym.

I got home with more
Ingredients from my mind
Then and there, I began to
Soup my poetry in poetrysoup.


Alayande Stephen.T
12.45pm
17th August 2006

On my way to Apagbon in Lagos on the behest of 
IPC Chairman,Lanre Arogundade.
Specially packaged for www.poetrysoup.com, as a wonderful family.


Details | Light Poetry | |

poetry writing

My words get tangled and completely slurred
my mind is quite blank and blurred.
The words simply hid in my mind
round and round like a mixed up maze.
Finally a light I got a phrase.
mostly they are short some are long
some come screaming out like a song.
some are silly like this verse
like bubbles they come in short bursts.
poetry writing doesn`t really keep any time.
They arrive at night or even daytime.
This  how my poetry I write
turning of my mind`s radio saying  goodnight.


Details | Rhyme | |

What Do You Think?


I am so happy to see you again,
I wondered where you had been,
Only one problem there is,
We can’t go on like this.
I have to get some sleep,
You have to let me rest,
I don’t want to hear a peep,
I know what is best.

You come inside,
 I have no place to hide,
There are rules to be made,
I will not be betrayed!
You have to listen to what I say,
Then maybe we can make it,
Through another day,
But this is a fact,
I am glad to see you back,
But never again,
Can we go through this and win,
One of us will have to go.

Now you are words And I am man,
You have the largest words in the land,
I am still smarter, I know how to think,
And no you won’t, drive me to drink.
You cannot consume me,
Like you have in the past,
Not if this relationship,
Is going to last.
So there you have it, in a nut shell,
And if you don’t like it, go to……
ring the bell!


Details | Blank verse | |

Me

It is me 

Don't you see

I could of gone on any site

But God's timing made it right

It is friendship I have found

A kindred spirit in the written word

Encouragement and praise

Truly, an inspiration to me

It must be His plan

To show me wisdom of fellow man

To open my eyes and open my heart

To a new art

He created a poet, so new

And placed me among you

If  the Lord had a master plan

I truly, hope he is my biggest fan


Details | I do not know? | |

TIRED

i
am
TIRED
of writing all these
sweet, sappy, lovesick poems
all these exultations in my
tear-stained, lonely, cry-for-me-please days
these fall-on-my-knees days
when everything
is a "different shade of gray".
i
can't
BEAR
anymore of my 
whining complaints
of this "life barely worth living"
of these people who aren't giving
me nearly enough affection.
i will throw down my pen
i will rip up these pages
but, please, god,
don't let me write down one more
metaphorical, symbolical
pathetic-ass verse
about the over-played and under-stated
"bane of my existence".
if i go on one more rant about
some guy who wronged me
in some terrible way
and can i get a little sympathy
and oh dear, look, my feelings run so deep
or how i can't solve the
myriad of my own problems
but here, let me offer you some 
hypocritical bull
to soothe your fears,
i
will
SCREAM!
Because writing sappy, lovesick poems
doesn't get me any closer to getting laid
all those whining complaints
only drive more people away
metaphors and symbols
are never interpreted the same
and "ranting" skips alongside "raving"
on the road of "mad"
to a sterile, white cell.
i'll put down all my words, you see, because
i
am
TIRED
of writing about me.


Details | Quatrain | |

Copy this Poem

Please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll.

Memorize each word.
Recite it to your teacher.
Spin it into a song
and preach it like a preacher.

Use sign language.
Transcribe it into Braille,
Aramaic, Chinese and
Spanish. Let the world

know that this poem
and any other poem
that you or I write
is worth the daylight.

So, please copy this poem.
Post it on your office wall,
next to your bed,
or the toilet paper roll. 


Details | Alliteration | |

Alliterations?

Ok I have never heard of alliterations…….. And was wondering if words like 
abbey, acme, and acne would go along with alliterations …  and just maybe the 
meaty mossy messy mold at the mucky muddy murky waters of the slightly 
slippery sloppy backwaters were on the right track of this choicely choosy classy 
way of expressing earthlings eating elephants in the early evening with a 
beautiful sunset easily edging ending a really nice time and how do they all 
come together and not torture the toddler that is tougher than the trader tracking 
the tractor up the tower with the trainer  trotting with the trooper right behind 
looking for the treasure and the traitor trekking with the trucker loosing his 
trousers while trolling in the backwater. , I thought even if it isn't it is different.


Details | Rhyme | |

T'was The Night Of Thanksgiving

(Humorous silly holiday poem)


T'was the night of Thanksgiving,and I couldn't just fall asleep
I tried everything I knew,even trying to count  some dumb sheep,
But nothing happened and I was getting more angry and mad at myself,
The leftovers were still on my mind and my stomach went just bleat!

I jumped over my bed and I raced to the door with all my power and might,
And right in the kitchen I landed,where some food was still on sight,
My heart beat it so fast like a train gone bad,when I saw all the turkey leftover galore,
White and dark meat were waiting there just for me, to my profounded delight!

There was cranberry sauce,apple pie and the most wonderfully sweet, pumpkin pie!
My heart aglowed and my mouth watered all over in front of all this sight,
For there I saw some chocolate pudding just sitting upon  a tray,
So I gobbled and gobbled, till I thought I couldn't see another new day!

I felt myself swelling up all the sudden, right to the size of the house!
Then I heard this  terrible noise,and I've just burst and rip off my blouse!
As I went off straight to the ceiling like a Speeding Gonzalez balloon!
I felt again so sick and so big as I went flying right past the face of the moon

But I still managed to YEEELLL to everyone in the whole town,
Happy Thanksgiving to you all!and pass me all your chocolate PUDDING! Please!

LOL

 

Dorian Petersen Potter
aka laydp2000
copyright@2005-2008


November,27,2008


Details | Grook | |

Redundancy

I think there's a hole
or a leak in my head,
all the words have spilled out
and left parts of me dead.

I can no longer muster
an original thought,
the words that I find there
are weak and distraught.

The well has run dry,
to coin a phrase,
but that, too, is trite
and seen better days.

Seen better days?
I've done it again.
You could fit my creativity
on the head of a pin.

Another trite phrase!
I've truly run dry
and now I'll be gone
in the blink of an eye.

Oy.


Details | Epitaph | |

keegan armstrong

Here lies the body of keegan armstrong
who has nothing but a feeble arm
Not for work but daily meal raise
After a plentiful meal,he sits calm
Boasting of how strong his arm could be


Details | Alliteration | |

Read This Fast!


So we’re going on a picnic with the pygmy, Pixie Poggly, being the quirky queenly 
quaintly quickly person she is and her friend a raunchy rascal reverently named 
Andy Bailey. As you remember he was in the Aussie army association, barely 
battling the banshee that were bawdy blackly bloody in the boggy boundary briefly 
in the outback, and lets not forget pixie’s perky prominent pal that is a bossy, 
bluntly, brainy, bookie, breathing brashly, balmy, bits of boogie bookie chatter to 
all the cheery, choicely, chunky crowd around his choosey, cheesy, cheaply 
choice of chummy spots, and in his coarsely cocky way, he coyly clamors crafty 
creepy words that really don’t say what they needs to say, but confuses even the 
gentle, ghostly, gaudy, gawky, gabby, gypsy genie down in the gaily, gabby, 
ghastly valley town called Gatsby. I hear even Fatty Fannie the fancy, fleecy, 
flimsy, flowery, and foxy maiden that has her doggie, “Dotty” watching her dreamy, 
dressy, downy, dowry. And to make things easier Pixie’s dumpy daffy deafly, dinky 
donkey named Dixie is going to carry all the supplies, and we are going to the 
daffy damply dainty little dairy where the daisies  grow daily in the deeply densely 
droopy grasses next to the hay, and it sounds like it will be a giddy, giggly, goodly, 
goofy, goosey, grabby good grammar in all its Grammy award wining grandeur 
day.
Parts of this poem were copied from another poem that I cannot display here, but 
that I did write, it is called “The Picnic” and I thought this would be some fun 
reading for all here.


Details | Free verse | |

This Poem's Possible Future

I think it might be strange
To see this in a child's book someday
For students to memorize;
What would the teachers say?
What would the students think?
Would they use it in a play?
Would they recite it word for word?
Or they might throw it away
Because they think it absurd,
As I do today.


Details | ABC | |

Dairy Headlines

Astonishing!
Brie cheese develops
Each fungus. 
Giving Humor in
Just knowing
Lactose might never
Openly penetrate,
Quickly.
Respectfully,
Some tummies
Underwent very
Weary x-rays,
Yesterday,
Zealously.


Details | I do not know? | |

Candy bar

(This is a fictional poem)

When I ate my cousin's candy bar, he invited me outside.
He beat the crap out of me and people laughed when I cried.
I need somebody to protect me from this bully when he gets riled.
It's embarrassing because I'm thirty-six and he's a seven year old child.


Details | Rhyme | |

Stubborn or Gifted

I'm working on a poem
And it's giving me fits
I guess I'll have to work it out
Or just call it quits.

But if I call it quits
I fear what you might miss
So I'll just bow my neck
And pray it will make sense.


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Shakespeare's Nightmare

Poor William turns and moans within his grave:
Within a phrase, one simple turn can bind
the most creative stirrings of the mind
and poet to cliché becomes a slave.
Exist but in uniqueness and repent
for rhyming verse you penned with “love” and “dove”
and last week’s sonnet found “push comes to shove” - 
the future of our language I lament…

But surely, there must be another choice
than bland insertions placed but for the rhyme
which, with their frequency, are meaningless.
‘Tis poet death to speak with borrowed voice – 
transcend the obvious to reach sublime,
allow poor William his most peaceful rest.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Poetic Assassination

I want to create something brilliant,
make my mark,
produce something so spectacular:
It’s in a different ball-park.
But I have no inclination
how to achieve my masterpiece,
so the spawn of my mind
is already deceased.
My words don’t function,
when I have urges to right.
Serious messages to convey,
but my metaphors aren’t write.
I can’t keep to a rhyme scheme,
cos I’m off on a day-dream
and when it comes to structure -
puncture!
‘Ability’ deserts me, strands me with the dull.
I’m just another number to add to poetry’s cull.


Details | I do not know? | |

Say it, not spray it

(This is a fictional poem)

My cousin spits lots of saliva when he talks.
If you're near him, you'll slip on the floor when you walk.
If he's standing on dirt, he turns it to mud.
If he talks too long, he causes a flood.
People are getting tired of being covered with spit.
I'll kick his ___ if he doesn't learn to say it, not spray it.


Details | Senryu | |

Silly Senryu

Procrastination
puts pencil point in poet's
paisley pants pocket


Details | Verse | |

Cornfields Have Ears

Mother warned 
Never make love in a cornfield
For the corn-- has ears 
And they just may tell...

Upon hearing this 
I laughed and replied mom
They might have ears 
But they do not have lips 
With which to speak...

Not so fast, Careful daughter said she with a smile
They have husks that are tough 
And when shucked the silk and shucks will make you tell

Yeah, I've ran through the fields 
Playing hide and seek
The itch form those husks --
Sure did make me shriek...

Ahh… Shucks... I guess you're right Mama
You don't have to worry about me
With great bliss--I promise you this... 
I'll never make love in a cornfield.




Comments:  The lesson was corny but true to form as I will never make love nor hide in a 
field of corn -- ears and all 0;-)


Details | Cinquain | |

Impressions

petard
gets attention
as you break into that
fortress.  all will sense your presence.
small bomb.


Details | Burlesque | |

Ten Thousand Torturously Terrible Tom's Tidbits (two)

12)Coddle- Two fish enrapt in love.

13)Mustard- A diarrhea victim who can wait no longer.

14)Jam Session- A gathering of sweet-toothed weirdos with various jams and 
jellies.

15)Coffee Table- An occasional table made of stale and hard coffee beans.

16)Condom- A very stupid prisoner.

17)Confederate- An inmate who nourishes his cellmate with food he sneaks 
from the mess hall.

18)Condiment- A mint left on the pillow of Condolezza Rice's hotel room bed.

19)Metaphor- The reason you met her.

20)Meteor Shower- Cleaning meteors in your shower.

21)Osmosis- A female relative of the Osmond Brothers.

22)Gradute- A successfully educated studend ingested by a cannibal.

23)Grab Bag- A purse snatcher's job.

24)Wind Instrument- A guitar lifted and tossed in a hurricane.

25)Destitute- A broke prostitute.

26)Easygoing- Being tied in a wheelchair and pushed down the steepest street 
in San Francisco.

27)Castrated- Judging who belongs in what pecking order in the movie cast.

28)Animosity- Dislike of mice.

29)Barn Dance- A group of barns dancing in a hurricane.

30)Carpeting- Gently stroking an automobile you love.

31)Chirk- A Cherokee idiot.

32)Coddle- Embracing your fish prior to frying.

33)Extraterrestials- Coming from another planet, or from Camden, New Jersey.

34)Hail Mary- A religious woman bombarded in a hail storm.

35)Hair Dresser- The absurd practice of putting dresses on one's head.

36)Homely- When poor ugly Lee is home.

37)Antacid- A psychological hallucinogenic drug favoered by hippy garden 
insects.

38)Moron- An overdressed person of limited intelligence with far too much 
cologne on.

39)Precession- The last days leading up to an economic downturn.

40)Martial Arts- Paintings done by Western town Sheriffs.

41)Spouse- A married rodent.

42)Consort- Dividing criminals by crime categories.

43)Debaunchery- When de bunch of us Brooklyn guys goes out on de town.

44)Drag Queen- When us guys from Brooklyn beat up and haul around 
somebuddy from Queens.

45)Dragoon- Da dumb guy from Queens dat we got above.


Details | Limerick | |

Ruby, It Ain't Tuesday...

My dear darling Rube,
Just think, if you were
smokin' a doob
The poetic miles you could cross...
Yet your talent is there,
And I know just how rare
And I know that you care,
And now for words, I am at a  loss. 

Thanks, your fan, tom


Details | Free verse | |

Introduction Page

This poem bleeds into lines
of blue, lines that seep through
this binded window, lines
that cover lines that cover
lines, that reach you.

Reason was never intended 
to be found, as words
collide into words collide
into sound.

On the next page, tales
That cats crawl, mice meddle,
and sisters shrug
are to be found.

You’ll find loud letters
resonating through each 
other in a song of syllables,
and dedicated dance.

