Best Boatload Poems
Hi, how are you doing? Are you still living in the past?
Don't you know life’s hourglass is running out really fast?
I know you were dealt a boatload of lemons and no
lemonade.
And many nights, you had nightmares and were scared
and afraid.
Sometimes you are still haunted by ghosts of yesterday.
Do you still want to crawl into a hole every other day?
Remember you may have gotten knocked down but not
knocked out,
So get up; be proud; you have nothing to be sad so
about.
Please remember what you overcame; your scars don't
define you.
Don't you know you're a victorious warrior tried and true?
Don't forget I love you for the woman you are today and
aspire to be,
I'm forever in your corner; hold your high and walk-in
victory.
Categories:
boatload, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Save Your Lousy Self
Save your pity for a fool that is not witty
save your sorrow for a jerk with no tomorrow
Save your scorn for your future unborn
save your smartass for another dumbass
Save your lies for your coming black eyes
save your taste for your own stupid waste
Save your frown for another silly clown
save your next scam for your next big ham
Save your mistakes for your jump in the lake
save your life for terrible and massive strife!
Save your love for next disease you can't get rid of
save your mess for your next boatload of stress
Save your speech for your next loud screech
save your help for your next born welp
Save your cries for your next false guise
save your stand for your next super lousy band
Save your gasps for your next futile grasps
save your retreat for your next huge defeat
Save your fall for your next crash into the wall
save your pain for your next car wreck in the rain!
An exercise in "saving" for frugal people that are lousy scoundrels!!
I wrote this with a fool I know from my wild young days in mind...
A little slam for fun.....
Categories:
boatload, rude, slam,
Form:
Rhyme
HOG KILLING TIME
There's a chill in the air
And holidays are near,
Thanksgiving's just 'round the bend;
There's a feeling amongst country folks
That's absolute prime,
Everyone senses it's hog killing time.
Oh what a spectacle!
Oh what a show!
You'll find nothing like it,
If you look high and low.
From sunup to sundown,
It lasts the whole day;
And once it gets started,
Horses couldn't pull you away.
Everyone has his own part to do,
With all the commotion,
It feels like a zoo.
The poor victim for this occasion
Has long been picked out,
And soon will become food,
From his tail to his snout.
There's a shot and a squeal
And he's out for the count;
A cut of the throat,
And blood spews like a fount.
In a barrel of hot water,
He's cleaned and de-haired;
Amongst all the men,
This giant task is shared.
A skillful knife separates all parts of meat,
Including pig ears, pig tail, land pig feet.
The women's task is always chittlin's to make.
There's a boatload of goo and muck
They must rake.
When night time falls,
All surround the black pot;
Where the oil is bubbling,
And boy is it hot!
Pieces of skin are stirred with a surge,
And after some time,
Crisp cracklings emerge.
Sweet potatoes are roasted,
Right in the fire;
And of these simple treats,
No one ever does tire.
When it's all finally over ,
And the day is all done;
The grown-ups are weary,
But the kids just had fun.
Copyright 2008 Patricia Neely-Dorsey
from Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia
#southern #southernlife #southernfood #southernculture #southernfoodpoems #countrylife
Categories:
boatload, culture, food, poems,
Form:
Rhyme
This is my poem No. Seventeen Hundred
Gadzooks, that's a boatload of poems
Think my brain would have turned to mush
Or perhaps I'd wind up in a home
Nope, it appears I'm as prolific as ever
Have delayed my downhill slide
Inevitable as it is, I'm fighting it off still
With the help of my blushing bride
Still call her honey after all these years
I refuse to let time win the battle
No matter the years or how grey I get
This dude refuses to get rattled
It doesn't hurt that I come from good stock
Seven siblings lived to seventy or more
I tend to overeat, I break all the rules
But I'm still winning the damn war
So getting back to my poems, let me know
If you notice I'm on a downhill slide
Sure wouldn't want to embarrass myself
After all, I've still got my pride
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
boatload, anniversary, celebration,
Form:
Narrative
A boatload of lims I scribbled last night
They came flying at me in a blinding light
Overtaking my soul
Had no control
Eliminated the ones that weren't too polite
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
boatload, fun,
Form:
Limerick
Have you ever needed to go so bad
That your eyeballs start to cross
Your back teeth began to float around
You're memory's a total loss
It happens to us chappies quite a lot
It's the way we usually react
When downing six or so cold ones
Too blitzed for making tracks
We put it off till we almost burst
Afraid to make sudden moves
But finally we chance it and off we go
We're sure glad to get to the loo
Then back we go to drink some more
Eyes are no longer aligned
We end up at somebody else's table
With a different bunch of asinines
We keep on drinking a few more hours
Till we've all had a boatload too much
They kick us out about three A.M.
Babbling in what could have been Dutch!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Categories:
boatload, funny,
Form:
Quatrain
His hair is blondish red; his eyes are blue.
He’s slim and trim, a quite athletic guy!
Cocksure is he and a boy through and through,
who simply thinking happy thoughts, can fly!
