Best Bloke Poems
A wizened boy who lived at seventy-two Oak
Relaxed in his tub with a lemon salt soak
Ate a curly pretzel, downed a harsh throat coke
An honest child who sprang from truthful folk
Dressed himself in a red and yellow super hero cloak
Flew around New York City watching for dangerous smoke
News of his heroism quickly readily broke
Giving some fame to this truthful do-gooder bloke
He saved a young girl who was having a choke
Convinced a teenager to give up a maryjane smoke
Chanted a spell pretty difficult to invoke
Created a talking frog who never could croak
If you meet this wizened boy at seventy-two Oak
Tell him his cousin Moke wants to give him a poke
This is a true story, in absolutely no way a joke
Now that I have shared it, I will go have a soak.
There once was a big bloke of a poke
fella’s mom screw’d him if he'd cocke
Hard games still he play’d
Lil' stick not he let stray’d
went in and came quickly as a stroke
Limerick, 5 lines syllable count 9,9,6,6,9
Rhyme Scheme: aabba
Date write: 10.06.2014
Contest Bawdy Limerick II
Sponsor:Roy Jerden
Myself being in love with you
was just the wrong thing for me to
my heart was broke, I almost choked
I was a woman , not a bloke.
To be betrayed in the worst way
my fault, because I gave you say
my soul was bent and almost broke
I was a woman, not a bloke.
I was badly used and abused
my heart was blackened , and so fused
my life was almost gone, I choke
I was a woman , not a bloke.
Elizabeth alexander 21/3/2016
bizarre stuff
in fact, she'd never visited a golf course before
in fact, as i took my daughter to the clubhouse toilet
i held the door open for her
the contents of the coffee was
all over the floor
i hit my tee shot against the trees
and the ball ricocheted back onto the fairway
'Good shot!' my mother yelled
there was a lot of top of the lungs stuff
MASHED POTATOES
i shanked it
mammy chops and bunkers like thunder thighs
my daughter wants to sleep in a bunker
i want to throw my clubs in the lake
worm burners
and municipal memories
this was meant to be a love sonnet
i'll be your caddy
i love you flagstick
THE LAMENT OF A PENNILESS BLOKE
For want of avocation, I became a poet
To bleed my misery on paper calling for an eye,
To see me in my tattered footwear and backless shirt,
But no hear have I got even with my wildest cries.
I sought for love but that eluded me for lack of capacity,
To wine and dine in places only people in purple afford,
Ask me not to write to you as I cannot read later on write,
The tongue twisting speech style I have not learned
Of me they think I have no fashion sense.
How can I when dolce & Gabbana is a name I only see
In chanced movies with people that woo lovers and hunks.
Intelligence have I none; wisdom maybe
But that cannot lure a sensible Tiffany-ier
All I have is me; about me I cannot lie.
Copyright © July 2012. Nsamu Moonga. All right Reserved.
the kids are going nuts
one almost keeled over
one inquires about the whereabouts
of the large-caliber pipe pistol
one gives the spheroid
a handshake and hug
the arm like an tartarean
eclipse with a surreptitious
star-nosed mourning
mole on the end of it
one gives the projectile
a high five, invented by a
basketball player with
four fingers
but what about him?
who is he under the
cycloidal velvet? how did
he get this gig?
did he expect models
draped over vintage tanks?
rubenesque ladies straddling
the missiles?
can he take the costume home?
who is responsible for it's wash?
does he put a cancer stick
in his touch hole in the car park?
does his lady-indoors
own a rammer?
he wishes the day would end
go home for a grapeshot
that he could be elevated
at forty-five degrees
and sent airborne towards
the automatic doors
he keeps saying it's
gonna
be a bumpy ride
but that's life
and all these spin-offs
about juggernauts
space fairies
and
helmets with no chin straps
riding in his
space cow
across the galaxy
i'm considering a chin-strap-beard
we are
one tonight
i explain to the human geography teacher
in the lounge
that i am a completionist
i don't just
watch some episodes, but finish the lot
he counters, "did you see every episode
of duck tales?"
the man is mad
As the mind of humanity’s flesh
Simply wants all of the world’s cash
As bills smell in congress they pass
Laws resembling methane gas
Poof, aloof, savings gone in a flash
Of cash stash, my soul is free at last
Our retirement savings of cash stashes
Like bad memories as congress passes
Their bills smelling like methane gases
Like moles complain of smelling mo__ lasses
As the politics of fresh air clashes
`Tis smoke, my bloke; use miracle glasses
there's a bloke in this cafe wearing
heart-shaped spectacles
they're a mauve slash purple colour
but they're not your franklin bi-focals
john hegley said you could trust
a man in glasses (big time)
harry angstrom felt naked
wearing glasses
his posture is overblown
he's sampling his tea genially
with an extensive face
he's immersed in his smartphone
like that horse that needed lenses
rothschild with his zebra carriage
there were no heart-shaped glasses
on the hill in calvary
my four-year-old-son told me
he wanted to eat my glasses
I once knew a bloke
Who hailed from Stoke
He saw me on the street
And so we did greet
But I said to him with much ire
"You're a liar
You call me your chummy
But you hate me mummy"
To the allegation he did respond:
"You are mistaken, of your mum I am fond"
"Nay" said I
"You just like her black pie."
After much thought
To his lips he brought:
"Caesar really was a decent bloke"
I once new a lad
In dog tooth suits he was clad
As I boarded the tube
I yelled "Hey rube!
