Clyde O'Toole suffered a heap of bad luck
He was beaned with a wayward hockey puck
He was heard to swear
As it creased his hair
Unfortunately Clyde forgot to duck
Entry for Tania Kitchin's "Limerick Fun Poetry" Contest
(PS/31 August 2020)
Won No. 3 in the contest
Categories:
beaned, hockey, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
Categories:
beaned, death, fate, humorous,
Form: Epitaph
Here
I am here.
...a small weathered grey stone in the middle of an ecru cube
I am, as if woven with willowy white by spider to this chair
shedding my last skins
molting, melting, swelling, crusting over
a dampened facade of makeup…
and hidden band aids
and instead of drinking
Coffee
in the cafés of Berlin...where a handsome stranger leans over
and kisses my hand
stares long into my un-wedded blue eyes
I flush and blush
17 again
an irresistible bowl of fruited ambrosia
but here, at my faux wooden desk…
with my green porcelain pear vase …sprouting fragile pale cream roots
facing a blank wall
my roots …are grey and silver
I am more a dried apple
in a pantry drawer…listening for foot falls
than a place where red flags dance
nostrils fill with rich beaned aromas
I am here ...instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin
Categories:
beaned, age, dream,
Form: Free verse
Jo- deeeeeeeeeeee
Lovely! Where have you been, Miss Jo- deeee, you?
on a treadmill to the end of the earth, and you?
A place called yearning...
I was looking for my family and got lost on the way
How is the slow bean brewing? Is it coffee of a Heinz?
It is a running bean and it comes from a long stalk to the end of the earth, Truman Show artifice
Cook it, babe, cook it and rinse it in runners sweat so you can be full of beans
Im beaned out!
I happen not to be beaned out,
beans , beans , beans, beans....
I like having breakfast with you.
Categories:
beaned,
Form: Narrative
Titan Goliath challenged young David to a floggin'
But David with his slingshot beaned him on the noggin!
Dave viewed the carcass and was heard to say, "Nothin' to it!"
His envious brethren said, "Yeah! 'Twas just a lucky hit!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
beaned, funny, religion,
Form: Clerihew
When I was a but little tiny girl,
my Mama bought me a fine ring to twirl.
One gold ring for my small finger
reminding me of man’s up coming zinger!
My Ring-A-Ling, My Ring- A- Ling, WAIT for ONE man, that’s the thing!
My Ring-A-Ling, My Ring- A- Ling, WAIT for ONE man, that’s the thing!
Then as a prim girl in Catholic school,
I always remembered that “waiting” rule,
and every time that ring I would turn
a naughty boys kisses I would just spurn!
Once while hiding and they playing go seek
up a tree I went and the boys did PEEK!
I beaned them with apples and that ain’t all,
they cried for their Mama’s, what caterwaul!
Now, the moral of this song, well, hear's the thing,
don’t kiss those boys 'TILL YOU'RE WEARING A RING!
And, if you can’t remember you can JUST SING!
I’m waitin' for ONE MAN to give me that thing!;)
My Ring-A-Ling, My Ring- A- Ling, WAIT for ONE man, that’s the thing!
My Ring-A-Ling, My Ring- A- Ling, WAIT for ONE man, that’s the thing!
* Special thanks to CHUCK BERRY!
Categories:
beaned, caregiving, childhood, daughter, funnyme,
Form: Lyric
I sit and blunder -
Torn asunder -
Waiting for the blow.
Barely singing -
What I’m winging -
Lying in the snow.
Baffled by a ball of ice,
Gliding in a way precise,
I felt impending sacrifice,
Without a way to go.
A fall so graceful -
Almost tasteful -
With thoughtfulness to show.
Beaned in the head -
A frozen bed -
Hiding in the low.
Greeted by a snowy face,
Surprise is followed by disgrace,
Surrounded in my hiding place,
Nowhere to cast my throws.
Sounds delightful -
Ears so spiteful -
From my mouth did flow.
A path they found -
A song of sound -
How was I to know?
Categories:
beaned, childhood, funny, people, seasons,
Form: Rhyme