Best Bone To Pick Poems


That's So Trivial

Someone is consumed with anger and has gone mad
Venting fitful words of ire ...how childish; how sad
Like a flock of loud crows
The noisy blah blah goes
It's so trite and trivial. Give it up. Egad!


Life is filled with locked doors wherever I may roam
But I will not cry 'wee wee wee' all the way  home
I'm not that little pig
And I don't give a fig
So froth doesn't drip from my mouth like rabid foam


If you've a bone to pick with others in the soup
Work it out instead of posting blog poems of poop
This is a poetry site
There's no need to fight
Don't be sneaky like a fox in a chicken coop

Premium Member Noxious Noises

I must say that in my four score years I've done it all and seen it all,
But in the autumn of my life, noxious noises drive me up the wall!
I like the soothing sound of most music and birds trilling in the trees,
But, Lord, spare me the wheezing of those bagpipes, if you please!

I like the sound of thunder and the rain falling softly on my roof,
But I could strangle the neighbor for letting his mutt yap and woof!
I can tolerate classical music until the prima donna Madame Zaria,
Begins to belt out her raucous contralto in an intolerable aria!

A most trying nuisance and I suppose one of my biggest gripes,
Are kids with boom boxes and their jalopies with those roaring pipes!
I don't mind the occasional rumbling of a train or the screaming jets,
But when dining I suffer acid reflux hearing inane cell phone vignettes!

I've got a bone to pick with the inventor of the wailing saxaphone!
That and the squeaking of a clarinet are more than I can condone!
I like western musical harmony sung by "The Sons Of The Pioneers."
But spare me those "She Done Me Wrong Songs" - they aggravate my ears!

Why can't folks keep their cats inside so they aren't yowling on my lawn,
And a hex on the dude revving his Harley Davidson waking me at dawn!
I reckon before I blow a gasket or worse yet lose my poise,
I'd better rush out and buy some ear plugs to stifle that noxious noise!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern:


I have a bone to pick with you
Don’t take this personal 
But its become a personal issue
I feel I can relate 
Because of all the things I’ve been through 

For awhile I’ve been noticing that our young people are straying 
Lost in a world where in schools they can no longer pray in
Where teachers make less 
Than those who are the cause of their addiction
Should we blame it on ourselves 
Or should we blame it on the system
Blame it on the parents 
Or blame the politicians 
While we’re pointing fingers
We’re losing focus and vision 

Society is falling cause no body is willing to stand up
Our young people struggling to see where they’re going
While searching for a reason to hold their heads up

Our elders are quick to judge from the jury’s seat
When guidance is the seed that’s missing from our society 
Sentence them to life
Before they had a chance to live
Take everything from them
Before they had a chance to give

Police can’t find the shooter 
Because people are afraid to be labeled a witness 
The difference is the problem 
And the problem is the difference 

Can’t you see the problems are starting in the schools 
By taking away the Bible 
You’re taking away the rules 
You’re taking away their foundation on which they’re to build a home

We tell them Jesus is the way
Yet we ourselves aren’t following him
We tell them the devil is the enemy 
Yet we’re the ones encouraging him 

Now I’m not criticizing 
And I don’t mean to judge 
But I’m sick of being a bystander 
Enough is enough 

D.Christian


Love, Mum

who decides..
who gets lies..
and who gets the girl..
because my suggestion box is full..
and truthfully speaking..
a two-story house is too close to the sun for my liking..
but i dont mean it the way you think..
i just have a bone to pick..
but my dog is starving..
heads down..
tails up..
its a half confession..
the rest is forth coming attraction..
in traction of seduction skills i've acquired over the years..
whilst dodging humble old man as they are ferried to their graves..
oh God, this story ends..
but i am not in the end..
though i intend to see it till the end..
so i hide my shadows in dark places..
drinking risk-free ice-tea..
as the moon shines over my shoulders..
and for what its worth, i will bring you that star..
I LOVE YOU MUM..

