Best Beaker Poems
There once was a nutty professor
Who felt he was so much the lesser
He mixed in a beaker
The perfect Id-tweaker
Out popped a sharp-dresser successor.
Buddy Love was the coolest of men
Where once an old egg-head had been
But despite how he tried
The old prof couldn't hide
From his nature, or who he had been.
His honest intent from the start
To impress a young blonde, a-la-cart
But each potion he'd brew
Wasn't sweet or as true
As the man that she found ... in his heart.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Favorite Comedy Movie" Poetry Contest, Alexis Y., Sponsor.
Categories:
beaker, humorous, light, romance,
Form:
Limerick
Savoured roots at the tip of a spade
Dying leaves escape their own tree’s shade
We’re in a draught, spare me your tears
Unless you’re a portfolio full of shares
The land is levelled by green boots
Their orders given by black suits
Does anyone know who invented the book?
The written word whose hand knowledge shook?
I'm the wailing guitar's disconnected speaker
The cure found in the slip of a broken glass beaker
The trillions locked away in a vault of greed
The billions our fear safely breeds
I'm surrounded by a heat of hatred
My peaceful world's smouldering and defeated
Deep in lack of love's crippling frustration
Sunny days clouded in cold perspiration
Life is crawling down the barrel of a gun
In the firing line of death rays escaping the sun
I count my enemies in each empty shell
I pick it up to glimpse down the bottom of hell
I'm seen in forgotten memory
A lost entry in a 1939 Nazi diary
Left out to wet and dry like an old newspaper
Let me fly this wind fate's prepared proper
I was searching for peace and quiet
I couldn't afford to pay a requested quote
So I live up the slippery walls of a bleeding nose
Along the ear channel’s tunnelled noise
I hear whispered dark secrets
Confessions and prayers hummed and sacred
Shouted insults and empty threats
The clearing and swallow of a dry throat
Thabang J. Ngoma
13-12-2015
John lawless’s Where Echoes Hide - Poetry Contest
Categories:
beaker, dark,
Form:
Lyric
O beaker of blood
Enticing red cabarnet
Blood of the saints
Tears of the brave
Baptised in the river
Her artereous rush
Now pumping in my veins
Reddens my lips
Whispers Thy Name
Rose of Sharon
I cry to my Maker
I am so little
Make me a little like Thee
Categories:
beaker, baptism, christian, devotion, god,
Form:
Free verse
Sweetheart Darjeeling
Three hours of walk uphill from the town,
The woods grew thicker and the world down,
Heart panting – eyes floating in the wooden beaker,
Oh! It was dark yet darker-deep yet deeper!
I heard Frost calling and recalled the “snowy evening”
The sky still silent-a colorful sunrise brought the morning! !
Which way shall I go was the question,
Shall I obey the lessons learnt or opt to learn?
No second thought-forgetting all I went with the flow,
A joy in my heart the early morning seemed to glow,
It was the bliss of the woods-the hills of Darjeeling,
Orchids dancing and the streams began to sing,
Valleys-trees, birds – bees , everything,
In your heart – sweetheart Darjeeling! !
Every step I took- I took with regret,
Every angle was so perfect-the heaven had set,
A wish from my heart – oh queen Darjeeling,
The songs of your streams-let me also sing,
Rapids-waterfalls, tunnels-iceballs, everything,
In your heart-sweetheart Darjeeling! !
Gazed and gazed-amazed was I,
Amazement-excitement that none could hide,
A magic in your leaves-oh majestic Darjeeling,
The rattle with breeze-in mist playing,
The white cymbidium-the pink dendrobium, everything,
In your heart-sweetheart Darjeeling! !
I felt the mist on my face-the cold on my skin,
Those virgin woods hidden-high, diverse yet so akin,
Those narrow winding streams-oh darling Darjeeling,
So lively-the multi colored birds bathe and sing,
Teesta blue-Rangeet green-everything,
In your heart -sweetheart Darjeeling! !
Oh Darjeeling, so majestic-magical and serene,
Philosophies all at one end-alone you win,
For the silent words you speak-you are teacher,
Miles one must walk but never in his leisure,
A day of leisure in the lap of Darjeeling,
Bathes your soul-spirit, everything! !
Miles I’ve walked-all promises kept-regret nothing,
Oh! Revered Frost I think you’d not seen Darjeeling! !
