Ballyhoo Poems | Examples

MOON ON A SPOON

(Sponsor : Kai Michael Newmann)

MOON ON A SPOON 

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon

Oh ? Really ! 
you ballyhoo coon
you make me swoon

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon

Why not bring me 
a chocolate cocoon 
I will wriggle out 
festooned !

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon

We will eat it at noon
in our magical room
then to our doom !

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon

My goon, so goop !
Where are you from ?
a souk goof ?

If I could I would 
fetch you the moon 
on a spoon
 
How ?

Lo ! I do not know !
My spoon has
sailed with a 
monsoon 

And the moon
has fallen into
a true blue
lagoon too
soon !

Prickles the Gust

“How-do-you-do?” the seminal leaves of Autumn wave.
“When would you like to fly away?” prickles the gust.
Maternal-oak holds on tight as one birdy takes flight.

The gust will have none of this ballyhoo, knowing
what he must do, calls for fingernails-on-chalkboard rain,
for the bad-wolf-wind, for lightning, insane.

“Toodle-loo,” says each spiderling-leaf, parachuting to earth.
They make such a scene; whirligig and wandering,
each drenched in colloquial colors, memorable, forsaken.

Each one in turn catches a potential eye even as it lands
in puddles, whirling and twirling, a final splash. They mourn
as blends of orange, yellow and red bleed into the stream.

Undignified, decomposing, going under, all poetry spent,
dwarfing and drifting; washed away down the drain.
Spring regeneration haphazardly avoids loose-leaf goosebumps.

Baloney I say to the latest Political Ballyhoo

baloney I say to the latest political ballyhoo
no one gets shot with a high power in Timbuktu
and they get more than an ear scratch if they do
I roll my eyes and scoff at the crazy new ballyhoo

Parade Of Ballyhoo

Lore of second chances,
it will be different;
Mouth filled with broken words
not repaired repeated;
You wound with gentle swords;

Lore of second chances,
new day new beginning;
Then it’s just deja vu;
Megalomaniac
parading ballyhoo;

Lore of second chances,
don’t buy into banter;
Focusing on action 
reveals what’s underneath
whitewashed with attraction.

Ballyhoo Morning

crows cawing…owl hoots
cheery chirruping from limbs ~
ballyhoo morning

Just Speak Sweet To Me - dodo

Ballyhoo skullduggery 
bling-bling you dingleberry,
you old flibbertigibbet,
you snollygoster!

From the Sidelines

I'm going to sit this one out,
find a cave,
on a hill to watch from,
maybe a big old oak tree,
just sit under it
lean on its broad trunk,
watch the freak show.

The battle can rage in the valley below.
I don't care who wins,
it will be some rat bastard,
some pimp of a politician.
The White House lawn
will be littered with slain goblins
and elves

Of course, I will honor the memory
of this grim ballyhoo
with a patriotic poem,
I will read it from the balcony
with all the other assholes.

For now though
it seems more important
and more pressing
to shat in the woods.

In the Name of Love

With no ballyhoo as the clock struck two
In a cottage near the edge of town
A maiden there graced with savoir faire
In a flash shot her lover down

A wiley gent from the county Kent
Known for his shameful reputation
Broke the maiden's heart when he chose to part
For another lass in desperation

The constable Green arrived at the scene
The smoking gun still in her hand
Had so many clues it made all the news
And drew attention throughout the land

With jury cast the trial ended fast
Then the judge made a public decree
This maiden there graced with savoir faire
Charged with murder in the first degree

Standing proud amidst the village crowd
Where she could hear their voices roar
Wouldn't bow in fear or shed a tear
When they led her to the gallows floor

Her neck would snap as the as they sprung the trap
All angels wept in Heaven above
With her final breath before put to death
I'm glad to die in the name of love

Empty Handed

Your fabrications are all that ring true;
You do what you do holding a motive;
That bawdy neon sign reads ‘Ballyhoo’.
Why am I attracted to corrosive?
Patchwork display of broken art you drew,
complete picture is the gift that I give;
I can’t do artificially flavored
unable to stomach empty handed.

Not a Fan

As much as I love music,
I’m not sorry to admit
That opera’s the exception,
For I like it not one bit.

It’s not that I don’t understand
The words (although that’s true),
But rather it’s the voices
All the critics ballyhoo.

Sopranos, tenors, baritones -
They all get on my nerves,
Then you toss in some vibrato 
(Which no audience deserves),

Add some overdone emoting,
Make-up way beyond the top
And the flashiest of costumes -
I’d go on, but here I’ll stop.

Opera fans the whole world over
Are both cultured and refined,
But, though classical I covet,
Opera leaves me disinclined.

Dove Love

When xerography yesterday's youthful gynecoiD
I'll wear my *multipurpose Mexican sunny sombrerO*
*Somehow, someway* I'll do suitable improV
And not be one who is cooperativE

*Sweet spirit super *(dove) fits my heart as a (glove) areaL
Spiritual enough not to speak (aloud)all that (proud) ballyhoO
Definitely earnestly forever guardsman against perV
Let my spirit forever be uncompromisablE

Written: September 28, 2022
Sponsor: Joseph May
Contest: The "A's" Have It

Nonsensical, I know.  LOL..I think I got all the requirements in there.  

I am speaking about what I would call gynecoid of generations of unborn babies.

Whiff Of Foolish Me

My friends have already revealed that I'm in loved with you
That's why I don't know what to do nor to say.
And so am I confounded as to how should I evade this ballyhoo
With no regret when I wake up early in the day.

It seems to me that you are yet unaffected
By the reverberations whispering in your ears?...
But if you'll only knock the portal of my heart unwavered
You'll discover that my heart for you wait and sears.

Others say... I am not perfect for you.
Others say... I am not the man you're looking for.
They may be right for making such comments like these
Comments, however, are not always impeccable and therefore, subject to error.

I may be a fool to love someone who cares not for me.
I may be a fool to choose someone who's not probably meant for me.
God knows how much I love you why don't you look back and see?
For the shadow of a man with sincerity and urgent plea!...

I wish to end this flim-flam jive 
Because I don't think the concerned is blind
Why don't you show me the feelings that you hide 
And make thine eyes sparkle again with pride!

Ode Of Me

Talk to me, don't run away from me.
Speak to me, you are in me
I am listening...


I never lied to you
  nor will I ever do
I never said I never loved you.
Don't be fooled by ballyhoo
I can always prove my love for you
  and no one else can stop me to

Talk to me, don't walk out on me
Speak to me, don't evade me
I am heeding...

Don't desert me because I never said goodbye
I am not the most beautiful of all
But I'm the only one you could ever have
  in this world --
  the only one who will be there by your side
The only one who will stand for you all the while

Don't keep me waiting
I don't have all the time in this world
To keep you safe and loved all the time 
To keep you warm and strong all my life

To love and to be loved in return is the best part
No gods or rules can break us apart
To love and to believe is all that matters
That our love will stay forever young 
Until the later time when everything on earth
  breaks and falters

Peace and Disquiet

a quiet afternoon 
mind unspooling a tranquil languor
post prandial serenity lapping at sunny shores

easing my way into the garden
to dead-head roses
to prune the over eager

feeling well
in a loosely-strung way

my dog threads my legs
wanting to tip me off balance
but I am centered

the minor antics of the too energetic
only a buzzing distraction

now the hound
is barking and chasing a squirrel
kicking up flustered clusters of sparrows
doors slam
neighbors yell
there’s a ballyhoo

I turn to exit the scene
not even trying anymore

Broken Peace

it is a quiet afternoon 
the mind unspooling
into lethargy

post prandial serenity lapping
at peaceful shores

now easing my way
into the garden
dead-head roses
prune the over eager
feeling well
in a loosely-strung way

my dog
threads my legs
playfully
perhaps wanting to make me tip
off balance
but I am centered

the minor antics
of the too energetic
only a buzzing distraction

but now the hound
is barking and chasing a squirrel
kicking up flustered clusters
of sparrows
doors slam and neighbors yell
there’s a ballyhoo in the backyard

I turn to exit the scene
not even trying
to stay damn well calm

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