Best Blaster Poems
The series "Despicable Me,"
we've flocked to theaters to see.
Wee minions--cute creatures--
and bad guys each features.
To all we respond with great glee.
I never dreamed five years ago
that I would soon dash to and fro
in search of these minions--
in children's opinions,
all treasures. How well I now know!
Some kids possess minions galore:
the one-eyed, the two-eyed, and more.
They giggle and jabber;
"BANANA," some blabber.
Their odd appeal, who could ignore?
My grandson's like other young boys.
For Christmas he craved minion toys.
His loved ones went shopping
for hours, not stopping
till we found gifts he now enjoys.
The minion-themed presents I gave
were puzzles, a cool talking Dave,
a pillow with three guys
with one or two huge eyes.
For these he did hug me and rave.
` I'm glad to say just one thing more:
Fart Blaster, I left at the store!
The child would have driven
me nuts if I'd given
him that thing; but Dave, I adore.
Date posted: February 23, 2016
The rhyming scheme of a limerick is aabba.
POSSUM JUGGLING
Written By the Poets Listed After The Poem.
Possum juggling is a trick conjuring sport.
You should never do it if your arms are short.
Nasty teeth are gnashing as they're tossed in air.
The juggling of possums requires flair.
Full-grown possum are very massive fellows.
Their bulk when lifted, like handling jell-o.
They are so at ease as they fly through the trees.
Are you ever so tall? Fight them on your knees!
Though cuddly and soft, please never be smitten.
Asleep they appear, in a flash you're bitten.
Upon one look, so UN-cute the ragged claw!
Surely reminds me of my mother in-law.
In my compost bin found this fury creature.
Pointed nose, stinky as my English teacher-
For that part which sticks out of the can at dark.
Not a pretty site though pink, duck. It’s a fart!
Quickly grab his leg and throw him really high
Let the little blaster soar into the sky!
Be quick, juggler, Granny Clampett is waiting
It's possum stew she hopes to be creating
Wait, I forgot! My arms are too short for this.
Now on my face sprinkles a souring mist.
The moral of this story, surely you see!
Never juggle opossums! Just let them be…
Contributed Poets (in alphabetical order)
Charma Chircop, Austin Daver, Carolyn Devonshire, James Frazer, Robin Gass, James M.
Goff, Raul Moreno, John Robbins, James Peranteau, Dane Smith-Johnsen,
Long ago, when I was young,
Before my hearing began to fail,
Why, I could hear a boll weevil
Tiptoe across a cotton bale.
But many years have come and gone;
The ghetto blaster took its toll.
Now I couldn't hear an elephant
Dance in clogs with wooden soles.
Form:
my keyboard sometimes sticks and snarls up my story
went to the store and got jiffy lube and what a glory
my fingers slide across the letters typing faster
did a quick hit of the duster called air blaster.
the light on the screen will often blink
I plugged in my generator into the back link
now the screen has 300 watt illumination
and the audio sound has quality combination.
feels like I am sitting in the theater now
there is a lot of keys I haven’t learn what or how
there is a tool box but not like mine in the garage
a menu that has no food listed is a sabotage.
Excel is just another brick in the wall
which has nothing to help me at all
the command prompt has deaf ears
doesn’t follow thru and no changing gears.
Monopoly is easier to learn than a computer
I started too late, I must have a tutor
I’m still trying to figure out about windows
often my sites disappear and fall like dominoes.
I got a security package to protect my skill
but viruses still enter and that’s no thrill
they try to scam me and pretend they’re real
offering me a vacation that is a bogus deal.
they want my personal information to cheat on me
enabling them to use my credit account with forgery
one nice feature about my computer is I can delete
either a message I don’t want or the whole fleet.
So please bear in mind that if you write
I may answer if I can get things just right
this is a keyboard and screen that sits on my lap
but my cat loves to come up and nap.
Often the words have too much space in between
she smacks her tail all over the screen,
I sent the computer back with a note in tack
this is useless with a lap cat
The Bad, The Ugly and The Good (aka: Bad, Badder, Baddest)
The Bad
I am the gun-toting, God-fearing Ganja Gangsta.
I’ll smoke you, pray for you, then have my daily siesta!
I answer to no one, and fear no man; No Sir!!!
I answer to only One Master. That’s Heaven’s Prime Minister.
I am the player-hating, man-baiting Sister Disaster.
I’ll woo you, thrill you, then …kill you; true that, mister!
I just swagger thru the city with my ‘Ghetto Blaster’,
I don’t mean sounds, fool!!! I mean my ‘piece’ … to blast ya!!!
I am the mean-looking, menacing Monster Mobster.
I’ll cut ya, shred ya, and have me a pasta fiesta.
I do not boil ‘em…! No sah!! I’d eat a live lobster!
I’m so mean ….Hey! ..I’ll even steamroller your hamster!!!
I am the fast-talking, Bible-bashing Pastor Imposter.
I’ll bless you, fleece you, then sex-up Sister Disaster
I’m just a shyster - but please don’t tell the Menacing Mobster!
She’s the God-fearing Gangsta’s wife - and the Mobster’s sister!
The Ugly (Badder)
I am the flesh-eating, life-sapping, Cluster-Sinister.
I am impartial; care not for class, colour, creed or gender.
I am microbe, but not a person-respecter; ask the sex inspector.
I am sorry, but for me to survive, you have to become a spectre.
I am the tear-jerking, game-changing, people-Prankster
I get called ‘*****’, ‘Sod’, …some even call me a ‘Mater-Conjugator’.
I don’t like Gangsters, Mobsters and especially that dodgy Pastor
I may get mad, or even get even; Call me ‘Life’, or call me ‘Karma’.
The Good (Baddest)
I am the Beginning, the Alpha/Omega; Heaven’s only Prime Minister
I wrote the Good Book, but look inside, I have never been a Jester!
I carry fire and brimstone to bolster my holster - you’d better helter-skelter!
I mete out justice, and vengeance administer: you'd better pray faster!!!
(Fg 81.5.8 - January 2016)
One stormy night in Magalluf, it rained and rained it rained all day
By half past ten we'd had enough, time to call it all a day
Then we heard some music playing, the sweet sound of a violin
So our footsteps started straying, to the magic bar that he played in.
As we stumbled through the doorway, he clocked us with a cheerful grin
As we walked across the floorway, the strangest thing was happening
For our feet then started tapping, we didn't know quite what to think
And then our hands just started clapping before we settled down to drink
Glory Glory Hallelujah, sha la la la la la la lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, ole ole ole ole
Glory Glory Hallelujah, sha la la la la la lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, ole ole ole ole
He played fast then played it faster as people twirled around the floor
Louder than a ghetto blaster, the crowd all hollered out for more
So we got up and started dancing, we thought we'd dance the night away
The rhythms there were so entrancing, when we saw Mick the Fiddler play.
He's going wild, he's up there jumping, his fiddling fast with Irish fire
So we're up our hearts a -pumping as the tempo rises higher
He sang of joy he sang of sorrow this quite extraordinary man
He said don't think about tomorrow enjoy your pleasures while you can
Glory glory Hallelujah, shalla lalla lalla lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya Ole ole ole ole
Glory glory Hallelujah, shalla lalla lalla lay
Doobee doobee doobee dooya, Ole ole ole ole.
TO HEAR ME SING THIS.
GO ON TO YOUTUBE.
MICK THE FIDDLER, LOUIS SPENCE
THANK YOU.
I gave birth to a thought today
A shiny little supposition
It wept about all the possibilities
Endless creativity
Directionless refractivity
Like protons racing around an atom blaster
My thoughts began to multiply
It was the Big Bang of my Universe
Then I heard the voice of an angel
Say, “Daddy, this is my science project.”
And now the birth of a thought
Gave birth to a Black Hole
So you wanna supercharger
Make your car so much faster
Four laws you need master
Will make it a hot rod blaster
Supercharged, supercharged
On your clock the air in bar
Supercharged, supercharged
Engines rammed with air so hard
These things you need to know
Pressure, temperature and flow
The fourth should all be equal
One mistake could be lethal
Did you verse yourself in class
Study chemistry on your ass
Do you know you got the flow
Air mass quick or slow
Understand the molecules of air
The table elements do you dare
It seems there’s a kind of draft
Different gases’ just seem daft
Hot or cold it’s needs compression
Pressure should match expanding session
Do you need a vacuum lesson
Draw or blow that’s the question
Thermodynamics wrapped up in one
Physics state laws to work and run
Remember the rise, remember the fall
Engines work better, when they're cooled
© Copyright
K.C.Leake
28th October 2014
All Rights Reserved
Sports orchestra is unique fun
On this Annual Sports Day
Of my collegeCollege
And a joy to share in races thyey run.
With a will to win are our athletes
Gathering speed from the start
As if fitted with turbo-blaster
Playing alone or in teams.
Some, though not in the lead
Have a heart and a hope
The spirit of competition
And still a desire to succeed.
While some are singing their support cadence
racers like tornadoes
Rip through the field
As fans cheer their crooning friends.
(alternately titled one me silly more till manufactured
from go win addle American
non refundable private parts)
each set of twenty three chromosomes
the basic biological building blocks
of life came out cervix
when second hand of analog clocks
barely and scarcely swept across dial,
wrought offspring appearance
as a pier a docks
closely resembling a monkey
perhaps...hmm...