Saket Suman
Categories:
beaker, adventure, art, nature, heart,
Form:
Verse
Time to change myself once more
It's my mantra every Sunday
Be good with food and have less wine
This always starts on Monday
Commence with gentle exercise
And eat a smaller ration
By Tuesday this is going well
I'm full of strength and passion
It's Wednesday I am feeling weak
I want to drink some claret
I tell myself to carry on
So instead I eat a carrot
I put myself to bed that night
Hoping not to suffer
Tomorrow is another day
Of course I'll be much tougher
By Thursday I am back on track
I'm feeling rather dandy
I force myself to eat less snacks
And have a little brandy
By Friday it is getting tough
I'm feeling so much weaker
I pour a glass of cold crisp wine
And then fill another beaker
Come Saturday I am off the plan
I've gelled into my sofa
I fill my face with tasty treats
And turn in to a loafer
The sabbath day I carry on
I may as well keep eating
Hereafter I will start again
And do it without cheating
Categories:
beaker, food, funny,
Form:
Quatrain
Wrested from my writing by a drone
which signified that I was not alone
in its black and yellow jumper it had come
fat and furry, bigger than my thumb
it cruised around the room in lazy eights
before it worked itself into a state
against the window wings fizzed on the glass
as fruitlessly it struggled to get past
annoyed at every corner on inspection
too close to even see it's own reflection
the outside world all plainly in it's sight
but out of reach, no this cannot be right
it thought “the flowers in the garden I can see
but cannot fly to them- how can this bee?”
I pitied this paradox of aviation
for being in a desperate situation
it's compound eyes with panoramic view
blind to the neighbouring window it flew through.
“ I feel your pane” I told the frame inspector
too knackered now to gather any nectar
and went and fetched a beaker and some card
then scooped it up, released it in the yard.
We, too, in life in lazy circles go
until whatever circumstances throw
leaves us adrift, no chance of some release
we thrash round for solutions, have no peace
take on our problems close up, face to face
instead of stepping back and giving space
so we may then take in the wider view
the answer is nearby what we should do
so stop banging your head and then you'll see
you won't need glass and card.
Unlike the bee.
Categories:
beaker, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Let's Have Some Fun Contest
Sponsor: Casarah Nance
I'll admit being green is not the easiest thing,
a frog looks very silly in a broken arm sling.
Yesterday Fozzie got a job singing at Shamrock Bar,
I told him I would drive cuz' it's not very far.
Out ran Rizzo the rat, stood like a deer in headlights,
I wanted to see Ms. Piggy later...oh, of all the nights!
Swerved and crashed into Rowlf's juniper dog house,
"oh I can't believe that annoying little mouse!"
Rowlf had the company of Animal and Gonzo,
what a sight to see Gonzo with an emerald afro!
We walked in to find a parakeet sleeping in moss,
"oh man, my arm hurts! It's about to fall off!"
I heard, “ARG! RAH!” Animal threw me a frozen lime,
I thought, “ will this really help? Pain is shooting to my spine!”
Then Scooter ran out with pickles, pears and olives,
Swedish Chef “Shmuf shaf”, was cooking basil and sage omelets!
I saw Staler and Waldorf cracking jokes in the balcony,
"I'm getting so annoyed, this is not the time for comedy!"
And who would have thought they would be the best greeters?
A first aid kit came out from Dr. Bunson and Beaker!
"Geez, I am feeling a little better, this injury is no biggie,
in walks my concerned lover, the bossy diva Ms. Piggy!
I'll admit being green is not the easiest thing,
a frog looks very silly in a broken arm sling.
Different Shades Of Green Used: 1. Shamrock 2. Juniper 3. Emerald 4. Parakeet
5. Moss 6. Lime 7. Pear 8. Olive 9. Basil 10. Sage
~Date Written : March 1, 2016~
Categories:
beaker, giggle, green, silly,
Form:
Couplet
Have sympathy for poor old Beaker
Was given away by his squeaker
Miss Piggy he'd kissed
"You're dead!" Kermit hissed
So raced through the set like a streaker
------------------------------------------
16th April 2017
Inspired by Lin Lane's poem:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/muppets_in_the_soup___join_in_892703
Categories:
beaker, childhood, humor, humorous, nostalgia,
Form:
Limerick
senators seeing stapled starkers
Loopholes. Lanky long. Llama Klamath llama please do not lean on those bent gables. For gables are gargling and gargling sounds very eerily similar to a gaggle of geese. Mission endeavour is a plane in a prism. A pram. Circling. But not a curdled crisp. Boot not a rebooted tooting train. For trains are teams and team is neither a steam locomotive nor a mystified heron on a penny farthing. Part board part hoard and a collapsing crash of hands. Figure a fakery is an idiomatic meaning of a didactic form of unilaterally placed flowers. And the beak says hi. But not before the fire arrives in a bowl of plankton. At noon. In a square. If travelling in a circular ship travel light and only carry one tray, one mug, a beaker, a wheel, and a supernaturally charged frog. Interesting to note how the enhanced forms of wit is involved in intergalactic war games. Playing on a two ton tea towel. Very very heavy. Heavy rock and heavy metal is in a school eating cereal at the back of a classroom. Haha. And the deafening boom of bell brings balls to halls and hallowed singing in a line. Youth yawn yearly. And a little micro dot of a hedgehog plays the bass guitar with a sparrow, a nine foot semi eroded dustbin, a mentally disturbed earwig, a corrupted cucumber, and a non digestible house brick. Wow. Such enlightenment from a factory of frozen peas. Hahaha the wine is in the winds. Hahaha message board secret speaking to a pen. Hahaha number of stolen goods dancing with the police. How apolitical and jar of gold coasting coats. Xxxxx Palladian ponies. Xxxxx geometrical gnome. Xxxxx synchronous swanky swans. X uncharacteristically z z z z z. At 689% of a slice of pear cider. Personified x
Categories:
beaker, april, arabic, art, august,
Form:
everything you’ve said
whispers round to me
here now I sit
this warning is free
dead are my dreams
in your pretense of care
sweeping the misery
as you reek of despair
A fair weather friend
in the mirror narcissus
your lies pave roads
a consummate actress
I have begun to believe
ricin flows in your veins
everything you touch
weeps of black stains
all poison you leach
flows right back to me
and as I found out
I raged disbelief
a roaring rant
told them they lied
here as I weep
the truth will not die
to my face you smile
as fangs stroke my hair
coaxing and pleading
pretension webs there
a black widow spider
masked in mortal garb
the spear of your words
broke my skin like a barb
through the weather of life
in the course of the rain
I have measured my life
in the blood of the pain
A beaker of misery
I add to the pot
from friend to foe
this cant be forgot
I’ve come to tell you
you’ve been mistaken
for my spirit breathes
and is not forsaken
see I maybe down
but honey not out
you watch your back
when I come I wont shout
as the Chinese whispers
you’ve spread about me
in this river of hate
my agony is freed
revenge is served cold
is something I’ve heard
but the blood of a mongol
pumps the heart of this bird
so watch through the night
keep your ear to the dark
that scratch in the wall
carries more than a bark
from wretch to the wrath
I have now become
you killed all the light
in the heart of my sun
Categories:
beaker, friendship, lossheart, heart, weather,
Form:
Verse
As I strolled down Beaker Street
A neon sign flashed in front of me
That said "Only Serious Poets Need Apply"
(Blink) "Need Apply" (Blink) "Need Apply"
So it was I thought to myself
I can think of nobody else
As serious as a poet as I
I looked to the right and the left
Feeling pretty confident about myself
And decided to take a gander inside
The room it was totally dark
In the corner was the tiniest of sparks
I did a stately poetic stroll in that direction
Feeling I might have made a mistake
This thought occurred a little too late
But of course this whole scene might just be window dressing
A voice said we don't need a poet at all
Just someone dumb and gullible
That's the moment in my pants I started messing
Turns out it was a mad scientist
With a masters degree in craziness
What were his dastardly plans I could only be guessing
I was grabbed by a couple of ugly thugs
Who highly dislike deodorant and mouthwash
Tied up and flown off to the smallest of islands
Where they did unspeakable experiments on me
In the first, second, and third degree
All because to insanity they took a liking
When it was they were finally done
With what those nut jobs consider good fun
Don't know how many walls they had me climbing
Daily now I plan my escape
I only hope that I'm not too late
When the opportunity arrives I hope I don't blow it
I find it so hard to believe
That this all has happened to little ole me
And Why?
Because of me being such a serious poet
Categories:
beaker, funny,
Form:
Free verse
She wanted a big production wedding,
badgered her fiancee into going along
with the bad idea
Get the marriage started off wrong
Money that needed to be saved, not squandered
on some reality TV thrill
She was used to getting her way,
had the right chemistry skill set to maudlinly operate
Mix insincere tears with theatrical screams;
shake the anger beaker and her gaseous speech start bubbling,
gasping for air ... ready to explode
Fake fainting and pitiful groveling:
She’s the best supporting actress at causing a scene
Don’t get her started, she’s a drama queen
The day before the rock star nuptials,
she’s not feeling good about the Bridezilla dress
Says it makes her look like a garage bargain mess —
gives her a mannequin big waist, small chest
and a bottom flatter than a desk
This thespian woman got other mad skills too
that she can bring
Skull Island drama queen,
who can Judy Garland sultry siren sing,
and get Baby Jane King Kong mean
Bugged out on the unpolished chandeliers
and the late arriving catering
It’s bringing out the worst side of the drama queen,
and everybody knows:
She’s the best supporting actress at causing a scene
But her girlfriend is the best actress in the hood,
a genuine, Hollywood Hall of Fame drama queen —
She can delivery every kind
of emotional line
with perfect timing
Categories:
beaker, allusion, conflict, identity, perspective,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Wiz Away
I entered the empty funeral hall.
Am I not at the correct memorial gathering in visitation room H?
“Excuse me, sir, but is this the memorial for Mr. Wizby?
There is not a posting besides the entrance.”
“Never fear, you will soon behold…”
What? I think, seeing nothing around me—not a flower vase or a picture.
“Never fear”, the director says once more.
Odd, I think.
A knock and a rumble of voices echo outside this room.
What’s up? when guests—who are they? prance along the waxed floor, strange masks floating about a sea of wild frocks.
“Who may you all be?”I ask, bewildered—is that a ferret wrapped like a scarf?about the pig-tailed girl with dirty feet?
A falcon perches on the threadbare arm of a midget.
“Who may you all be?”I ask, yet again.
A tall, bespeckled man cartwheels to my side.
”We are the Pennywhistle Circus, who knew of old Wizby well.
Pray, who may you be?”
“I am Ian, his grandson.”
Cartwheel-Man bird-whistles to a bearded portly man standing next to the door. He holds a foggy beaker in his gloved hand and a stethoscope dangles from his neck amid a snowy beard.
“Ah, Binky! So glad you have come!”
“Reggie, I see you have grown taller since last I saw you.”
“Ah, Binky! The marvelous elixir you gifted me was a welcome surprise.
Alas, my pet lizard partook of the vial, growing beyond measure, and thus, died.”
“Everyone, gather near, as Mr. Wizby is finally here.”
Wrapped in peacock feathers, Wiz was quite a sight.
Porcupine quills crowned his pink bald head.
The midget sidled near to pluck a feather, unraveling
old Wiz.
“Oh, dear!” chortled Cartwheel-Man.
Ferret-Scarf poked his wiggling body amid the dancing feathers bathing the room. Midget-Man’s falcon perched atop old Wiz.
What folly is this?” a voice graveled out from once-dead old Wiz
“You take my death lightly, so “poof, be gone, as I am the Magic-Man.”
Wiz leapt into a pile of frocks and masques, shouting
“I have returned, never fear, Wizby lives on for yet
another year.”
Categories:
beaker, age, crazy, magic,
Form:
Narrative
A misted view of a bedroom cloth is really a cloak having a smoke. A range of fathomable feline feminine is felt and smelt. In a blood arch turning twisting. Take take take. Trapping then. Be nil beer. And be no bee in a bath. No no no. A fragrant wrath exposing experience. And a pinnacle of painted pain pleasing pleasurably. And a sanctimonious tissue skirt and a pint sized foetus embellishing an otherwise jeopardized environment. Beak no beaker. Brake no bomb. Cave it is within curves. Shitter shatter curtains. Blowing. Booming. Should scream school scatter scared shitless Shirley ship. And an interestingly printed power scarf interlocking and bricking for formation of bridges. Walking. Whistling. Walking. Widely. What whale which white winches. How remarkable it is then. An internally adjusted instrument. Strum in tum. Tuning. Turning. How fantastic the news. And how globally positioned is the equilateral equator of a new planet and a ten mile sun. In a minute. Fraction friction friends. Haha historical houses. Hahaha seed stem. Xxxxx vertiginous video xxxxx amplification z
Categories:
beaker, autumn, baby, basketball,
Form:
My friends call me gay,
not ha ha funny
My enemies call me *****,
they say I dress
like an androdyous honey
My mama with tough love,
tells me:
I’m living a sinful lifestyle
My daddy growls and disavows:
says I’m his biological son,
but not his spiritual child
Nothing is ha ha funny
about this situation at all
Mixed emotions got me
on a Bunson burn
Beaker of roiling XY chromsomes
and testosterone hormones
Homosexual agony
is tormenting me
Desires I feel for another man;
attraction so strong, so womanly
God said those feelings ain’t natural,
and shouldn’t be inside of me tempting
Not one safe place to breathe
in this heterosexual society
I got man-sized hands
and a feminine weighted heart
But, do you wanna know
the real funny part
I’ll give you a good
Pagliacci laughing head start
My partner likes to dress up
as a man
Likes to wear custom fabric pants
Drapes himself in the dark cloak
of a masculine life
But says he can only be himself
when he’s around me,
and away from his wife
Ha ha ... funny story, don’t you think —
I think not!
Categories:
beaker, conflict, emotions, identity, prejudice,
Form:
Dramatic Verse