Poem | |
You have all heard I am sure of the three musketeers
The group with the swords not the ones with the funny ears
Reminds me of a joke that right here would apply
There are three kinds of people I tell you no lie
Those who are really quite good at math
And those who are not and that's that
They were the three musketeers but they were four
Their math was bad not three, four and no more
I hope you're all still with me, I'm not trying to be a pest
I need you to follow me because at the end there's a test
There is Casarah
Yeah and hurrah
She is a good ma
Then there is Tim
You should know him
He's tall and trim
And finally there is the kind hearted Jan
From England she's the one with no tan
Coy and demure behind her fancy fan
If you kept count that makes three
Who can argue. You'd have to agree.
Now we have arrived at what I am trying to say
I've just joined them and I quite enjoy sword play
Do you see? I am number four.
I'll just walk through their door.
That makes me the best, the fillet mignon
It turns out that I am frikin' D'Artagnan.
Poem | |
It has been 9 months since your sudden disappearance.
That Hallowed night when your 5’11” nerd aura
Handed me my early birthday gift
A cold shoulder wrapped in a velvet bow
Made in Sri Lanka, sold exclusively at the Dollar Store
That was your appraised value.
But, today, revival’s whisper enters my gently waxed earlobes.
Candy coated revelations
For my allergic blood
“I said yes!”, as she flashed Cracker Jack ring
Filled with Monopoly dollar signs and “Go directly to Jail” Chance cards
I almost applauded, my hands sarcastically never connected
While my eyeballs rolled in epileptic banter
We scream in misguided nerd joy
As if we witnessed Monty Python & Darth Vader having a make-out session
Sudden urges to watch movies about Traveling Pants & Sisterhood
And PSing my I Love You
While we eat Dark Chocolate Klondike bars and Chipwich Ice Cream Cookies
My ovaries were bursting with INSANITY’S JOY!
But, WAIT, I quickly realized I didn’t have such parts!
It was then, reality crashed
As if Spider Man ran out of web during mid-air leap
My essence now halts at crossroads’ throat.
To my left, “celebration”
To my right, “other”
I chose to be a human this night.
Current time- 9:15pm
Current location- Reception Hall
A 5 course meal,
Including dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets
Smiley face French fries
And 3 glasses of Tang
Surrounded my space on the dinner table
Heavenly echoes of forks & glass,
Ringing in ignorant unison,
Give birth to Tinnitus in my drums
In their 9 months of togetherness,
They kiss with forcible ease,
Frogs refusing to show their true form
It is then, ignoring listless stares from guests,
I stood up holding my half-empty Tang glass
Which MIGHT have contained a smidge of Grey Goose
At the TOP of my LUNGS,
“Friend, I should be so proud of you. I would. I could.
You never responded to my open-hearted palm.
You left my vulnerabilities dangling at half-mast, as if I lost our final game of Hang Man.
But, TONIGHT, it is I & this delicious Dinosaur nugget that will HAVE a final say!
You are impeccably flawed, like I. But, I still wanted you to be a part of my tomorrows.
Yet, you turned me into a muted yesterday.
So, I will wish congratulations on your new slav…um, husband,
Pouring this glass of yummy Tang onto this stapled dance floor in a straight line
Each drop will be a symbol of how many tears he will shed, before that line is crossed.”
As silence slapped each other in its face
Across candle flame blanketed, marble dance hall,
With children pointing & laughing hysterically,
“Security” enters the room
As I hold hands with Cuban female rent-a-cop, her head warming my shoulder,
“Thank you for these 9 months. For now, I have given birth to a new me.
The Best Man that you will never hold again.”
©Drake J. Eszes
Poem | |
Well, I declare
On artful prints her beauty dwelt,
diffused in haze, a pristine bloom,
ethereal her figure svelte
and French perfume.
Well, I declare, her love I sought;
unplaced on canvas her response,
was diffident her stare and thought
Alike a dancing muse she stepped
her graciousness, a veil of night,
caressing wave, the shoreline swept
her smiling bright.
Upon the sands she coasted then,
of Springtime incandescent beam
an everlasting red cayenne
and fervent dream.
