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Best Big Mouth Poems | Poetry

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The Best Big Mouth Poems

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Remarks of a Prig

I'm hearing rumors that are easy to believe
but none of them give me reason to grieve
You've been telling people their poetry sucks
Words from your mouth flow in a fetid flux

What arrogance is revealed in your slander
You don't rile me enough to raise my dander
The absolute truth is that I just don't give a fig
Your remarks show you to be an arrogant prig

How dare you disparage so many other poets
People call you 'rude' in case you don't know it
I've laughed at your slurs and each bitter assault
If the truth hurts your feelings, it's all your fault

You've mocked and criticized lots of poetry
making you a monster with green-eyed jealousy
I've heard from many, and in their point of view
'they' say you're a nasty male version of a shrew

There's been quite an extensive survey taken
and the unanimous results should jolt and awaken
you to see that on you this request they bestow...
The message: "Open your big mouth and eat crow

Oh, but that is something you would never do
so there'll be no lamenting nor feelings of blue
No tears of sorrow on the smiing cheeks of many
of those you've insulted, and there's been plenty

Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2018

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- Hominoidea -

                                            If you believe
                                        This poem is about,
                                         a black and white 
                                            in the shower
                                           You are wrong
                                              It's about ;
                                          Monkeys in cages
                                      Four times four meters
                                     both in width and height
                                               A sad life
                                           They are bored
                                 Shouting and screaming all day
                             One big mouth with powerful canines
                           Scratching their buttocks and licking toes
                             Within this monkey cage they get sick
                               They feel insecure and need control
                            Creating their own rules, it's about power
                                The result of the actions is called :
                                        Psychological deviants
                               Hominoidea, called human monkeys
                                ... I hope the cow enjoys the shower

Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

- Poem of the Week 27.08.2017 -

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

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Feast of the Beast: Jan Allison and Lin Lane

The mean old housecat has bulgy eyes
when she looks at us in our fish bowl
Oh, how much we've come to despise
that big mouth of hers, the black hole

Poised to pounce with sharpened claws
She's taking jabs with hatred brimming
that ugly feline beast with drooling jaws
for us little fishes, innocently swimming
Our little bowl is cosy, room for only two
bad kitty on the outside, always looking in
If her paw ever grabs us, what are we to do 
we’d be much safer in a smelly sardine tin!

If she ever catches us, we’ve got big troubles
perhaps in her dreams she sees us as fat trout
In fear we produced a stream of gassy bubbles
If only our owner would give bad kitty a clout!
All the chaos made us soil ourselves with poop
so we let that mean old cat feast on a tasty treat
When her nasty tongue slurped intestinal goop
the beast screeched in horror! Revenge is sweet!

Our owner came home and cleaned out the bowl
Soon we returned to our safe sweet smelling home
Kitty got banned but can see us through the keyhole
Now we don’t suffer from irritable bowl syndrome!

Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017

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Big Foot and I

Bigfoot often puts his foot in his mouth and he's got a big mouth too.

Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015

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How do you like your eggs in the morning?

Like a warm cotton bud used to give inner ears a clean
there is something comforting about routine.
Knowing where you stand and the order of play,
knowing what to expect at every point in your day.
Living to a schedule, everything has it’s time and place -
knowing the slots you have free for any plans you need to make.

Wardrobe colour-coded, in garment order.
Wallpaper with a matching border.
Appointments at ten to, five to, on the dot.
Check, double-check, the doors are locked.
Yellow ball, green ball then pot the brown.
Big box, little box, upside down.

I like to gaze into the sky and dream, of an afternoon.
Relaxing. Like the scent of a chaste tree, when in bloom.
A cold glass of lemonade, a long and foamy bath,
humming along to the radio, a love that warms the heart.
Reading the Sunday paper, and making it an event,
the delightful things the kids say, things only they could invent.

His reputation precedes him: a disruptive, class clown.
Never completes his work, he’s always mucking around.
A big-mouth, show-off with far too much to say:
He asks if I ever considered teaching him in a different way.
‘A physical learner’ - he’s heard about it on the news.
There could be something in it…but I’ve far too much to do.

Cars whiz about, people in a hurry.
“I’ve waited over an hour for my curry.”
Twenty four seven lifestyle, word abbreviation.
Text message becoming the preferred means of communication.
Everybody rushing, to keep on schedule, to maintain status quo.
Everyone a cog in the system: You’re whipped, if you don’t row.

Seamless is the transition between asleep and awake,
when you just let it happen, not worry about being late.
An unrushed project results in a rewarding prize:
taking your time meant you got it right.
So bin the itinerary, flout the rules,
just for once why don‘t you try something new?

Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007

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Where is that joy source gone
That I thought was infinite
Took for granted
Dried up like my youth

One disappointment too many
One shovelful of dirt after another
Finally crushed that little joyful kid inside
As if slowly extinguishing 
Nothing more than a campfire

Why is joy and hope so threatening
To those big people with their big feet
Their big power and their big mouth

I want to leave this world where
Big people like to crush little people
I want to live among the little people
Those who want to live their joy
Have dreams and not be afraid to smile

I want to wear my joy and speak my dreams
I want to live in a world 
Where little people go around free
To spread the wings of their big soul

Submitted on May 3, 2018, for contest EARLY MAY STANDARD sponsored by  BRIAN STRAND

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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Silent Two

I wish I could keep my big mouth shut
Then I could become Silent Two
But no, 
Bobby has to speak as loud as he can

So, he could never be as Silent as you
I have become a fan of this Silent One
As I read this poetry the words so gentle and free
Guiding me to figure out how to write my poetry

Copyright © Bobby May | Year Posted 2018

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Teenage Blues

My whinny,crabby, hungry teen
Your stinky,spoiled and quite mean
You want, you need, you have to have
The latest,newest, modern fad

Your greasy, grimy, hands smear
My wall, light switches, and the mirror
Empty snack bags,with sweet and sour
Create tall,extensive buildings that tower

Your messy,your dirty,in need of a shower
Please make it quick,not loiter an hour
Your smelly,nasty, disgusting shoes
Are slowly  poisoning every room

Even with big mouth,rolling eyes and sighs
I would not trade you, I surmise

Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013

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      Big-Mouth Bass
An April morning, as the climbing sun
tipped up in sight, and lit the coming day
and colored red, after a storm was done,
I cast my plug, a stinger--red and gray--

to where it looked the likely place to me,
where hides the hog--from minnows swimming by;
then feeds upon those minnows, carelessly,
as pops the sun into the morning sky.

Upon the water, mirrored flat and still,
I raise the wake, so slight--then let it lay;
and cranking in, so slowly then until
I hear the chomp--that warns he's set to play!

   And all the minnows cheer me in my quest
   of battle with my most unwilling guest!
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2014

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The conversation

                 THE CONVERSATION 

A stammer once told me the beauty of listening.
So I shut my big mouth and made him speak.
Till his speech became music.
And I could sing with him each syllable till his own words chocked him.
So I listened to the brief silence with my eyes closed.
And I could see myself listening to the metronome of my heart, beat at the rhythmic pulsation of a song I knew too well that I could read it with my eyes closed.

But there was a moral to his story.
Cos for that rare fleeting moment silence was louder than two empty barrels, and we could fill each other with drops of wisdom till we made an ocean.
If silence is golden, then I wanna be stingy with my words and make me a fortune. 
Cos talk is still cheap and listening has no price tag.

So let the songs I sing be heard through my actions.
Let the strings I pluck be synchronized with my chest drums for my eardrums to listen.
And let that silence beneath be heard. 
This is what the stammer told me.
So I listen. 
Cover my ears to the talkers and make the listeners talk. 
For sound is merely a cover up of the truth we seek to walk.
Beneath every stutter; beneath every beat.
Beneath every letter you utter is nothing but something beyond everything.

Copyright © Papa Kofi Amoh | Year Posted 2016

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My Most Embarrassing Moment

It was many years ago now, before my wisdom teeth
had forced their way through my big mouth, they were still underneath.
I had an awesome job within the motor industry;
not building them, but selling: an ‘Executive’, was me.

We had more than one franchise and we covered quite a range,
no matter what your budget there were deals I could arrange,
I longed to sell expensive cars - each morning without fail,
but my role was with the Ford range, at the bottom of the scale.

One day as I was watching my boss prepping a Ferrari
I strode across to see it and then jumping in the car, he
asked if I could help him and he handed me the keys
‘We’ll store it with the Fords tonight, but tell nobody, please.’

The truth was that his showroom was as full as it could be,
but he couldn’t leave it parked outside – and mine had spaces free.
‘We’ll slide it in this evening after all the staff have gone,
and take it out at 8am, it won’t take very long."

As darkness came we pushed the sliding door of glass aside,
and moved the Fords around to make a bit more room inside.
Trying not to make a sound, as careful as could be,
we shoehorned the Ferrari ‘twixt Fiesta and Capri.

Early the next morning we came in through the side door
to huge relief, sat splendidly amidst the Fords, we saw
the red Ferrari Boxer: ‘Would I get a chance to drive?’
"Yes, but let’s just get it out before the staff arrive!"

‘Start her up, I’ll get the keys for the big sliding door’
I was dribbling like a baby when I heard its thunder roar;
In the rear view mirror, my boss passed me with the keys
I saw blue sky, the sun was up, the roof was down, ‘Oh, please,

Allow me, God, this one big chance to drive this gorgeous car
this could be the highlight of my whole life - and by far.'
As I slid her into gear my dear heart began to sing,
the boss slipped into his office as the phone began to ring. 

I revved her up and moved the mirror, yes; the sky was blue 
and eased the clutch up slowly as the world came into view;
then, suddenly, a wall of sound and my heart missed a beat
and showers rained on the Ferrari, purring in the street.

My ears were ringing as I prayed this shower of rain to pass
but I wasn’t getting wet; which meant this shower was of glass!
The boss, keys still in hand as my foot firmly held the brake     
popped his head around his door and did a classic double-take.

He shook his head as if to cast aside the grisly scene,
was I in Heaven or in hell, or somewhere in between?
The glass, still falling, peppered the new Boxer’s scarlet hood;
the boss, confused, still jingling the keys, transfixed, he stood.

My poor heart beating fit to burst as now the thunder waned 
and I wondered how much more of my career now remained.
What seemed like hours passed before he slowly made his way
toward the dead Ferrari, ( forty grand’s worth, might I say )

He stood before me, looking at the car, the keys, the door,
he frowned, he smiled, he tapped his brow and then he frowned some more.  
His mouth flew open and I waited for the curse to come
and though his fingers wagged, he now appeared to be dumb. 

A few more seconds passed before a smile grew on his face
and I grinned inanely in the hope of saving me some grace.
I wound the window down, his mood had cooled - I had a hunch
‘They weren’t the right keys after all, I’d taken the wrong bunch’

'It’s not your fault, he quipped,' still kicking shards of glass aside,
'and how were you to know I hadn’t pulled the door aside?
It’s down to me, last night I hid the keys beneath the mat  
and of all the things I’ve ever done - I wish I had done that!'


We contacted the customer, explained that there had been a delay with the paperwork and delivered it a week later, after extensive and expensive repairs had been carried out. Some weeks later, however, the car was returned, completely burned out – the insurance company deciding that a foreign body had somehow entered into the wiring harness ...

Bill Lindsay

Written October 2015
For Trashed #3 Contest - Sponsor, Broken Wings.


Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015

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Whiskey 'n' Grins On CD

Yea, When it comes to bars and drinkin', and how! I've done my share,
It always has me thinkin', of past times, yea, when and where,
I've done my share of fightin' too, and no one ever wins,
The worst I got was a bitin' o-o-o-oh! from a big mouth dude named Grins,

Yea, we'd all been drinkin' whiskey, when we should have been drinkin' beer,
Grins girlfriend came and kissed me,Yea, the one he loved so dear,
Then Grins slammed me to the floor, I heard someone bet 10 dollars,
Most went runnin' for the door, through all the screams and hollers,

Then Grins got my fingers in his mouth, and I couldn't get them out,
I just figured he'd bite them off, so I choked him til' he coughed,
Yea, I've done my share of fightin' dude, Ya know, no one ever wins,
and I'd rather be struck by lightnin' too, than bit by big mouth Grins,

Now, when it comes to bars and drinkin', and wherever I go, anywhere,
It always has me thinkin', of what I'll be drinkin' there,
and when it comes to drinkin' whiskey, I'd rather just drink some beer,
and if the occasion gets too whiskey, hey! it's, I'm up out a here!

Yea, I've done my share of fighting too, and no one ever wins,
I'd rather be struck by lightning dude, than bit by big mouth Grins,
When it comes to drinkin' whiskey, I'd rather just drink some beer,
if the occasion gets too risky, Hey! it's, I'm up out a here!

Yea, when it comes to drinkin' whiskey, I'd rather drink some beer,
if the occasion gets too risky, Hey! it's, I'm up out a here!
If the occasion gets too risky, Hey!'s I'm up out of here,
Yea! It's I'm up out of here.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle | Year Posted 2009

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Out of the flow
Behind the log
Big mouth grabs black yabby.

Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2015

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Little Red

She left behind the faintly glimmering village

with its smoke stacks, rising gently into blue.

And followed a well-worn trodden track.

She had learned her route but never missed a cue.


It was getting darker when, she lifted up her hood.

Her red cap clasped around her crimson hair.

Her eyes, wavered slowly from side to side.

She was aware of someone hiding over there.


He approached so slow and tipped his hat.

She politely nodded back.

And with smiling, slightly parted lips.

She stopped and sat to catch her breath.


The house was not too far now.

She picked wild flowers, growing in the glen.

But then she saw a figure

of a hideous looking man.


What big eyes she spied, what big hands out stretched.

What big mouth expired the dribble and the phlegm.

The man leaped forward and grasped her by the leg

And pulled and pulled and pulled and pulled

'till she no longer could escape

and was stuck fast to forest floor.



The wolf leaped upon the man.

And pulled him round and round and round

And Little Red made her escape

Quickly, making not a sound.


She looked back to see the wolf

Tipping forward his straw hat

What big teeth she said

Her smiling little rosy head



Copyright © Kirk Tony | Year Posted 2015

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First day of our life
The mother is ecstatic
Finally her pains and burdens are over
Ululations and congratulations are on
Could even be the next president
But father is in tears
Camouflaged as honest joy
Another big mouth to feed

Second day of our life
The priest is ecstatic
Finally another person in line for tithe
Could even be the next pope
But mother is in tears
Camouflaged as the touching by the word
Village thugs and whores praying for you
Another statistic of robbery without violence

Third day of our life
The teacher is ecstatic
Finally someone to be the Aristotle to their Plato
Could even be the next Einstein
But priest is in tears
Camouflaged as tears for absolution
Lawyers and politicians consecrating you
Another greedy scholar on the rise

Fourth day of our life
The couters are ecstatic
Finally we love being in love
Could even get married bells ringing
But teacher is in tears
Camouflaged as being proud of you
Another dumb romantic who never learns

Fifth day of our life
We are very ecstatic
Finally we made a new life
Could it be the need to sustain bliss human mediocrity?
But our sweethearts are in tears
Camouflaged as being happy for you
Another one escapes dying alone

Sixth day of our life
Grandchildren are ecstatic
Finally someone else full of laughter and ambition
Could it be their I-phone is the only new thing under the sun?
But we are in tears
Camouflaged as pain in our backs
Another generation who don’t know how short life is

The last day of my life
The better angels inside my head are mourning
Finally I am someone who lived in this world
Could it be because I will be forgotten?
But grandchild is happy
Camouflaged as tears for losing you
Just another man without legacy gone

Copyright © Moses Sichach | Year Posted 2015

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Words,Words,Your Lips

Traveling on this street called life,
Be sensible,be conscious,be wise,
Think,think before you open your mouth,
Don't be lead by your tongue,
but by your ever thinking mind,
We are now in the days,when the words
from your lips,defileth your body, 
When scandals and rumors are the order
of the day,
When people in high places are torn down,
not by their works, but by their words,
When people in small places are suffering,
Because of the words of those who govern them,
When family and friends are divided not by choice,
But by nosey neighbors, who won't keep their big mouth shut,
Are you going to say something,STOP,THINK,
Will my words be positive,
Will my words make things better or worst,
Build an enemy or build a friend, 
Cause someone to live a little longer or will
this be their end,
Don't open your mouth,until you are sure,
Take your time,think it through,
Now you can open your lips and make POSITIVE WORDS unfold...

Copyright © Richard Palmer | Year Posted 2012

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Advice: How to Handle Joy, Burden, Stress

When you experience great joy 
Or under sorrow’s unwonted burden
Or feeling stress/duress…

You still would have an obligation 
To keep your station…

Above means that you need to watch
(Three things to keep under control)
Your weight, your mind and your big mouth.

Copyright © Arthur Zozulya | Year Posted 2016

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The Ballad of Gaston

Relaxing in my very own, rustic tavern
Pondering with a mug full of beer
After a day of hunting in a dark cavern
With my latest kill of a rare deer

Standing around on a bear rug was LeFou
Chatting non-stop with his usual big mouth
Most of the time, he's such a complete fool
Why do I even bother having him around...

Antlers in all of my interior decorating
What's all really there for?
As there's only one thing on wanting
The most beautiful girl I could crave for

It's going to be my precious trophy
To have her and claim her as my wife
She'll never refuse me, I'm so manly
This is a must-win prize of my life

Everyone in town will always adore me
My beautiful muscles, strong must go on
The most intimidating, definitely got to be
YES! No one is more perfect than Gaston!

Copyright © Nileisha Giselle Deliz Diana | Year Posted 2015

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A Rare Rhinoceros

A Rare Rhinoceros
Nothing seems so rare as a robust rhinoceros
Trying to point long nose into business like us
And incredible case in point never could prove
Because with big mouth he wanted to behoove.

He was rhinoceros always being the rowdiest
With his nose's point many things had missed
Then ended up raising a really big fuss
From scratching poor skin all full of psoriasis.

They never would ever leave him alone
Until his level had been low on testosterone
And rumors started to run amok and amiss 
Monstrous mate he might have forgotten to kiss.

James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Hate to say this butttt
How about this one for
humorous Horn poem of the 
day? Don't want to horn in 
on anyone's business though.

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014

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A Mirror Image

A Mirror Image

With my big mouth blowing in the breeze
Someone said shut it would you please
Why is it that you are not very bright?
And of everything start to loose sight.

Like winding up on a dead end street
Always though what seemed so neat
Is if my mailbox put in a mousetrap 
And my postal person had a mishap.

Stole newspapers from off of a porch
Burned them up by applying a torch
And am not sure what it could cost
My money in stock market was lost.

Learned a few tricks of the trade
After up my bed was all now made
When I laid candy on my each sheet
Did have dreams which were so sweet.

Lastly, while it had been Halloween
Was in costume looking old and mean
Stared in mirror and what I saw
Looked just like my mother in law.

James Hilarious Nefarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet 

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016

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Legend of Bog Hollow

They’d crossed the great divide, to the other side of the ‘Oh My God River’.
Our Trolls were struck by the ‘Bridge Too Far’, it set their hearts, to quiver.
Yes, their curiosity and their great big Troll hearts; were pounding all a twitter.
Well, surely you must see, it’s a bridge; they are Trolls, after all! So go figure!
And you must understand the mighty ‘Oh My God River” is so very wide… 
That when on the bridge… You can’t see… not even close…to other side…
Where mists, run so very deep, that your sanity will never again, be found.
I ask you? How could a Troll not see this as anything, but absolutely profound!

Under the bridge, lies scary Bog Hollow, covered in mists and a smothering fog.
There, the Legend says, lies a monster supreme, both ancient and old, in the bog.
Scary as all get out… We have always… always been… Very, thoroughly told.
Its’ said: curiosity is both a scary and most dangerous thing when it’s on crusade.
And the Trolls and Dragon have it a plenty, in great big gobs… and great spades.
Late one night, Dragon and the Trolls snuck out of the house, as my story goes…
A clean get-a-way… on a moonless night to check this all out… But one by one…
The Trolls would go into the mist, and disappear… F.O.R.E.V.E.R!!! I shiver!!! 

As Dragon was about to be left alone, a truck came careening from the fog and mist.
On the narrow bridge the last two Trolls, were thrown into the muck, and the Goop.
They came up, covered in mud, until the mist hit. One moment there, the next gone! 
Dragon worried: OH what was he to do? Well, that was answered, quickly enough.
Dragon was bumped by a truck and thrown onto its top! Clinging and screaming!
As the truck careened about… Rounding a tight corner…Dragon was flung off.
He continued to scream as he flew all the way home. Terrified, near almost to death!
He knew the Bog Monster had got them! Little did he know, that the dear Trolls…

Had made friends with the monster, and were enjoying the bog’s great ambiance. 
The story continues… as Dragon got home, he grabbed Grandpa Troll’s big hand.
Jumping up and down, he yelled, ‘The Bog Monster had taken his beloved Trolls!’ 
Saying, ‘He had a great big tongue, a big mouth, and humongous great, green hand!
We ran to the spot, with the usual flashlight in hand, and were pulled in the bog!
For a fun filled mud bath! … By the Hulk and his lovely, pet Beelzebub Frog.
Yep… We’d all found the Monster of Bog Hollow, as we all partied away!
The next day the driver would spread the word, that as he passed the bog…

The monster had screamed, jumped upon his truck… and tried to take him…
Over and down… In the end, he’d escaped by shaking off the monster’s hand.
The great story would be passed around, by the local town, of Nodding-Off-Ham,
Wanting to keep people away and them, forever, both serene and quite sane…
They would perpetuate the legend just the same, and the moral they would quote?
“Believe the myths of the Monster of Bogs Hollow, always run the other way.”
Especially since Trolls have now joined him, setting up a toll bridge along, its way.

Written by Michael & Carol Eastman 6-20-2016

National Geo News: Beezeabufo, Frog from Hell. 75 Million year old Madagascar giant horned frog. Weighed 10 pounds, size of a beach ball, believed to have killed hatchling dinosaurs. An aggressive ambush predator, grabbing anything passing by him. Also called the Pac-Man Frog.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2016

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Now    hear sports prime time
“Amazing!    Spectacular!”
Just two of the words
“Hey!    You gotta be kiddin’”
Does he know how to play ball!”

“One of the greatest”
Some say he IS the greatest!”
Just incredible!”
“Bob    that’s some kinda atha-lete!”
“Three hundred pounds of muscle”

“It’s a miracle!”
“You mean HE’S a miracle”
“He’s at the fifty –
Forty    thirty    twenty-five
Reverses field at the five

The magic words spilling forth
At top of his lungs
Had you pressed the mute button
Just another game

But the fans love noise
The roar will deaden the mind
Loudmouth has said squat
Has stated the obvious
Big mouth says    “Watch but don’t think”

I am an avid football fan - especially college football - the poem is not about disliking football, but about some - not all - of the brainless announcers. 

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2011

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The Clerihewer of the Fewer

If you orginally read this then, you would have seen it was a villanelle, actualy same it was the poem Hope, which I posted before this one. A very silly copy/paste error that was pointed out. Anyway fixed but original was too long now it's two poems. Thanks for reading.

He know returns the clerihewer of the fewer
Throwing his poetry soup idols in the sewer
With these naughty little lines of rhyme
It's MOSTLY in fun time after time
I think this is very long overdue
Of these I have written quite a few
Technically this one is out of form
With the rest I'll get back to the norm
I don't know what happened to our King of the quatrain
He's writing couplets and rhymes, but I won't complain
Just hopefully he doesn't ever do a free verse
Or I may have to break the rules and curse
Speaking of Jack the Quatrain King and cursing
He has an admirer of his poetry that's been rehearsing
I say that because who leaves comments before the coffee's even hot
I have my suspicions that Mr. Spivey is a robot
Once more with our King to what level does he make me stoop
I left a comment for a poem that contained in the title, Betty Boop
But haha my comment was the first to post
Too bad my house still reeks of burnt toast
I have always written alone, but now enterred a contest of group
With a green eyed girl that once wrote a poem about dog poop
I just had a little fun with it, but never asked her why
Because no one else would write about it was her reply
No if you're going to enter a teamwork contest do it with a Star
For surely you'll have a lot more chances to go very far
Of a thousand different jokes I could make
I'm going to leave it at that for my soul's sake
She seems like a sweet Welsh girl, but I think she has some fire inside
I think if she get's mad the best tatic would be to run and hide
Hopefully I won't let my big mouth get me into that situation
I'll let my words do all of my confrontation
I have always included the great PD in these
But I haven't talked to her in a while and couldn't ask her please
I won't take liberty at this time, I will first reflect
Really it's just a statment of respect

Copyright © wayland bunch | Year Posted 2013

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Big Mouth Trump Collaboration with Sonny Roper

The mouth of Donald Trump 	
is bigger than his rump!		
Both  pump  hot smelly air	
which is hard to bare, 
responsible for  prolonged slump.

If he would only shut his mug	
and his backside plug, 		
so the air would clear		
and pleasant things we might hear,	
instead of the nasty humbug.



Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016

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Humility of the Ear

Humility of my ear is great
He is patient and perpendicular
Like a new soldier on attention
In a parade on cold morning
But a dump man he is all times
Even when someone slaps him

The ear listens as people insult
The eyes, buttocks, legs, stomach
In his humility he keeps silent	
Like a hunter-crocodile on shores
Not a word from his mouth one hears	

If the ear were like the nose
And smells something offensive
It would close immediately
And go on hunger strike all day
But the humble ear is tolerant

If the ear were like the leg
And it is told ‘you twiggy leg’
It could run there like a fox
To stage a war of legs day long
But the patient ear would just listen

If the ear were the mouth
And hears someone insulting him
‘Big mouth, big mouth, smelly you are’
He would open and swallow him alive
But my ear only ponders in silence

Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2016