Best Bug Out Poems
Want to talk?
Silence.
Want to play a game?
Head shake.
Want to put a puzzle together?
Silence.
What can I do to help?
Head shake.
Has someone hurt your feelings?
Silence.
Can you tell me how you are feeling?
Head shake.
You are great at not talking.
I see a glimpse of a glimmer of a smile.
Breakthrough.
Thirty minutes after playing
With legos and animals this five-year-old laughs loudly
I had said, “You are the boss.
I am your minion.”
His joyous laughter was unexpected, and loud,
And it seemed to go on forever.
My bestie the nurse asks me later who was laughing so hard in my office.
I tell her and her eyes bug out.
You are kidding! She says.
I smile.
Nona is love with a spoon in her hand,
To stir the pot or smack your hand.
She's free with her hugs, her stories, her food,
But if your bad she comes unglued.
She hustles and bustles all over the place.
She fusses and worries and gets in your face.
If she can't solve your problems with food and a hug,
She'll call in a priest and get down on the rug,
To pray for your soul and your problems she'll share.
With the priest and The Lord she'll lay her heart bare.
If you don't have a boyfriend then she's sealed your fate.
She'll call up her nephew and get you a date.
Never tell her you're hungry 'less you want to be fed.
She'll feed you till your eyes bug out of your head;
And when she feeds you you'd best clean your plate.
If you don't eat it all then her food you must hate.
Then her feelings are hurt and you feel like a cad,
So eat till you're sick so she don't feel bad.
She's the queen of the guilt trips and the queen of hearts,
But she does give new meaning to the phrase,"Ow! that smarts."
Her eyes still twinkle though she's withered and old,
But when God made her, He broke the mold.
They've named a new dish of pasta and noodles
After my wannabe chef, makes dough by the oodles
They call it “la scotta”
To try it ya oughtta
Puts hair on your chest and makes you bug out your pupils!!!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Sixteen, thirty-six, sixty-six, eighty-one
Age has no bearing, gawking's a sport for everyone
When a filly walks by
We bug out our eyes
We have trouble breathing, we come undone
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Can't think of any good reason
Why my happy is off the chart
Could it just be a fluctuation
In my everyday ebb and flow
Or am I about to inherit a fortune
Perhaps fifty million or so
That'd get my heart a-pumping
Have to go lie down I fear
Gotta survive to enjoy my luck
At least for a few more years
Maybe a trip to some exotic place
Where girlies dress in grass skirts
Swing and sway oh what a scene
This stress I must try to avert
Always been a real big sucker
For members of the opposite sex
They drive me wild, my eyes bug out
I stutter and stammer, by heck
How bout that, my fine feathered friends
Survived another bout of girly-itis
One day it's sure gonna get me good
When it renders me totally speechless
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Know why I'm so pooping happy
It's the joy you Soupers impart
© Jack Ellison 2014
I am going to write a funny poem
How is tomorrow?
Does it look like today?
Then I don't want it
Okay not?
Then yeah I want it
Just to make sure you wrap it up okay?
I want it as a present
Sure hope you come
Did I just say that?
Sure hope you not come haha
What do I want to say?
I don't know what I want to say
Just know I want to say it
"Say what?"
Ahhh
Bug me, will ya?
I need to get the bug out of me
Shhhh burning
It will combust
Did you get the kink out yet?
No? Not yet?
Do you know what you are doing?
Lol
Running machine
Who is running?
Surely not moi
What are you talking about?
Did you say you'll succeed?
Wish you luck
'Cause you are going to need a lot of luck
What are the chances?
One in a million?
Around there
No one wins yet
Lol
Who talks about bs?
I do
I will talk about bs
until you are blue in the face
'Cause I know bs when I see one
Take one to know one lol
You can say that haha
Ahhh
What do I do with you?
Can't get away
Can't f away
Can't do away
What? What can I do with you?
I give up
You can coo if you want too
But it's not going to work on me
Cookadoodle doo
Willie Willa
When does the sun rise?
Two doomsday preppers
heard it was the end,
so got out their bug out bags,
guns and ammo,
and their journey began…
While hiking through
the thick Georgia woods,
they mentioned to each other,
to shoot anything that moved…
It was a couple of hours later,
and hearing some gun shots
and feeling dread,
accidentally walked on the set
of the Walking Dead!
I know a lady who is
really and I mean really,
(because she meant 'really')
really (because she said 'really')
"attempting not to give in to hatred"
and so I remind, that the hatred is not
an out-there thing, it isn't rain
or the coming cold, it isn't the
acorn clitter-clatter dropping
out over there on the patio
The hatred, if such a thing there be,
lives in you, unfed and forgot.
And you can't give in to yourself.
Giving in is to another, to something outside.
And so, take heart and be reminded
that the starved self doesn't wield power
over you, it cannot for it is you; a part of you.
She says there were "waves of rage"
roiling through her. But again, if I might
remind. A wave is a quality of other things.
It isn't its own thing, per se. It is a pattern,
a way some many, many other things behave.
And so the wave, too is not in you.
The many, many things are in you; they are you
but the pattern is no more extant than
a song stuck in your head.
She said she's packed a "bug out bag"
and I would like to say here just one more thing
that yes, I agree. Well, sorta yes.
If what you mean is to pack a bag, a picnic,
a pair of birdwatching spectacles, a bottle of
mid-price wine, some fruit, and a sketchpad
and go out, and be with the bugs, be on that patio,
watch those out-there waves.