maybe mother mated with a chimp
assimilating chromosomal flox
genetic combination brought about add hocks
viz bouncing baby boy skinny and fair game
as a pluperfect future target for jocks
when I took first gasp of air sputtered
like an old engine that knocks,
now just easing into ma deuce score
and xix year with hair reed locks
twittering, snorting, rattling nonetheless
became precious human dependent
with mat chew anti body mox
see for father and mother
to care despite expelling nox
shuss gas out derriere, which profuse flatulence
natural immunization
kept away infected kids with pox
nicknamed little buttock blaster
now sits in a comfy chair and rocks
reminiscing about boyhood
and a pooch named Socs
who told time applying faux paws vox
like tum make sounds resembling tick tocks
Nowadays every potential mom and dad
disappointed unless offspring(s) feverish follow fad
decreeing qualified as gifted birth of lass or lad
go wing great lengths to prod and push
progeny until a genius to be had
rather tubby thankful and gratefully glad
regaling robust surprise
packaged traits of yore
inheriting genetics descended
when early apes did de tour
terrestrial virgin earth
anatomically complete store
reed awesomely astounding miracle from spore
sized fertilized ovum (healthy
and sound baby boy or girl) hood roar
if lionized, which feline bellow mew might mean
change my dye ya pore
and pamper me sum more
gnome hatter wailing mama or papa ignore
thence nurturing baby pipes por favor
kinship knits omnipotent bond evermore
where tis instinctual to adore.
Synonymous with my childhood
A metaphor for adventure;
If anyone could do it he could ,
His spirit never fractured;
He could beguile
with a whip or a blaster;
Or even with his smile,
Every tool mastered;
A Silver Screen Titan
Filled with sarcastic discord;
Each character an icon,
the unstoppable Harrison Ford.
VOLCANIC ERUPTION
Eruption! Eruption! Eruption!
It is a volcanic eruption.
The earth makes such a disaster,
But, we blame god for being a blaster.
Killing people without any reason.
Losing property by this explosion.
Flights blocked by this reason.
People dying for being late
Everything has gone behind the date.
Oh! mother Earth,
Don't you have mercy?
Burning these innocent people.
Without any significance before.
Eruption! Eruption! Eruption!
It is a volcanic eruption.
Form:
I am as invisible as I am indivisible:
And as cunning as they come!
The Jedi think us mere mythical-
The Dark Side long undone...
Lo! we now at last emerge,
My Master and myself!
And upon the Republic we converge-
Lightsabers 'neath our belts!
But now I must betray my Master,
And be a Lord of Sith
Though not through blade or shot from blaster-
Tricked! Like Plagueis did the Bith!
I shall rule the Galaxy-
Alone! No further "Rule of Two"
Impeccably trained and aptly named:
Darth Exactitude!
*Who Are You Fantasy Character Contest Entry
** "Bith" is a species of alien in the Star Wars Universe.
"Plagueis" was a Dark Lord of the Sith who killed his Master, a Bith named "Tenebrous", through elaborate trickery.
"Rule of Two" was enacted by Darth Bane: A Master to wield the secrets and power of
the Sith and an apprentice to covet and crave it. Only 2 Sith can rule at one time in order
to keep the power of the Dark Side of the Force concentrated, potent and focused.
I remember when
Suddenly I came of age
There was a clear moment of
That was then and this is now
I had my wings
And urge to fly
I was fourteen
There was a world
Beyond the nest
I owned a blanket
And a ghetto blaster
It was the summer of ‘72
I had the taste of freedom on my lips
And sunshine on my back
Dreams to dream
The world to conquer
Life was sweet
There was no looking back
I had come of age
That was then and this was now
One day I was a child
The next I was me
The me I had become
The me I would become
Shaped by my past
Thrust in my prime
The me I would grow into
Adventures to pursue
The shoes I had to fill
I had come of age
That was then and in my head
Then is still forever now
I was fourteen
The me I would grow into
The taste of freedom on my lips
Read on air by invitation ~ April 8, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP : Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on March 27, 2021
Over ten worms then? In coats. Goggles? Flight then. Huge paper bees. Altitude 4 on curvatures rattling over the field,fauna and hedgerows. Boom boom boom beasts coming. Mooooving across the territory pulling dragging. When old then its chop chop chop. But if a falling blaster gets there first then death arrives earlier. After a squirt of mud. Nice. Lick lips then. Taste good? No? Yes? And now the ships are coming. Painting playing poker. Captain geranium. General ox. And a poxy fly-by of a boat with 8000 foot wings. But no oars. Quiet is it? For now. All are writing and writhing in formatted charts. To plan the circumference of a beach landing is to plant a cactus in a salt marsh. Humming. Sing a long a song. In either of the varied tongues located in the land masses. Bing bong in a mansion house. Centre of village. Plans are made. Fortress swept by whipping a floor. And a mop is pleasing to the eye. But only after a curfew. Can one really develop lead from that style of bread? Hurry up and bring it home. It is to be said that a fickle strawberry in a flowery dress can pick up many a uniformed prawn. And so it was. And in the a d and the b c and the ultimate balancing act between pillars. Then all fall down. Like tumbling masses of peas into a stench of brown. It is largely thought that the opinions of one are less kinder than another. To form a unison is not the plan between the iron kilted musings of rulers. Turning twisting taking touching tombs. Diving into the depths of the caverns. High viewpoints equal many pointed mountains. Justify not the wisdom stemming from an ionised tea towel. And place the trowel to rest gently. Then go play hop scotch with 15 eggs, 1 dew ball and a cake. With or without cream. Dare to jump off a mysterious marshy rock holding a leather book? 98b equals 64f in a cloud bracket. Xxxxx versatile valiant vanquis. Xxxxx pasteurization z
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