You slept with my sister
Explain mister!"
He consternated
And maybe debated
But he said:
"Caesar really was a decent bloke"
I once knew a sod
Who seemed quite odd
I was watching the Blues
When I said "Those are my shoes!
Explain saucy knave!"
He replied: "To me your girlfriend gave
After that
Unforgettable spat"
"That's a false report!"
I said in retort
To which he said:
"Genghis really was a decent bloke"
"Don't you mean Caesar" I said
Reply: "Forgive me cabbage head
I have no abode with which to rest my node
Be gone with you
I have two
That'll make you stew
If you don't shut your gob
Don't talk of Caesar my name is Bob!"
One day
On my parlay
Through Southhampton way
I was confronted
By a man with head bunted
To me he said
"I wish you were dead
200 pounds you owe me"
I shrugged at the fee
But did reply
"Caesar really was a decent bloke"
he's been there doing that for
about twenty minutes
it's both palms on both
face pastries
he was here the other day
laptop in front of him
bopping and biffing
like in a boat race
chronic stress? enervation?
or giving the epidermis
something to think about
sod retinoids and clarins
maybe the brain is fusty
needs a few yawns too
like the sound of an alaskan
salmon against sham praise
is this the future? when i'm gone
on buses, trains, offices
a democratic spanking
I Am Bloke...
I am bloke you see
that I happen to be,
from Terra Australis land,
and who likes to write about
the many things I’ve found,
that it is of the bush,
the scrub,
and other places be.
however, it is most of all
are the animals that interest to me,
who creep and crawl about
inhabiting our land,
and in the course of my days I’ve found;
bush turkeys:
make a bloody mess,
wombats:
are cute, in their burrowing ways,
kangaroos:
like to bound about regardless,
red bellied black:
highly venomous bloke,
echidnas:
are prickly folk at their best,
goannas:
simply like to run up trees,
daddy-long-legs
are really and truly scary hairy beasts,
platypus and platypi
are not really seen by many folks,
kookaburras:
like to sit on boughs of olde gum trees
and laugh their silly heads off,
cane toads:
squishy, squashy are best left dead under feet,
great white sharks:
need to stay in ponds;
but for me on the other hand,
there are many others I could write about,
who play their part and make
the Australian landscape
as the only one of its kind,
and for this I’m proud to be,
a blokey bloke,
a bush balladeer,
and a poet from the land ‘down under.’
Francis Cooper - Mac
I’ve always been a fit bloke and can’t remember when,
my last visit to a doctor was, and what for way back then.
I’ve always eaten what I liked and drank gallons of grog,
then had no fear of the morning, and a hair of the dog.
But just a week ago at a reunion at my club,
there was seafood, whisky; mountains of fast food grub,
and what a night it was, before I staggered down the street,
heading home and satisfied; the reunion felt complete.
Then with the morning, I felt like something wasn’t right,
for when I moved my left foot; something happened overnight.
My left big toe was very painful; I could not rest it on the floor,
so to make it to the kitchen it was quite a chore.
I tried retracing all my steps, from when I left the exit door,
to try and find the reason for, why my toe is so damn sore.
But try as hard as I might, I couldn’t get my mind to click,
even though I can’t remember, I must have kicked a brick.
I couldn’t stand the touch, of a sock, or shoe, or sheet.
I’ve got to have a broken toe; it’s so red and full of heat.
There was no way to relieve, the pain that’s killing me,
so it looks like a visit to a doctor, to see what it could be.
The doctor took one look at me and nodded his knowing head,
telling me I need to change my lifestyle or I won’t get out of bed.
It’s a bad case of podagra, something I’ve never heard about,
until he spoke my language; it’s a raging case of gout.
So to you fitness fanatics who think that you will be immune,
don’t take your eyes off the ball or you might sing a different tune.
I thought I was invinsible, and could indulge a stomach breakout,
and the last thing that I thought I’d suffer, was a case of gout.
there's a bloke in this cafe wearing a cape
a macabre, satiny number
who does he think he is?
no one brings it up?
this clobber
this kind of attire
who wears 'em?
the neanderthals?
wolverines with thick fur
sewing tools around the campfire
a fifty-thousand year old siberian needle
for hoodies and beanies
the man of steel used to be evil
perhaps like this fella with his cappuccino
i tried power posing
in front of the mirror
i wore superman t-shirts
when sitting my a-levels
i wore a white lab coat
for my biology gcse test
no cigar
I Am A Bloke.
I am a bloke you see
that I happen to be,
from Terra Australis,
and who likes to write about
the many things I’ve found,
that it is of the bush,
the scrub,
and other places be.
however, it is most of all
the animals that interest to me,
who creep and crawl about
inhabiting our land,
and in the course of my days I’ve found;
bush turkeys:
make a bloody mess,
wombats:
are cute, in their burrowing ways,
kangaroos:
like to bound about regardless,
red bellied black:
highly venomous bloke,
echidnas:
are prickly folk at their best,
goannas:
simply like to run up trees,
daddy-long-legs
are really and truly scary hairy beasts,
platypus and platypi
are not really seen by many,
kookaburras:
like to sit on boughs of old gum tree,
cane toads:
squishy, squashy are best left dead under feet,
great white sharks:
need to stay in ponds;
but for me on the other hand,
there are many others I could write about,
who play their part and make
the Australian landscape
as the only one of its kind,
and for this I’m proud to be,
a blokes bloke,
a bush balladeer,
and a poet from the land ‘down under.’