Bug Out Bag, indeed. :)
Step outside.
the waves
the patio
the acorn
the birds
the wine (I presume)
the air
the waves
come on outside...
it's nice out there
outside yourself
-ShhDragon
(for Julie Williams.)
Have you ever dated an electric eel?
You'll never forget the way it feels,
If you roll with an eel in the sack,
Brace yourself for that electric crack,
A hug will make your eyes bug out,
A kiss will make you twitch and shout,
Visions of eel love will burn in your head,
Check your pulse for you might be dead,
A date with an electric eel can be so exciting,
Like dancing with a bolt of lightning,
Sadly our love would never last,
But I have to say it was quite a blast.
Motto Matters Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha Scragg
09/10/21
What Stout Is About
Me, Finn and McGee
We went to the pub the see
This new fancy Stout
They've been talkin' about
I ordered, and we were served three
Now when I looked down
Me mouth made a frown
For a fly was afloat in me beer
So I tossed the drink out
And I gave out a shout
I'll be wanting a fresh one right here
Finn then looked in
And a fly seemed to swim
In his glass filled with stout so brown
So he pulled the bug out
Then tossed it about
And drank the stout all the way down
Now Wee Luck McGee
looked down just to see
That a fly was floating about
So he grabbed both his wings
And while shaking the thing
Said "Bastard, you best, spit it out"
No Faze
20/08/2018
This is not a passing faze,
Your in my heart,
Your here to stay.
Captured and in raptures,
My swollen heart always stirs.
When your sweet smile comes to mind,
All else becomes a blur.
The sunshine your face exudes,
Make your eyes sparkle like jewels.
That cheeky grin thats mesmerising,
When time arrives for fantasising.
Sweet soft face so tantalising,
I’m in adoration and idolising.
Your perfect chest,
Inside and out.
I must be blessed,
I have no doubt.
You dress to kill, and dance to thrill.
My eyes bug out, our drinks I spill.
Your confidence is sassy,
Each move you make is sexy.
Your the girl of my dreams,
My everything it seems.
I’ll love you in every way
Until my dying day.
I’ve one thing left to say,
I’m never going away.
I watch women leave with assorted bodies, bulky purses, proudly displaying their newly-done up rainbow hair, blue streak hair, purple yarn hair, six braid in a bush hair, beaded, feathered and flowered hair.
Everything goes here, and it makes me comfortable. Then I see a silly looking up-do with straggly ends floating across a face. My four-year-old grandson could have done this one in his sleep. I am incredulous as I watch the recipient leave happy.
A little guy is almost out of his chair, screaming and wailing “Let me out of here! You are hurting me! No! NO! I don’t like this! You are HURTING ME!” His screams are frightening now, I look up, ready to fight somebody. The hairdresser is having a tough time working around a grandma and a mama who are holding him in the chair by pinning arms and legs that are struggling as he screams.
When I got to my chair I noticed my stylist is cute, young, she will probably have some punky ideas. I like that! She washes me up, not finding a tick, which I think is a great start. As we talk she discovers I teach school. Her eyes bug out. “They let you teach with that color hair!” she spits out.
“I would like to see them try and stop me,” I fire back. I look in the mirror at my new Peter Pan haircut. I look like a boy, but at least most of the burgundy is still there. So much for generalizing how punky young can be.
Suddenly there was a cold draft
It was chilly reminiscent of a wintry shower bath
Making the body freeze
With a tundra tease
It came from up there
Screaming icy air
Was it a duct?
Where the warmth got stuck?
Like a refrigerator open door
Luring a bear into making an easy score
Dressed in the appropriate hibernation muffle
Before escaping doing a planned shuffle
Closing the door
Than crossing the frigid floor
The draft did stop
And soon it got very hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Apparently one or two countries had a wrath
Notice came in the mail
Failure to respond meant going to jail
Reporting to camp
With a form signed by a rubber stamp
Boots on the ground
Glory and honor it did sound
As copter blades twirled
And butch haircuts curled
Things went down
Hopefully the bodies would be found
Closing the casket
Family wearing black veils to mask it
The draft did stop
And bonding financial transactions started to get hot
Suddenly there was a cold draft
Foaming an artistic craft
Not a bad deal for a first round that was picked
A social prop soothing the issue that made them ticked
Corona was its name
Perfect for the conversation game
Debating with a laugh
Communicating about the calculating national debt math
Not using any sharp words as spears
Just a nice talk over a few beers
Going down like a saintly breeze
Unlike a French wine next to cheese
Closing the tab
Before calling a cab
The draft did stop
Making the bar flies bug out cheerful not angry and hot
Women must have a special gene
Not like us jocks they wear tight jeans
My eyeballs bug out
At times twist and shout
Might even call it a scream extreme
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Can't think of any good reason
Why my happy is off the chart
Could it just be a fluctuation
In my everyday ebb and flow
Or am I about to inherit a fortune
Perhaps fifty million or so
That'd get my heart a-pumping
Have to go lie down I fear
Gotta survive to really enjoy my luck
At least for a few more years
Maybe a trip to some exotic place
Where the girlies dress in grass skirts
Swing and sway oh what a scene
This stress I must try to avert
Always been a real big sucker
For members of the opposite sex
They drive me wild, my eyes bug out
I stutter and stammer, by heck
How bout that, my fine feathered friends
Survived another bout of girly-itis
One day it's sure gonna get me good
When it renders me totally speechless
The sun is shining brightly
On high and in my heart
Do you know why I'm so pooping happy
Coz of the joy you do impart<>