A classic arts connoisseur
well, I declare, my reddened rose,
I yippee yipped with spree and spur
and kissed her nose. :)
© 2014-09-06, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic tetrameter - Iambic dimeter)
Poem | |
Zuzuni on the badlands
Montana's muddy badlands spread for thirty seven miles
along a cleft of sandstone bed, eroded years before;
the chestnut paced upon the bare of grass and well worn aisles
and I wore two new Navy Colts, of gauging forty four
beneath the noon light that defines but also eyes beguiles.
An anchorite, some years ago, upon the ridge of Grapes
where monasteries in the clouds are reaching out to God,
I learned to draw and shoot amidst the fog's white waving drapes
and prayed til the time was ripe t' abandon this abode,
cause solitude was molding deeds, constringing, thus, escapes.
I saw them waiting on the trail; three bandits stood apart:
Coyote Chit, Cheesecake Labif and Mambo-Jumbo Crock
with cross-tied low their pistols stood, assumptive and upstart
bemocking fools who patented their e'er noetic block
that teachers, tho', could not explain; not even wise Descartes!
My shots intended at their guns, the hoisted hammers broke;
I ordered them to start the dance that turns the clouds to rain
the land was in compelling need, as turf and plants evoked
the sympathy of Heavens that magnanimous ordained
the good ol' boys (and volunteers) to dance the rain's refrain.
Coyote was allowed to dance a prominent gavotte
meanwhile Labif's romantic soul preferred a marigold
but Crock's mazurka had untied the nimbus' Gordian knot
and rain began to pour upon those who the skies extolled
heroic men were meant to be, defining, thus, a blot.
Zuzuni, the Algonquin chief, had noticed this ordeal
and marveled at the outlaws forms, that caused the skies to rain
in order so, to buy the fools he offered a good deal
fourteen strong horses for each man, who danced to ascertain
that rains returned upon the slopes and also on the plains.
© 2014-10-15, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Contest Name: Sketch a Character
Sponsor: Gautami Phookan
Poem | |
Out on the faraway of Spring,
the wraiths tap-dance atop the fields,
their laughter rises when they wield,
and beam to innocent their swing.
Our donkey left the barn last night,
pursuing thus, a gracious mare;
a whir became on stardom glare,
enchanting all jennets in sight!
The chickens started to escape,
because of a bewitching coq,
(with sauce of Worcester, cooked in wok),
- his spook got drunk on Concord grape.
Our precious cow (miss World was called) ,
wore ten inch spikes with a short dress,
and jumping up the barn egress'd,
absorbed by night for e'er un-stalled.
Two versing hogs, were cuckoo-spelled,
and oinking Shakespeare's sixth sonnet,
spiraled afar; a gifted duet
on website poetry excelled.
This Pandemonium's trick song,
our grandma sang while her broom climbed,
with a 'ye haw' she left and rhymed,
new magic flying to Hong Kong.
Nigh this Catastrophe's attacks,
the neighbor's daughter dressed like ghost,
to whistling granted her riposte,
- and much was kissed, on dry hay stacks.
© G. V., 11-19-2013, All Rights Reserved
Worcester: is pronounced "Woo'ster"
Poem | |
At the window, palms under my chin,
such beauty I see, out the frosted pane,
I was mesmerized, it showed in my grin,
so picture perfect, the snow covered lane.
My daydream was dashed, Mom called from the door,
"time to brave the cold and clear the sidewalk,"
grabbed my winter coat and boots from the floor,
I hate this chore, but knew not to back-talk.
"Don't slip on the ice, watch out for the plow,"
I hear, as orange shovel meets concrete,
shouldn't the county have this done by now?,
this takes all day, with snow piled up in feet.
Why freeze for allowance, I'll never know,
yet, I still find myself shoveling snow.
November 18th, 2014
Sara Kendrick's contest - "Jobs"
Poem | |
You question duskiness "Whereas he be?"
Be careful pal; he hides behind the tree!
Inside the sneaky shades he aptly lurks
because you've drunk too many Cuty Sarks.
You, silly chump! You're shaking on your feet;
Contele Dracula* and tough tidbit
exists inside your foolishness' resource
and punishes your wrongs without remorse.
Excess in drinking could be bad for you;
tis not that you'll become a drunk boo-hoo
but he'll metamorphose to baseball bat
and if you drink again, he'll kick your butt.
I know you're stupefied and very scared
cause Gigi hides in pizza boxes where'd
jump up, if thee besotted be and fool,
and then consume your pizza, super-cool.
Admit it, dude! You're shivering in fear!
But if you prayed he would disappear,
expect him to start dancing everywhere-s,
and jingle, so, his spurs upon your stairs.
Ha ha! Hill Billy, you! Outside your house,
behind the pumpkins, sound the irked meows:
bewildered Gigi cats will jump ahead,
inside your car and on your empty head.
You should, thus, paint your house pistachi'o green
cause if you stall before your PC screen
he'll haunt the lines of your poetic calls
and bats will eat your order of spring rolls.
© 10-02-2014, G. Phookan, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
* Contele Dracula = Count Dracula in Romanian
Poem | |
I stepped in for my first colonoscopy. I was nervous everyone could see
I had a choice to be awake or put out if I was skittish...but no not me
I chose the former so I could watch my own ass on TV
They go right up your canal with a camera like an RV
Imagine my surprise when up my butt they found my phone
The tiny ones they use to make before the smart cell phone
But here's the clincher it was set on vibrate. The doc was suspicious
"My wife insisted" I told him "she bribed me with cake. It was delicious"
Then the doctor red faced handed me something, said "what's this"
I borrowed his bifocals. It was a rolled up playbill. He looked pissed.
"I can explain. It's dated Sep. 8, 2001. That's my wife's 40th birthday
We were drinking. We lost it, got a fancy room right after the play"
He handed me one more thing, a broken pencil if you will
"I'm a mathematician. I was constipated I took a special pill
Then I used math to work it out with a pencil. This one I suppose
It broke. I thought I got it all. I guess I didn't. I mean who knows?"
The good news is the test went well my colon was clear
They found nothing threatening just stuff that was queer
I must admit however ever since that very day I live in absolute fear
That doctor knows my wife's father. I tell you this, in case I disappear
Poem | |
i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture.
i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me.
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives,
she's also got a gun.
she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it.
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest.
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.
i pump she pumps then we get out of the car and fix the flat. never liked
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish
Poem | |
I have tracked my New Year's Resolutions
over the years these are my fantastic results.
2011: I will try to be more attentive to Lauren.
2012: I will pay more attention to what's her name...ah...Lori...I know I'm close.
2013: I will try for reconciliation with Lo.
2014: I will try to be more attentive to Carol.
2011: I will walk 35,000 steps a day this year.
2012: I will definitely start my walking routine this year at 10,000 steps a day.
2013: I will walk once a week.
2014: I will try to drive past a gym at least once a week.
2008: I will not stare at women's cleavage .
2009: I will cut down the amount of time I stare at women's cleavage.
2010: I will stop being so obvious when I stare at women's cleavage.
2011: I will attempt to stop getting caught staring at women's cleavage.
2012: I will stop increasing the time I spend staring at women's cleavage.
2013: I will seek professional help as directed by the courts.
2014: I will try to stop starring at the female prison guards cleavage.
2011: I will not let my siblings push me around.
2012: I will stick up for myself with at least one of my siblings.
2013: I will not let my siblings bullying depress me.
2014: I will talk to Dr. Potter and the group about my siblings.
2008: I will read Clarissa this year all 1534 pages.
2009: I did not read Clarissa I will read Varney The Vampire all 866 pages.
2010: I will read the first 50 pages of Varney The Vampire this year.
2011: I will read some articles in the newspaper this year.
2012: I will try and finish the comics section this year.
2013: I will read one strip in the cartoon section this year.
2014: I will read the fortune cookie thingy the next time I have Chinese Food.
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Contest Name: New Year's Resolution
Poem | |
I am dating a young woman and we are deeply in love. However, no matter what I do sexually, she never achieves orgasm so we decided to ask a sex therapist for advice. The therapist listened to our story and suggested the following;
"Hire a strapping young man and while the two of you are making love have the young man wave a towel over you, as though he is fanning you both. Make sure he is totally naked and she can see his manhood as he fans you both with the towel. That will help your wife fantasize, and should bring on a full-blown orgasm."
We went home and followed the therapist's advice. We hired a handsome young man and he stripped off and enthusiastically waved a towel over us both as we made love. But it didn't help and still my lover was unsatisfied and frustrated.
Perplexed, we went back to the therapist "Okay" he says, "let's try it reversed. Have the young man make love to your wife and you wave the towel over them."
Once again, we followed the advice. The young man got into bed with my lover and I waved the towel. The young man really worked with great enthusiasm and my lover soon had an enormous, room-shaking, screaming, orgasm.
Smiling, I dropped the towel, tapped the young man on the shoulder and said to him triumphantly...."NOW THAT'S how you wave a towel, son!!"
Poem | |
I wrote a poem of despair
My hearts been tossed up into the air
She wrote a limerick that was taboo
She made me laugh when I was so blue
Entering stage left was Tim
Writing of past lovers sins in a hymn
It seems that we laugh or we cry
We live, we love, or we die
The three of us, holding poetic swords up high
Throughout the ages we all do fly
No subject goes unspoken
For the freedom of words we've awoken
No battle to long or too fierce
Our duels are true and unrehearsed.
Through blood, sweat and tears
A bond so strong that sweetens the years
All for one and one for all
Let us carry on and have a ball!
Poem | |
He wondered if his verse was made for fools
and cretins that splish-splash alongside whales
composing dull sonnets was chased by bulls
- by elegant giraffes and racing snails.
Amid the chickens in his country cot,
while gulping bourbon the pig-farmer writes
his scribble verse turns to an artless blot
and straight he gulps one more for his insights
Oh, detrimental muse of his confused,
absconding inspiration that evades
his talent which was alcohol-abused,
and like the content of each bottle, fades:
......Inspiring advent of a healthy burp
made pigs and chickens to comment "superb"!
© G. V. 06-27-2013 All rights reserved
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest Name: The Lazy Contest
Poem | |
I feel privileged.
I have been chosen by the Government
as part of a group testing something called
Edible Clinical Marijuana.
Honestly I half expected it to look like a Burrito
because the name sounds sort of Mexican.
It actually looks more like a brownie.
I’m am about to take a bite so hold on.
So here is the point
I am suppose to consume
one half of a brownie
then fill out this sheet
giving them my feedback.
I am going to have a few more bites.
milk would go great
with these babies.
I’ll be back.
(after a long while)
OK, sew sorry I was gonna while
I was staring inside my fridge\
for a while'
tying to remember
I think I wanted a glass of ink%
aktiually I’m dinking from the bodle@
I am eating my forth brownie
as I was instructured to do;
Did they say four or? ate
cause these. are tasty
a program on my compuwhatyoucallit
keeps underlyning my words
with read squiggles=
but it diidn’t underline squiggle#
wel dats stoopid
squiggle isa perfect lee
good underlying word*
stoopid Bill Gated^
sorry I ment Will Gated~
so watt was I saying ]
fill the sheet)
I don wanna sheet,
tha is gaross[
heeres a pen
ansir; yes- please)
?why m i bein so polite
oh wow Blues Brothers on my TV
what was I spose? to do
oh yeah watch tv
why am i so angry hahahahahah++
i mean hungary
h u n g r y
those look good
i con't tipe with mai mouth
full dats rood/rood
i'll get bak too dis later..
sew as they say
two bee contitnude<
hay lookk browniies
Mo Rice Why Vone
Sponsor: Carol Eastman
Poem | |
Mr. Sandman Send Me To Sleep
He came to me, he came by sea
Escaping, he would set me free
Sending me into dreams
Of starlight and moonbeams
The sandman made a beach for me
For contest: A clean limerick
Poem | |
What a wonderful day
I decided to give Peanut my four year old Yorkie a bath which of course he hates
I lathered him with baby shampoo and rinsed him off
Took him outside and dried him off with a towel
Then brushed him and dried him with the hair dryer
Oh, he looked so clean and beautiful with that long silver and golden hair
Decided to take some empty containers in the back shed
My husband mowed the yard this morning with lots of loose grass out on the yard
Which it was ok for him to roll
But it had rained at least two inches last week, so I have some standing water behind the shed
Guess where Peanut decided to go,
Yes into the standing water that is full of mud
So, guess what in the bath tub he goes again
By eve roper
Poem | |
I set my morning muse alarm for 2am.
But instead, it went off at three.
"Wake up!" he said, "It's me."
I reached for pen and paper. "Stop
fumbling, and turn on the light," he said.
"Or, you'll never be able to read
what I'm putting in your head."
"Why are you being so bossy?" I asked.
"Sorry," he said. "But I'm in a hurry
to get to the next poet's bed."
Poem | |
Sweet and Sour hectic sign
Love me, trust me, the stars align
Balance of truth and dare
Good and Evil, full of care
Blind when it comes to blood line
Poem | |
Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5
Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine, on Winter's night.
Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (gray sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...
His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).
Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.
A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...
© G.V. 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza.
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern:
ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)
Poem | |
I once heard of a fisher Luciano,
who sang bass as he played on his piano.
Once he fished and cast his line
by mistake hooked his behind
since that day, when he plays he sings soprano.
How many syllables.com
11, 11, 7, 7, 11
Sponsor Roy Jerden
Limericks Clean and Clever
Poem | |
Will poems to my dull senses rise,
In plainer garb, or apt disguise?
Can turn of phrase else serve an end,
To vanquish foes or win a friend?
What ardor gains a rhyme’s release,
To grant me treasured moment’s peace?
So is it merely hubris’ child,
That lets me dream I’m Oscar Wilde!
2nd Place, Best Poetic Form, Poet Destroyer A
Poem | |
I so love this form called Footle
It allows the poet to doodle
With so few words
Whether right or absurd
Now read , short trip, lets tootle
< ;-) >
Poem | |
A pple pies, that's what I want to bite.
B egging my mom: "Mommy please, please..", as I
C ome closer to her..
D ancing a little to the left and right;
E very move a way to tempt my mom
F or that sweet delicious pie..
G iving her a kiss to her lips. And
H ugs so tight.. Finally,
I ris, my mom, said yes, yes we go and buy
J umping thrice for I am happy and thrilled, I
K not my arm to my mom's.
L ovingly, not wanting any other mom.
M oving fast as we could to buy not one or two but a plentitude of pies.
N oting, how generous is my mom for I was just asking for one.
O ven-fresh, my mouth waters as I smell the apple pies.
P icking one piece,
Q uickly, I took a luscious large bite.
R ich rumble rush of savory pie
S ated my appetite.
T aunting me to take more! more!
U nder my mom's gaze, Again I eat and eat.
V ery delicious, I said to my mom
W idening my grin and giving thumbs up.
X eric is my throat, I drink and drink.
Y ummy! So yummy, that I eat four pies in a row.
Z ipper of my pants, my oh my, I hardly can close!
*** Xeric means dry.
© O. E. Guillermo
October 10, 2014
Poem | |
He felt her molding in his mind with sorcery and guise;
the gorgeous and deceptive maid, out of his poems leapt
confusion causing in his thoughts her almond eyes of vice,
theatrical eccentric play, and Shakespearean script.
Enchanting her Medusa comb with serpents was so crowned,
two wolfish fangs protruded when her dismal glance she gleamed
her howling lifted in the air as sharp as ultrasound,
abruptly, thus, out of his eyes, eccentric feelings streamed.
In order to enchant the maid, he started dancing jazz
he wore a Capri pair of pants and fuchsia polo shirt
behind his ear a daisy bore, with splendor and pizzazz,
his smile allowed three golden teeth to shine virile and pert.
Eccentric was his dance for her, outside the discotheque
with eyes that squinted humorous, he jumped par amor'
the serpents twisted happily and hissed to bedeck
the Saturday performance of his sandals on the floor.
Delighted was her evilness, the snakes their eyes then crossed
because his eccentricity prevailed in logic since
his golden teeth the creatures stunned, ensorcelled and embossed,
and in the maiden's frozen heart, he was transformed to Prince.
© 2014-10-06, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Poem | |
The world is filled with good people
But sometimes they just lose their way
As newborns, we all start out the same
With the same joy for life and enthusiastic outlook
THEN we grow up and think to ourselves
“WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!
If I'd realized what the world would be like
I'd have yelled...
“ARE YOU NUTS... PUT ME BACK IN!”
Too late, guess I'll just have to make the best of it
So that's the crux of the matter, this whole thing called life
We can choose to grumble about
What we DON'T have, rather than appreciate what we DO have
It's the down side of human nature it seems
I choose, and everyone else can
To live life to the fullest with a zest for the simple joys
I hear ya yelling, “GET BACK IN YOUR CAGE!”
No problem, I'm convinced an upbeat and happy attitude
Is what's got me through these seventy-nine years
So when things seem like they can't get any worse
Remember, you can't put you back in
So try to be the best person you can be
And trust me, LIFE WILL BE A BLAST!
© Jack Ellison 2014