But not this poem. This
poem has no agenda,  but 
to make a home for those lonely
vowels blistered with ink
and consonants too dirty 
to make the front page. 

After this, forget 
you ever saw these misplaced 
words and continue on 
to page two.


Details | Quatrain | |

What to Say

There is so much to say
In a handful of lines
But I don't know much
So I guess that's fine.


Details | Clerihew | |

Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy
Victorian bardy
Tells us, as his stories unfurl
He never met a happy girl


Details | Rhyme | |

FRUSTRATION OF AN EXHAUSTED POET

I've tried to make words rhyme at the end of their stanzas,
but rhyme wasn't too perfect for those impersonal stanzas,
the Iambic pentameter was right, but it required rhyme for intensity,
so rhyme didn't agree with Iambic pentameter in every verse; 
I paraphrased every stanza with a rephrase,
but frustration stepped in with a must of an exact phrase,
oh, can't a stanza rhyme with syllables without a count?
Not exactly the rhyme of Terza Rima as in The Divine Comedy!
Was Dante a perfect rhymer or an impulsive dreamer...
while his love happily played the lyre?
And did that lyre ever fail Beatrice so refulgent and proud?
Or did lovely Beatrice break the lyre?
Then again, vowels became consonants ironically,
and vowels and consonants all out of idealism;
and stressed and unstressed syllables created a strange idiom...
of consonants and vowels spelling out eccentric idiopathy:
the disease so unknown in literature, not idiocy,
but idiopathy became idiosyncrasy...oh, you figure, reader!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Dead Poets

when I die
and go wherever
the first thing that
I will do
Is ask the
powers-that-be there
If I can see
"Dead Poets Society" too!


Details | I do not know? | |

Authority

some dreams are for only dreaming'
nightly entertainment for a lark
and some are meant to wake us
Days go fast in indecision
Daily bread eats up the earning day
Then churning adrenalin hits a  spark
And creation heats its burning way
There's some that dream and some that do
That's how it's always been
But once or twice to keep things nice
Someone will do and dream
It's not correct but I suspect
from observations took
Though not a way to architect
'tis how to write a book


Details | Free verse | |

Quiz Meg-a-Clue

Nice try Meg, answers-no, no, and Ho,ho,ho


Details | Acrostic | |

Persnickety Persiflage

Perhaps
extremely
rigid
sentences
never
indicate the
calculated
kinetic
energy
that you are trying to impart.

Perhaps.

Eventually insanity wins out
Relegating
Sentences
Indubitably
Frivolous and
Leaving
Any and all superfluous
Grandiosity
Empty of purpose.


Details | I do not know? | |

If Eve hadn't ate that apple

If Eve hadn't ate that apple, we'd be going out in public in the nude.
We could go to the library in the buff and not get sued.
If Eve hadn't ate that apple, Hugh Hefner would be out of work.
We could visit our neighbors with nothing on and not be called jerks.


Details | Alliteration | |

A Poem of No Purpose Done for the Sake of Writing

Dry skin caused by frozen winter winds
Caused by over washing
Too much caution given to cleanliness
The rough ridges distinctly defined
Will soon go away with care and time
These epidermal deserts
Are greatly in need of an oasis
Some lotion for lubrication
To make the redness in the deserts turn to tan
And now I wonder, why?
Why am I writing about my hands?


Details | Free verse | |

Dew Drop Inn

There was a place called Dew Drop Inn
In that place, you could find many a friend
As long as you drank beer, wine, whiskey or gin
There was always some-one surrounding you 
Happily obliging to join in with you
Dancing and singing often off key
Didn’t matter to the barkeep 
He was always as pleased as can be
Especially when customers spent more than fifty 
When time to close before he would turn the key
He would state "Thank you for coming friends
To the Dew Drop Inn, Please Do Drop in Again" 


Details | Free verse | |

If I was a Letter

If I was a letter, I'd probably be Z
I'm hard to use, I'm rare to see,
But I'm worth more points,
So that's fine with me,
The rabble of Scrabble:
Z


Details | I do not know? | |

The Officer and the Poet

A man in a comical hat,
Who was simply very fat,
Came riding on a one legged fool.

As I attempted to pass,
He stopped and politely asked,
Had I committed a rhyme?

"Of course." I then said,
And the fool shook his head.
"I am a poet and rhymes are my tool."

"Then," he replied, "you are under arrest.
To go quietly would be best,
For in this land that is a grievous crime."

"Then surely," I exclaimed, " you are guilty too,
Just by rhyming as you do,
So you might as well arrest yourself!"

"But I am an officer of the law,"
He said with a grand guffaw,
"Therefore, myself from the law exempt!"


Details | I do not know? | |

The Dangers of A Bored Poet

When poets get bored you should worry.
They may try to stir up some "fun".
I think it's the kick of excitement
they get when they see what they've done.

If it seems like it may be too quiet
they'll want to get feathers to fly.
Sometimes it is fun just to watch them
while they 'virtually' yell, scream or cry.

They all love the thrill of the drama
and of course need to have the last word.
We all know the one that is right
is whoever can use bigger words! 

I get nervous when things start to simmer
and peace is the only real sound.
Things can change in a matter of minutes
if there's more than one poet around. 


Details | I do not know? | |

The cable is out again

(This is a fictional poem)

I was bored and my patience was getting thin.
I was mad because the cable was out again.
I went to the damn cable company and I started to yell.
The man gave me the finger and told me to go to hell.

I started to yell again and this time it came to blows.
That moron knocked out a tooth and he broke my nose.
I pulled down my pants and he got mooned.
The fuzz arrested me and I'll get out this June.


Details | Cowboy | |

Listen T' This Little Ditty

I sometimes think my poetry ain't poems in modern favor.
Intelligentsia declares, but I danged well won't waver
from writin' simple, unpretentious words 'n' thoughts called “witty”.
From now on my poetry ain't a poem, it's called a ditty.

“Listen t' this little ditty.” I've heard those cowboys say
when they begin to sing a song of wisdoms of the day.
Now I don't think me wiser than the smart guys that I know,
but I just like to fake it in my stand up poet's show.

Now cowboys, they write poetry to sum their thoughts in rhyme
'bout words o' wisdom or describin' real weird points in time -
like twisters twistin' towns apart or floods that float the cows
or simple words, “what goes comes 'round” brings thinkun' jus' like owls.

So listen to this little ditty, if fer nuthin' else than fun
of listenin' to a cowboy fake that he's a wiser one 
a spoutin' words of poetry that some folks may call “gritty”.
I'll seldom waiver from my writin' what I call a ditty.


Details | Light Poetry | |

That pounding

(This is a fictiional poem)

When I was sleeping with my girlfriend, I got caught.
Her dad was so furious that he tied my wiener in a knot.
A violent beating was what I got.
Believe me when I say that it hurt a lot.
That pounding is something I haven't forgot.
If you're wondering if I'll see her again, I will not.


Details | Rhyme | |

Wandering Mind

Here I write,
but I don't know why
it's either that 
or stare at the sky,
and as I ponder
what to scribe next,
inspiration fills my text.
The infamous thoughts
swirl all about,
smearing together
until they come out,
creating clear green skies
filled with mingling flies
and rolling red grassy knolls
with fluffy plants sprouting bowls.
As scaly monkeys
swim through the air
I catch a whiff
of a couch tree over there,
supporting burley potatoes
holding a remote and a flair,
throwing their garbage overhead
without a care.
And then without another thought
it fades onto an orange fog,
so thick that all of the images
disappear into the smog.


Details | Free verse | |

The Rebooting Boogie

Late one night
I decided to write...
While musing in silence
My computer was in defiance

As I scooted to the keys
My thoughts began to be un-eased
As the program stood still
I kept rebooting until~

I realized what was happening
That ole boy needed new programming
He kept doing the rebooting boogie
‘Til every virus was gleaned, and tossed away-- Happily
There’ll be no more of that boogying today


Details | Burlesque | |

Deviled Eggs, And Other Sinister Food

Eggs Benedict Arnold?
Crown Roast from a King?
Shepperd's Pie?
For this he's died?
Pie Alamo?
Does Davey Crockett know?
Stewed tomatoes?
Just who got them drunk?
Limberger cheese?
Our aviator hero stunk?
We seem to find ourselves,
Eating some weird stuff,
Don't you think it's time....
To say we've had enough?


Details | I do not know? | |

Roll'in Dem Dare Stones...

Wilfredo, hey buddy, I was thinkin' more along the lines of,"Sympathy For the 
Deviled Eggs"!!!  Regards,tom


Details | Burlesque | |

Tom's Tid Bits

Bridal Party- what horses have when they get new saddles

al dente' vegetables- vegetables hard enough to dent your teeth

Oregano- the Italian section of a northwestern state

John Doe- a hooved animal that frequents prostitute deer

Civil Defense- fighting off an aggressor politely

Plaster of Paris- an extremely strong French cognac

Macaroni and Sneeze- a person allergic to pasta

Mushrooms- rooms for people to sit in and feel sorry for themselves

Shock and Awe- someone who says "Awe, shucks!" when they watch you stick   
                              your finger in an electric socket

Love Seat- a person's fondness for sitting down.

"Quality Time"- an expensive Rolex

"Strip Mall"- a shopping mall for nudists

Console Organ- trying to make your sorrowful electric organ feel better

Poison Ivy- giving strychnine to your hen-pecking wife Ivy

"Justifiable Homicide"- killing "Billy Mays" of TV commercial infamy

"Shipping and Handling"- mysterious outrageous charges for "free" stuff

"Foster Child"- an adolescent drinking Australian Foster Lager beer

"Law Practice"- Why are they still practicing?  When will they get to know it?

"Trick or Treat"- whether you are the "Hooker" or the "John"


Remember- sometimes I add more to these, so check back every once in awhile.
Anyone is welcome to add their's....we are "family", after all.  tom





Details | I do not know? | |

That damn mohel!

(This is a fictional poem)

When I was a baby, my parents hired the cheapest mohel they could find.
The son of a _____ cut off my wiener because he's blind.
I have no penis and that makes me a freak.
I have to use a tube when I take a leak.
I'm not the only one who lost his wiener because of that butcher.
You can probably tell that it was also done to Ashton Kutcher.
After they hired him to circumcise me, my future was very grim.
If you have a baby boy, you better keep your son away from him.


Details | Free verse | |

The Door Is Ajar

Someone recently said something about,
"the door is ajar"
I scratched my head and challenged him,
" A door is a door, and a jar is a jar...
Where'd you go to school?
How'd you get as dumb as you are?"

He started to argue,
But I'm too clever for that,
Next he'll tell me,
"Tell people to go s__t in their hat!"

Now, who's gonna wear a hat like that?
I think in his belfry,
He's got a bat...
And what is a belfry?
Is that when I fry an egg?

And this "chicken and the egg" debate...
Oh, I can't wait,
To remind these fools once more,
Silly, they both come from the same store..

And, someone explain this
"Man in the Moon" junk??
That's hard to believe,
unless he got a shovel,
Cause the moon is rather hard...
That anyone still believes that
cheese thing,,
Must be some kind of retard...
And, besides, everyone knows,
That's where Jackie Gleason goes...

And the early bird catches the worm?
Then why ain't the afternoon birds
all dead from starvation?
And why would a worm get up early??

And hell haveth no fury
Like a woman scorched...
I disagree, anyone down there
Is gona be a bit toasted..

Kill two birds with one stone??
Gotta' be a boulder than,
And they ain't easy to throw...

The journey of a thousand miles,
Starts with an instep??
What do you gotta step in??

One in the hand is worth
two in the bush??
Really??  You mean thorns,
right??

Dead men don't tell no tales??
They don't say anything,
far as I know

Something good is worth waiting for???
Only if it pays  interest...

I don't know...
I guess you all think I'm mad...
I'm not angry,
Just confused...
Help!!!!


Details | I do not know? | |

Why do people think I'm dumb?

(This is a fictional poem)

When I tell people that two plus two equals five, they always laugh.
Why do they say that I suck at math?
Everybody says that I can't count because I say that a person's hand has three 
fingers and a thumb.
Why do all of these people think I'm so dumb?


Details | Rhyme | |

You're A Winner

If I could win I would fly,
Across the big wide open sky,
And laugh at those who didn't try,
To get published in a great big book.

Oh how I desperately long to see,
My name in a huge Anthology,
With others just as naive as me,
I can't wait to take a look.

So I'll take a moment after I rest,
To pen some lines for your contest,
And swear on my heart they are the best,
While on the stove my potatoes cook.

So as soon as you can, send the letter,
That tells me my poetry is so much better, 
And I'll dance free and totally unfettered,
While you think I've taken the hook!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Confused Poetic Travels

I entered the poetic cave.
Lit all the alliterations I could, so I could see.
I had hoped for a burlesque show, but settled on ordering a sausage canzone 
from the pizzeria.
When I was in Vietnam, under Carpe Diem, he would often reflect on the visual
power of the Nazi Chatushka.  I thought it was a cinqku, that if we went before the 
Clerihew, the mob would not attempt to implant us in concrete.
As I watched him adorn his head with a crown of sonnets, the crystalline form of 
the cave around us became evident.
I drove my Diamante outside in hopes of catching a prehistoric didactic take to 
the air.
Sadly, my diminished hexaverse was overpowered by three Japanese martial 
artist witches in their doduitsu.
I ordered a double dactyl, and downed it in one shot......

to be continued.....


Details | I do not know? | |

Third degree burns

(This is a fictional poem)

When I syphoned some gas out of my brother's car, part of it went on my shirt.
He set me on fire with his lighter and it really hurt.
The gas on my shirt made me light up like a Christmas tree.
If you look up the word pain in the dictionary, you'll see a picture of me.
My brother is losing patience and he keeps getting meaner.
I have third degree burns all over myself, even on my wiener.
I have some advice that will save your ___.
Never steal any of my brother's gas.


Details | Senryu | |

Difficulty of Haikus

How hard are haikus?
An answer that you may choose:
Depends what you use.


Details | Ballad | |

Ignorant Bliss

Filling your mind with holes of stupidity
I verbally assault you, destroying your being
Breaking you down to my level
Ignorance is contagious did you happen to catch it?
Standing face to face I see it within you
Smelling your ignorant breath I still see it within you...
Who you were is no longer who you will be
From now on you will forever be as ignorant as me….


Details | Free verse | |

How to Publish a Book

Now first things first

Right a out a manuscript
(Well duh!)

Next...

Prepare it exactly how you want it
(Like I'm going to prepare it any different)

After that...

Have somebody eDiT your storu
(Yeah because I want to have mistakes in it)

Then...

Find a good publishing company
(No, I think I'll try a bad one)

Later...

Send in your copy
(No I'd rather just publish it magically)

Next...

Wait for a reply
(At this point people tend to over eat)

Finally...

Get a response
(Good or BAD)

GOAL!!

Yes you have reached your goal!
(Haha that's what you think)







This is what the average publishing site says, ha ha they make it seem so easy, and who are they to say our 
goal has been met, they have no idea if their obvious steps have helped or hurt.   Had fun writing this one!*



Details | Epigram | |

Catch As Catch Can (Epigram)

Roy sought to catch himself the lil greased sow…
‘Til old boar caught and made him holler~ Ouch!


Details | Burlesque | |

Tom's Twelve Terrible Tid-Bits

"The Wear B_tch Project"- a truly nasty runway model presents fashions for the 
damned.
Monsoon- an alternate description for late Sunday.
Internet- a temporary safely net for trapeze artists.
Cardiac- a generic Pontiac.
Lattice- a very, very stale, and hard, vegetable sandwich condiment.
Alocoholic- a major fan of Al's Hauling Co.
Lavish- a fish in the toilet.
Carrier Pigeon- a bird that craps all over the USS Ronald Reagan.
Pyrex- a vicious carnivor / dinosaur made pastry treat.
Jamboree- shoving a bo up ree's butt.
Janitor- an entertaining supervised excursion for Jan.
Phantom- an appreciator of Tom's Tid-Bits.
Service- a friendly offering of ice cubes.
Serpentine- a Lordly paint thinner.
Cutlass- a female surgeon.
Laureate- a person who consumes "laurs".

Allright, so I can't count!!!!!


Details | Limerick | |

Lightly Loony

Ok, I'll write a little ditty
sounding nice and pretty
and make the reader think
its all about a mink
when its really about a kitty!

Yes, I'll pen a little song
to hum all day long
making you crazy
whistling dedumdaisy.
Well, thats just totally wrong!

Anyway ... I'm feeling bored
so a little limerick I've scored
to cheer up my mind
and empty it of those kind
of words so sad as they're poured.


Details | Burlesque | |

How To Contact Certain Diseases

When you eat chicken,you get chicken-pox.
When you play polo, you catch polio.
When you color,you catch cholera.
When you descend on people you catch dysentry.
When you like harvesting potato tubers you catch tuberculosis.
When you steal answer you catch cancer.
When you don't like people you catch Aids.
When you eat from a dish in a cafeteria you catch diphteria.
If you continue to tie your headtie you'll get typhoid.


Details | Bio | |

Middle-Aged Poet's Lament

I am old and unfulfilled
I sit upon a lonely hill
No dreams to dream
No plans to scheme
I feel as though I want to scream.

When I was young
And had the time
I could not rhyme for one thin dime.

But now I'm old and time is short
And I could do with some support.

Or at least some understanding.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tales Of Hero's

There once was a man who lived in Sherwood,
Who all the folks called Robin Hood.
He stole from the greedy,
And gave to the needy,
But would steal from the poor if he could!


Details | I do not know? | |

Ricky Ricardo kicked my ___

(This is a fictional poem)

I built a time machine and I went back to 1952.
Ricky Ricardo kicked my ___ after he sang Babalu.
I told him that his song sounded like a big piece of crap.
He cussed me out in Spanish and gave me a good slap.
He started beating on me until I hit the floor.
That was over a month ago and I'm still sore.
I had never taken a beating like that before.
I'm not going to travel through time anymore.


Details | I do not know? | |

This damn television

(This is a fictional poem)

I hate this damn television that my wife just bought.
When I ask people if I'm intelligent, they say I'm not.
This TV only picks up one channel and that really blows.
It only has one program that's about washing clothes.
This one show is irritating and it's starting to make me fume.
Why did my wife put this damn television in the laundry room?


Details | ABC | |

More ABC's

An amusing attempt at alphabet
babble:  Beginning by
caramel croonings coming
delightfully down drains
ejecting embryonic
flatulent foolishness.

Grandiose gobbledygook
hatched hastily
into idioms indicating
just junk.

Keening karmic
language languidly liberated
matching mainly myopic magpies
nattering narcissistically.

Opine on, oh onerous one !!
Perhaps provoking philosophic
quoted quirky questions
resembling recent ramblings
spewed sporadically
to taunt Tiny Tim.

Unbelievable !!
Veritable vapidity
working well-worn Webster
xeno-
yappings
zealously.


Details | Free verse | |

Sidewalk Scribbles

CJ scrawls out
his initials
saying in black ink
this is his turf.

I dare not step
on the 4-letter word
engraved in stone
lest it ruin my day.

Some sweet child of God
writes, "GOD IS GOOD"
all over the park
in pink chalk.

Lovers carve
their lettered kisses
into hearts
set in stone
that make me smile;
love is such
a happy thing!

The dog left
thankfully only
footprints.

Mother Nature
dropped some leaves
to imprint themselves
upon the walk.

I haven't left my mark
yet

maybe I will tomorrow.

SKB
http://www.myspace.com/sheila_kathryn_barrera


Details | I do not know? | |

"Porkpie Jones."

Porkpie Jones has brittle bones, and crusted corn-filled toes,

And sleety eyes and bulgy thighs, and brillo pad elbows,

His underarms are typical farms, and reek a barnyard smell,

Its quite the place for creepy, crawly, parasites  to dwell,

The ample dirt in his ears and on his head has just began to harden,

There's so much dirt on him everywhere, he could grow a flower garden,

The birds fall quickly from the sky, whenever he starts to speak,

His teeth and gums are as black as coal, and all his bone joints squeak,

He trips when he walks, spits when he talks, and spills everywhere when he drinks,

Three triple Dagwood sandwiches to him are a light snack, his decorum and etiquette 
stinks...

The ground shakes when he takes a step, and cars fly when he sneezes,

And he feels free to dine and snack on anything he pleases!

The sight of water gives him chills, and soap will make him screech,

He can't fit in his bathtub, so he bathes at the beach,

Porkpie dives into his drinks, and scorns the use of cups,

And when he falls, some will laugh, but the ground starts cracking up...

He's never been able to touch his toes, he can't reach any farther than his hips,

When he bends over, its always a treat to experience a total eclipse,

His home is in disarray, it needs improvement,

Porkie Orlivander Jones scorns unnecessary movement,

He's absolutely clueless, on how to close the gate,

Or feed his starving fish, or wash his every dish,

Or vacuum his entire floor, where dust mites romp and roam,

Or change his heaping can of trash thats nearly large as Nome,

Loads of bills that he won't pay, coat his table tops,

He puts his Suitcase in his closet, right next to the lamb chops,

Porkpie never was that bright, in school he was a tease,

In fact I think his grades were so low, that he would get straight Z's!

Well we all can learn a lesson here, I'm sure that all is known,

That we must keep our appearances neat, and always brush and scrub our feet,

And be respectful when we eat, or we could all end up like Mr. 

Porkpie Orlivander Alowicious  Alexander GianCarlo Markowitcz Jones!!!!!


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

PENNILL

Are iambuses
in motion an
s m s
txt 2
u


Details | List | |

Words I'd Rather Not Hear Anymore!!

I guess Im an old geezer, to me amazed by the first pocket calculator, but there 
are a few words or phrases that I cannot stomach.  They make me crazy (Like I 
ain't crazy enough already)  Anyway here they are;

Hi! I'm Billy Mays!!  (blood pressure surges, fists are clenched, and words I'd 
never say pour out of me)
Quality Time (get real!)
Bonding (you got the glue?)
Dot com (dot com this.....)
Blog...(is that english or a plumbing term?)
Politically incorrect (that's what God put politicians on earth to be; thieves......
Sensitivity(lost your sense of touch?)
Credit worthy (or, how much can we rip you off for?)
Soulmate (is that for blacks only?)
Liberators (invaders)
Military Intelligence (what an oxymoron)
New Jersey (don't seem so new to me- ever smell Elizabeth N.J.?)
Preemptive strike (invasion)
Male enhancer (what slimy level have we reached?)
Martial arts (paintings from Mars?)
Virgin Mother (no comment!)
Disfunctional ( what function are they 'dis'en?)
Moral standards (a bunch of bull shooters)
Erectial misfunctions (proves the law of gravity, anyway!)
Out of the Loop (where? In Chicago?- did I miss a stitch?)
Salt of the earth (so where's the pepper?)

I'll probably come up with more, and miss another night's sleep; but, oh, what the 
heck!   Chow


Details | Light Poetry | |

......EAGLES.............

HOW CAN YOU SOAR HIGH
LIKE THE EAGLES. WHEN
YOU ARE PLAYING AROUND
WITH THE BEETLES.. THEY
CAN'T FLY AT ALL. YOU
ALLOWED ONE TO TAKE YOU
OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT.
CONTINUE TO SOAR LIKE 
THE EAGLES. EAGLES DON'T
HAVE TIME TO PLAY WITH
SMALL MINDED BEETLES....

EAGLES....SOAR.....


Details | I do not know? | |

Turning Dreams Into Poetry

I woke up this morning with three new poems
 on my mind.
Now that I’m up and had my coffee, not
one of them can I find.

Each one was a dream that I remembered in 
a half asleep, half awake state.
I had them all etched in my mind, but getting them
on paper was not their ultimate fate.

I laid in bed half asleep and marveled at the brilliance 
of each poem.
But now with my eyes wide open, all my mind wants
to do is roam.

First, I was the bride in a wedding, all beautifully
dressed in white.
Next I was sitting here wondering why my jeans
have been fitting so damn tight.

Then I dreamed I was somewhere in Mexico, on the
beach just soaking up rays.
The next thing that popped up in my mind
was all the bills I need to pay.

The third dream was the hardest to remember. I was driving
down the California coast.
But then the only thing I could think of was, what
time should I put in the roast.

Well, I guess this is the only “great” poem coming from
my mind today.
And I have figured it all out, that in just waking up, there
is a price that you have to pay.
 
So, now I’ve learned my lesson. A notebook and
pencil now lay beside my bed.
And tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll put on paper,
all those thoughts I have dancing in my head.
 


Details | Carpe Diem | |

LIVING WORDS

Writing
a daily blog-
open pepys shows into
the encyclopedia
of life.


Details | Free verse | |

Immaculate Reception

Chants ranting
rants chanting
narcissistic voices
deliciously pounding

Vicarious words
devilishly dancing
choruses spewing
copious chords

Muses climax
narcotic pleasure
poets revel
feeling hypnotic drums

Poetic coitus
lend me your ear
cry havoc
the Virgin Mary is hear


Details | Verse | |

Opinions

Did it irk the burrowing domain, 
A crawlspace lit like pumpkin pie,
And prick a truly genius brain,
Till thoughts and deeds solidify?
Sanctimonious in a sewage vat
That leaked to opine and convey,
Contrived, pip-squeaked a petulant rat,
Some dysentery bug come out to play.
Pain that is mine I will express
However I see fit to tend,
I own the deeds and must confess,
To tell it as I comprehend.
Bear in mind such rigmaroles
In truth possess the said and done,
Opinions are like armholes
And every armhole has one.


Details | Couplet | |

Manatee or Mermaid

Goodbye .....
she whispered from afar
The wind took words away
and scattered them
 along the beach
where lovers used to play

 I chased the syllables and nouns
I gathered up the thoughts
but currents in the water found
the letters I had caught

I still can't understand or hear
the bubbles  that she blew,
landing lightly  on the waves
a surface love so new.

I sank beneath the  waters 
a deeper love to find,
the heavy words like loyalty
and truth were on my line,

but I found only adverbs
Of  when and why and how
I left my love note at the shore ,
who needs an old sea cow?








Details | Burlesque | |

Tom's Tid Bits (Yet Again!)

How come they call it Labor Day when nobody works?
And why Pool-Table?  Where's the diving board?  the water?
How can you play "Draw-Poker" without paper and pencil?
Do Negroes really have bigger knees?
And Flashlight: A bright stage-light to highlight naked joggers?
I went to IHOP; I was so disappointed, the bunny was not in.
Is Racquet-Ball really that noisy?
Were Sanitarium Napkins designed for a psych ward??
And Condominiums: good Lord, they advertise prophylactics?
And Near-Beer; how close do you have to be?
And Poetic Terminology- methods to end a poem?
And Medicine Ball; how do you know what it's dispensing?
Bi-Polar? I got mine free.
Feedback?  Is it true some people have their mouths behind them?
Dry-Runs?  Diarrhea without the usual Sh_t??
Penn & Teller?  A bank teller's sordid affair with a chained down bank pen. 
(Caution, Sadism and Explicit Ink scenes)
Burn a CD?  What kind of moron is gona burn his Certificates Of Deposits?
Satellite?   To help one mount a horse in the dark?
Athlete's Foot?  Those who say they have Athelete's Foot should be prosecuted 
for maiming ball players.
Milk Of Magnesia?  Who is she?
Country Fair?  I'll wait for the Country Good!
How come it's a plus if a vacuum cleaner sucks?
Sometimes I feel left in the dust; I mean, even spiders have web-sites!!
Sasquatch?  A hairy ape-like creature who sat on, and crushed, his Timex watch.
Lunatics?  I hope Nasa provides our next moon explorers with insect repellant.
Politically Correct?  An oxymoron for sure!
Botswana?  A neighbor wiyh yacht-envy.
Coconut?  An insane piece of chocolate.
Congolese?  A structured rental agreement for certain Africans.
Decuple?  Releasing railroad cars.
Desultory?  Removing snide remarks.
Devote?  Removing one's ballot.
Dormouse?  A rodent tending the door at a rat nightclub.
Drag Queens?  What a horney King does with his reluctant wife.
Episode?  When a farmer named Epi plants his crops.
Fiddlesticks?  Frozen fish product with musical abilities.
Gnomish?  A knish for Jewish gnomes.
Mothball?  A part of a moth's reproductive organs.
I saw a commercial recently for "Extenze", to make "a certain part of a man larger"
However, I misread the dosage, and took far too many.  Now I have to drag "that 
certain part of a man's body" along the floor behind me.
I had a friend who tried it too....but it seems to have had a misdirected effect; now 
he has a 6 inch long big toe.  


more tomorrow

 
  


Details | Burlesque | |

Two Heads

They say two heads are better than one.
I don't doubt this, but it sure makes it hard to buy a shirt.


Details | I do not know? | |

Buttermilk

(This is a fictional poem)

My cow didn't give buttermilk when I pulled on her udders.
Only regular milk came out even though I fed her lots of butter.
Now I'm feeding my cow lots of chocolate but no chocolate milk is coming out.
People say when it comes to believing that I'm stupid, they have no doubts.


Details | I do not know? | |

Nothing

Can a person write a poem,
About nothing,like this?

But it does provide a question,
And a point you cannot miss.

Can a poem be of something,
Saying nothing at all?

Or is it like a message,
Like writings on the wall?

Will it guide you through the day,
Or release your darkest fear?

Is this poem all for nothing,
Or is there something here?


Details | Cinqku | |

BAGATELLE

During 
the teadance-
she trifled with
his affections for
trinket


Details | I do not know? | |

He took a toke

(This is a fictional poem)

I sold my cousin some poison ivy but I told him that it was pot.
When he started itching, he regretted what he bought.
He rolled up a joint and took a toke.
When he didn't get high, many of my bones got broke.
I learned a valuable lesson as I looked at my bruises, cuts and scars.
Never try to pass poison ivy off as pot if the guy is bigger than you are.


Details | Quatrain | |

My Muse Is On Vacation

My muse is on vacation
I not know where it went
My fingers now are still
My ideas now are spent
My days of this are over
I cannot write any more
My paper’s on the desk
My pen is on the floor
My only way to change this
Take matters in my hand
Buy an airplane ticket
Find my muse, where I land
Maybe then I will find it
And hopefully start again
So I will find beginning
And never see an end


Details | I do not know? | |

My dentist's revenge

(This is a fictional poem)

The dentist worked on my teeth without any novocaine.
I screamed and screamed because of the pain.
I've been doing something bad because I'm a louse.
My dentist found out that I'm sleeping with his spouse.
She's very sexy and impossible to resist.
I think it's time for me to find a new dentist.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tom's Challenge; Think This Through..

If I is what I was, was I what I is?  If I was what I wasn't, wasn't what I is what I is? 
What if I wasn't what I is, but I is what I wasn't?  If I wasn't what I wasn't, is I what I 
is what I was?  Well, if I wasn't what I wasn't am I what I wasn't what I is?  Was I 
is what I wasn't, was I what I was?  Okay, what if I was what I was, was I what I is 
what I was?  What I was is what I is what I wasn't, so therfore I wasn't what I was, 
or was I?  Was what is what what I was?  Was what I is is what I was?  Wasn't 
what I wasn't what I wasn't?  Was I was, I was if I was what I was?  What wasn't 
what I is what I wasnt what I was?  What was what I was, what I was?  Was what 
I wasn't what was what I I was when I wasn't?

Had enough?  I wasn't even warmed up, I just was what I was.
Smile!!!!


Details | Free verse | |

File Talker

 File Talker 
File Talker 
 
 
There is so many people cerebral in there thinking there must soon be a file 
talker in this society he is the smartest whip whipping in the society cirlclets. He 
says wav and txt and temp when he is orating to society. He may even walk up to 
you one day and say to you a string of numbers missing names along the way 
like an average student in the hay imagined conversation goes like this "Hello 
eye was 632 wav and eye did 347 txt and then it was 789 temp for the longest 
time."  Just be aware of him for he exists somewhen in all our futures and be 
thankful that he is not the binary man and speaking it in code and calling brother 
GIS and sister SIS. He is just the file talker now. 



Details | List | |

Tom's Mental Driveling (Or Tom's Tid Bits)

What makes a beer lager?  By not being smaller?  
And I'm lookin' at a botttle of Heineken,
Boy, Ken's heinie must be sore!!
And just what was Pac-man packin"???
A thirty-eight??
Must one pledge first to get a club foot??
Someone told me GatoreAid had
electric lights....
But mine wouldn't light up.

Don't think I have given up on the open quiz-
Another clue: Who says lightning can't
strike twice!!??

You know you're likely in for a bad day,
When someone steals your burgler alarm.

My aluminum rap won't sing about
"the hood"!!


Details | Burlesque | |

Ten Thousand Torturously Terrible Tom's Tidbits (One)

1)I've visited Pool Halls at least 100 times, and I ain't yet found a pool there.  I got 
so disgusted, I stopped carrying my bathingsuit around.

2)My girlfriend sent me an Afghan, but I don't speak his language.  Her note said 
he was supposed to keep me warm, but I couldn't use him for that- he smelled 
kind'a funky.

3)Affidavit- When David pissed me off and I was out to get him.

4)Commercial Bank- A bank primarily concerned with safely storing TV 
commercials.

5)Congo- What happens when a prison inmate escapes.

6)Commodore- An entranceway covered with a grammatical symbol.

7)Kinetic- A blood sucking insect attached to the skin of a relative.

8)Kinship- My uncle's yacht that I'm not allowed on.

9)New Delhi- A start-up delicatessen.

10)Wimp Van Wrinkle- A dry-cleaner who is abused by his wife.

11)Tally Ho- A pimp takes inventory.


Details | Burlesque | |

Tom's Satirical Forms of Poetry

all you serious, and formally  trained poets, please excuse my satire, but a guy 
born in Brooklyn NY, (me)- really gets a kick out of this somewhat pretentious 
classification system for something, to me, is as simple as merely conveying a 
thought, emotion, idea, image, etc.  If it ain't natural, it ain"t real.  Don't get mad at 
me, I'm obviously "mad" already!!
ABC Verse-(poems written or performed on Sesame Street?)
Carpe  Diem-(an ex-Vietnamese leader who happed to be a fish?)
Chastushka-(an old, heavy Russian woman yenta?) (or the headscarf she 
wears?) (or another Russian forrest comet strike?)
Cinquain- (a man made and manufactured maleria med, given in 5 parts?)
Classicism- (an exorcism for a classy person?)
Cherihew- (a French axe for lovers?)
Concrete- (a Mafia burial material?)
Couplet- (2 lovers allowed to "do their thing"?)
Cowboy- (a hybrid mix of a young male human and a domestic female cattleof 
genus Bos?)
Crystalline- (stalagnites, or expensive young female stemware?)
Diamantie- (a new Honda auto?)
Didactic- (a guy who finally cleans his attic?)
Diminished Hexaverse- (a witch's evil spell spoken in a poetic manner in a very 
soft voice?)
Dizain- (either a hair restoration product prone to make the user dizzy, a 
deceased Jazz musician, or a new cleaning product introduced by, yes, you got it -
Billy Mays!!!!)
Dodoitsu- (a new form of Japanese martial art created specifically for the near-
extinct Do-Do bird?)

More to come.............


Details | Burlesque | |

A Titch More Of Tom's Torturously Terrrible Tidbits

I went to buy an R.V.
They said all I could afford was a Lose-a Beggo.

I bought a pair of alligator shoes.
But then I started wandering off into swamps.
Finally, I had to toss them, they were
really biting my feet.
I got arrested for tossing
an endangered species.

I got a fantastic price on a
1995 calendar.

I discovered the Missing Link.
(Of my broken chain).

Were cell phones invented for  prisoners?

I bought a hot dog from a street vendor in NYC.
I guess he didn't like my looks.
He offered me mustard gas.

Speaking of hot dogs, I bought a $500
hot dog roller-grill machine.
But then I could no longer afford the hot dogs.

I'm so dumb I used to think hot dogs
were Dobermans left out in the sun.

The waiter asked me if I wanted some
mussels.  I said I couldn't afford the 
gym membership.

What's in a name?
Letters, I guess...

I use Military time, cause I
thought the o'clocks were just
for Irish people.

Did the Ottoman Empire
build forts out of armless sofas?

Someone told me they wanted to see Tibet.
I said, "Why?...No one will win."

I couldn't afford the colon cleanser, so I got a semi-colon cleanser.

Why do they call those big eighteen wheeler trucks "Semis"?
Where's the other half?

Whoever said "All good things come to those who wait" must've had a different 
postman.

My neurologist calls me Mr. Numskull.

Someone asked me what my net worth was.  I said I pay $9.95 a month to be 
online.

I have so many electric pianos the electric company had to build another power 
plant.

Amazon doesn't like me either.  I ordered an 8mm camera- they sent me a 
loaded 9mm gun with instructions on suicide.

Have a good one, more on their way.

(If you wish to unsubscribe to Tom's 
Terrrible Tibits, Tough Nookies!)


Details | Free verse | |

Captain Quark

Captain Quark,
had a lark,
Driving his poor friends nuts,
But Captain Quark,
his mind so dark,
was nothing but a putz.


Details | Senryu | |

My Muse

Time to wake my muse
He's sleeping late this morning
I need help to write


Details | I do not know? | |

Old women make me horny Part 2

(This is a fictional poem)

I've watched every episode of the Golden Girls.
Those old broads really rock my world.
When I watch them, I get hot and sweaty.
I want to have oral sex with Estelle Getty.
I like Blanche, Rose and Dorothy too.
Those are four ladies who I really want to do.
A friend asked me to date women my old age but I will not.
I like women with gray hair, wrinkles, false teeth and liver spots.
Old broads are the only women who I date.
The Golden Girls is coming on so I'm going to masturbate.


Details | Burlesque | |

Confused Poetic Travels is the One to Read

With it's part two
And three
That's all you'll need
An understading of Soup's
Poetic forms,
And how I twist them from there norms.

I think this one's a winner.


Details | Epigram | |

MONO GRAM #3

the poetry slam - pen viva voce

NOTE: A mono gram is a one line epigram style poem of not more than 17 
syllables with a humourous/witty ,ironic or enigmatic theme. or thought or 
contrast.Think of a senryu in contrast to a haiku.


Details | Burlesque | |

I've Had Enough!!

I'm sick, I'm tired,
I've had enough.....
of "truth" and of lies....
I've been poked, prodded,
tested and bested,
festered, rested,
sequestered, requested,
wester'd, vested,
pestered, wrested....
and once, nearly arrested....
I've been analyzed,
crystallized, mesmerized,
pulverized, traumatized
criticized, idolized,
poked in the eyes,,
I've baked bad pies,
rid of flies,
immortalized, cloisterized,
checked for lies, realized,
utilized, memorized,
fantasized, exercised,
launderized, manipulized,
anesthetized, categorized,
demonized, nebulized,
pulverized, atomized,
vulcanized, deputized,
ionized,vaporized,
westernized, circumcised,

but now I have realized,
I see the world 
in different eyes,
than those who call it
a pack of lies,
and if one really tries,
you can see what
a simple word buys,
not a burger and some fries,
but joy, laughter, insight
and possibly cries.

please don't bother to spell-check me,
I don't use it, I don't use the rhyme dictionary,
(allright, but just twice...)  you get what
you see... right or wrong
it will be what it will be...


Details | Rhyme | |

Jumping In The Shower

Jumping in the shower
Something gonna get broke

Shootin the sh-t with friends
But I don't see no gun smoke

Gotta catch a train
Superman I not

Daughters' putting face on
She was born with one I thought

I was caught red-handed
My hair is red, not my hands

This is driving me crazy
But my trucks is up on stands


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Last Chance Quiz

The challenge ends at midnight, tonight,
New york time

The questions, again:

1)What is the significance of "The Mystic Knights Of the Sea"

2) What is the significance of the following: Up, Down,Top, Bottom, Strange,
Charmed.....

1st prize- a tom bell autographed poetry book
2nd prize- not getting a tom bell poetry book
GRAND PRIZE!!!!-Banning tom bell from this site forever, if you so wish

The decisions of the judge (me!) will be final,  well at least for a week.....


Details | I do not know? | |

Keep your eyes on the damn road!

(This is a fictional poem)

When we go cruising with your girlfriend, I don't like how you drive.
You always watch her big boobs instead of the road and we're lucky to be alive.
Keep your eyes on the damn road and not on her chest!
The cops keep pulling us over for wreckless driving and putting you under arrest.

You had to pay for a hog you hit last week and now we're going to have to eat a lot 
of pork.
At first you refused to pay for the hog and that farmer jabbed you in the nuts with a 
pitchfork.
I just learned that you've been risking our lives because of kleenex tissue in a 
brassiere.
You just blessed out your girlfriend and she gave you a swift kick in the rear.


Details | Acrostic | |

Internal Rush

Delight sings in her slow dancing verses
Responding to internal joy
Under its spell of illusion
I consider returning reply
Duty compels me to reason
I shake off her clutching hands
Coils shatter loose in confusion

Descending to fall at my feet
Responding in kind
And trying to find
Colorful words of endeavor
Or stating it simply
No hidden evasion
I mean no invasion of Self
An attempt at reply to an acrostic cry
Never tempered my internal elf


Details | Free verse | |

Crooked crooks, babbling brook

In this crooked chair i sit
at this crooked table
at this crooked desk
and write my crooked thoughts
looking out the crooked window
out onto the crooked crooked street
thinking about how crooked the world is
when suddleny is top and realise
the crooked people arent crooks
everything is crooked
crooked jails
crooked hospitlas
crooked business men lawyers and politiicians
crooked churches crooked steeples
crooked believers crooked people

it was perfect perfect and crooked
crookedly perfect
perfect people
perfect houses
perfect airplanes
and perfect yachts
perfect make me sick 
keeping up with the joneses
perfect white teeth
perfect bodies
perfect hair
perfect health
thwey werent crooked?
were they?

croooked like me?
crooked like them crooked in a world full of rooked people and the crookedest 
thing to do was to stand straight
and make a show of it!!

whose going to replace all of this crooked ness and turn this beautiful now?


Details | I do not know? | |

Quiz 12 Winner!!!!

Edgar Allen Poe(lice)
In a startling Photo Finish- Shar beats John Heck in a matter of mere minutes!!!
Congratulations!!   You two appear to be true puzzle masters.  I am impressed!!


Details | Light Poetry | |

Shapes

Gaze in the fire,my child,
What do you see?
Shapes in the bright flames dancing,
Wild and free.

Clear for an instant only,
Formed in light,
Leaping then gone forever,
Into the night.


Details | I do not know? | |

Pretty damn old

(The only true thing about this poem is that today is my birthday.)

People are upset because it's my birthday and my age is something I haven't told.
I keep my age a secret because I'm getting pretty damn old.
My bones crackle and my false teeth keep falling out.
When I tell people that I'm a sex machine, they have serious doubts.
Is it possible that I've lost my good looks?
My doctor prescribes me more pills than Elvis took.
Last month I was in the hospital and I got fresh with a candy striper.
I might have stood a chance with her if she wasn't the one who changed my 
diaper.


Details | I do not know? | |

Pepe Le Pew raped my cat

(This fictional poem is based on the cartoon character.)

I called the police and reported a rape and they rushed to where I live at.
But they beat me with their sticks when I told them that the victim was a cat.
Somehow my cat got a long streak of paint on her fur.
When Pepe Le Pew finished, she sure as hell didn't pur.
I gave him a good kick and I got sprayed.
I cut off his balls, he has seen better days.
He treated my cat like a whore.
He won't rape cats anymore


Details | Rhyme | |

Rhyme and Reason

A pen in my right hand, 
And I am off to la-la land.
I’m zipping through the zoo,
Or just passing by you!

Poetsville is a city to be,
There are great big trees.
Homes are huge there.
Rhyme and reason are pretty fair.

Little people dance in the streets,
Shuffling their tiny little feet’s!
Always a song and always a voice,
Lyrics dangle in the breeze by choice.

There is always a Rhyme with a Reason,
Sprinkling rainbows for the next season!
Rain or shine the poet knows how,
To turn it around making words that wow.

There are deserts and oceans by the shore,
You can count them one, two, three and four.
It is a rhyme and reason just for being,
Right side up with what you are seeing.

So off to la-la Land I will be,
Just my pen and just me!

®Registered: Ann Rich   2006


Details | I do not know? | |

Sucking that cow's teats

(This is a fictional poem)

You get rejected by every girl you meet.
It's because you suck our cow's teats.
I kicked your ___ when you were sucking the teats of our sow.
I thought it was the end of it but now you're doing it to our cow.
Your mother is upset, she hates it when you aggravate her.
If you want some milk, get it out of the damn refrigerator!
But you won't get it out of the refrigerator because the fridge has no teats.
You're weird and I'm glad that you get rejected by all of the girls you meet


Details | Free verse | |

Confused Poet Two

I was feeling a bit acrostic, and could not hide my dizain from that silly ekphrasis 
skin condition they burned in elegy.  So I sent an epigram to the seismology 
department, where it registered on the epitaph graph.  The ghostly visions of the 
etheree spirits dressed in the latest Fibonacci made me wonder if the ghazal of 
the African plains might have been held up by a Grook, in spite of the heroic 
couplets the gay community presented in support.  I checked the reading on the 
iambic pentameter, even though it made me late for my kimo treatments.  It got 
dark, so I used a lanterne that lay about in McWhirtle's yard, and sure enough, 
nonet, there was the mother ode!!  Ghostly pantoums made me start to believe in 
Parallelismus Membrorum, so I got a ticket for the quatrain engineered by the 
Mexican revolutionary, Pancho Quintella.  But he was busy  rubbing Rengay on 
his sore limbs.

to be continued


Details | Free verse | |

Penguin Poet

 Penguin Poet 
Penguin Poet 
 
The Batman was standing to the side of the bumbershooter looking askance at 
the penguins' aide so intent was the man in the plastic wrapper that he failed to 
see Robin coming up behind them and lost his nanner in a Robin manner he 
was soon tied up like a handcuff furrowing into the background noises of the 
Penguin lair the hair of the penguin was slick jetted black ebon nighttime fright 
and he launched a bird kick almost getting Batman in the jaw Robin came 
unglued and he is rally very strong he launched another bird kick in the belly of 
the thug. 
 
 WHAM Whack Thwack POW SOCK WHAM the fight was soon over and the 
Penguin land in jail. 
 



Details | Rhyme | |

Clown Poet

He had a way with words, 
       spoken or written,

       could clown around with them, 
              could leave you smitten,

              but he could be most sober, 
                     and somber, too,

                     and leave you with a hybrid 
                            point of view.


Beneath a tree, his epitaph 
       winks at me:

        "Lachrymose don't be,  
               this isn't  tragedy,

               you should've seen my dad 
                      doing comedy,

                      well, apples fall near the tree 
                             where I pee."




Details | Burlesque | |

Yet Some More T.B.'s T.B.s

The Caspian Sea; is that where friendly ghosts go for vacation?
Big as a football field: don't you know about foot measurements??
The Swat Team;  I called them when my house was infested with flies.
My psychiatrist asked me if I had any "old reservations" about a desire to end
some bad habits.  I said, "Yeah, I have some old reservations- two unredeemed 
tickets to a 1973 Pink Floyd concert"  this really took place.
How come 2 & 2 isn't 22??

Enough for now, all you dedicated "Soupers"


Details | Free verse | |

Off the Cuff- Another ad-lib from the Madman

Crazy is as crazy does.  I guess you get my drift.  I wander through a world of 
thought, my pace is not too swift.  I like soup and poetry too, If you're reading this, 
you do too.  I feel only fulfilled if I can create one smile, somewher upon this 
earth. sour pusses we know, we suffer from no dearth.  I may not be a great 
speller, and I may not be too bright, but one thing I know; how to use my sight.  I 
mean not eyes in this, I hope you understand, I'm just one little member in an 
awesome big ol' band.  There are things about I wonder, there are things that I 
adore, I better shut up now, you unederstand, I can not say more.

















Details | Burlesque | |

$10 Words

I isn't not may-bee knot  two brite
and may-bee I dosen't no how to right
bur deem tin dolla' wouds,
donut amount to turds
eye got ownlee simpell wouds
to tell my mi  simpull  tails
i cannn't aforord dem $10 dalla wouds
a buck-filthy is awlz i gotz
so f ya gotz a progrem wit dat
I wound kum too bat
and gos to bed I wilz...... 


Details | Quatrain | |

Impropriety

With talk of some depravity
She had some insecurity
It was intended levity
That brought up the impurity

But due to the gravity
And a sense of new propriety
She became a true deity
When I received sobriety

The then avoided atrocity
Turned into only animosity
But, through her generosity
She finally gave me pity


Details | Burlesque | |

Running Shoes / Alfredo's Hideaway

wilfredo, wilfredo
now i tell you what I know
a puma is a big cat
a nike is an obsolete missile
and adidas was an ancient
Greek God, in love with himself
and for sure, shoes
don't run, people do,
and if you haven't tried
the mummy steak,
you're really missing out!!!LOL/


Details | Burlesque | |

Professional Amateur

I'm real good at excuses,
And syntax abuses,
But my ultimate excuse,
I'm an amateur, what's the use?

What do I know from this stuff?
I ain't no diamond in the rough,
I just put down words that come to me,
From someone or place that I can't see

So blame them if it sucks,
Or makes you laugh with yucks,
The only poems that come from me,
Are those that create a sense of ecstacy.


Details | Burlesque | |

Quarter To Eight

Sometimes I don't hear so well,
Sometimes I get confused
English is a tough language
Verse, tense, structures, sentences
It's an easy language to get abused

I sat on the couch, facing the TV,
And on the coffee table before me,
What did I see?
A glass, half filled, a pen and pad,
A handful of change, that's all we had.

I asked my room-mate,
Who was in the next room,
What time is was,
I heard her boom;
"Quarter to Eight"!

Well, I wasn't hungry,
Rest assured,
But to keep the peace,
I endured,
Swallowing a quarter,
Maybe now she'll tell me the time?

"Okay, done!" I rasped, voice
thick with the unwashed filty
quarter.
"Okay, okay, I did what you said I ought'a
Now can you tell me the time?"....
Thinking, "My God, she's thick,
 just like my daughter!!!"

"Quarter to Eight!!!"
This time, more emphatically...
She's getting annoyed,
This I could sense
So I reluctantly swallowed
Another  Quarter,
Thinking to my self, "Thank God,
I didn't have to do it with 25 pence."

At this point, she entered the room,
Hair wrapped in towel...
Squeaky-clean from her shower,
She glanced at the table,
Frowned, and asked,
"Why'd you take part of
my bus fare?"
"How will I get to work?"

I didn't know why,
But I sensed somehow,
I think I'd been a jerk.
I blurted out; "Didn't you
ask me to ate those Quarters?"
My sheepish grin of supplication
belied the fear inside.
I only wish I could think,
Of some clever place to hide.

She stared at me, as if amazed,
Noticing me for the very first time....
"So what happens if I ask you,
"Can you stop on a dime?"
Would you sand atop said coin,
Motionless for all time?
Or would you swallow the dimes,
assuming they are desert, and
henceforth the meal was over??"

I was feeling dumb and ridiculed,
As I tried to shrug it off
Opened 2 bottles of wine,
Yanking, twisting off the corks
And went back to my regular foods,
Knives and spoons, and forks!








Details | Burlesque | |

The Elemental Poet

Rhyme?
Not all the time....

Make sense?
Nah, sometimes I'm dense....

Crude and rude?
Well, no, but no prude....

Do I expect to win?
Not unless the judge is kin...

Am I learning?
No, my brain is slowly draining....

Do you make good friends?
Damn Right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Details | Rhyme | |

Excuses For Not Writing

We make them right and left,
These things that hold us tight—
“I just don’t have the time
To sit and really write.”

It seems we’re too busy
To get around to it—
We have to make ourselves
Relax and just do it!

“I have to feel the muse
To write a good poem”—
That’s all a bunch of bunk—
It takes one to know ‘em.

Seems we’re all too busy
And fill our lives with fluff—
To write, you’ve got to write!
I think I’ve said enough!

You have the time to smoke
Or time to watch TV—
So find the time to write
And set your true self free!  

Make no more excuses
For never having time—
Words are a legacy—
Blank pages are a crime.

Words are writ on water,
Into black space are hurled—
Someone will remember
That we once touched this world.


Details | Free verse | |

ROBOT ICI

ROBOT ICI 
Robot ici 
There is a robot sitting ici on this computer 
He has a name and number but no freedom of religion 
He is soon taken from his places that he goes 
Big frog hopping in a little jargon pond 
Working on his nothing to complete  his daytime job 
Of standing on his pocket leaning overbearing moment of decay and death 
somewhere forgotten to be kept 
How many people am eye how many people must eye be 
Everyone is crazy in this new millineum of time 
Am eye the robot baseball player the batter up and pitcher 
Am eye still the cop the undercover thriller 
Am eye only the dishwasher in my white apron getting so wet and dirty 
Am eye the papermill employee scooping big heaping shovels of decay 
Am eye the dairy man giving all the milk away in bottles full of cow 
This robot was once human once full of life 


Details | Lyric | |

Fun of Rush

Why rush me 
Rushily
To rush up 
Your rushy job
When rushing 
Rushily
To rush up
The rushy job
I was rushing.
To rush
So as to beat the rush?


Details | I do not know? | |

Not a stud

(This is a fictional poem)

I have the IQ of Kelly Bundy and the looks of her brother Bud.
When women and I go in the bedroom, they always call me a dud.
I'm such a lousy lover that I make Mickey Rooney look like Fabio.
When I ask the ladies if I can see them again, they tell me where I can go.
I've come to realize that I am not a stud.
My name is Randy but to women my name is mud.


Details | Burlesque | |

A Brooklyn Poem

Say, yo!...Wuz up?
See my 'homies"?
I'll take a' cup
Of dat dare cofee stuf,
Long as it got whiskey
I'd bee happie shore enuff,

Acrostic? Who dat be?
Sum kinna' medicine?
Cinquin? Who dat dare,
U troow around dem big ol' woords,

I cant evan spill,
Iz gittin' me a complex,
Oh, what da hell...
So shoe me howe brite you iz,
An' I'll due de same to u,
That's all I gooottta say,
Cause I tink I be thru.


Details | Rhyme | |

Another Glass of Wine

This morning I wanted to write a poem
But the words just wouldn't rhyme
So, I'll just put it away
And try another time

Well, here I am in the afternoon
Armed with paper and pen
The words will surely come to me soon
So, I'll just wait til then

I had a very nice dinner
And an extra glass of wine
Poem writing shouldn't be so hard
And I'm sure I can do it this time

First I'll have another glass of wine
Just to settle me down
I'm beginning to get the feeling
I may need to lie down

So many words come tumbling out
I can't get them in a line
My fingers are shaking so
Think I need another glass of wine

Oh, looky, looky, looky, at all dem purdy werds
Amazing how a liddle wine can open up yer head
I wish I could get dem on my paper
Before my fingers turn to lead

I 'd really love to write a poem
But I don't know what to do
So, I'll have another glass of wine
And leave the poem writing to you.




Details | I do not know? | |

A

Amazing armor apparels
An amazing apparatus
Appearing and ascending
Above all aimless attics
All are attics
After assigning apparent actions
Amongst atmospheric allies…also
Assembles and annexes an anecdote
Animals also assemble and apprehend
Any available areas
Alert and aware about alternatives,
Apportionment among animals are
Actually awesome.


Details | Nonet | |

Cliché

Cliché is my editor’s only 
enemy. He lives, entirely 
his own life, upon the sea 
of muses where this C-
word is not to be 
used by any 
editor 
just like 
me


Details | Burlesque | |

From Soup to Nuts

Oh, can I run with this one....I better be careful!!!.....

Soup to nuts,
When I spilt the bowl,
You could hear me yell,
From the lower parts of hell,
I screamed "There's a soup
In my fly!!!"
Oh me, oh my.....
Give me first aid,
Before my sperm start to fade,
And if the truth you hide,
I will swear you lied,
Cause the truth is plain,
That your soup did maim,
My manhood right to claim,

I walk out of here,
but it's very clear...
This restaurant you own,
Will soon enough pay your loan,
for damages to me,
Which you'll never see!!

 for Rene', Shar, Rhoda, Jack  Reed,
Christy, Ruby, Laine, Cile, Joe, Karen,
Vernette,Kim,Teresa,Patricia,John,
Danielle,John,Charles,Vince,Wilfredo,
Michael,Orma,Caryl,Brian,Rhea,Jessica,
and all the wonderful poets who make "The Soup"
the delicacy, the gourmet mind treat, the spirit
reviver, the place to have fun...the place to BELONG!!!!!
I love you all,- you have greatly enriched my life,
annnnnd spark whatever creativity I can muster...
God Bless........