He’s full of fun and does things on a whim,
this fellow known through all of Never Land.
A boatload of adventure follows him.
Now don’t you think his life is rather grand?
He has a friend who goes by “Tinkerbell,”
a fairy that can fit upon his hand,
so loyal to him, he thinks that she is swell,
and also he’s the leader of a band. . . .
A band of boys, that is! This motley crew
he hangs out with until they grow too old!
There’s not too much their leader cannot do,
and far and wide his exploits have been told.
If I could be a boy, I’d take the name
of Peter Pan, a boy both free and bold,
enjoying adventure, fun, and fame,
and best of all, I never would grow old!
Written by Andrea Dietrich
For the "Disney" contest by
Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
Categories:
boatload, fantasy, boy,
Form:
Quatrain
How quickly
vanity will undo a man
sitting in an outpatient ward,
his, no minor ills
yet feeling worse
for the treatment
than its need.
Aware the ticking of the clock,
exchange of amiable words -
they never wear solid colors
in oncology,
always gaier prints
and smiles set
against hopeful eyes.
Apprehensions and myths
must be unravelled,
even thoughts deciphered,
delusions dislodged;
so many stories of survivors,
and remembrances of those gone.
The butterfly
has no consciousness of fear,
and sparrows dart without tear.
To man alone,
God's ultimate created,
is the grimness of the grave known.
Yet, there remains on my lips
a boatload of gold,
while I am found, too,
in the shadow of my tears.
Categories:
boatload, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Against all odds, we humans have survived
All the wars, natural disasters, and incredibly ourselves
We are such a combative lot
It's a wonder that we are able to co-exist at all
Everybody wants to be King of the Mountain
But what's the purpose
Really, no one gets out of this life alive
So stop and think about that for a moment...
NO ONE gets out of this life alive!
Shouldn't that be a sign, a reason
To make the most of our lives while we're here
Rather than running amok killing our fellow humans
Destroying our manmade structures
I've lived a lot of years
Observed a boatload of childish behaviour
Exhibited by a bunch so called intelligent people
The world is just one big playground
Can't we all just play nice
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
boatload, peace, war,
Form:
Narrative
Keep the money,
if you keep your mouth shut
Feel free to speak openly on all things,
as long as the sealed information stays put
Let your bank account numbers go up,
as certain liberty restrictions get placed on lockdown
You willingly signed on the dotted line,
when the adversarial lawyer said it was settlement time
NDA in effect, baby ...
Non-disclosure agreement
Whatever the defendant did to you,
you can’t talk about it no more
Whatever axe you gotta grind still —
just best bury it,
and start honoring the deal
NDA starts today, baby ...
Non-disclosure agreement
Whatever the media asks,
you no longer can say
Legal language got you in a moral bind:
you sold your personal grievance
for a boatload of shiny dimes
Best-seller book expose
and silver screen movie
ain’t happening
But no longer do you have to be cross-examined,
getting grilled
This unanchored you
from having to pay a lot of legal bills
NDA is pure secrecy, baby ...
Non-disclosure agreement
Make the predator serve the prey
It’s the legal way
for perps not to have to pay
for their crime
At least ... not by ... receiving any jail time
They would gladly pay money
to make those sordid details all go away
Now that you’ve signed on the dotted line,
you’re free to talk about this to yourself
Just remember: don’t disclose this to anybody else
Categories:
boatload, judgement, money, society, truth,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Trust is such a deliciously sweet thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Make the yellow-bellied canary sing
Confidence lost in an abandoned mind
Smoky sulfur
and silica methane ...
uptake of noxious fumes to the brain
Pinning blame on the innocent
is such a wickedly gossip thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Make the paid parrots walk the plank
Over the edge,
submersive feeling of a shark bite
Band of brotherly fear: pie-hole footsteps Caine a-coming,
like the razor slice of a sharp knife
A taste for deceit is an acquired appetite;
such a distended, gluttonous thing
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Loyalty fled, as the cannons started firing
Resentment turned inward,
be a busted gut full of bellyaching —
Sunken boatload of wretched, scurvy self-loathing
Someone coveted the strawberries ...
perhaps it was a fickle foe pretend friend
Check the fingers for the evidence
that is scarlet proof crimson staining
Drink an ask flagon of cherry whine
Who
stole
the
strawberries?
Will be mutineer revealed in due time
Categories:
boatload, imagery, mystery, symbolism, trust,
Form:
Free verse
Ain’t nobody here,
but us plucky chickens
Ghetto goose-stepping,
every fare-thee-well welfare day!
Ain’t nobody here,
but us unlucky chickens
Urban legend has it,
that we been KFC set free
Now ain’t we pretty henpeck clucky ...
USA Grade A DOA
prison farm free-range lucky
Ain’t nobody here,
but us Popeye chickens
Been eating that vote spinach,
is why we so weak
Ain’t nobody here,
but us suck-uppity chickens chirping plucky
Urban legend has it,
that we be prosperously sleepy pillow tucky
Now what did we do to be so henpeck lucky
Got more than a few of our freedom feathers skin plucky ...
have a lot of idle yard time so penitentiary stucky
Ain’t nobody here,
but us Church’s chickens chirping lottery unlucky
Bobble prayer head wobble up and down,
looking fo’ mo’ chicken scratch feed green bucky
Ain’t nobody here
but us boatload of liberty cockle-doodle doo plucky chickens
Been eating that stale vote spinach,
is why we still so weak
Ain’t nobody can hear,
us cracked omelette heads getting cut off cooked in kitchens
Guess we fussy chickens clucky
should be golden egg grateful dead unlucky glad
That the good ‘ol foxes
guarding our ghetto henhouses,
let the night howl thief mouses
eat the last peck of pride we sad plucky chickens had
Categories:
boatload, discrimination, satire, truth, word
Form:
Burlesque
Have you ever needed to go so bad
That your eyeballs start to cross
Your back teeth began to float around
You're memory's a total loss
It happens to us chappies quite a lot
It's the way we usually react
When downing a dozen cold ones
Too blitzed for making tracks
We put it off till we almost burst
Afraid to make sudden moves
But finally, we chance it and off we go
We're sure glad to get to the loo
Then back we go to drink some more
Eyes are no longer aligned
We end up at somebody else's table
With a different bunch of asinines
We keep on drinking a few more hours
Till we've all had a boatload too much
They kick us out about three A.M.
Babbling in what could have been Dutch!
Categories:
boatload, crazy,
Form:
Rhyme
6/1/22
Been in a chokehold
This world can be so cold
Lucky if you can grow old
Often things shook up like a snow globe
Do you know what it's like to have no home?
On the population a government spies, they do or don't probe
Experienced firsthand, unable to document on a GoPro
What's up with the dodos
And all these bozos
For the protection of me and Toto
I'm packing a fo-fo
Always keeping an eye out for po-po
They put out another bolo
I often ride around solo
And pop a rolo
Since it's yolo
I can't settle for so-so
I need it all by the boatload
It's all not a joke yo
The last thing I need to do is drink and smoke mo
It's a no go
Cut the crap and quit it with the low blows
Unless you want me to slit your throat slow
Since I'm dangerous like Oso
I've got no fomo
it if any folks know
I'm falling for no hoe
For the longest time, it was just me and Jojo
From here to Kyoto
The proof is there not just in the form of photo
Did a wheelie
Always ed up for really
Sometimes off a pilly
Yo what's the dilly
Why've you been acting silly
Misunderstood they'll never feel me
Can't stop myself from overdoing it with what can kill me
I've got a f***ed up feeling, I'm the goat like Billy
But I've been in a ghillie
Hiding among the lilies
No matter if it's scorching or chilly
From here to way beyond Philly
It's way bigger than a Milli
People remain locked up or they're still free
In the end you won't or you will see
Limiting themselves from full potential they are guilty
In a world that continues to be beautiful yet filthy
It's difficult to maintain tranquility
Not always smooth and silky
In a galaxy they deemed as 'Milky'
For there to be success it had to be done skillfully
With brilliancy and agility
Categories:
boatload, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
The told us to hate all people
who were born with real pale skin,
as if lacking pigmentation
was like an original sin.
Though these people had done nothing,
they cried out,”Look to the past!
These people killed and they had slaves,
So we must hate them all, and fast!”
But folks are individuals,
free to choose what’s right and wrong,
so how can they be hated for
actions done by people long gone?
Would you throw a man in prison
for something his grandfather did?
When did guilt become genetic,
to be saddled upon the kids?
And what color of human kind
didn't own slaves at one time?
Wouldn’t we have to hate them all
if we’re to think upon these lines?
And the worlds greatest murderers
were Ghengis Khan and Mao Ze-dong,
does that mean I should hate Asians,
and place the blame on every one?
Yet they all still keep saying it,
and to me it makes no sense,
not to mention it would cost me
a boatload of my best friends.
I won’t hold folks responsible
for what was done at a past date,
by people who are now long dead,
I will not be told who to hate.
Then they told us we should hate
all human beings who are male,
proclaimed that we all were toxic,
and everything we do would fail.
Somehow half of the human race
now was not supposed to exist,
unless we would neuter ourselves,
then they’d ‘allow’ us to persist.
But masculine and feminine
are older than humanity,
and to ignore evolution
is just blind stupidity…
I mean look at the great buildings built,
it was done mostly by men,
and soldiers who protect us all,
overwhelmingly male again.
If they’re a toxic threat to us,
then someone please answer why
those hated males will risk it all
and for their families will die?
Why, if they are horrible,
do some women try to transform
their bodies to male facsimiles,
if men are all to be scorned?
The same people who despise us
think that we all should jump for joy
when some mentally ill woman
tries to declares themself a boy.
I don’t think I will demonize
half of the bloody human race,
the masculine is quite sublime,
I will not be told who to hate....
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Categories:
boatload, hate, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme