Best Buffoons Poems
I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because,
failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause.
I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all,
so I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak,
just because I wasn’t mild and meek.
Challenging every obstacle placed in my way,
and all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told,
I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold.
Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes,
I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed.
To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail.
With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day,
success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
06-07-2014
Contest: I Did It My Way
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placement: 1st
Categories:
buffoons, courage, dedication, devotion, education,
Form:
Rhyme
Ride of the Scarecrow Clan
(To: Mittens)
She was born in the corn on a cold misty morn,
the most beautiful cat on the farm.
(I must keep her from coming to harm!)
The most beautiful kitty inspired this ditty
with whiskers that whisper her charm,
wild white whiskers that whisper her charm.
But the angels grew jealous, much too overzealous,
they schemed up a dastardly plan,
that they stole from a bad bogeyman.
They would use and abuse all their magic, so tragic,
and conjure the Scarecrow Clan,
for their devilish dastardly plan.
The Clan owed them a favor for past misbehavior,
behavior so foul and so cruel,
they would ride when moon became full!
When the moon elevated they rose animated
to drown Mitten’s in the cesspool.
As they hunted they started to drool.
Hunting high, hunting low, riding ‘round to and fro,
the Clan frantically searched helter-skelter,
for young Mittens who found a safe shelter.
As they howled and they growled all the air became fouled,
but they couldn’t find Mittens’ safe shelter.
“When we find her, in acid we’ll melt her!”
Could these four scarecrows stoop to even new lows
as they hunt by light of the moon?
(Better hurry the dawn will come soon!)
Long they hunted and haunted but she was undaunted,
she laughed at the bumbling buffoons,
while she purred out some kitty cat tunes.
Curled with grace in a space near the warm fireplace,
for the Scarecrow Clan fears the fire.
(Just the thought of it makes them perspire.)
So they searched and they lurched in the fields near the church,
growing desperate, dejected, and dire,
for the sunlight will make them expire.
Without warning came morning, but there was no mourning,
the angels’ black magic was shattered,
and the Scarecrow Clan riders battered.
Under natural law the Clan turned back to straw,
and their straw o’er the cornfield was scattered.
She'll be safe now and that’s all that mattered.
13-March-2020 (Friday the 13th). First Place in "A Rattling Rhyme" poetry contest sponsored by Nina Parmenter
Categories:
buffoons, beautiful, cat, jealousy, magic,
Form:
Rhyme
Well, I see that Congress is proposin' another trillion dollar spree!
Those inept buffoons must think money grows upon a tree!
The treasury is crankin' out bales of twenty-dollar bills,
Doin' their part to cure (and inflate) the nation's many ills!
Funds were 'loaned' to help carmakers, now they're hollerin' fer more!
A ton of dough was 'loaned' to banks, but ain't nobody keepin' score!
Millions was designated to help home foreclosures to abate.
Where has my money gone? I've seen minimal results to date!
Funds are proposed fer more sand fer the beaches of New Joisey,
And city officials want a water park out west in frigid Boise!
Frenzied lobbyists are scurryin' about fer a portion of the pork,
To build an emergency landin' strip on the Hudson in New York!
Money is probably well-spent fer roads, bridges and agin' sewers,
But spare me the cost of subsidizin' sports arenas and sozzled brewers.
Lack of foresight by the banks and politicians got us in this mess,
Now they cover their boondoggles with my money, nonetheless!
Hordes of politicians gleefully gather at the bottomless trough,
Elbowin' others fer largesse they claim will make us better off.
Is there no end to compensatory spendin' and open-ended lendin'?
Hey! That's my money you fellers are so very inept at spendin'!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
buffoons, funny, political, money,
Form:
Rhyme
Here we are in 1650, which is ten minutes to five
swing the wheel to the West, which is left,
put your sun cream away, man the mizzen and the stays
as we set off for some murder and some theft.
You'll find us as your hosts on the sunny Barbary Coast
and from there we venture forth to ply our trade
we've been out leaving them for dead from the Atlantic to the Med
before we skittle off back home our fortunes made
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
As I previously stated we all get inebriated
from our copious imbibing of the grog
our excuse is there's no Cola in the bars of Hispaniola
which is why we need the hair of the dog
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Got a woman in Bermuda and another in Tortuga
and they give me lots of lovin' for some coins
and although they're very foxy they're just both a pair of doxies
which I'm sure explains the rash around me groin
With a yo-ho-ho and a barrel of grog
and an arrr and some other cliches
table leg for a thigh and a patch on me eye
as a Pirate I will end my days
Now we're really no buffoons when it comes down to doubloons
and our treasure chests are burstin' at the seams
then old Blackbeard started spouting about doing our accounting
so I said (before I shot him) 'in your dreams'
(ye chorus)
As we skirmish the Atlantic I was starting to get frantic
since the one thing on my voyage I've always feared
is the men who've not been coming for a while across some women
have all started wearing lipstick, which is weird
(arr, the chorus again)
Well it's reached that point me hearties where we anchor down and party
so me shipmates here on board I'd like to thank
though the mix of food and beer has now given me diarrhea
which is why I've made our cook just walk the plank
(for thee last time, chorus, arrrr)
September 17th 2015, 'A pirate's life for me' contest, sponsor Kelly Deschler
(Author's note- there are several spellings of diarrhea, but it doesn't matter, they all have 'arr' in 'em, me hearties)
Categories:
buffoons, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
I'm looking for some inspiration
Can you direct me to the Inspiration Store?
Heard they've got some real good bargains
Great ideas never used before!
I don't often need to avail myself
Of this vital and humanitarian service
Been quite prolific in the last few years
But now I'm feeling a wee bit nervous!
It's five minutes before the midnight bell
I've come up dry all the day long
Utter panic has grabbed hold of my brain
Thinking suicide would be wrong!
There's other things besides poetry I'm told
On this great big happy balloon
But none so addictive as rhyming and rhythm
It turns people into silly buffoons!
The Inspiration Store has saved many people
From utter and overwhelming despair
So I guess I'll do a search on Google Maps
Before I totally lose all my hair!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Categories:
buffoons, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Carrots for breakfast, carrots for lunch, Carrots for dinner, crunch, baby, crunch.
What are your immediate feelings about soup on a plate?
Vegetable and broccoli potato are both well worth a wait.
Don’t gag on the mushrooms,
You big ugly buffoons.
Crunch them up meticulously slowly, and good luck,
Don’t be afraid of disease, though they’re grown in the muck.
Pudding for dessert,
Who would, you blurt.
Oh, sorry, I mean, what’s that you say?
You could eat pudding any ole’ day?
Enjoy your leisurely dine,
And eat your pudding refined.
Chocolate, caramel and pistachio.
They are all stirred up warmly nice and slow.
Delicious delicacies on paper is a poet’s go-to write,
Everyone loves to think about taking an enormously tasty bite.
Spaghetti, pizza, meat loaf too.
All main dishes for me and you.
Hamburger, egg salad, smeary and good.
I’d eat it all up and be completely satisfied if I could.
Categories:
buffoons, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Couplet
the heart is always right
unless this time it’s wrong
and this time is not like all the others
this game he must not lose
too much at risk
no room for error
is it worth the risk
has he hit the point of no return
is it really worth the venture
if it’s a go
execution must be meticulous
indeed the stakes are high
this gamble must be calculated
pros and cons be tallied
well thought through in every detail
arsenal of charm and tactics
gone out on a limb
a joyride down a slippery slope
jeopardizing the crown
winner take all
in pursuit of the gauntlet
ripple effect of a backlash
a chain reaction
hanging in the balance
this sort of entanglement
not for the foolhardy
it’s no sitcom for buffoons
at the slightest hiccup
fallout could be disastrous
will he roll the dice
at what point does
temptation become obsession
and seriously cloud all judgment
precarious and unpredictable
impetuous and highly flammable
the repercussions for frivolity
the high cost of capricious reverie
its longterm aftermath
risky business
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~CITYLIGHTS~ 2021
Read on air by invitation ~ August 13, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on August 2, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND YOUR CHOICE POETRY contest sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Categories:
buffoons, future, introspection, life, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
A braver man than I once said,
He feared for my eternal soul!
Courage from my heart has fled,
As I see I'm growing old!
A wiser man might speculate,
That the aged are buffoons!
But stupid here might contemplate,
That the end is coming soon!
Eternal flames that lick my flesh,
Is the fairest price to pay?
Of course, redemption, could be on the cards,
If I pray and pray all day!
Stand up the man whose innocent,
And cast the first hard stone.
My god who is omnipotent,
Will strike him down at home!
An aging man is better off,
To plead insanity.
You never gave me any proof,
So I’ll get away Scot free!
Categories:
buffoons, satire
Form:
I'm looking for some inspiration
Can you direct me to the Inspiration Store?
Heard they've got some real good bargains
Great ideas never used before!
I don't often need to avail myself
Of this vital and humanitarian service
Been quite prolific in the last few years
But now I'm feeling a wee bit nervous!
It's five minutes before the midnight bell
I've come up dry all the day long
Utter panic has grabbed hold of my brain
Thinking suicide would be wrong!
There's other things besides poetry I'm told
On this great big happy balloon
But none so addictive as making words rhyme
It turns people into silly buffoons!
The Inspiration Store has saved many people
From utter and overwhelming despair
So I guess I'll search Google for all the bargains
Before I totally lose all my hair!
Categories:
buffoons, inspiration,
Form:
Verse
The nit-wit and the nincompoop
cordially bowed on the concert hall stoop.
Greeting the doorman, quite gaily
who nodded back, though more grayly.
And nobody dared to complain or bemoan
that fools were ruling the cobblestone
streets, where urchins peddled faux-wares
beneath the stoop, out in the square.
And the nit-wit offered a hearty wave,
but clearly knew not how to behave
While the nincompoop seemed a tad more at ease,
his pants were quite low and his crack in the breeze.
And nobody wanted to ask or inquire
whether they should pooh-pooh or if they should admire
buffoons, so clueless, off-putting and addled
for climbing the stairs in their outfits all raddled.
Yet, there they stood with their tickets in hand
eager to root for the symphonic band
as though it were some highfalutin sport
of which they knew nothing, but they would not abort
the notion that they have a place 'bove the masses
or anywhere other than out on their...well, you know.
10/27/16
Categories:
buffoons, celebrity, character, class, clothes,
Form:
Rhyme
A shiny pebble laying,
two buffoons nearby;
...a mild concussion.
Categories:
buffoons, funny
Form:
Haiku
I first lived in Brooklyn
I later moved to queens
It was a struggle all we had to
eat was white rice and beans .
My whole life I watched people
slit throats to chase their dreams.
Gun shots was my alarm clock,
and the constant sound of ambulance
reminded me to cherish life To cherish
a breath that many may never again
Mama always said don't keep friends to close, men will deceive you,
I said yea right mama I don't believe you, until my friends turned in to snakes and snakes turned to lions and lions turned in to poison apples and then turned in to snakes again, moving in tall grass and took a big chunk out my ass and left a scar that will last,
that's when I learned how to heal my own wounds and take out my own trash
I grew up to soon
I had to be a solider
I had to be a goon
to deal with these buffoons
late nights, coming home drug addicts
would be stretched out on the steps ,
with a needle in his arm it wasn't anything
new I continued to walk ,crossing over his
body shaking my head
I knew he wasn't dead, it was just all the
drugs that messed up his head,
the hall way walls had dried
blood stains and dried gum.
The floors had empty cups,
smoked cigarettes,empty
weed bags and condoms.
A little kid walks by and asks what's that?
Her mom says its a balloon.
Knowing that shes growing up
and she will know far to soon
The elavators has graffiti with
small drying puddles of urine
but I became immune to it
I stood at the corner
I slept on the floor with out a pillow for my head
I said it was better off being dead at least in the
coffin they give you cushion for your head...
To be continued My pen is to DRunk.....
Categories:
buffoons, childhood, life, sad, life,
Form:
Free verse
Shall I relay a sidesplitting hoot from my “care-free” on campus fun phase?
It entails a laboratory session involving three mystic world colossal oafs.
One had an unerring penchant for Laurel and Hardy mishaps, the other this beautiful dreamer whose attention span rambled for miles.
a meandering focal point tourist with no yen for one spot or one task.
As for me the fault-prone narrator I had comic book deficits too.
Pulitzer Prize petty fog pinpoint, fastidious fat head by gum!
At the hearth of this tale is a chemistry prep that was doomed from an innocent outset.
It was aptly enough “Anodyne,” this soon to be splitting head bushfire.
From uproarious weighing scale howlers, to starter material gaffes, to say nothing of sequential missteps, Mount Everest blunders galore.
Our ill-fitting glassware threw tantrums, miscellaneous beaker’s burst dams, reactants rose up, a calamitous farce, they shed buckets of organic stuff down the sink.
For all my precision I seemed a right goof with this risible maximum brownie point fetish.
My beautiful dreamer close comrade who by turns Walter Mitty pale stand-in now immune to chaotic abandon at large.
That accident-prone other pal
would be every insurer’s worst nightmare.
Nearby class mates could barely restrain widespread glee at us laughing stock hapless quaint bunch.
The poor teacher in charge had a seizure, quite gormless, green faced and gobsmacked.
“I wonder what next can go wrong.”
“Quite frankly I shudder to think as you merry buffoons soldier on.”
This thunderstruck teacher was known as the “doyen of do it right down to the dottiest detail.”
After a humorous pause his eyeballs rotate in jocular mode then made a ginormous grand gesture.
“Put this jinx ridden self-destruct day in some tuck away memory file.”
“Write a one page report, say the gremlins prevailed and I’ll give you an average mark.”
“For goodness sakes don’t blow this offer like you’ve nearly blown
up my whole group.”
On an ironic note “doyen do it right” gave a brief safety course start of term.
It seemingly fell on deaf ears.
I’ll be blowed as my parents once said when life took a damned awful turn.
We three “Einsteins” in technical garb almost were, blowed that is!
Posted ; 11th January 2022
Categories:
buffoons, art, character, color, confusion,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Did oz turn its posterior, when Dorothy stole those ruby shoes?
Something over the rainbow’s smelling pretty ominous.
Opposites attract, like evil and good. a conflict’s brewing -
The west’s witch is rolling out her plans over a drag’n coffee.
The Rainbow Sun, reports a stirring, of the proverbial pot.
Manicure parlors and parades, shut down in Emerald City.
The horse of many colors has been dyed brown - his cover.
Wizard is wise, to the thievery ways of the “Jayhawker”.*
Glynda, “the goody goody”, sells lies like lemon drops,
And rainbow spectrum opposite, is “crazy” for green.
Dorothy, now “Dot”, begins a band called the “Polkadots”,
Promotion of forward movement, to take over Oz’s perimeter.
The “Ruby Shoe Movement”, an agenda to eradicate “good and evil”
Uses cursory verbiage, to rid the land of a “horde of witches” (two)
Flight line lights up, with soldier monkeys ready to attack.
Those who join the Kansan side, the Polkadots croon, while
“Rubyites” applaud, break out in rainbow song - waving banners.
The horse shakes his mane in dismay, a spy for the arcadians.
Amidst the Rubyites - a cowering lion, a heartless can of tin,
a befuddled scarecrow, and a toy dog. Excepting the dog,
All were acquired on the jaundiced road. It stretches between
The Emerald palace and the village of fisher price people.
Dot grew courageous, when she took a lucky shot;
She steered her cyclonic house, killing the witch of the east.
She swept the streets, greedily shaking hands with
Cheery munchkins. Pulled off the shoe heist like a pro.
Not a witch, she claims, but clicking the butane of her heels,
Catches oz by surprise, chaos ensues. “Get the balloon”,
The wizard blasts, “I will distract her and her Rubyite buffoons”
He sends them chasing after brooms in the gloom of night.
Fortune returns, delights in her prize – a melted wicked witch, and broom.
Henchmen throw weighted bags over Dot’s crew, retreating them back to Kansas
Categories:
buffoons, humorous, imagination,
Form:
Couplet
Farcical characters of ill gestures,
they be no friends of mime
Mute clown suits
wearing viol marionette smiles
all of the puppet string time
I tell you, of a silent truth,
those pretzel-tongue jester troupes
are theatrical buffoons
spoofing on a global would trivial comedy stage
These ol' pantomime hucksters,
dipstick lip syncing on babble timer delay rage —
Crying out loud,
them cold quip cheeky blusters
never were any spoken for friends of mine
Just some dumb glow, dim enemies ...
who always pearly grinned a dumber shine
Categories:
buffoons, allusion, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse