Best Batty Poems
Monday Morning Madness
Just because the morning starts
like the morning straight from hell,
and the little one is screaming
and you need a magic spell,
just because you burned the pancakes
and the bacon, well it’s crisp,
do not rant and rave and stutter
or you’ll acquire a nasty lisp!
If your husband’s little habits
drive you batty, do not fret,
but don’t fill his cup with poison;
well, perhaps at least not yet!
If the dog destroyed your curtains
and your mother-in-law is back,
and you hurt your precious pinky
when you tried to nail a tack,
do not turn suicidal
and do not give up, no way!
After all it’s just the morning!
You still have the whole damn day!
(Coming Back Home)
Crimson sunsets trickled beyond the moor
Opulence of one’s youth a mindset forever stays,
Miracle of homely birthplace the lure
Inspired by non-forgotten special days.
Neon lights above the door lost their glitter
Garish gowns grew tired torn and tatty,
Bothersome marriage a divorce turned bitter
Asylum that sends a sane person batty.
Calling out aloud in hope a childhood listens
Kindred spirit says let the passing of time begin,
Heart and mind to put behind all that glistens
Oh, and the carousel of show biz and the spin.
Memories are many so are the steps to climb
Epic journey the apex or slippery slope for a dime.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
D'ya know any people who are always right
Are they annoying creatures or what
Wonder who made them a walking thesaurus
They sure make my blood run hot
Love to poke holes in what they're saying
Proving that they ain't infallible
Jump at any chance to prove these guys wrong
To be right every time is impossible
Engaging these people in normal conversation
Is frustrating and hard on the psyche
You wanna shout and yell naughty words
And physically harm them, by crikey
Best thing to do is just try to remain calm
Dispute everything they're saying
Drives them batty and they blow their stack
As around the issue you go skating
A naughty and devious man I am
Get a chuckle out of seeing 'em rage
Sure serves 'em right for being so arrogant
Must be the attention they crave
There was a wee one they called Patty
Who made his home in Cincinnati
From Dublin to Ohio
He left and decided to go
His friends thought he was quite batty
His mum thought it was a pity
But he brought his green to the new city
He brought over clover
And spread it all over
Everyone thought it was pretty
Green Humor Rhymes Old or New For Prizes Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
3/16/19
The council meets, all hours, to hear old batty dames yell, what a *****,
we don't think she's a good person, because she doesn't look and act like us.
The soldier's hall considers, is it fair to wage war on a witch?
She isn't supposed to take up arms, isn't supposed to think about war.
But you, cry in my arms and say, "I wish to be loved, why won't some girl
like me? I'm too fat", you say, and all I can offer is take a walk, eat less.
The mother's brigade is unhappy they have their blessed babes pushed in carriages
and shun the woman unable to have children, just offering to baby sit.
The father's brigade is unhappy to be stuck with the bills or to have a walkout wife
and shun any woman who demands her rights to have opinions and money.
But you, tell me of your lack of money, to eat, to drive, to visit friends
so I send money and delight in the happy tales of movies and dining.
I look across the pattern of life and find the dips and downtrodden and say,
what about artificial families, people who sit with our kids and lunch and help homework?
Cursed be you, you say, you have no children, you offer no aid, and steal
this poem, passing it friend to friend and say, what do you think?
Will it help our children gain confidence to have another adult listen?
Will it help those with no parent to have and adult praise and question?
Is it my age I ask and the answer is yes, this is an age of all too opinionated
people failing to listen to the wind, to the silence, to the dreams, to the crying
taking asking looks at their neighbor saying am I keeping up, has that other
person got ahead? I'll not help them because they aren't needy enough
to offer guidance to those who have no time to look beneath beds, look
beneath the society, beneath the judge's bench and find the better way.
The silent one has taken away the light from your world, taken the song away
from the sorrowing, taken the whip from the brutes, and walked away.
She has a life, she has needs to find out more of the truth of reality
she doesn't like the people she sees always sitting in judgement and never listening
to the wind, the truth, to justice, to the downtrodden, to the lonely, to the unforgiven,
to the beaten, the one that finds her mind her best hidden asset you won't accept.
Hard of Hearing.
I went to visit Gran
to brighten up her day.
But that crazy batty women
never hears a word I say.
She moans and groans of aches and pains
and how her bunions hurt, then she'll ask,
"Who is it? Is that you my darling Bert?"
"No, I'll say, it's Sunny, Grandson number two.
I thought I'd pay a visit and spend the day with you.
I've put the kettle on Gran, I'll make a pot of tea."
Then she shouts.
"There are Hob-nobs in the cake tin enough for you and me.
Fetch them in please Keith put them on the floral tray.
Now where's my bloody teeth, I had them earlier today."
"It's Sunny Gran, I tell her. I'm not Keith and I'm not Bert
but there's your bloody teeth Gran in the pocket of you skirt."
I don't mind Grans muddled mind the fact she forgets my name
she can call me what she likes I love her just the same.
Now my Gran is hard of hearing
and batty half the time.
But you know I wouldn't swap her
cause Gran is Gran.
She's the best because she's mine.
Hattie gladly had a fatty patty.
If a bad fatty patty had Hattie,
That fatty patty would’ve made Hattie batty;
But, Hattie had a rad fatty patty!
The fad-clad Hattie is also a caddy.
“And gladly,” chatted Hattie, “I take after daddy.”
Hattie’s daddy, Mattie, was a caddy as a laddie.
But once Mattie had Hattie, a bad caddy was Mattie, and now the caddy’s Hattie.
But Mattie chatted, gladly, “Me Hattie’s a natty!”
All the laddies were gladly mad for Hattie, and turned caddy.
But Hattie’s chatty daddy chatted, now batty,
“Stray from me Hattie, laddies. Me Hattie is gladly a rad-fatty-patty-eating caddy
that took aft’ her daddy!”
There once was a golfer named Natty
Who hired a young caddy called Patty
Patty loved gossip
Natty said 'Stop it!'
'Just caddy! You're driving me batty!'
I always reckoned my butcher was batty,
With cryptic comments when he got chatty,
I was shaking my head,
when, with his wife he said,
I would like all of you to... meet Patty.
Shadow-Cat = Cat Afraid oF the Dark needs Teddy-Bear-Cat
Polecat = a pole dancer Cat-House
Copycat = looks like you do Carbon Copy House-Cat
Bobcat = Bob - Tailed - Cat
Wildcat = Wild.,.Child.,.Spirit.,.Cat
Allie-cat = Loose Trampy Cat Did ( I ) Loose
my Train oF Thought it came with a Caboose
and who Goose the Moose
By Antlers in the Tree Tops Chocolate-Moose
Tomcat = sometimes a Big Cat Thumpper other Times a Tom Thumb Cat
and a Cat in the Hat = a BATTY Cat Flying Rat Fat-Cat That's That.,.
P.S. EYE AM DYSLEXIC so I use CAP.s for Punctuation Style called SHOUTING
John Lenin used it when he wrote music now days young Rapper use it when they write music the Newest Form oF Poetry making my poetry unique a NEW ART FORM or a New Form oF ART Poetry
You’re chock full of kingsize bull crap
Though female you are not a chap
A well-practiced liar
Whose pants are on fire
Your vitriol I’d love to zap
Just little things make you so ratty
You’ll spit venom, gee you’re darn catty
With a scowl and a frown
You will put good folk down
With hindsight I think you’re quite batty
Your language you need to remodel
I’m fed up of reading your twaddle
You can’t leave folk alone
Like a dog with a bone
Try using that brain in your noddle
May I offer a little advice
If you cannot say anything nice
Keep your mouth fully closed
Your bull crap’s been exposed
Go back to your fool’s paradise
King-Size Bull Crap Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
01/05/22
What wet dreams come from his coffin?
Batty X-streams sent too often!
But if Musk we bossed
He’d be miffed and crossed
Which means his stiff part would soften
Chicks who've seen the beast's orange flow
Know Trump the con-fused-sex-parts bro
Has a thread sewn stitch
Which makes his tool glitch
So to Igor’s lab he should go
Craggy rats and batty facts,
stupid slaps of morbid hats,
sordid snacks coming out with lacerations of the ax-
horrible hacks doin' these attacks.
I'm loopin' it like rope to attach,
only catch ever is a brat,
lettin' um' off as I scooter around and knack-
I've got so many I'm like 'just laugh'.
(Going Batty - original title)
Yes…
It’s me squeaking.
I know that bats only squeak when they are excited,
But Man!
You are a pretty exciting occurrence!
I do understand…
Most bats can’t hear you, you know,
But
I
TRACHOPS CIRRHOSUS
Have no such neuroses.
You really take pictures,
Write a book?
I’ll pose for you
Eating a frog.
Oh!
Oh!
I’m not ‘your little Microchiroptera’
And I’m NOT going back to the lab with you.
Men!
They’re all the same!
And I thought that one
Was a different species altogether…
Example posted for "Enter your own competition".
1) I have thought about entering my own previous create a character competition, so I made the competition title my poem title.
2) The required form was dramatic monologue, so I attempted to use that.
3) The quality I was striving for was humor.
(Did I succeed? The reader can perhaps judge better than I can.)
Has Granny gone batty?
She tells us of love,
Of flowers and trees
And a thing called a ‘dove’.
But none of these things exist now today,
Since the world heated up
And the lakes turned to clay.
The deserts are barren
Around our estate,
It’s a fight for survival,
A fight against fate.
We hear England’s legends
Of a pleasant green land
But the truth that we’ve known
Is just mountains of sand.
It is said it was greed,
A disdain for the Earth,
That robbed this poor planet
Of its greatness and worth.
We hear these old stories
And yearn for those days
Where living was easy
Beneath the Sun’s rays,
We starve now and bake
If we venture outside
And they claim again oxygen
Prices will rise.
We fight for survival,
We fight just to live,
We fight and we fight,
There’s no love left to give.
Perhaps Granny is batty
With the things that she tells
Through a longing for legend
Of fresh water wells.
Or perhaps it’s a memory
That she holds so dear;
Yes – I see now the truth
In her lone dusty tear.