Best At The Drop Of A Hat Poems | Poetry

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The Best At The Drop Of A Hat Poems

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Crack House of the 13 Gables

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
Guess I 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 pay day 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

Now I am back as a voice for the ages
'Cept 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

Bang out poems and lyrics at the drop of a hat
I can 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


Copyright © Brian McClain | Year Posted 2016


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The Taste of a Wish

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!


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2013


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2013

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
  
 


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2010


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Collaboration Can Be Fun join in here

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 ***
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



Copyright © lim'rik flats | Year Posted 2017


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Wicked witch of time

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


Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2018


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3 peas in a pod

   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



Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2015


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Us Vs Them

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.


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2014


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A Filthy Rich Baboon



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


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015


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Rat-A-Tat-Tat

The typewriters tap,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
like a fourth estate rap
to provide us the pap
(that serves as a snack with a rat-a-tat-tat)
in a newspaper scrap
crammed with meaningless crap
from the editor's yap
(spewing flimflamy flak, booming rat-a-tat-tat)
after gashing a gap
in the daily recap
with a snip in a snap-
sounding thundery clap
crackng rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

And the talking heads speak
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
of the news of the week,
tweaking tongue in the cheek
(with a click and a clack like a rat-a-tat-tat),
thus ignoring critique
'cause they're mild and too meek
in the midst of the reek 
to report of the wrack (except rat-a-tat-tat)
whilst the pundits (oblique
when protecting the chic 
of the upper class clique
at the top of the peak)
chatter rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

The NRA ghouls
plug a rat-a-tat-tat
while their blood money tools
fill the Hill’s vestibules
(where deceit behind drapes drips a rat-a-tat-tat),
spreading folly that fuels
frenzied hands of young fools
bringing guns into schools
(at the drop of a hat there's a rat-a-tat-tat
splashing blood in warm pools)
for now anarchy rules
(which the hype ridicules
'til the temperature cools)
hailing rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

Lawless cops, cutting loose
with a rat-a-tat-tat
spraying bullets profuse
without any excuse
(just a split second splat with a rat-a-tat-tat),
splay a rattled recluse
like a Thanksgiving goose
gushing cranberry juice
from six slugs in the back (with a rat-a-tat-tat).
To redress such abuse,
bend the branch of a spruce
with a neck in a noose
while Death's drums beat diffuse’
rolling rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

War brings freedom to all 
with a rat-a-tat-tat
(well, excluding the thrall
with fear, facing the wall
[ often smacked with a bat, throbbing rat-a-tat-tat ],
until feeling the call
to creep out of the kraal 
biting back with a gall
[ with a tit for a tat and a rat-a-tat-tat ],
or to mangle and maul
if still able to crawl
and be part of the brawl
in a freak free-for-all,
midst a rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat).

Holy warmongers praise,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
any soldier that slays
and all rockets that raze
(the drones zoom with a vroom and a rat-a-tat-tat)
leaving smoky arrays
of gray ghosts in the haze
cloaking mute cabarets
(hushed, the hip and the hop, by the rat-a-tat-tat)
while ol’ Cerberus bays
with mankind in his gaze,
so society prays  
as it rots and decays
(Satan's trumpets of doom blare a rat-a-tat-tat)
until one of these days
in a flash through the maze
mighty mushrooms will blaze
with invisible  rays,
fin’lly braising the craze
of the rat-a-tat-tat,
   and the
            rat-
                 a-
                    tat-
                          tat.


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2016


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Sometimes Things Just Happen

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


Copyright © Pam Deremer | Year Posted 2015


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Minstral

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


Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2016


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My Grandfathers Dying Wish

See problems they no worry Timothy
He was raised by his Great Grandmother
One day she taught him
Miho you can make life beautiful or ugly
Work hard, find a woman who has a strong back
Beauty fades it doesn’t last long
Now let me tell you 
A woman with a strong back may not be your perfect companion
Times are changing, I think Faith is more important these days
I say okay Grandma, can I have the horachata now that you made me
No hush up! You can have it when I’m finished talking
Timothy come your poor Grandfather wanted you to have this
It is his Journal and I have never read out of it
She hands it to me
I am struck by it’s cover, it is brown and plain
Yet it spoke to me by it’s elegant style
These words were printed on the cover “Blanco Vendetta”
I was drawn and pulled in untill I was covered by the spell
The first page I open too it says “My first Mil Besos”
The Temptess that blew my heart away
I turn to page 33
It says “The story of an Apache Warrior”
There are no rules to an Apache Warrior when it comes to fighting
He says if you are my enemy I don’t care how but I’m gonna kill you
Page 41 is like a fist full of words thrown across the page
Barrio boxing, The protection of the Shield of Faith
Brokenhearted for my careless speech has left her heartbroken
Strengthened by Love “Amor”
Nourished by the sunshine in her hand
There is healing in its beams
Blessed by her presence Del Dios I am Greatful
I’m like Grandpa what did you say wrong
Then these words come to me
Give her your full attention when she speaks to you
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
So I close it and my finger brushes a bookmark
It’s the Last page
It says To: “Timothy my son who is as mighty as an army”
I Thank you for the Greatest Gift
For the Greatest Gifts are as small as your small hand that touched me
I plant these seeds and they will take root and grow because you are good ground
Timothy let me say That without you I would of never found my Faith in GOD
Listen for it is your Grandfather who is dead and speechless
Timothy you see the good in everything
And I know you will understand my words clearly
If a man gives you his word
Promise me not to plan your future on it
And if you give your word my son
Do everything in your Power to fulfill it
AND NEVER Promise more than you can deliver 
For it is better to put out more than you promised
Everyman is considered unwise when he appears foolish
I wish I could give you some insight about women
But your Great Grandmother may help you better than I can
But never timothy, Never be quick to fall in Love 
Or give your heart to a woman
Listen carefully to her words when she speaks to you
Cherish Her give her your full undue attention 
Because the Heart of the Wise studies how to answer
Love your neighbors as yourself
And do not strive against another man
If he has done nothing wrong to offend you
AS much as it is possible live peacefully with all men
And it is okay for you to speak these things with your Great Grandmother
She is a very wise and God-fearing woman
Amor take the greatest care of her, I Love you Son
Timothy when the time comes to avenge my death
Hit harder then you ever have before
But not in a Duel son, not like an open Vendetta
Marry his daughter Maria
The one who is pretty and Two years younger than you
Oh! He will suffer greatly!
And it will kill him to know that I chose this way to repay him
And remember son to be ready to fight any man at the drop of a hat


Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2012


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Once a Month

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.


Copyright © Rob Bettridge | Year Posted 2015


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Love: Donations Welcomed

"How many people are praying for love?"

There are countless people in this world who have no one that loves them ... NO ONE!

Why is that not the most critical concern for all of us who DO?!?

Why are there not organizations, groups, web sites, and governments throughout the world, who have as their ONLY priority, this one, primary, simple, easy, BASIC, human need?!?

Yes, many charities are doing extraordinary and important work, providing food and clothing and housing for those without, but what about LOVE?!? Why are we not just as dedicated to providing for the needs of the human heart and soul??

Are there any big, red pots to throw love into at Christmas time?

Are there any Santas on the corners of our cities, ringing bells and giving out hugs and affection and genuine caring and interest?

Are there any collection bins or boxes placed strategically where folks can drop off a caring embrace, or an attentive conversation, or a kiss on the cheek and a vocal "I love you!"?

Where are the stores where sad people can walk in off the street and have someone shake their hand, or put an arm around their shoulder, or lend an attentive ear to their concerns??

Where are the web sites where folks can donate a smile or a laugh or a song to cheer another? Where are the stores where a bitter or lonely person, broken from life and heartache, can walk in and find truly unconditional caring and love?!?

Why are we SO good at helping others with the physical necessities to sustain life, and yet completely careless when it comes to giving others the basic love and kindness required to fill a lonely heart and a weary soul??

We donate our money at the drop of a hat to supply others with medical attention and clothes and meals to fill their stomachs, but their hearts remain empty and overlooked, their souls neglected and broken ...

A lack of love will kill someone just a quickly and surely as starvation or exposure or disease, yet we hoard it and confine it to those who are close to us, and dole it out carefully in measured portions to those we deem as worthy ...

But WHY?!?

Why is love and kindness and caring not seen as JUST as important as any other human need?!? Why do we not share it and encourage it and give it, at LEAST as freely as we do our hard-earned money and resources??

I am just as guilty as anyone else of this crime, and it IS a crime - a horrific one - because imagine how few of those OTHER needs, the physical ones, would remain if LOVE was made the number one priority ...

What has created within human society, this seemingly massive and absurd oversight of the lack of love and caring and kindness, and the extreme rationing of the EMOTIONAL needs that are just as crucial to survival??

When will we give the lack of love in this world the critical attention and priority that it is due? I believe it will require a change in the collective conscience of humanity - a completely new way of doing things - but I honestly don't know.

We must TRY ... somehow ...

What is the point of life, if not to LOVE?!?


Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2016


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The Time I've Got

THE TIME I’VE GOT							6/14/01





I’VE GOT TIME, FOR THE GOOD THINGS IN LIFE,
I’VE MADE TIME TO BECOME YOUR WIFE.

I GOT TIME TO HOLD YOUR HAND,
I’VE MADE TIME, TO EXCEPT YOU AS MY MAN.

I GOT TIME, TO BEAR YOUR OFFSPRING,
I’VE MADE TIME, AND PUT MY LIFE ON HOLD
TO SEE WHAT LIFE WITH YOU WOULD BRING.

I’VE GOT TIME, TO SEX YOU DOWN AT THE DROP OF A HAT,
I’VE MADE TIME, TO FORGIVE YOUR WRONG DOING
NOW WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT.

I’VE MADE TIME, TO TURN ALL OF YOUR NEGATIVITY AROUND,
I’VE MADE TIME NOW, FOR ME, MYSELF AND I

I’VE TAKEN PLENTY OF TIME, RIGHT NOW 
TO KISS YOUR SORRY TAIL
GOODBYE!




Copyright © Ida Igess | Year Posted 2009


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In The Lest Of Composure

There's a time that comes every now and then,
When one must sit and shut tight both eyes,
To hold back a deluge of welling tears,
To maintain that happy workplace disguise.

More often than not we curse such changes
That strike the core of our comfort zone,
And usurp our minds of its security
To leave us speechless and very much alone.

But despite these feelings that one may bare
It is a fact that life is exactly that:
A destined journey of constant changes
That can switch course at the drop of a hat.

No matter how hard it may slap one's face 
With a force never before known to be,
This reality of your sure departure still seems
Like a daydream fantasy.

In the lest of composure one can 
Manage a pair of arms separate with much caution,
But in the manner of a bird from a nest,
Or an eager child into a winter snow,
There are times when utmost love can be shown 
In the simple action of letting go.


Copyright © Benjamin Mitchell | Year Posted 2010


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I saw a skeleton in my closet

                                      I saw a skeleton in my closet
                                   He came to me at the drop of a hat
                                              I called him Billy
                                               He was so chilly
                              Got chilled to the bone and ate up my cat












I saw a skeleton in my closet
Limerick
Copyright: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty


Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014


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A Butterflies Lifespan

My times shorter than a Butterflies Lifespan
I sold them quarters at a time and I tried them
Chased them down with Vitamens
Never bowed down to an idol
Oh I don't forget on the coffee table is a Bible
Have you ever seen a demon the size of a Dinasaour
Well I cut em down when i slice the sword
Sleep with my Sheild of Faith on
When I'm angry hatas stay the F@#k out of my way
I'm ready to blow em up like Blum at the quarry
Don't you think i have been nice too
Well i will flip the switch if they entice me
And even though I don't like fighting i will at the drop of a hat
I'm begging for a mofo to knock some sense into me
A Seashell comes with these three
JMC, Well I'll take em to AMD
Give em some treatment they been needing
Oh wait this ain't the season
I perfer them to have bigger demons
Well I'll feed them like I feed the phienes then
To me it ain't nothing to my inconveience
Well I switch up, I'm endebted to her and I will pay it in flesh or blood
I'm bringing greenbacks back it don't matter
Theres a rock sitting here in my sling shot
And you know I ain;t ashamed to say Gods my rock 
NO! I'm not at all hesitating
My mind is strong, I'm pulling chrome
Coming home and coming
Dice these ho's up take em over the scales and sell em as shredder feed
Oh! these boys gonna feel the shrapnel coming from my Bombshell
I go behind enemy lines and i sneak up behind them
And i would love to go to war with him over here the forest is lovely
But now you see I'm being calm i'm controling my anger



Copyright © Timothy Jacks | Year Posted 2012


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* Destinies Child ~

Remembering when I was but a small child ~

These recurring nightmares that I would often have

The boogeyman, always trying to get to myself....

He would be in the back yard during the darkened night

Standing at the window his shadow wanting in 

I would be alone, frightened and unable to scream

Many times he would come amid, the dead of my sleep!?

And he always did seem, so very real unto me

Five, maybe six; sensitive to the other realm this, spirit world....

Sometimes during those years of my innocent youth ~

I would see ghost appear; visions, entities suddenly?!

Apperceptions of specters or phantoms; apparitions

Deja vu was often at the drop of a hat for me....

Many small tales could be told in regards unto those years

One in particular to what I believe was that of a daemon

In retrospect, given certain current events, another piece of glass perhaps!?

Whether I was like other children of those years, I never knew

Although I have heard that the undefiled, cluttered and or tainted

Mind of a child can be very perceptive; again, unto the other realms....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

....“Destinies Child” ~


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2011


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Dawn In Nebraska

The girls in Nebraska can be quite different, 
It gradually Dawns on you that this is true	, 
Like catching greased pigs at their county fairs, 
Vast cultural differences come into view.

With mothers that have unique info they Share On, 
The love traps like money, like biscuits, passé, 
Catching and holding are really quite different, 
A new magic needed when our feet are clay.

A strong woman like Dawn is really quite  gamey, 
No obvious pathways that lead to her heart, 
You should give it some thought before trying out, 
Remember the goal is to win the best part.

In love there's a dance that both people are learning, 
In this life roles change at the drop of a hat, 
Just which one is strong and which one is bending, 
And if it should change ‘round, well what's wrong with that? 

The main thing to get is a new age is dawning, 
A hope for the future this world's never known, 
As all of us live out dreams we're pursuing, 
Share God's joy in viewing a childhood that's grown.

Brian Johnston
July 20,2014

Dawn Hetrick and her mother Sharon (Bob's Daughter) are related to Bob Lind, 
a farmer friend of mine in Holdrege, Nebraska. On a recent visit, Dawn was 
actually not home the evening I arrived.  She was actually participating in a 
contest at a local county fair where a team of 4 members tries to catch a 
'greased pig' and then put it into a barrel. You win the contest by doing this in 
the shortest time. Dawn and her friends won the contest last year but this year 
came in second.

You may note that both Dawn and her mother are mentioned by name in the 
poem! : -)


Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014


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Time Will Tell

7/28/17


My soul I will never sell
Even if I got to go through hell
Time will tell
If I'll excel
And propel
Doing poorly or swell
Wherever I dwell
Crooked or parallel from any citadel
And hotel
Are you the lion, cheetah or gazelle?

Can't afford to lack
Got to stay on track
At the drop of a hat
In the daylight or pitch black
Anywhere on the map
They can yap
And talk crap
But we'll see who has the last laugh

Onward and upward
Got to cut the mustard
Without being stubborn
No matter if I get a sunburn


With or without parachute cord
And a sword
Back to the drawing board
Still out to explore for even more
Moving toward
A place far away from the swarm
As well as any horde
Regardless of if it still gets cold and warm

Losing interest or rather adamant and passionate
Occasionally may be the devil's advocate
Among objects in motion or inanimate
Trying my best to stay afloat in ways that are adequate
On purpose this is no accident


Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017


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Ode to my wanderlust

I've been thinking 'bout the badlands, and about the girls I left,
Just ponderin' over troubles I ain't made just yet.
Don't seem to be too much happenin' where I once been,
Guess I'll pack up tracks and waltz home again.

Too much juice in the blood makes the head spin,
Just hit the ground stumblin' and play it again.
Can't remember how she laughed when I gave her the ring,
Lord, ain't life sometimes a frightening thing.

Seen a wanderin' man with hammer in his hand,
Said, "Say buddy, looks like you got a plan."
He turns 'round like a shot and grins in my face,
"Buddy, looks to me like you're in the wrong damn place."

On Walker and Dowling, poets beggin' for an ear,
But it's a place of which I try to steer clear.
You'll find romance and wine at the drop of a hat
But when they ask for your soul, you'll wish you sent it back.

Well, I'm tired an' turned out, Soul's longin' for the sky
But all I got is this highway, and I'll drive till I die.
She said, "Meet me in old 'Frisco" but I doubt she'll be there,
But hell, Santa Monica's about as  good as it is anywhere.






Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2015


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Fancy-Free

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"


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017


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Filth

Do you have no morals?
You'd do anything for satisfaction
At the drop of a hat, you're on your knees.
All you want is a fix.
Or maybe you're after something physical
Most would classify you as a *****,
you and your accomplice.
But I know better than that
You're nothing but a disappointment to the human race
All of you
You're all the same
You're only as good as the tasks in which you partake.
He tells you he loves you,
but only when you perform his dirty deeds.
That's not love, sweetheart.
He's using you to get what he wants
He knows you'll give it to him, too.
You're easy.
You're weak.
And I can see where you're headed
You're just going to end up brokenhearted.
He'll find someone else, you know he can.
Don't let him ruin you
Don't be his slave.
You're better than that.
You're better than that, and you know it.


Copyright © Brooke Knox | Year Posted 2009


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BiPolar Med Bets

Seroquel made me sleep and gain weight,
 Abilify constantly made me pace,
 But Paxil made me lose my cool,
 Plus talk too much like a fool,
 And Geodon gave me insomnia of late...

So either fattened up in a grog,
 To the point of being a hog,
 Or join the forced march,
 Which is so very hard,
 All to save others from my lot,

Or get enraged at the drop of a hat,
 With suicide listed as a side effect,
 Or have peculiar ways, 
 Because of twenty-eight hour days,
 To save myself Bi-Polar wrecks.

I am tired of all of this,
 I get angry and have fits,
 I've never been more unsure,
 Since I sought a simple cure,
 Yet I am told to keep on it.

It was not this bad before,
 These medicines these horrors,
 Being led to the slaughter,
 Told always I oughta,
 Keep this regimen enforced.

I am starting to think of ending it all,
 Medicating the stallion in the stall,
 Just release and be free,
 To be the me I want to be,
 Keep the men in white coats on call.

No this is really serious,
 It really makes me furious,
 They give me pills untrusted,
 I continue to get busted,
 So what good does it do for us.

I'd rather have the happy and sad,
 Than be forced either way instead,
 Because non-stop happy is dismal,
 And sleeping my whole life abysmal,
 I'd rather have what I once had.

To give respect and to be respected,
 Rather than constantly corrected,
 To be treated by others the same,
 Bi-Polar is not part of my name,
 I don't need to always be inspected.

My medicine hides my I.Q. of 156,
 I sold estates, businesses, and insurance,
 Corporate, computer and business Guru,
 I've done much more than any of you,
 Yet I'm still seen as the retarded kid,

All of these meds I have taken,
 Made me worse than I had been,
 So off these dastardly pills I go,
 As soon as I am free to do so,
 For only then will I finally be free.

- My Gull Wheels On


Copyright © My Gull Wheels On | Year Posted 2016