Best At The Drop Of A Hat Poems
I wrote a great book, part memoir, part novel
Shopped it around, I ain’t too proud to grovel
Got kicked upstairs to a big publishing head
He invited me in, and here's what was said:
This screed you call Crack House of the 13 Gables
Is one long rant mixed with recycled fables
It wanders aimlessly, but never resolves
Characters pop out of nowhere, then simply dissolve
But the symbolism, sir, allow me to explain
The Victorian parlor represents pathos and pain
In the attic are mothballed broken dreams and betrayals
It's gonna shift your paradigm right off its rails
It’s a thousand-page odyssey into the surreal
The hedge maze is where all 14 sub-plots congeal
Enough! The only reason I called you in, punk
Is to meet the lunatic who scribbled this junk
So I slunk away, not a little dejected
Ain’t much fun being literarily rejected
Trudged back to my grueling, stale coffee grind
Working 15-hour days, going out of my mind
Then one day I met an old pal for some beers
Hadn't seen him in quite a few years
I told him about my rejection slip wrangle
He said buck up, you just need the right angle
I like reading novels, now don’t get me wrong
But writin' 'em, man, that just takes too damn long
And what a huge risk, 16 years you devoted
For no payday at all, just your ego imploded
There's no need to pen the next Moby Dick
Try something short, now that is the trick!
So, I thanked my friend for his most sage advice
And took it to heart without thinkin' thrice
And now I am back as a voice for the ages
Except I'm makin' my mark in far fewer pages
I write sound bites and maxims and pithy remarks
T-shirt slogans and jokes, I just do on a lark
I bang out poems and lyrics at the drop of a hat
Dash off 17 syllables in ten seconds flat
Haikus by the bunch
Cook up a batch before lunch
Put that in your pipe
____________________________
For Humor Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Eastman
I'm a firm believer
In limerick fever
(This isn't news)
"It'll cure the blues!"
Says Jan (who is no deceiver)
Written by Jan Allison:
Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
But show me someone
Whose not dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’d depart!
Written by Lim'rik Flats:
Does art mimic life or life mimic art?
Don't ask me, I'm not too smart.
It seems the soup
Has the same poop
As watching the news (or a fart).
Drama and trauma, factions and foes,
Smiting and fighting, (hard on the nose),
Saves me the trouble
Of viewing double
Saves time, and less grief I suppose.
Written by Ray Gridley:
Raise a toast to this collaboration
Whatever your race or your nation
Just write on a whim
Lim'rick Flat's bound to grin
They are all going to be a sensation!
Written by Daniel Turner:
I know a guy called Lim'rick Flats
Writes limericks at the drop of a hat
Jan is his pal
She's quite a gal
They met in a laundry mat
Jan makes jokes about poop
he puts them in alphabet soop
drinks from the bowl
with no self control
which makes him a nincompoop
Also written by Daniel Turner:
Write all the limericks you want
but don't fart in a restaurant
people will laugh
call you riffraff
even if you're a debutante
Written by John Lawless:
oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic
Written by Terry Reeves:
Late for work she flew out the door
Took an express elevator to the 29th floor
Let some discreet killer farts
Nearly stopped all their hearts
Left them gagging; she'd evened the score
Written by Tim Smith:
Nonsense is here found out in the alley
Five funny lines we'll add to the tally
a smile or two
we laught till we're blue
so put out your best and join in our rally
Written by Alexis Y:
Hey what's going on in the soup?
Lim'rik Flats I want the scoop
What do you have to say?
You got poem of the day
Congrats, I shouldn't have flown the coop
Written by Jean Murray:
John is always fun.
His poems and their puns.
If you need a lift.
He has the gift.
Lim'rik Flats is number one.
psst. How could I not add this to the string? ~ john
Tonight I felt the deep inner desire to conform, to feel at right with the crowd for fear of being scorned. But don't be fooled dearest reader, this ain't a story of morals and how I got consumed into a life of addiction or crap like that. This isn't a sob story, just written down at the drop of a hat. The real twist is that I didn't give in, but where does that leave me? A lonesome wanderer gazing at an infinite sea? A person dreadfully awake, in the midst of a miraculous dream? Truth be told I at times feel the luckiest, not drawing near to the most common follies of my peers. But at what price? For who, in a world filled with bubbly laughter, could hear the sound of a silent tear? Who, holding a hand of their own, following a path they love, could notice a shadow like me, so hopelessly alone? I love you all most dearly, but like the moon loves the sea... just out of reach but always in sight. I live my life as the rainbow kisses the earth, wishing for my colors to allay someone else's hurt, if only for a moment, a minuscule grain, on this sandy shore. I am really not so significant, but still I desire to be more. But in all honesty how can I? I'm simply an observer, a reporter looking in. I'm not the strongest, nor the brightest, the bravest, nor the wisest. I am just a man with an eye for beauty and an obsession for the safety of the bench. So still I watch in dread as others live and I just sink. I clutch to papers filled with so much lifeless ink! They are nothing but shards of myself, tossed and thrown in mile high piles, that none in their right minds could ever wish to file! Though the world I live in and the one which I've created, seldom collide, I sit still waiting on that perilous bridge, for someone else just as crazy, and just as lonesome, to sit it out with me, side by side. It may not be perfect but it feels right. And honestly who could hope for more at the end of the night? You have a destination in mind and a foot always in front. You have the whole world palmed in between delicate fingertips. So go on and take a swig! Ingest within you... the taste of a wish!
When you look at me, you immediately form an opinion.
Your inconsiderate opinion is more often a wrong one.
You look down on me as if I were a bum or a stray.
I was born here, and this is where I will always stay.
It's like this: you think that I am timid and defenseless.
You also think that I am both scratchless and toothless.
You roll your eyes at me as if I am clawless and clueless.
You are certain that I am ready to run at the drop of a hat.
Yes, I sit on a cushy couch against a soft snit-covered pillow.
What you don't know is that I am prepared to protect what's mine,
and I will fight to the death for my portion of this couch which is
the entire sofa. You may look and stare or even come in real close.
You may even pretend to be a photographer and take pictures of me;
but you may not sit or even touch any part of me nor this sofa.
In case you missed something I just said, let me put it another way.
As you can see, I am clothed in a beautiful black and white fur coating;
and there isn't a trace of any other colors. There is nothing 'gray' about me.
I'm 'black and white', as plain as the light of day, and I mean every word I say. So I beg of you to hear me well. Stay out of my way, and everything between you and me will be okay.
10212017 PoSoupContest, Personification Poem, Tania Kitchin, 1P
2013
I don’t remember any one moment or act that brought myself
and my friends to this moment….maybe it was the night we had
dinner at Aunt Elaine’s house….she had boiled water for the pasta in
tainted water because she had refused to update her data-chip implant,
and her filtered water had been cut off….anyway, everyone was sick
for days…..lesson all of us present heeded…. things we wanted to do like
before seemed out of reach….what with the twice-daily voice-response
activated check-ins…. and the ID line-up queue for food rations…. a guy
couldn’t just up and go fishin’ for the day….or go hiking in the woods,
at the drop of a hat….rumors flew like the wind of people I knew who
escaped to the northwoods, never to be heard from again….. some people
heard of folks arrested and taken to detention facilities….no one knew
where….everyone feared needing any acute medical care…. whether you
returned cured…. or returned at all…. was anybodys guess…. I just wanted
to go fishin’…..
just wanted
to go
fishin’
© All Rights Reserved
Once upon a time
Present became past
Engaging in your rhyme
You forgot, it wouldn’t last
You abruptly awoke
From an afternoon slumber
Equivalent abode
Different postal number
You couldn’t hear the sizzle
Of a simmering, dinner pot
Nor was there a whistle
To say the tea was hot
Mother wasn’t dancing
She wasn’t there at all
The silence was baffling
As you stumbled down the hall
Your lightbulb had been changed
As you knew it would, some day
But the timing felt so strange
Recalling so much gray
At the drop of a hat, just like that
Your story was Chrystal clear
You worried over tit for tat
Though, time, you should have feared
Fresh out fresh in *snap*
just like that
Regrets, worry’s, nd fear’s
Fall at the drop of a hat
MOON LIT
Hearts and weary soul
The have done the have nots, the cant waits, the "wonder what the future holds"
The once vivid now abandoned and cold
MOON LIT
The “come back” the “i need you” the “why’d you have to go”
MOON LIT
A path only followed by those who were too eager to be told no
MOON LIT
Cried the grieving loved ones
MOON LIT
Ready, Set, Fire
MOON LIT
Persuaded by desire
MOON LIT
You’d have to see it to believe it,but believing does not amount.
You’d have to feel it, you’d have to breath it just to begin to stomach what it was about
MOON LIT
The path which I can not ponder
2 roads ahead, which to take I can only wonder
MOON LIT
A life but not living,
MOON LIT
Going but not willing
MOON LIT
A path in which I can not follow, was the road too narrow, i had imagined them wide
MOON LIT
Guiding you to the great one, the one with almighty pride
MOON LIT
Walking above for they have been deprived of their graceful destiny
READY SET FIRE!! DOWN GOES PLENTY
MOON LIT
“Come back” “I love you” “ it is you that i need” for I am just the soil, hopelessly waiting for you to plant your seed
Pain Agony , a loss of words, yet you follow the moonlight like a flock of starling bird
MOON LIT
To hear you say “don’t wait up”
Lonely nor alone, for I am walking on the moonlit path, that is slowly but surely guiding me home.
We were a trio, three peas in a pod
These days our encounters seem a bit odd
Trying times came and left me solo
Fertilizer for their friendship to grow
Reunited and feels so good
But things feel a bit different than they should
So many holes have developed in the past
Events I've missed from the line that I cast
Reminiscing of memories that don't involve me
I wish we remained the inseparable three
I try and pretend that it doesn't sting
When I find that I've missed most everything
But the truth is I'm scarred
My heart, charred
My presence to them, held little regard
It feels like a limbo
I'll never get that low
A bridge I won't cross and a place I won't go
Should I keep it inside
The nights that I cried
For the sake of my pride
Or admit I was lost
And the depth of it's cost
How I felt disposable, easy to toss
I was the glue that brought us together
They watched as I floated astray like a feather
Their lives moved on and left me behind
While depression and regret consumed my mind
But now they returned, just like that
I happily received at the drop of a hat
I wish I could free these memories of abandon
And be as honest and strong as the ground I'm standing
One thing's for sure
My intentions are pure
If nothing else, I'm more mature
Laying down kindergarten knowledge for all too see
Fish they have fins, and birds they have wings
Standing against the crowd, boasting banners of equality
Daring to discern the difference of things!
You plant a seed into an egg
and lo and behold something grows!
A man is a man,
a woman is a woman.
And they call me a bigot for claiming so.
(our self esteem so fragile
a gentle breeze and were shattered)
Unisex Toilets and Male Pronoun Hysteria
'him' and 'he' sending shivers down our spines
our profound differences carelessly intertwined
Servants to non-overlapping magisteria:
God is Love and God Was Never Real
Love is Love as well as Carnal Appeal
Muddied into grayness,
neither this nor that.
We threw away it's importance
at the drop of a hat.
It's a cause for celebration
when a girl becomes a wife.
Not cause for demonization
of a "stereotypical" life.
Christ is the Head
and the Man is runner up.
Not chauvinism,
but Scripture's order of love.
Let us not degrade ourselves
by boasting sameness
lest we forget the gifts we're given.
But be you in the Truth
and there is no difference.
IT'S NOT US VS. THEM!
But God searching Men
Women, Children.
Our hearts are not hidden
from his wisdom.
NOTE: I never wrote about this topic before... but it's been on my mind lately. I know in this day 'n' age I'll probably be scorned for writing such a piece, but let me conclude with a quote from Voltaire:
I do not agree with what you have to say,
but I'll defend to the death your right to say it.
At the drop of a hat, your life could change
If you win the big jackpot of ten million
You'd have all the things you've ever wished for
And every day would be bright vermillion
With money to burn the world would be yours
You'd have nothing to hold you back
You could live like a king, demand anything
There'd be absolutely nothing you'd lack
Do you think you'd be the same sweet person
Or would money change who you are
Wouldn't mind finding out to tell the truth
Think I'd find the whole thing quite bizarre
Like to think I'd remain the same person
With both feet firmly planted on the ground
But money can change a person's perspective
And your whole life can turn upside down
Sure like to know how money would affect me
Would I become this financial tycoon
It really could swing either way I imagine
Could wind up just a filthy rich baboon
© Jack Ellison 2015
Mainly a friend that loves and amuses
I often would be lost without you
Never a moan parts your lips
Steadfastly you guard our home
Tenderly you wash and groom the cats
Ready to go for a run at the drop of a hat
A true and loving companion you
Live life with wagging tail and a smile
The accident happened...
there's no going back.
Your life it all changed...
at the drop of a hat.
If I'd only chose different...
you frequently say.
Do you think it would have made
for a much better day?
Yes things might have been better...
but then maybe not.
You could have been sailing on
someones big yacht...
been way out at sea.
When there started a fire...
I think you'd agree that it would have been more dire.
You could have been home...
doing nothing at all...
tripped over the cat...
and took a bad fall.
Sometimes things just happen...
and there's no real blame...
to try and find cause...
will only drive you insane!
P.R.Deremer
My fancy isn’t costly
though sometimes it can be.
I fancy this; fancy that,
or at the drop of a hat,
I’ll fancy things TOO fancy.
Since I’ve not got lots of money,
if too costly is my fancy,
I’ll just make do, because it seems
some things I want remain as dreams
while I keep living fancy-free!!
May 14, 2017
"For Fancy-Free Poetry Contest"
She’s doing my head in; I'm at my wits end
I reckon she’s losing the plot
Her tempers are fierce and her moods have no trend
And I’m struggling to deal with the way that she’s got
She gives me no warning of what is in store
And erupts at the drop of a hat
I’ve stopped trying to find out what is wrong anymore
Why she finds fault in this and in that
My once gentle darling is now snapping and snarling
And all that I do is still wrong
Being caring and loving, reassuring and giving
Brings even more spite from her tongue
This female behaviour that causes such stress
(That in men would be labelled ‘Quite Mad’)
Has no rhyming or reason but when it’s in season
PMT wears us blokes down a tad
Who else would she pick on to let it all out?
When the needle goes into the Red
Well I’ve had enough; I’m not taking her ‘Stuff’!
So I’ve gone ‘til she sorts out her Head.
Time is fleeting
as you await
the day's translucence
that beckons beyond
the iridescent reluctance
to waste it all away.
It's a mere transcendence
from casually strolling
to waiting for your
true dream and desire
while the sun shines
brightly in a
powder blue sky.
It's an uplifting feeling
and puts things in perspective
with the realities
that can unfold
at the drop of a hat.
You count your blessings
for things that are
beyond your control
and smile
at it's sweet embrace.
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***All of my "Envelope Poems" were written on blank envelopes
(when I didn't have any paper on me) at various locations.