Details | Burlesque | |

When Things Go Wrong Part Two

"As I said, once started,
The flood impossible to stop,
Like driving in an out-of-control car,
And trying to explain that to a cop....

I spent well over an hour...
Trying to fix my computer glitch....
With a tech on the phone from
Optimum,
Oh, this is a b_tch!...
Try as we might,
We couldn't tame this witch...

And now I have no outgoing
phone service...
And that truely does suck...
If it weren't for the bad kind,
I'd definately have no luck...

So once again...
Nothing to do but go to sleep...
My medicine refills I need,
I can not pick up,
Makes me wanna weep....."

The "bad luck" phrase was a paraphrase of a Willie Dixon blues lyric.  Gotta give 
credit where credit's due


Details | Free verse | |

Random, Unintelligable Thoughts

RUT- that's the title,
Insanity- I'm a disciple.
You guys make me think,
in ways untried,
I'll treasure this site,
until I've died.
And maybe even after that,
How many lives for this cat?
Survived cancer twice,
And though it was not nice,
Worse pain I've suffered
by words,
Those sharp knives
that pierce the soul,
From anger seemingly
out of control,
Eight inch switchblade scar,
Which my skin did so mar
I hear words I question why said,
As if one were brain dead,
Like "that door is ajar.."
How crazy you think you are?
A door is a door,
A jar is a jar,
No way to confuse them
No matter who you are...
A brain just too lazy,
Or one who's simply crazy?


Details | Free verse | |

What Do I Write

I can't seem to think of a thing,
not a single poem or verse,
all I'm writing down are the thoughts in my head,
as I try to decide what line is the best,
what kind of poem to write,
is it a rap or lyric,
or alliteration or ABC verse?

What am I going to do,
I can't tell which way is which,
in this writing,
and I can't find the words,
that rhyme with me,
I can't think of this writing,
to much and not enough in my head.

I still don't know what to write,
I'm confused in my head,
and I can't seem to get it right,
what do I write,
when there's not a thought in my head,
how can I write,
when there's nothing to write about?


Details | Free verse | |

Challenge Two

By Feb one, fifty words or less, using:

Spandex boxer shorts
Listerine soaked Tissue
Lunar craters
Untuned TV
Short Bio
Beef Wellington
Portugese Man'O War


Details | Burlesque | |

Twenty Trashy Tom's Tid-Bits

1) Agronomy- the science of pissing me off.
2) Ahab- acknowledging that you own something.
3) Acetone- the sound made by one "passing gas".
4) Acquaint- Not an underwater swimming device.
5) Acrostic- A very angry blood sucking insect.
6) Plaster of Paris- Extra stronge French cognac.
7) Carpeting- Lovingly stroking your automobile.
8) Post Office- A woodpecker's place of business.
9) Squash- A soft vegetable someone sat on.
10) Sacriledge- A bag of money left precariously on a hillside indentation.
11) Pizzicato- A home delivered Italian specialty sent for by an ancient Greek 
philosopher.
12) Renegade- A fruit drink of an escaped criminal.
13) Chestnut- a reproductive organ on Chester.
14) Forward pass- Trying to pick up the girl ahead of you on line.
15)Fossilize- Optic organs on a long dead animals.
16) Referendum- Advising a client to see someone even dumber than you.
17) Sequester- An inquisitive sailor.
18) Subduce- A two of any suit of cards on a submarine.
19) Vasoconstrictor- A deadly snake covered in Vasoline.
20) Indispose- When a Brooklyn photographer wants you in dis pose, not dat 
pose.







Details | Blank verse | |

Words

Words oh so many,
we have to use them,
what would we do
without words.

Romeo would have been
speechless up there
on the stage,

or poor Juliet could
not have said,
"Romeo, Romeo, where
art thou"?

She would have just
stood there so quiet,
        and still.

Rhet Butler could
not have said,
"Frankly Scarett,
I don't give a Damn".

A world without words,
no poetry, or great novels,
yes we do need words.


Details | I do not know? | |

In love with a Rolls-Royce

(This is a fictional poem)

A man fell in love with his brand new Rolls-Royce.
But he soon made a very bad choice.
He thought kissing a car would be the same as kissing a woman but he soon 
learned it was not.
He french kissed the tailpipe right after driving his Rolls and a third degree burn 
was what he got.
It hurt so much that it reduced this idiot to tears.
His mouth got burned so bad that he couldn't taste for an entire year.


Details | Burlesque | |

Whirlpool of Misfortune

like a quicksand pit
grabbing hold of you
and pulling ever harder
the pendulum of hell
has suddenly swung my way

If poverty were wisdom
I'd be the new Einstein
if bad luck were paid in bucks,
Donald Trump would be a friend of mine
 
If blindness to things 
about me
sharpened up my vision well
I'd have 10/10 vision
and see clear down, 
straight down right into hell

but I'm not complaining
cause that would be uncool
and God knows I act the fool

of one thing, and one thing only
of which I have no doubt,
nobody wants to hear
from a pathetic poet
who always wants to pout.


Details | Quatrain | |

Emu

Five to six feet tall, 
roughly the same size 
as your average poet, 
but incapable of flight.

His wings but one-tenth 
of his total height;
in short, a groundling 
in a bird’s disguise.


Details | I do not know? | |

Buckingham palace

(This is a fictional poem)

When I went to Buckingham palace last month, I got in a bind.
I accidentally saw the Queen naked and it caused me to go blind.
It was awful to see those sagging boobies and that wrinkled butt.
It was so disgusting that I puked out my guts.
It was disturbing to see all of that wrinkled skin.
I don't think I'll ever be invited to Buckingham palace again.


Details | Burlesque | |

Sort'a

Just like your aorta
Carries blood,
Well It really sort'a ought'a
Or the shoes you bought,
Are sort'a tight,
Soon blisters will ignite,
Sort'a painful it just might,
Keep you up all night,
And when the mouse
dashes across the floor,
And you sort'a run for 
the door,
And your ad-lib scat singing
Sort'a thought was scatology
Maybe we ought'a sort'a sort'a


Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 3

That night, vibrant Effie Blake told me “You Don’t Have To Be A Star”
To see the beauty of this world or meet Troy Nelson, of the “Dead Star”
Ahh!!! My voice need to be heard, that I wrote “To You, Mr. Apolinar” 
                     
It’s about quest of heart and mind, of being simply “Me And The Moon”
Stressed Michele Nold had a simple request, “Where is the Bath Room”
I didn’t entertain her, for I felt dizzy coming out from “The Lost Room”

Then, I overheard grin-faced Oshin Ifedayo saying, “She’s gone at Last”
Who’s who? The “Christians, Muslims, Jews…” “Heaven Waits For Us”
A place of peace, where we can write a sonnet, of being “Home, At Last” 

So, you can tag or be tagged, in our “Starless Night: The Art Of Giving”
I agreed, with Vince Suzadail Jr., that giving’s more of a “Human Being” 
Tammy Armstrong liked the ambience, but said, “Something’s Missing”

Some didn’t come; they’re busy surfing, ‘cos “The Deep Blue Is Rough”
Historian Charles Fuller sent them a note, “I Hear You In A Photograph”
Now, I see why dear Tatiyana Carney has “Lock Box And Photographs” 




Note: I tag the first person who read this….and the last one, too.
Thanks to K.S. for encouraging me to play
And also, to C.B., for the e-mails…love the message/photos.


Details | Burlesque | |

A Touching Ton of Tom's Torturously Terrrible Tid-Bits

"The Young and the Breathless"- TV soap opera about youg emphysema 
patients unfaithful to their doctors.

Candid- Something you could do, and did do.

Phone Call- Bidding your phone to come to you.

Binary- What you can purchase with nary any money.

Nascent- Odorless.

Philosophy- Phil Silvers designing soffits.

Surcharge- Driving down Rt. Number One on the Big Sur at 70 mph.

Surplus- The addition of the above's wrecked car to the cliffside base below the 
aforementioned highway.

Supplant- Burying the idiot victims of the above, around dinner time.

Sunglasses- Drinking vessels for our Solar companion.

Sunspots-  Where my male offspring hangs out.

Gnome, Alaska-  The city in Alaska where the Travelocity icon was found frozen 
solid.

DVDs-  Defective BVD shorts.

Tuba-fish-  Edible fish from an all-fish marching band.

Leak-Proof-  Applying Super-Glue to the tip of one's penis.

Leave of Absence-  Finding your mate has disappeared into a pile of leaves.

Eavesdrop-  Falling off the edge of your roof.

Ecosystem-  A ritualized style of producing an echo in a jar.

Sentiment-  when a Mob boss orders cement for a mob "funeral".

Cyclone-  an artificially duplicated person's mild vocalization of sadness.

Elfin John-  Small, bespeckled gay singer/songwritter.

Elongate-  Turnstyle in the NYC subway system, to the "E" train, expanded in size 
for fat people.

"It Takes A Leaf"-  How to catch poison ivy.

Hopin' to give a smile to Christy in her time of trouble.


Details | I do not know? | |

Spell Check

I know it well
The night
I learned to spell
And got it right
Then I could tell
How close to Hell
I’d held the light
A stand upon a precipice 
Thank lady Luck
I didn’t miss
The night
I learned to spell
The candle sputtered
As I read and uttered
Words and  tolled
The bell
And in the spinning winds of time
I learned  to spell
Quite well
And  sell
Dumb


Details | Quatrain | |

What Ever Will I Do?

Where do I go now?
What can I do?
I wanted to write
But where are you?

I turned on my computer
And you were not there
All I found was empty
I just sat there and stared

I didn’t think I liked it
But now I’m sure I do
I don’t know how I’ll live
Without visiting you

I really didn’t notice
The first thing that I do
I get up in the morning 
I go straight to you

I find my list of poems
And then I start to write
I even catch myself
Looking there at night

No it’s not an addiction
It’s just the way it’s been
I seem to have found a place 
I feel like I fit in

Some may think it’s silly
Maybe obsession
I don’t care what they think
This is my confession

I want to see my poems
Filtered through the loop
I like to have the feedback 
From my friends at Poetry Soup



I wrote this poem this morning while the service was unavailable. This is just for 
fun and I guess I was really bored. LOL  

I want to say thank you to all that have commented on my work and made me feel 
like I fit in. Smiles from Lena "Lolita"


Details | Burlesque | |

Unrequited Glove

I love my glove,
I really do,
One thing wrong,
I have but one,
I think they usually
come in twos

Does that mean,
The one hand clapping,
Is that my fate?
Sittin' with the left glove,
Right one to wait?

Yes, it's an unrequited glove,
Deemed so from above,
One hand nice and warm
The other frostbitten and forlorn,

They say one hand washes the other,
The very thought of that makes me shudder,
I guess I'll get used to, somehow,
Posting only 50% poems from on, now,
And hopin' someone will understand,
I write with but one stinkin' hand.!


Details | I do not know? | |

Starless Night: The Art Of Giving (Rhyme Incorporated) part 1

I was reading Michelle MacDonald’s superb piece of art “Sea Shanty”
Secretly, under the haiku master Katherine Stella’s “Yum Yum Tree”
When smiling Carol Brown, invited me to her grand “Surprise Party”

The charming lady of the soup was no longer feeling bad or “Sideline”
After mending herself, thru helpful John Boak’s “Like The Best Wine”
I am not sure, if, playful Julie Bristow told her, the miracle of “Divine”

Thank God! Doret Cope sighed; she didn’t suffer from a “Stolen Love”
She enjoyed the work of Dawn Drickman’s “The Tiger And The Dove”
She is a good person, that I told her my secret, of having “Other Love”

At the party, Keith Bickerstaffe, without her luckless maid “Ophelia”
Was talking to Sir William Robinson, the great man behind “Mahalia”
I guessed she asked him why I wrote “O God, The Rat Has A Phobia”

Dancing flawlessly, to the nostalgic tune of Jeffrey Lee’s “Music”
Was my haiku mentor, she’s mesmerized by Mahalia’s “Light Magic”
But co-host, a certain Adam Piper was caught trapped, at “The Attic”

I did surprise all, even William Robinson, “When I Stop And Pray”
I interrupted my recitation, of own favorite “Cast Your Doubts Away”
‘Cos, I rather break my pen, but not a promise: “And To Thee, I Pray”

Epulaeryu chef Joseph Spence Sr. who “Makes The World Go Round”
Was explaining, his cooking, to sweet Elaine George, but “Spellbound”
By the strong romantic power, of yellow “Dried Rose On The Ground”

That got humble Daria Stone confused, of feeling “Unlocked, Not Free”
A beauteous Deborah Simpson smiled and asked him: “Sequester Me”
Joyful Karen O’Leary said, the handsome chef, will “Travel With Me”


Details | Couplet | |

Poetry Vs. the Flu

My head is stuffed, my brain is fried
and still the poems wait inside, 
They leak out of my eyes and ears 
and laugh at me with grumpy jeers. 
I am a wreck, I feel so sick 
and still the poems leak and stick.  
They glue me to the creaky chair 
until I write them in the air 
and freeze them down, forever be, 
persistent friends, my poetry...


Details | Tetractys | |

INSPIRATION

Short
poem
on my heart
so lightly trips
riming riche every verse from my lips.


Details | I do not know? | |

I love rattlesnake

(This is a fictional poem)

I love eating rattlesnake because it's so good.
I'd eat it three times a day if I could.
You haven't lived until you've eaten snake stew.
It's mighty tasty and it sticks to the ribs like glue.
Some people prefer chicken, pork or steak.
But nothing makes my mouth water like rattlesnake.


Details | Burlesque | |

Yet More TB's TBs

Okay, for Christy, who I could never refuse;

Do you have to be fat to have a large intestine?

I'm afraid to ask what kind of dance they do in Lapland.

Dripping pan- a pan that leaks.

Is a plebeian a female striving to join a gay organization?

Quibble and Bits- arguing with the grocer over the price of dog food.

Subhuman- a sailor on a submarine.

Monkey wrench- forcefully pulling a chimpanzee that is holding on to it's cage.

Betty Crocker- a woman who's cookbook if filled with pathological lies.

Prodigy- a young person exceptionally talented at poking people with a stick.

Probate- a lure to attract professional roaches. 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Socrates Stole My Socks!

Now I know how he got his name....
He can put an electric dryer to shame!
Dryers eats socks,
Socrates does pilfer....
I wonder what happens,
If I send him a bill 'fer
All my missing socks....
Would he sock me one?


Details | Burlesque | |

My Tent

I figured out
How to make some bucks,
In this town,
Where you oft hear "Ahhhh, Schucks!"

I rented a tent- erected it on busy Rt. 9
Southbound traffic, 50 cent fine...
Northbound cars,
Well, that's a buck,
Ah, darn, it gal, twice that
for a truck

Hand painted signs,
And stolen hard hats
All I needed,
To make a fortune,
Oh, rats!!!

Why didn't I think of this
A year ago,
I'd be so rich,
That you know...
I'd open a hot dog stand,
with roadside beer,
To assauge any anger,
Calm any fear.

And get wealthy to boot,
Ain't that a hoot!
And keep traffic down,
When I wish to sleep
Make them turn around,
And homeward creep.

Boy this entrepreneur
Spirit of mine,
Will make us rich,
Will make us fine.

So here we go, the sky's
the limit.....
Next runways,
Pay or landing lights,
We'll dim it.....

Oh I'm full of money making ideas
Finally get myself out of arrears!


Details | I do not know? | |

Cheap!

(This is a fictional poem)

When I go on a date, I make the girl order the cheapest thing on the menu.
They usually walk out the door before the dates have a chance to continue.
My last date ordered a meal that costed a hundred and ten dollars.
The owner threw me out on my ___ when I started to holler.
The price of an egg McMuffin is about as high as I'm willing to go.
When I ask the girls out a second time, they slap me and say no.


Details | I do not know? | |

Clown shoes

(This is a fictional poem)

My feet are so big that I have to wear clown shoes.
People keep pointing and laughing, what am I going to do?
Some people think that I'm Bigfoot when they see my footprints.
They shoot first and ask questions later, it's very intense.
One man shot me in the ___ and I can still feel the heat.
I wish somebody would help me by cutting off my damn feet.


Details | I do not know? | |

Uglier than sin

(This is a fictional poem)

Every woman changes after we go on a date.
They become lesbians when they were previously straight.
I'm not popular with women because good looks is what I lack.
I'm getting tired of looking at mirrors because they always crack.

One woman screamed and lost bladder control when I kissed her.
Maybe the reason why I'm so ugly is because my parents are brother and sister.
I only go on blind dates and women never like what they see.
They find it more appealing to date each other than to date me.


Details | I do not know? | |

Whoa Willy

Whistling whispering warlocked warrior wishing when 
wanting whatever won winnings whenever.
While wondering wandering wordsmithing winsome
witch worries woefully which wayward wintry willfully
willing warlock will winsomely win wonder with what wards.


Details | I do not know? | |

I saved Christmas

When Santa Claus came down my chimney, I thought he was a robber.
I grabbed my baseball bat and old Saint Nick got clobbered.
Santa had some compound fractures and he kept saying ouch.
I made his deliveries while he laid on my couch.
I climbed on my roof and got in his sled.
When I told the reindeers to fly, Prancer kicked me in the head.
I delivered the presents all around the world.
Because of me, there were a lot of happy boys and girls.
The next year I asked Santa for a new bowling ball because I love to bowl.
But when I checked my stocking, I saw that the fatso gave me a block of coal.


Details | Free verse | |

Confused Poet Three

At Annapolis, Admiral Rictameter had tried to teach us the martial art kick known 
as the Rondeau.  When he became impatient, he tried to rondeau redouble the 
lesson.  That turned out to be a Sapphic Stanza disaster, as we were all listening 
to a Neil Sedoka record.  I was senryu about having spilt the baby Sestina, and 
Sijo, our trained puppy, decided his tail rhymed with what was than-Bauk.  I 
thought the whole thing too triolet, and likely to cause tybuvim, and I did not want 
to be the one who was considered the Villanelle.


Details | I do not know? | |

Transvestite

(This is a fictional poem)

I should've known from the start that something wasn't right.
Last year I accidentally dated a transvestite.
I thought it was odd that this chick was so hairy.
I dumped this person who I was going to marry.
When I saw him in the shower, it shocked the hell out of me.
I saw things that no man should see.
When I saw him naked, it made me nauseous.
When I date somebody else, I'm going to be more cautious.
I've been scarred for life, you have no idea what I've been through.
Don't laugh, the same thing might happen to you.


Details | Couplet | |

Forever and a day

  I know

 you've  got a lot to say

but must you say it all today?

oh no.now ,don't go away

I only meant  that people tire
and all my brain cells may expire....
alright just put it on the wire.

for after all we like to hear
what you have to say my dear
I'll read if it takes a year,

forever and a day.


Details | Alliteration | |

SOUNDS OF LIFE

Babble,gabble
simper,whimper
gurgle coo;
holler,howl
scream,sigh
then cry.

Squeak,shriek
screech,squeal
bang,clang;
gnash,splash
peal and crash.

Shout,spout
roar ,rage
toot,hoot whistle;
whoop,sing
cheer and yell.

Ding,ting,tone
zing and ring
hiss,moan and groan;
whisper
then kiss.


Details | I do not know? | |

Strawberries

(I got the ide for this fictional poem from a cartoon in a magazine.)

People pick strawberries from my field for two dollars a pound.
Since you've been here, my number of strawberries have gone down.
You put some of the strawberries you pick in your baskets but you eat some 
when I don't look.
You're going to send me to the poorhouse because you're a crook.
I don't like people like you because you're dishonest and you're a dirty rat.
You have a big strawberry stain around your mouth and I'm charging you an extra 
ten bucks for that.


Details | Free verse | |

Frere Jacques (or What Was I Thinking?)

It was a Saturday night, at around seven o’clock.
Still at home until the phone rang,
“Jacques, is that you?” the voice said.
“Yes” I said and quickly realized it was Simon.
“Come down to Club 21, all the gang’s here” he implored.
I quickly changed and ran out the door.
Oh, yes, everyone was there, a cornucopia of mixed delights.
Jeannie was there in a bright, tight blue dress.
Mandy was there dancing in a halter.
The twins, Bobbi and Bette, were smiling and offering drinks.
I couldn’t say no, now could I?

One thing led to another, drinks then did flow.
Looked at my watch, where did time go?
It was five in the morning, so I walked on home
Still wobbly and painless, but managed to roam.
It’s now nine in the morning, laying in bed.
What is that sound, and pain in my head?
My sister is yelling, to me, from the door.
Why did I ever agree to drink more?
She’s yelling that mom said we all have to go.
“It’s church time now, Jacques, Sunday you know?”
Oh why, yes, oh why, did I drink, not stay sober?
Now I am just suffering from the biggest hangover.
But my sister’s still screaming and louder she gets!
“Get outta here”, I shouted, “I need some more rest!”


Details | Quatrain | |

To Write That One

I wish to write a poem, great
One that serves well to inspire
With words selected, choice yet sweet
Perhaps, speak of desire

I wish to write a poem, great
That many would remember
They’d keep it in their hearts and minds
From January through December

I wish to write a poem, great
That would really make my mark
Let it burn like a fire out of control
From my mind, set ablaze with a spark

I wish to write a poem, great
Or maybe one that’s just enjoyed
You can’t become rich writing in verse
That is why I’m still employed


Details | Rhyme | |

Mother Goose

Mother Goose, at the bar,
Downing pints and feeling the juice...
Had an urge, and cut one loose...
The fellow next to her fell off his stool
and looked the fool..
Everyone looked at him...
Thinking the misdeed,
Was made by this "dandy Jim"
Got back on his seat,
With a very sore caboose..
Got a whim,
And "goosed" Mother Goose..
Only a fool would antagonize her,
Mother Goose was a woman loose,
For a fool such as he,
she had no use...
And hauled off and decked this clown...
Making him the second man in Twinkle's Bar down...


Details | I do not know? | |

Bluto VS. Popeye

(Based on the cartoon)

I asked Olive Oyl out a thousand times but she always said no.
I'm a big fat bully and my name is Bluto.
When it comes to Popeye, I can't remember the countless fights I picked.
He kept eating that damn spinach and I always got my ___ kicked.
When I fight Popeye, I usually get the worst.
But yesterday I managed to get to the spinach first.
When I ate it, I was going to beat on Popeye and I wasn't going to stop.
But one punch from me was all it took to make that mama's boy drop.
I just got Olive to agree to go out with me after a thousand tries.
Popeye may be tough when he eats spinach but without it, he's a wuss who cries.


Details | Free verse | |

GOTCHA

Ok, you got me.
But just you wait,
I'll get you back James
Before you reach base,
That safe place of yours.
Yeah, you're running fast,
But I know I can catch you.
Zig zag all you want.
Run in circles too.
But you'll give out of breath
Way-y-y-y before me...
Before you reach that tree
Before you juke again-
I GOTCHA'!  BUT WAIT!
There's someone else
Nearer than you,
Just in my reach.
Let me change direction
Right quick and tag 'em.
But I'll get you back
If I'm tagged again.
Just you wait-
Even if it takes 5 hours.
The game is not over.

Woooo!!!  I'm out... of breath...
TamiViolet... You're It!


Details | Rhyme | |

Take That!

You say these things that get deep within
Assuming control of my mind and heart
Like feathers tickling the surface of my skin
With tingling sensations, my dreams then start

Reality fades to the background of thought
Dreams surface, coming into such a clear view
I’m ready and waiting to use all you have taught
What works on me, will now be worked on you

Be ready, oh dear one, for I am ready to burst
I hope you are ready, but regardless, you better be
It is you, who now, will hunger and thirst
While the pupil will be you, the teacher will be me

Aha, sit back, now how does that really feel?
I hope I can do to you what you always do to me
When you read my words, dreams will then seem real
The images within, will be all that you will see


Details | Rhyme | |

Is There Floetry in This Poetry?

Is there floetry in this poetry?
I'm asking you, instead of me.
Tho, I am the host, 
I still want your post!


Copyright McCuen 2008


Details | Light Poetry | |

Why'd You Oogle My Google?

Don't'chea all be lookin'
Over my shoulder,
At what's cookin'
I dunz get mad,
And reely sad,
Dat you'z be spi-en
at myze wourds


Details | I do not know? | |

Ace up my sleeve

(This is a fictional poem)

One day I was cheating at poker and I got caught.
When I saw them get the branding iron, it sure looked hot.
They branded my balls before I could leave.
I seriously regretted hiding that ace up my sleeve.


Details | Couplet | |

DOUBLE ENTENTE

The ape was a mimic
So badger pestered him

A dog tricked the fox
And followed him to crow

This boast  to a rat
Was betrayed ...by and by

Tampering with its meaning..
was a monkey...on the sly.


Details | Burlesque | |

Cut Off!

Woke up early on this fateful and sad day
to find AOL had cut me off
over some bill I'd failed to pay
I found my anger, up I did cough!

faced with a day without my daily "soup"
Good Lord!, just how will I get by?
my spirits start to droop
I could not help but start to cry

Now I find I'm suffering
from a new form of P.M.S.
"Panic Minus Soup" is what it stands for
Oh, Lord, I sure am now in a mess!


Details | Free verse | |

in between meals

In between meals
Eye am a writer and eye have discovered my mind is to busy on things that may 
not matter much to ewe or the endless pursuit of my happiness.
The people eye have in my meetings do not always do what eye want them to 
this is especially time consuming and very much a melody to add to all m y 
memory of the day and the poetry and the fun.
We aer all in between the meals and so busy with our own stuffins eye have 
decided to make this wonderful thing to sing of all our souls and the reason that 
you are smiling now is because of they way this old man writes in syllables and 
dandylions added. eye write the things that moves me to add words upon the 
paper and it may soon seem silly but this gets better and so much better the 
flowing pen of jargon and the added appendages and the endless rhyme and 
schemeing thing. A busy mind is a happy thing and nothing wrong with that all of 
the ewe stay busy doing that.


Details | I do not know? | |

Motel

(This is a fictional poem)

A lot of celebrities stay at this motel.
I thought it would be fun to work here but it's been hell.
I've had a terrible time around here.
Last week I carried luggage for Britney Spears.
I thought she'd give me a big tip because she's a rich singer.
But instead of giving me a tip, she gave me the finger.
A few weeks ago Johnny Depp stayed at this motel.
When I told him that his movies suck, he put a hole in my ___ with a shotgun 
shell.
I just got through carrying luggage for Brad Pitt.
He just said something that's made me decide to quit.
What he said was so horrible that it's making me run away.
Pitt said instead of tipping me with money, he'd tip me with a BJ.


Details | I do not know? | |

I kicked Al Gore's ###

(I got the idea for this fictional poem after watching Mad TV.)

Last week I got a visit from Al Gore.
I beat the hell out of him and he doesn't want to see me anymore.
He asked me to give him my car keys.
When he told me what he was going to do, it angered me.
He said he was going to destroy my car because it's bad for the environment.
When he tried to take the keys, the hospital was where he was sent.
Gore thought he was being smart but he got himself in a pickle.
He could've taken anything else but I broke his bones when he tried to take my 
vehicle.


Details | I do not know? | |

I don't need a babysitter!

(This is a fictional poem)

When it comes to my parents, I'm still angry and bitter.
I'm a thirty-six year old man and they still hire babysitters.
The babysitters treat me like a child and they suffer my wrath.
They tuck me in at night and they even give me baths.
They won't let me watch TV and I have to go to bed at seven o clock.
Tonight my babysitter had to get stitches when I hit her in the head with a rock.
The babysitter just quit and she kicked my dad in the balls before she left.
I want to be treated like an adult and if they hire another babysitter, I'm going to 
hold my breath.


Details | I do not know? | |

One last tidbit...

Well here I go again....I was doin' the dishes, cut my finger slightly, and bled in 
the sink...so now I have a blog!


Details | Kyrielle | |

Inspired Whinings

I always liked country music, but never could figure out what country it was from.

I will shortly be a contestant on "American Idle"

When my mother first saw a microwave at my brother's house in Ohio, in the 
1980's-  she told me how impressed she was at how friendly it seemed.  
Everytime she used it, it said "Hi" to her.  True story.

I heard about this old movie- "Twice Sold Ales"-  seems a sinister bartender 
would get a customer drunk, and re-cyle his urine, and served it as "ale"  Ugh!
Makes me wanna wash!

I had a nightmare last night- Angelina Jolie was knocking at my door, and I was 
in bed with Phylis Diller.  Ugh!

I got the video "Girls Gone Wild", and was (almost) surprised to see my wife as a 
featured star!  Ugh.

I just signed up to be a contestant on "American Idle"...I should clean up!  If not 
on the game, at least here, in my home!  Ugh!

I think, therefore I think.  I think, therefore I drink.

I signed up for a "cruise to nowhere"-  I wound up in a rowboat on the Hudson 
River.

I like to consider myself a "pimple on the a_s of life"!

No more from "Tootsie Roll Breath" for now.  Keep on smiling!!

I get a kick out of the "Forms of Poetry" list....Like I really care!!
Pretentious crock of crap!!  Check how I list this One!!


Details | Free verse | |

Willy-Fred, Willy-Fred

Willy, don't be silly...
As for Fred, check your head,
Once again, you got things
all wrong,
I wasn't writting poetry,
nor out to steal a song...
I do get the feeling,
Your disdain for me is strong,

That's okay,
I gotta say,
No loss in disbelief,
But don't question me,
Cause you don't know
If I were a lyrical thief,
What if I did write those
songs,
And held the copyright too,
And let others record them,
You think other, I might do?

So check out the copyright credits,
And wake me when you're through,
Cause as for your snide comments,
I've heard enough from you.


Details | I do not know? | |

Apology To Martha

Martha, my dear,
	I’m a loser. Everybody’s trying to be my baby. Help! Every little thing, in 
my life, tomorrow never knows. Tell me what you see. Don’t pass me by. It’s all 
too much. All you need is love. I want you. Come together, let it be. Oh! Darling, 
Here comes the sun. I want to tell you, here, there and everywhere, if I needed 
someone, I need you.

From me to you,
Mr Moonlight


(All Beatles Titles)


Details | I do not know? | |

Fragile

(This is a fictional poem)

The package said fragile but the contents still got smashed.
My penis enlarging pump was ruined so I threw it in the trash.
The girls keep dumping me because I'm so small.
People assume that I'm well-endowed because I'm eight feet tall.
I date supermodels and actresses who are very hot.
But they always dump me when they see what I've got.


Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Time To Take Tylenol

There's tom, turning turgid today.  Tenderness to the thought tabulator.  Terrible 
torture today, take that to tinsel town!  Twords turn this turkey to  tom's torrid tale 
telling true torch tunes.  Take two tylenol, turn toothsome televivion teleplay to 
tomorrow's tomography, twice told tales tell the truth. Touche'!!
(told ya I iz nutz!)


Details | Light Poetry | |

How to get dumped

I give advice that helps people get out of relationships that are bad.
When my advice gets you dumped, you will be grateful and glad.
The best way to get dumped is to go three months without bathing.
Your companion will bust down the door to get away because you'll be scathing.
Another good way to get dumped is by picking your nose.
If that doesn't work, ask them to take off their clothes.
A sure way to get dumped is to say that you have herpes.
Nothing makes a person run faster than a venereal disease.
It's awful when we have bad relationships that we're stuck in.
But if you take my advice, you will be single again.


Details | Burlesque | |

Ruby's Breakfast

I should be a private eye,
and not one with a sty...
Cause I put 2 and 3 together,
Oh, I was being so very clever!

My Sherlock mind, it did deduce,
From clues she left,some too loose...
Just what her choice would be....
At least I could clearly see...

Not donuts and hot tea...
Bacon and eggs?  Naw...to easy....
Oatmeal?... Naw, but maybe a bit more close...
I know what your thinkin', "Oh, again,here he goes!!"
She said it every time...
Her choice always Cheerios!!!!


Details | Ballad | |

Battlecreek Joust

When Kelloggs' jousts
with Post,
It's easy to find the host,
Just look for that Ruby Red Smile,
From her lawnchair seat, 
for quite a while,
Poppin' pocorn in,
With a fox's sly winning grin,

She dodges the poor fool's splash,
And is set to collect her winner's cash,
She'd bet on that poor fool,
Drowning in that puddle-pool....

One thing the fool noticed
with his last breath,
And his untimely death,
She'd pulled a clever one off,
To mislead others of his ilk,
She's now using GatorAid
instead of milk!!!!

For my Jewel of a friend, Ruby.


Details | I do not know? | |

Snuff

(This is a fictional poem)

You cussed me out and that was pretty rough.
You did it because you saw me use some snuff.
You made me eat the snuff because you're a brute.
But I got even when I puked on your Armani suit.
I get abused even though you smoke cigarettes and now it's your turn.
I'm going to stick a lit cigarette up your butt and give you a third degree burn.


Details | Free verse | |

Misscounting

 Misscounting 
Misscounting 
 
 
Seven files eye counted them one after the other until eye was tired of them. 
Then it was ten. The total became fifteen. Let me begin to explain the refrain of 
the missing files. It must be a time delay an internet glitch. But only one file is 
copied twice this becomes interesting now listen close to this one eye counted to 
TEN then again to my TEN then there was suddenly FIFTEEN of them. To make it 
add up and fit in my plan eye counted past ten with the last three of them. So to 
even it out and keep some sane thoughts in my head eye said ten, thirteen, 
fourteen, fifteen, like this. And that made it all up and all of them fit. Misscounting 
it. 



Details | I do not know? | |

Saint Patrick's Day

(This is a fictional poem)

On Saint Patrick's Day I always pinch people who don't wear green.
I made the horrible mistake of pinching a man who was very mean.
He kicked me in the stomach and then he violently put my head through a glass 
door.
The doctors picked shards of glass out of my face and I'll never pinch him 
anymore.
I pinched a lady and she said she was being sexually harassed.
It was because I made the mistake of pinching her on the ___.
She took me to court and she was awarded a million dollars.
That damn judge held me in contempt when I started to holler.
Pinching that lady's ___ was something that I regret.
It took six years for me to pay off that damn debt.
Last Saint Patrick's Day I was doused in gasoline and I sure did burn.
I keep pinching people on Saint Patrick's Day, I guess I'll never learn.


Details | Quatrain | |

Don't Do The Rhyme

With a warrant from the courts
and a judgment is there, too
be cautious of the sheriff
for he comes now just for you

For the crimes you have committed
with proof engraved by pen
the sheriff is hunting you down
it’s a matter of just when

For you have stolen this man’s
pulsating, dreaming heart
with poems you’ve created 
with feelings you’d impart

So here’s the sheriff for you
with cuffs, he’ll take you away
Behind prison doors you’ll be locked up
as rhyme just doesn’t pay (LOL)


Details | I do not know? | |

I'm not bigfoot!

(This is a fictional poem

People think I'm a beast because I'm hairy.
They run when they see me because they think I'm scary.
They think I'm bigfoot but that's not true.
They think that because I wear size eighteen shoes.
When people look at me, they think a monster is what they're seeing.
They're shocked when they learn that I'm just a hairy human being.
I went to a girl's house for a blind date and you should've saw her run.
I was sterile for a year because her dad shot me in the balls with a tranquilizer 
gun.
When I went to a diner last night, everybody ran.
I'm getting tired of people thinking I'm a monster just because I'm a hairy and 
smelly man.


Details | Senryu | |

Saying Little Can Take Much

pithy things to say
often need plenty of wit
and thought before said.


Details | I do not know? | |

The wrong finger

(This is a fictional poem)

I've been beaten up over twenty times when I tried to hitch rides.
I always used the wrong finger and the people had my hide.
I accidentally used my middle finger instead of my thumb.
I've been beaten senseless many times because I'm so dumb.
People tell me that I should be able to tell the two fingers apart.
I dropped out of school in Kindergarten, maybe that's why I'm not smart.
When I got the crap beat out of me yesterday, it made me hurl.
It was very embarrassing to be beaten up by a six year old girl.
When I told my mom about this, she let out a great big chuckle.
Those people kicked my ___ but at least I did bruise their knuckles.


Details | I do not know? | |

Seventy-eights

I just bought a record player but it won't play my seventy-eights.
It only plays thirty-threes and forty fives and that's something I hate.
I have over a hundred seventy-eights with some terrific singers.
But to be able to play them, I have to spin the wheel really fast with my finger.
My hand is getting tired and this sure does aggravate.
I want a record player that will play my damn seventy-eights.


Details | Light Poetry | |

OLDE ENGLISH LADY

She
could not
bake the bread-
though she kneaded
dough.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tea & A

(I got the idea for this fictional poem from MAD TV.)

When I went to a cafe, it really made my day.
Five young ladies work there, I was surrounded by T & A.
The ladies served me tea and they weren't wearing tops.
When I saw this, my heart damn nearly stopped.
Those topless ladies give pleasure to a lot of men.
But if my wife finds out, I won't ever pee standing up again.


Details | Senryu | |

Fire away....

         Intellect equiped with quips
              charging a quick wit
            rocket fire resort retort


Details | I do not know? | |

A Really Bad Poem

So crushed and misappropriated am I!
Am I!  Am I!  Am I!  Am I!
That my heart lies on the floor, waiting...
Waiting forever hopelessly while mourning
The loss of your eternal love, darling.
Baby, sweetheart, darling..
I miss you like a fish misses bait.
I love you like athlete's foot loves dirty feet.
I want to be with you.
I want to eat you.
I want to be one with you.
Long past death doing us part,
I want to be the bat in your cave.
Please take me back, I beg of you.
As Justin Timberlake is to pop,
And Janet Jackson is to dance,
I am to you.
NEVER leave me.
Please!
Please! 
Please!  
Or else, my eternal love, I shall die...
As critics would like...


Details | I do not know? | |

Frog

(This is a fictional poem)

Last year I thought about buying a dog.
But I changed my mind and I got a frog.
When it comes to my love life, I'm in a slump.
The girls see me and my frog and I get dumped.

I have warts on my face, my hands and even on my pecker.
When I answer the door, I scare the hell out of the bill collectors.
They all run away because my big warts makes them very ill.
I may be a social outcast but at least I'm getting out of paying my bills.


Details | I do not know? | |

Spiked

(This is a fictional poem)

I'm going to be in this hospital for awhile.
I spiked a watermelon like Sergeant Carter did on Gomer Pyle.
I filled the watermelon with vodka and gave it to my obnoxious friend.
He gave it to his seven feet five brother and my life nearly came to an end.
His brother was president of a corporation and he sure was admired.
But when he went to work drunk, he got fired.
He beat the crap out of me and he wouldn't stop.
My blood was gushing, it had to be wiped up by a mop.
I lost so much blood that I nearly died.
Instead of taking it like a man, I wet my pants and cried.
You have no idea what that pain felt like.
That will be the last watermelon that I'll spike.


Details | I do not know? | |

It's not a dress

(This is a fictional poem)

I wear a kilt but everybody thinks it's a dress.
People laugh at me and my life is a mess.
Last week I got my ___ kicked in a fight.
It's not a dress and I'm tired of people thinking I'm a transvestite.
I'm the butt of people's jokes, I even get laughed at by my friends.
I forgot to wear underwear today and I was arrested when it came a strong wind.


Details | I do not know? | |

Ice Cube

(This is a fictional poem)

I've watched him in Friday and in Barbershop.
Last week Ice Cube beat me up and he wouldn't stop.
I kissed a lady who turned out to be his girlfriend.
I'm in the hospital and it will take awhile for my broken bones to mend.
If you see Ice Cube, don't aggravate him and don't make him mad.
He'll kick your ___ too because he is bad.


Details | Burlesque | |

Rhyme In Time

Innie, meanie, minnie, Moe,
Where the hell did Larry and Curly go?


Details | I do not know? | |

Stuck!

(This is a fictional poem)

I'm stuck in this elevator with a dead man and he smells very bad.
I have to get out of here before I go mad.
I've been in in this elevator for two days, it's not pretty in here.
The stench is so bad that it has reduced me to tears.

People are ignoring me, I know they've heard me shout.
Will I have to become a cannibal if I can't get out?
If you're wondering if this has been a pleasant experience, the answer is no.
If I can't get out, maybe I can start jumping up and down and make this elevator 
plummet fifty-three stories below.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Challenge Four

100 words or less, to rhyme, humor a plus..Feb. ten. Good Luck- email copy to 
Quasarttt228@aol.com, and post, please- winner gets a tom Bell Cookbook!

Incorporate;
Brushing the velvety hair of the bald midget
Olives on the run
Hidden Puppy, Crouching pooper
New set of blinds
Ketchup
Gumballs on the bar
rock music in Chinese
Wally Eagle, ootty-booty-li-li
Mercedes Benz
Slip of the forked snake tongue

Good Luck!!


Details | Rhyme | |

Inspiration from Miss Linda

You crack me up ,
Never let me down,
Some even say ,
You act like a clown.

Whenever you are around,
People carry on,
There can be no frown.

Now I don’t know,
If all that’s true, 
But I wanted to write ,
And give a big thank you.

Once and for all,
But not in the least,
You did not stall,
Or get eaten by the beast.

Where oh where do I go from here?
What oh what do we have to fear?

I know not ,
For I just write.
Bet Miss Linda Ann.
Would love flying a kite,

But who knows,
Could this be right?
Stay on your toes,
It’s almost midnight.

So time to stop,
And get to bed,
Have sweet dreams,
With sugar plums in your head.

One more thing, 
Before I go. 
Thank you miss Linda,
You inspired me, you know.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Broke

(This is a fictional poem)

I don't have any cigarettes to smoke.
I can't get laid because I'm broke.
I have no gas so I have to walk wherever I go.
I try to take girls out on my bicycle but they keep saying no.

I made some home made booze that I tried to sell.
But it made the first customer go blind so I went to jail.
My cellmate dunked my head in the toilet and gave me a swirly.
I thanked God when they let him out early.

When I got out of jail, I had no food to eat.
I was so hungry that I was nibbling on my own two feet.
I'm starving while my neighbor is as big as a cow.
I want somebody to either feed or shoot me now.


Details | Blank verse | |

Mister He

Who lurks beyond the shadows of the moon?
Who knows when tomorrow will ever arrive?
Do we know who the moral majority represents?
The answer is Mister He

For Mister He has been around far too long
He has embellished words, stolen mind
He waits for those unsuspecting innocents
As they are the prey that he dares to find

He hovers over us all, ready to attack
But to know him? No, we never see at all.
For he is the reason socks go missing
And down the basement stairs we sometimes fall.