Doberman Pinscher

Hey buddy, this pooch has got a bone to pick with you -
You’re in the doghouse and we need to talk this through.
So prick up your ears and hear me through to the end -
This language barrier needs some serious work, my friend!
You wonder why I sulk and have no time for tricks -
Well would you want to party if you’d had your manhood fixed?!
And then you tug my lead when I’m positioned by a tree-
Say, do I bring a stop watch every time you need a wee?
I bring your paper daily, wag my tail with affection
But do you thank me? No, you just rush to the sports section.
I don’t mean to hound you because I’m your biggest fan
But please don't take for granted your most faithful Doberman x








30/07/18

link 2 : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O83lmO1lNDc

Doberman Pinscher Contest:

Premium Member beach bones

not a bone to pick on beach walks
with my lover just pleasure and leisure
strolls in the sand of time and togetherness
joined at the hips of mind body and soul

sizzling fingertips and footsteps near the edge 
of the water crested in undulation
two people one wavelength 
vital force and universal calling
treading a path of happy destiny

every now and then we find a fossilised form
minute skeleton small reminder
that permanence does not exist
of the past being bygone 
and the future yet to come
as long as life grants us more hours

sometimes there is a bit of amber to be found
majestic tree sap for jewellery and ornaments
treasure gems and relics of measured meter
and the wonderful presence of nature
resonating resin if fortune is kind

occasionally a fish gnawed to the bone
by a seagull like Jonathan Livingston
its meaning as melodious as a Bach symphony
while our strides become a concerto in themselves
the saunter resembles a poem
quietly recited without words
simply flowing to the sound of the waves
of synaesthetic delight with sea stars’ applause
to the magnificent galactic power of 
sun moon and stellar composure

sorrows melt away with each further step
the foreshore fuses between our toes
as the covered bones print a trail
washed away by tidal command

gratitude humility love and compassion
truly not a bone to grind with each other
blessed by a union made in heaven and beyond


Make No Bones About It

Bony bona fide bones bare bones                                                                                 
Skeleton key turning a bone of contention                                                                     
Sticks and stones break bones words do hurt close to the bone                                          
Not so funny hitting funny bone hard words break no bones                                            
Depends who is speaking old school don’t be an idle bonehead                                          
Be like dog with a bone gnawing it till tomorrow                                                                
His word a fire in my bone true to the bone envy is rottenness                                           
To the bone a broken spirit driest the bone don’t be chilled to the bone                         
Pleasant words health to the bone so bones may rejoice                                            
Working fingers to the bone be not wise in thine                                                             
Own sight fear the Lord depart from evil a bone to pick                                                  
Dead man’s chest be not filled with dead men’s bones                                                 
Prophecy to bones dem dem bones come together again                                                  
Look to the cross not to skull and bones crossed bones                                                  
Playing bones Yo ho ho Rome’s smoked filled bottle                                                           
They grind bones to make their bread who Jesus has freed                                             
Don’t point that bonier finger but back in the closet                                                         
Not a bone was broken as he died for our sins                                                                 
Or you may be a bag of bones chilled to the bone                                                        
Being bone dry baring your own sin upon your bones                                                         
He is bone of my bone empty tomb make no bones about it
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

The Hyena

Guess my reputation could be sweeter, but hey-
At least I'm not a skunk!
Backbiting scrounger you say?
I like to call it being environmentally friendly;
No waste when I'm around, I can assure you!
I'm not the coolest looking dude in the bush;
hunchbacked, slitty-eyed and spotty
But those alpha females go crazy for my shaggy back.
And what I lack in charm, I make up for in speed and wit.
You should hear the pack cackle at my jokes!
And my chat-up line works a treat:
'Hey darling, I've got a bone to pick with you!' 
Survival in sub-Saharan Africa is no laughing matter
But we all have to let our hair down sometimes!


15.07.19

Pick A Title, Vol 6 - Personification - Poetry Contest : sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Remove Your Blinders

No heartbeat will pass through these teeth
Nothing's child will digest, rest dead inside me
A plead or two, violent rages ignored
What did her smiling eyes mean to you?
I know you saw her grinning

Let me tell you, child bearing a heavy heart:
Karma is alive and kicking 
Every heartbeat has purpose

Sick to my stomach I discover much truth
Humans ripping flesh from bones-- I have a bone to pick with you
To what extent of this insanity does it prosper our youth?
May I remind you of meals to spare, the freedom to choose?

I wonder everyday, "Were you even hungry?"
Friend, eating is for survival, to thrive, keep these eyes blinking
Not to slit something's throat
Believe me

No longer will I blind myself from sick,real cruelty
Look at his face
Have you seen him cry?
Are your eyes still smiling?
Three days to live and he can not wait to die

Stop this vicious cycle
Let nature shine through
They were here before me and before you
Wouldn't you liked to be saved by grace?
Thankful for words on a believed page?
Rescued from a life threatening disease of ignorance I hate?
One more rescue breath at the scene 
Open your eyes wide 
We are that change

Premium Member Fred Feely Fingers

I have a bone to pick with the Wright Brothers who invented the plane.
Those fellers created many problems for me that have become my bane!
To fly the friendly skies nowadays is a pain in the **** provoking me to curse!
The whole procedure exasperates me enough to hurl rocks at a rolling hearse!

First, I must consult my perplexing computer to make a firm reservation,
Then they route me on a dozen different flights to reach my destination!
I must arrive at the airport three hours in advance of my scheduled flight,
To be probed by Fred Feely Fingers of the TSA adding to my plight!

I must pay an exorbitant amount for each of my bags that once flew free,
And if I want a coke, peanuts, pillow or headphones there is another fee!
The seats are so close I must rest my chin upon my knees or sit by an exit door,
But I'll suffer 'twixt two fat ladies, for to sit by the door would cost me more!

It's usually my bad luck to be strapped in near a kicking, screaming kid,
Or little old ladies regaling me about their operations 'til I want to blow my lid!
Next time I travel I'll hitchhike, hop a freight, or ride a Greyhound bus,
To enable me to travel at my leisure, enjoy the scenery and eliminate all the fuss!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Premium Member A Little Flesh On These Bones

Bone-tired?
Your muscles get tired, actually
Well, perhaps it's the fascia
the connective tissue sheath
mainly collagen
beneath the skin
attaching or separating 
the muscles

Chilled to the bone?
Not likely, fellow
unless you are emaciated
due to illness or famine or such
Otherwise, your bones
are probably still
body temperature, 98.6F

I imagine by now that
you've a bone to pick with me
Go ahead.  I dare you to try that.

Premium Member Autumn 'Leaves' Me Perplexed

I love autumn - 'tis my most favorite of the seasons.
 
The harvest moon and colorful leaves are some of many reasons.

Trees that during summer provided shade and leaves of jade,

Now wear robes of red and gold so brilliantly displayed!

I'm awed as the rising sun casts its beams on neighboring trees,

Further exposing exquisite leaves dancing in the gentle breeze.

But I have a bone to pick with Mother Nature, truth be told.

Though my emerald lawn is now carpeted with pretty leaves of gold,

'Tis not especially to my liking since it is them I must rake.

'Tis neighbor's leaves that litter my lawn - and that's my bellyache!

Hair We Go Again

He woke up in the morn in the dog house
wondering why and what this was all about
his wife said I have a bone to pick with you
I warned you last night not to look at the view,

But he had not listened and the transformation had begun
becoming a very hairy son of a gun
howling and growling at the huge full moon
his wife yelling would you keep it down you crazy loon,

She told him he finally calmed down after she gave him a dog treat
and he became docile while she rubbed his belly and feet
grabbing a bone he ran outside on all fours to the dog house
where he preferred to sleep instead of on the couch,

She said to him you know this crazy thing happens during a full moon
but even so I still love you a bunch when you act like a crazy loon
so they made it work out for the both of them
each putting up with their monthly mood swings.

10-31-17

Premium Member A Note From An Octopus

Dear humans,

I am an octopus and I’m unhappy with how you humans think you’re so great.
You might say I have a bone to pick with you…
which would be true if I weren’t an invertebrate.

I want you to know I am more than just a cephalopod
with 8 tentacles who spits out a little ink
for I too have a brain, in fact with nine of them…
and I am much smarter than you think

I have learned to use different tools and I solve problems too
and what if all those times you think you’re watching me…
I’ve been watching you.

You humans think with your one heart you’re as loving as can be…
Well think again mere humans…for every octopus has three.

So the next time you’re feeling superior…
the next time you think that you’re so great
remember…most animals in the world live in the ocean…
and most, like me, are invertebrates.

Please do not lament these facts…
do not become a sourpuss…
I’m sure you have some good qualities too…

Sincerely,

The Octopus

P. S. I know you’re proud of your ability to write…
and to be fair I think that’s great
but in the time it takes you to write one letter…
I’ve already written eight!
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Funny Bone

God ribbing Adam
 Eve with Lilith’s bone to pick~
        dare to take a bite



***

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