Best Accident Prone Poems
Buried here is the weather man J. P. Blithing
Forgot his brolly and got struck by lightning
In this vault is the flat coffin of J.J. Stowler
Fell into the path of a runaway steam roller
In this grave lies the ashes of Jim Fortescue
Got drunk and passed out on a barbecue
Buried below in two halves is Arthur. P. Law
Slipped in his workshop onto a circular saw
Interred a hundred feet below in a lead lined coffin
Are the glowing remains of an accident prone boffin
Lying in this vault is the body of a tiger
Inside its body is the hunter J. Stiger
Buried below in a jar are the pickled remains of P. Stringer
Who stumbled and drowned into a large vat of malt vinegar
Written 23 September 2021
cry on my shoulder
cry a river of tears
let me walk with you in the dark
let me concur your fears
you say your fine
you say leave me alone
im coming to rescue you
you tend to be accident prone
when your drunk
when your high
let me save you from yourself
...just cry
i hold your tears in my heart
as my soul fills with pain
at least i won the battle
and the beast was slain
cry on my shoulder
cry a river of tears
let me walk you through the dark
let me concur your fears
just cry
Having read the news as we continue our life's displays
It's similar news to them, when our parents were young
It's towards sad to tragic as we just don't seem to learn
What do we bring to the table, what do us humans yearn
Beirut, Syria, whether deliberation, or accident prone?
It's similar news to them, when our parents were young
Famine, floods, fighting, bloods, all on today's phones
Just what have we learnt from the tips of our tongues
Will we keep reading the news as continuous life flays
It's now similar news to us, we've not learnt when young
We're towards sad to tragic as our learning's lost it's turn
What do we bring to the table, what do us humans yearn
When all roads lead to Rome,
It is hard to get home.
When all roads lead to Rome,
We become accident prone.
When all roads lead to Rome,
Our minds are no longer free to roam.
I noticed her two weeks ago.
She flew into my physics lab
like hell itself was after her
and tripped as she sat down.
She's always late for classes,
stammering her apologies,
flustered and myopic, her glasses
barely perched upon her nose.
Accident-prone, she barreled
through the library like Grant
attacking Richmond, giggling nervously
as she checked out her books.
To me she is a treasure, a whirling
dervish dressed in black and white,
always black and white, like for her
it's some particular religion.
I asked her to the movies. She acted
like I was the first who'd ever taken
interest, she was flattered but she
flatly and decidedly said no.
She had thrown down the gauntlet,
so I set out to woo her with my wit
and charm, taking every opportunity
to bump into her when and where I could.
Finally she acquiesced, and when
she slowed down enough to smile
and chat and laugh and joke with me
my heart was hers to keep!
My husband is in many ways the opposite of me.
Were he to make a left turn along a route, I’d go right inevitably.
Astrologically, he’s emotional (double water) but I’m a stable triple earth.
He rarely laughs, not even at a comic’s show, while I enjoy mirth.
As time went on, I realized he really was a nut.
Had he been a shoe, he’d be a heavy boot, always kicking butt.
Impatient, tactless, rude and often feeling out of joint,
he handcuffed himself to an official’s chair just to make a point.
A self-made gung-ho contractor within years he became.
But being accident prone, himself he often would maim.
Jack-hammered his own foot, fell two stories off a roof,
nearly removed his thumb with a saw (to give you a little proof).
He yelled a lot, got scammed, got stabbed, and had a nervous breakdown,
but he’s not the type of man to easily go down.
He learned to recognize the damage done to himself and his brother
from being raised and controlled by a narcissistic mother.
Once he got on pills for anxiety and depression,
the second half of our married years saw great lessening of aggression.
He worked a bit as a bounty hunter when building got too slow
and drove trucks long-distance too. Over half the states he’d go.
He aggravates me even now, but he’s much more mellow.
He’s loyal and never could be accused by someone as acting yellow.
Though physically afflicted, we’re both at ease with one another today.
And if he were a shoe, he’d be an old worn slipper - tough boot tucked away.
he rubbed his eyes
and said you just think that way
so you always have an answer ready
which may well constitute
a state of pure entertainment
with multiple jaw grinding orgasms
in a dog lick dog kind of world
at Cathode Ray's tanning salon
so what would it really take
for the union to lay down with the banker
I'm not sure high above the clouds
is the place to find anything
certainly not a mirror to be had
much less a cinema projector
with scenes of domestication
good god Reginald where
do you plan to put that thing
Reginald sneezed his false teeth
into his dinner plate as an augury
probed prodded palpated
looking for the intelligentsia
in the yellow pages
but they were yellow and didn’t stand out
their attempts to overthrow evolution
led to a cornucopia of calamity
at the crossroads of conundrum
traded their thumbs for a reliable statistic
the atmospherics garbled the transmission
and made anyone look like a prophet
left my friends hanging from lamp posts
adulterers heretics and infidels
cataleptics ablaze with legend
trained by biblical harlots
tending their hornet infested gardens
avoiding the irredeemably antique
and inexact to a criminal degree
in the war between belief and certainty
my script supervisor just pulled the plug
he's not from Sesame Street
he's from Bastille Boulevard
the artist is bait and accident prone
opaque as an 8 ball at high velocity
caroming through every nave and vestibule
bladder control found again
in the midst of bourgeoisie panic
a meditation of involvement
I'm going where
the disorder of discovery is tolerated
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I'd like to help you
but I'd have to go
far far out of my comfort zone
become accident prone
I'd have to face the bullets
and I have no bullet proof vest
on my chest
It's naked and bare
It's not that I don't care...
I'd like to help you
but I'm kind of helpless right now
don't ask me how
I got to this state
Anyway...it's too late
I see you drown
and I frown
unhappy with your Ophelia like mess
Yet...I do confess
I'd really like to help you,
but then....
where were you
when I was going down
about ready to drown...
Oh yes!
I remember!
You were "out of town"
I didn't see your face
there was no proffered grace
for me
none that I could see
I was strangely alone
forlorn
in my storm...
I'd like to help you, but you see
You never helped me
never took a bullet to save
watched me lowered to poetic grave
never deflected an arrow
that shot down this sparrow
never thought of going
out on the proverbial limb
cause you knew the outcome was grim
Not only
did not you offer a hand
but you joined the lynching band
Tearing asunder...
You joined in their thunder
and, yes, though it pains me to hear
your call for me to be near
as you flail in the tide
wanting me by your side
finally, devoid of pride,
I now know I must confide...
I'd like to help you, but you see
you never helped me
I'm not that steady,
and I don't feel ready
to help you now
I'd be dragged down somehow
I've just crawled out of the grave
I don't think I can save
someone...
who
never
ever
helped
me!
Eileen Manassian
Opps!Bees,
Clumsy me
I stepped on hives
and killed some live
Opps!Johny
Im so sorry
I crushed into your trolley
and hit your wolly
Opps!I tripped
On an invisible stick
Im so sick
of these crazy flicks
O,look
It ms.Accident Prone
In a race,Go go!
Opps!Down a hill she goes:No no!
Frank Spencer’s so accident prone
He’s a walking disaster zone
‘Oooooh Betty’ he cries-
She covers her eyes
Frank shouldn’t be left on his own!
8,8,5,5,8
*shouldn't classed as 2 syllables
Frank Spencer was a character in a programme called ‘some mother’s do ave em’ When something went wrong his catch phrase to his wife was ooooooh Betty
On a Lim Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
04/01/22
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
Accident-prone
Waitress work is interesting and busy
It’s not fancy and puts you in a tizzy
On my feet all day long working
Carrying trays to customers that can be entertaining
No time for errors on full course dinners
We want the meals to be winners
People come and go
Some I know, some to the door I would like to show
Some have humors
Some are charmers
Some enjoying their food and think the service is just perfecto
Some are disgusted with both; I want to give them the heave-ho
I want to throw away my apron, I’m going wacko
Carrying a full tray I trip on a loose carpet
Food all over them and me on my butt I set
Fortunately, they were understanding didn’t make a racket
Felt like an idiot, I wanted to exit
Try not making it a habit
Pouring coffee, someone distracts, oh a bad mishap
Turn and pour it on the customer’s lap
A five dollar tip was left on my cap
That l’d left behind because of my mishap
I melted and hid, I actually felt like I was in a trap
Now I have to face the boss’s wrath
Can I survive the aftermath?
©4/27/2015
Contest: The Pigeon Who Flew the Coop
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Bimbo
A long time ago we had a pet, his name was Little Bimbo
He came to us all bald and crying, his mother he didn’t know.
Our dad had bought him from some kids, who were trying to kill him to eat.
They had killed his mother before, and now they wanted this baby for meat.
Our dad was a strong sailor and it was before the quarantine laws.
He threw the children money, and grabbed the baby’s paws.
Bimbo came to live with us, he lived inside a fireside oven.
You may think we would eat him, but no. it was the warmth that it did govern.
Bimbo grew and played with us like a little brother or sister.
He would hide inside our jumper, if he didn’t like a strange mister.
One day poor Bimbo trapped his tail, it was really quite a shock.
Especially when the vet said, "The rest of it was also for the chop."
Poor Bimbo was now accident prone, his balance he had lost.
He fell into a thorn bush one day and now his sight was lost.
The vet was upset, but not as much as we were on that day.
Our little pet monkey Bimbo was taken far away.
Our mum tried to pretend he was being looked after. and that he was well
We knew the truth when the vet came round, and returned Bimbo’s little Bell.
©~GG~ 2012
On the Importance of Little Things
Oh, the importance of little things
A careless match - a broken spring;
Causing disasters - fires and flooded homes
Attention to details - not accident prone.
The failure of a $.70 spring in our refrigerator caused a "frig flood!" Everything in our home, outside of the bedrooms, has been moved out, all the flooring has been removed, bathrooms stripped and wallboard has to be replaced! A frig flood renovation!
10-22-21
Contest: Bite Size Poems No.24
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
My one legged mate called Rickets
Pierced his foot on a thorn in the thickets
As he hopped around in pain
He did it again and again
It was so funny I could of sold tickets
In the bathroom, he took off his boot
Honestly, I don’t like to hoot
But when he fell in the bath
I couldn’t help but laugh
He should of put on his swimsuit
We both agree, he is accident prone
With his cuts and bruise,s full blown
The bump on his head
Is when he fell out of bed
He is to dangerous to be on his own
He was hopping once, just past the gym
When someone threw, a tomato at him
They normally don’t hurt, he said with a grin
But this bugger did
It was still in a tin
It’s great, that Rickets is so calm
He is a great guy, useless, a charm
So I kept my mouth shut
As he shaved and got cut
Because I don’t want him’ to suffer any harm
It was his birthday so we went for a meal,
He said, I feel tipsy, how do you feel
As he reached for some bread
He face went all red
As he choked on the last jellied eel
There are a thousand of Rickets like this
Its Rickets and a nature of his
As he hopped out of the door
He fell again on the floor
One wish and two legs would be his