Best Butterball Poems
SO or Silent One who is known to all
Our British connection, a mysterious butterball
Calls me Benny Hill
A connection if you will
Along with Python, made us giggle and guffaw
Overheard at the annual convocation of a Butterball turkey flock:
"'Tis Thanksgiving again and as usual our necks are on the choppin' block!
Them pious Pilgrims began the tradition of dinin' on our hapless relations,
And ravenous *****sapiens have continued to do so fer many generations.
We're tired of 'em feastin' on our cousins, uncles, sisters and dads,
When there's tender chicken nuggets to be had by the scads and scads!
Now hear this dear brothers and sisters - this here's the bottom line:
We're gonna advertise that chicken is the better flesh upon which to dine!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
This is the story of the first Thanksgiving
The way things really took place
You remember, there were a bunch of turkeys
And Pilgrims from the human race
Now the story you've heard all your life
Is not exactly how things went down
See, the turkeys were on the Mayflower
And they wanted this land they found
Now the Indians and Pilgrims owned this land
And they put up a terrible fight
They fought with all that was in them
And it was such a horrible sight
Now the Indian chief wanted to powwow
But the turkey chief said no
Cause the Indians had "ruffled his feathers"
That's just a figure of speech, you know
Anyway, see, the Pilgrims and Indians
Had put together a mighty force
They would invite those turkeys to dinner
You guessed it, they'd be the main course
Well, the turkeys accepted their invitation
And the peace was finally progressing
Until they got closer to the camp site
And started smelling the dressing
Now, the turkeys were mighty suspicious
Of this truce that they had struck
See, for the Pilgrims had told them
That the main course was duck
Now, the Indians started feeling guilty
About the way they did those birds
So they killed off all the Pilgrims
And gave them half of their buffalo herds
The Indians and turkeys were friends at last
And they decided to share the terrain
Til, out of nowhere, came a man named Butterball
Who owned a supermarket chain
My dog is not a manly dog,
she’s my dog just the same
A manly dog rides in a truck
and retrieves the hunted game
My dog, she is a lady dog…
when we got her she was small
A little puff of fluffy fur…
all wrapped up in a ball!
They told us she would stay that way,
but her waistline it went south!
Everything that hits the floor
just ends up in her mouth!
A cookie here and a cracker there
now she’s a butterball.
And when she steps up on the scale,
the Vet’s face says it all!
I love the Pit Bulls’ bully grin
I love the Labrador
I love the Husky’s arrogance
And Sheep Dogs even more
But none of them would last a day
In my Dutch wife’s clean abode
But Mollie she has passed the test
and has never hit the road
I sure don’t feel real manly
when I take her for a walk
The neighbors they just kind of grin
But deep inside they mock
“That big ol’ guy; that little dog”…
I feel like such a sap!
Mollie really does belong
asleep on Grandma’s lap!
Now she’s getting on in years
her jump is not so high
She really hates to get her bath
when soap gets in her eye
The day will come when Mollie dies
and yes I’ll get choked up
Remembering my little puff
who once was just a pup!
David Kettler
March 23rd 2011
People yelled to Humpty Dumpty, “DON'T FALL!”
But Humpty never listens, he's a stubborn butterball
Came tumbling down
His undies turned brown
“Not The Brightest Egg” someone did call
© Jack Ellison 2015
Butterball Turkey
not just a Thanksgiving thing
its good all year long
I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm
There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm
If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years
But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here
I was born to be a Butter Ball
Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
To be a tender turkey is my call
And all you want to do is eat me
Yes, you wanna eat me
They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again
Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim
Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block
As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought
I was born to be a Butter Ball
So delicious they're coming back for more
Tenderized to the very core
All they want to do is eat me
I was born to be a Butter Ball
A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
To be a tinder turkey is my call
Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams
Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends
So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned
I was born to be a Butter Ball
The highest honor of them all
Into the open oven I must fall
Cause all you want to do is eat me
Yes, all you wanna do is eat me
Again!?!
Will this madness ever end?!?
People yelled to Humpty Dumpty, “DON'T FALL!”
But Humpty never listens, he's a stubborn butterball
Came tumbling down
His undies turned brown
“Not The Brightest Egg” someone did call
Fat you were, beyond description.
Jabba the Hut had nuthin' on you.
From a scruffy little Brillo-pad sized stray
Your appetite ballooned you
To an incontinent continent of feline adiposity.
A fur covered Butterball turkey
With attitude
You never failed to fall below expectation,
Seemingly unable or unwilling
To grasp the concept of the litterbox.
To think we named you Shadow.
Even that part of you looked heavy.
You'd just sit on something that groaned beneath you,
Paw draped across that vast white belly,
And look at me like, "Well?"
Then one day,
Too chubbed to make it across the street in time,
Some car bopped your noggin
And knocked the life outta you.
They brought you to me
Unmarked yet dead;
I crammed your soft bulk into a bootbox
And buried you under our big tree out back.
Death gave you a measure of dignity
Unattainable in life,
As I suppose, in the end, it does us all.
SO or Silent One who is known to all
Our British connection, a mysterious butterball
Calls me Benny Hill
A connection if you will
Along with Python, made us giggle and guffaw
I wrote this poem 3/26/1996
To My Brother, My Friend
My first memory of you was
looking through the hospital nursery
window at this little butterball that
I was told was my new little brother.
From that moment on I was now
your "little mother" For over the years,
through joys and sorrow, I protected
you as if you were my own.
But as you grew the roles reversed and
since you've protected me. You're my truest friend
in the world. I know I can always count on you
to be there no matter the cost
and BROTHER, I want you to know
that WITHOUT you I would truly
be lost!
**Since losing him recently I truly do feel "lost" I found this poem at my parents
The 20-pound butterball turkey rests
On a table laden with condiments;
We bow our heads, reach out our hands and bless
And say grace which presupposes our content.
But as we eat, the elephant harrumphs
To lead our banter and wordplay astray,
We assert on Gaza or butterball Trump
Or some other donnybrook of the day.
Alas, the turkey is now quite slighted
And acrimony stuffs the upper hand;
Our argued points are skewed with gestured knife,
Though not a one convinced to alter stand.
Afterward, leftovers are jammed into
Vacuum bags should we choose to someday use.
Turkey
Let's See
Gobble
Wobble
Get Stuffed
That's Rough
Gizzards
The Squirts
Wishbone
Hell Zone
Pure Heart
Boiled Tart
Legs Breast
Just Test
Thighs Wing
Just Sing
Choke Neck
Yes Heck
Got Tom
He's Bomb
Tribute To
Thankgiving
And To
BUTTERBALL TURKEYS LOL
Also Entry For
Donna Golden's
Turkey Tribute
GL All
had a crush on good ol’
“jesus,” but being that he
was all made up, s/he had
to settle for the
“jackhammer jesus,”
a big strong *****
invented to make one
cum in the name of the
“lord!”---
now, her/his best friend
had always wanted
“buddha,”
but much like “jesus,”
he was fake too, so
s/he had to settle for a
big fat butterball of a
blow up doll,
shaped like that
character &
s/he banged him under a
that bodhi tree---
whilst the horny christian &
the lusty buddhist
were pounding away their
“prayers,”
a jew & a muslim
sat together in a dark basement
straight out of that special
scene in
“Pulp Fiction,”
where Ving Rhames got bent over &
in front of them on that table they
had a few sex toys in the shapes of
sharp pointy stars & crescents---
deciding that the damage done to
the both of them might be so
severe that they wouldn’t be able
to worship their imaginary characters
later in the week,
the two put on the muhammad &
moses masks that they’d bought for
each other earlier that day &
began to french kiss through the holes
whilst groping in the leather suits,
bringing together civilizations which
for all this time had been at war
before this dawn of sloppy
sex.
THE WAX CRIES WITH HAPPINESS
Mom’s up early with the plucked bird, stuffing it.
The bare rinsed butterball, portions for six.
All day our mouths water, stomachs pitching a fit,
as we wait for the skin to crisp...delicious drumsticks.
Potatoes peeled and pressured, mashed, stirred
with butter, milk, salt and pepper...licking lips.
Jolly Green Giant beans heated, (sixties were absurd)
Likewise the floop from a tin can...cranberry flips.
Father and son, thankful for the football game. I
just hear static. Mother’s in her apron, sweating.
I just remember sights, smells, sounds...I sigh.
The basics of love — the cornucopia begetting.
Afterwards our bellies ballooning, but there’s pies,
piled with apple, rhubarb or cherry and Cool Whip.
The table adorned with long candles - the wax cries
with happiness. The unsetting done with thankful lips.
11/11/2019
Thanksgiving Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle