Best Catch On Poems | Poetry
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New Catch On Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Catch On poems are below this new poems list.
Just Catch On To What's Going On
by Asuncion, Bernard F.
WHY CELL PHONES DIDN'T CATCH ON IN ROME
by Beck, Sidney
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The Best Catch On Poems
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Catch On Poem
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I’m straying away from the norm
It’s stressing me out to conform
A fave form I must adjust -
The last line’s bitten the dust!
Sweet Nina is causing mischief
I’m sobbing, she’s causing me grief
Limerick’s are divine -
This one’s missing a line!
My chosen form now has mutated
It’s modern, the old ones outdated
Will my new form catch on
Now the last line has gone!
I’ve invented the ‘slimerick’ it’s a traditional limerick form but with the final line missing!
Mischief Contest Sponsor Nina Parmenter
9/5/18
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018
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"Fishing Adventure"
fishing is a sport of supreme relaxation
beneath golden Sun with great anticipation
while warm water is quiet
fish feast on worm diet
as the boat gently sways in utter fascination.
soon the fishing pole jerks on thin line
a sweet catch on which two hearts will dine
once a struggle ensues
other fish sing the blues
top things off with a bottle of wine.
surprise this fish was a white shark sea beast
run for your life, no fish feast
jaws revisited blue wave
adventure in a cold cave
lived to tell this tale of terror, at least.
*For Seren Robert's Fisherman Contest.
*Dec. 1, 2012.
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012
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Deceptive Griselda is not so fair
She conceals her real age, will not declare
On the Net she croons love’s tunes
To make all the young men swoon
A fantasyland like hers is so rare
The secrets that she always locks within
Mysterious as the Shroud of Turin
‘Twould be easier to gauge
The much-debated shroud’s age
Than guess the date of photos she's seen in
Wherever she goes, she carries laptops
Sexy blog posts from nursing home rooftops
Delusional minds deceive
Some catch on, some still believe
But at 87; her figure’s flopped
Entry for Tracie's contest
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
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Seagulls bob at rest on the ocean waves.
A tired fisherman the predawn chill braves,
disgorging his catch on quay.
Gutting knives of vendors clicking like claves,
staining blood red and sliming the cask staves.
A twist of the wrist the key.
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Contest Name: Your favorite tail rhyme, past or present
[This is a truncated poem of an original 4 verse Tail Rhyme written by me some time ago, incorporating Rich Rhyme: "quay"/"key".]
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2012
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A day like no other—or so it had seemed
For this intelligent yet unknowing girl who failed to see the obvious
Though knowledgeable, she never truly deemed
The love someone had for her—she truly was oblivious.
"Another one?" She pulled it from it's placed—confused was she
'Twas another magnificent rose in purple—it was her favourite colour.
"Who has been leaving behind roses for me?
He certainly is thoughtful—it is such a sweet favour."
''They would never compare to your beauty, though,"
Said a voice lovely as velvet and sweet as chocolate from behind her
"Whoever sends them must truly love you so,
I'd do the same if I could—but you seem to already have an admirer."
"Why—who on earth would admire me?
If they want to be friends, why not just say so?"
Alas once again, ever oblivious she'd be!
And what she felt around him—she'd probably never know.
Her heart pounded when around him—that much she knew,
There'd be a unique feeling in her chest whenever they were together.
She wished she knew why—oh, she wished true,
She wished she understood—lest she be unknowing forever.
"Hey, may I ask—why are you so kind to me?"
And he blinked—that angelic voice was enough a man to stun.
"But is that not what friends should be?"
At his statement, she smiled, "I see! You must be that way to everyone!"
And sighing silently, he shook his head,
She'd never catch on to his antics—an oblivious girl she was truly!
His feelings were obvious—and despite it not being said,
He knew they loved each other, and if she knew it—oh, if only.
Copyright © Franchesca Mia Tortoza | Year Posted 2016
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I've got this awesome idea
To write the greatest of poems
It'll start out nice and easy
Then with a BANG make some noise
It will be widely read
In every coffeehouse in town
Soon to catch on like a wildfire
Then #1 with a bullet nation bound
Writing so amazing
It'll astound everyone
Why it might even get hired killers
To turn in their guns
It'll make the strong want to weep
And the weak to stand strong
There will be waves of applause
This poem will have it all going on
They'll beg me to let them use it
In a Presidential speech
Afterwards they'll fly it straight to the conflict
Where it'll bring peace to the Middle East
Finally coming to rest at the Smithsonian
Taking up it's rightful place
They may have to move that old Shuttle
To give my poem plenty of space
But before any of this can happen
Before it rings true, buckaroo
I suppose I should think up something special
And jot down a line, maybe two...
Copyright © Mike Hauser | Year Posted 2016
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“I just don’t know.”
You ever have that feeling,
That sinking feeling,
Where you try
And you try
And you try
To wrap your
head
around
something.
Yet all that
comes to mind
Is
Nothing
Where you have to
“I don’t know”
Yourself
Because you cant
“I don’t know”
Tell what the right or wrong
move is.
Is there even a move
Or is it just you?
You see
“I just don’t know”
Do I like you?
Do I like the thought
of you?
Of you and me?
of us?
Or am crazy
Because of you?
I can’t explain it
I just know its
“I don’t know”
You
There’s hardly any time
Yet with you
I seem to forget about time
If only in our moments
Until I’m pulled away knowing
There’s never enough
time.
I know so little
Yet I’m pulled in
Strapped in
For a ride
I know
“I don’t know”
Will either make me
Or break me
“I just don’t know”
Yet like a bee
Enticed by that sweet
oh so sweet
Smile
I run to thee
I’d swim to thee
“I don’t know”
I’d even sing for thee
And believe me
I cant sing
That much
“I know”
You see there’s
Things I know
But I’m afraid to show
About me
What nerdy
Things could I hope to show
A sun-flower
Unlike me
You see
To me you’re
Spring to my lips
You’re the cool drops of rain
I hope to catch on the tip of tongue
The dew
On thin blades of morning grass
I envy.
“I don’t know”
Call me old fashion,
Im a dying romantic,
Hoping to count each seed of yours
Under the moon’s bright light
Each seed
A different story
Story of you
I may not love all of them
Im only human
You probably won’t love
All of mine
God knows I'm only human
But
“I don’t know”
I may just love
All of you
Copyright © Cirenio Gonzalez | Year Posted 2017
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I've always been attracted to the other world.
You know, the world in between life and death.
The one you always see out of the corner of your eye.
Was always that little girl who wanted to be someplace.
Someplace more exciting than the place I was standing.
I always knew there was something more exciting waiting.
More exciting than where I was standing, new adventures.
Where the stardust falls at midnight, with sunrise delight.
World of whispers and flickering shadows in the moonlight.
Where the fairies and frogs and fireflies dance all night.
I call it my consensual reality in my alternate universe.
Come, take my hand, the land of enchantment is waiting.
It was always ok that I was the only one that believed.
Believed in the unseen world of the magical light beings.
I see the gargoyles conversing with the pigeons high up.
Sometimes they wink at me as they turn back to stone.
They pretend that way, so no one will catch on to them.
Trouble with magick is most people don't believe in it.
Though I'm sure they could if they kept hold of dreams.
And childlike natures and the innocents of childhood.
They don't believe in what's buried deep down inside.
If you tried, I know you could see just what I see.
Fairies with rainbow colored wings fly against the sun.
Or dancing along the milky way in the pale moonlight.
And the shoemaker's magick shop is where they live.
They are always delighted when you come for a visit.
12:30am 3/ 3 2013
I wrote this as I was waiting for my daughter Jessie to come home from bowling.
Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013
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Dragon and the Sheriff of CrazyLand are in competition, Whoa to all!
I think what they’ve developed, must be a macho, low key, kinda brawl.
Fighting became their way, long before The Wizard of Oz came to the Park.
And they BOTH wanted to be the Wizard, I expected nothing less, of course.
The sheriff’s brother was the director, so… you know WHO, became the Wiz.
But our darling Dragon got to wear that gorgeous, flying monkey suit. Amen!
And where do you think those flame’s for the Wiz come from, I pray, to say...
Yep, Dragon’s become very importantly ensconced… deep within this play.
He looks so great in his monkey suit as he sails into those illustrious scenes.
His penguins happily follow him in, hanging and bouncing from their strings.
Now, if only Dragons tail would stop waging and bouncing at those strings!
But they don’t care, cause they get to fly… a most coveted penguin thing!
The Wiz on the other hand, seems to have finally learned, of fireproof pants.
His drapes catch fire, nightly, but of course, he didn't need them, very much.
Gee, it’s peculiar, how his Wizard robes, keep getting shorter, with the sparks.
And the Wiz gets hit nightly, with an extinguisher, to the paparazzi’s delight!
And who do you think does the special effects to drop that famous house?
The Wiz suggested Dragon under study, for the wicked Witch, isn't he nice?
But the best part is when Dragon gets to lift the wiz in that famous balloon!
The Wiz never seems to get back for the final bows, unless he’s drenched, too.
Dragon says he puts the balloon into the lake, to give the Wiz, a soft landing.
So Grandpa Troll, made an escape hatch on the basket’s bottom siding.
Next time, when Dragon drops the basket, and the Wiz, doesn't come up…
Dragon'll miss his bows, as he searches for his nemesis, the Wiz, No Doubt!
You can bet, that poor, dear, Wiz was tired of getting soaked, my friends!
But he was willing to do it, to make publicity for his brother’s play in the end.
The paparazzi soaked it up, giving the best free advertising, found anywhere!
The Wiz was featured in all, while Dragon appeared in his Monkey suit. Amen!
All in all, that crafty Director, made sure every body won in the end!
And Grandpa Troll's there, to keep everything safe, fun and pretend.
Dragon will catch on, eventually, to what’s been going on… and I suspect...
Dragon and the Wiz BOTH will become, friendly, willing, partners in crime.
Finally in… The End…
7-12-2014
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014
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(A double Triolet)
A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as forest roof displays its bitten edge
and angel wings begin their winter dance.
A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as hidden lake supports her tender sedge
and wraps her banks in mud to form a ledge.
A darkened sky portends the snow’s advance
as forest roof displays its bitten edge.
White flakes descend to catch on nose and cheeks
as angels dump their aprons through the clouds.
Soft mountains form as snow heaps up in peaks
and flakes descend to catch on nose and cheeks,
while creatures sit encased in cushioned shrouds.
All nature rests on mute as winter snores aloud.
White flakes descend, to catch on nose and cheeks,
as angels dump their aprons through the clouds.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
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Cup Cake
Your favorite food is cupcake, so is mine
I cover my wife Cupcake in layered chocolate
The recipe is simple, defined with love and hunger
She does not always use the sauna
An oven hot will do just fine
Baking for two hours at a time till she is done
Bent over, burnt a little at the edges, turned on her side
She does not mind the heat too much
But hates blenders for some strange reason
The recipe must be kept as follows:
Two cups of flower and one for her hair
One stick of butter rubbed tenderly along the thighs
Three eggs scrambled but not about the eyes and ears
A spoon full of honey to keep the glow
Place the aluminum pan inside the over
Centered, then flop it in….but gently…must not forget the Mrs.
Set to 450 degrees to remove the grime and grease
Make sure the skin is tender to the touch
Sugar powder lightly on her body
Don’t forget the nose
Add cinnamon with a pinch and kiss
Caution! Cloths could catch on fire and are optional
Don’t over cook
We don’t want Cupcake to lose her looks
I like my cupcakes warm and sweet
With a glass of milk, late at night, between the sheets
Created by: Earl Schumacker on 9/23/15 for Tammy Reams “Didactic Foods”- Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015
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Satan, I don’t like your hating.
Satan, I don’t want any part of you.
No fractions, none of your distractions,
I want to live the life that’s true.
This life guarantees the ultimate satisfaction.
Satan, I don’t want to have any dealings with you
You hinder my life that is true. No one wants to
Be sad and blue and tear everything up like you do
Satan, you messed up. You have too many whammies.
You’re pressed out of luck. I want big bucks but,
Not in the manner that you get them. That way want
Last and will not benefit anyone else in God’s kingdom
To ever get GLAD. Satan, I don’t want any part of
Your MAD. I want the best for my God-given, created,
Can’t be faded life. Something that you gave up a long
Time ago and you suffered a great big fall like Humpty
Dumpty on the wall, all of the kingdom’s horses and
All of the kingdom’s men should not have the desire
To put you together for your selfish desires to win so
Many will catch on fire as a result of you. Satan, you
Lie on me and my God-given, created, family. Satan,
You see the worst in me and want me to believe it’s true.
Satan, in Hell you’ll be skating on your wannabe icy
Lake of fire because you had the desire to be the Creator
And be a hater to what God made greatly. So skate ornately
And leave me alone. I want to live with God and not
In your heated home. Satan, I don’t want any part of you.
No fractions, no distractions, I want to live the life that’s true.
1-26-11
Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2011
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Before reading this , please note it was for a contest , Not about my Son "
The theme " A son that set fire to the home , confronting at police station "
I do believe we have our Arsonist , but why ?
amazing behind this mirror we hear truth & Lies
" This time my heart broken, I can not accept your lies
Now you have become felon before our very eyes
Was I not a mother to you , surely I told you I love you
This time I can not bail you out your story must be true
did you want me to catch on fire
Please tell me now ..was this your desire ?
I am sorry for all I have done
I am sorry for what you have become
All I wanted was for you to smile surrounded by love
Now I walk away from you in tears and ash in my throat
Yes you have killed me no doubt
I can only pray for your Salvation
But Why ..Why I ask you with burnt eyes
you have set a fire that weakens my soul
Please God tell me this is not true my Son.
Forgive him, he knows not what he has done. "
~ Profiling 101 contest ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
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My father's Roger Maris mitt
Was kept in perfect health.
It showed no wrinkles no blemishes
Nor flakes of skin.
Its limber fingers were sheathed in leather,
Its pocket was well stretched
As it yawned with each breath.
Bathed in linseed oil,
It was a dark jersey cow
As it slept like an oyster
With a pearl cradled in its palm.
My father's attention was precious as gold;
His time was well spent with little to spare.
He was my coach, he was my father
Playing catch on our field of honor.
Years passed by with a blink of an eye;
His fraying attention became unraveled
By his job, by money, his family's health
And his aging body.
His golden mitt seldom saw light;
Snaring a baseball was wishing
Upon a starless night.
With patience and compassion
My father guided my life,
By catching a baseball my self-confidence grew.
But, his life was snatched by death
His game forever ended.
He was part of my foundation
Which will never fade from sight
As long as I remember, a baseball
Caught on an autumn night.
Standing in my backyard, I see my father's mitt
Cradling me;
Like a baseball I recline
In his loving arms forever.
Copyright © Jonathan Bellmann | Year Posted 2012
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Should I take notice of what others say
and lose my style along the way.
I didn't study painting lest it disrupt
my innocent approach and method corrupt.
I must step back and take a break
because I'm trying too hard to make
that perfect poem to fit the job.
A contest is judged; my poem's been robbed!
As my life's blood flows from my pen,
I must, selectively, choose how and when
to put my poems before my peers.
Perhaps, I need to wait some years.
Should I leave my poems to be published after death?
Could they catch on when I've drawn my last breath?
Many an artist has passed without note.
It's possible they'll say, "that's all she wrote".
November 27, 2015
Copyright © Janece Terry | Year Posted 2015
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yo listen man i have a plan
lets tell our story together
open your laptop get a pen
hold the muse by her feather
put meaning into words
a whole story into a phrase
be gentle with the phoenix
be respectful of it's ways
break out the ink and a quill
turn the music up, you feel?
As Old School as papyrus
ancient like the burning fires
good and pure like my desires
that's the way to get higher
open your mind i'm talking
BIG i'm talking grand idea
Eureka! means i found it!
Hip-Hop i re-imagined it
This Has a way about it
i am ready to Shout it!
there is a place its called The Garden of Eden
i can try to get you in though its not a given
have you ever thought about going to Heaven
c'mon give it a thought man if you still haven't
they got a bouncer there, with a flaming sword
i will not sneak you in That i just can't afford
i want to go there - it's a Club with a capital C
you can only get a ticket if you are a true eMcee
do not try to carry in, they got all you need there
if they catch you dirty, they'll make it a nightmare
creative style your dreams are waiting for you
you have to be honest at everything you ever do
i thought this through it's a style of the Creator
that is what a real eMcee is we care and cater
for the ones who feel and hear, we put a show on
i do this if i have to but i don't wanna go alone
i need a team with me to make the sound good
bring your mic, we're gonna need a Deejay too
make a tight circle i can trust and be understood
remember keep it real and put on your hood
catch on man, we can do it Live at the Garden
once we're in who knows whats gonna happen!
https://soundcloud.com/mc-kit-2/mc-kit-true-emcee-club-eden
Copyright © Pavel Popov | Year Posted 2016
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I have two loves
And I can't decide
Which one to pick
One love is
My boyfriend
I asked him out
Last Wednesday
He's funny
Awkward
Cute
A complete gentleman
And loves music
We can laugh about anything
And we walk together
Every morning
He knows that I
Play baseball with
My brother
But something's not right
To have this love, I must
Forget my best friend.
The other love is
A love I shouldn't have
He's athletic
Smart
Quiet
And unbelievably sweet
We share smiles across
The classroom
He helps me open my locker
And when I'm alone
He comes and sits by me
He knows that I
Love to bake and cook
Even when omlettes catch on fire
But something's not right
This love is also
One of the loves of
My closest friend.
I have two loves.
J and O.
Which one to choose?
You make the choice
Please
So I don't have to.
Copyright © Jessica Schick | Year Posted 2016
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ANALYZING MY FEELINGS
It's already dark out
I just want to shout
but I pull myself together
and I start to analyze all my feelings
when I start to have those stagnant moments
everything that makes me feel so empty within
I start to to think about all those painful years
that brought on the tears and fears
that kept me so frugal
But I tried to always keep my decorum
when it comes to peace and love
I know all who cares about me
supports me in all my emotional pains
even when my life has so much rain
I can still see his disapproval eyes
while he speaks to me
just to find away to belittle in his famous words
while he coax the ones I love with lies
But it will only last temporary
while they soon catch on to his ways
Oh, the fear he gave along the way
I cam remember all his conflicting words
that last out the years
But I try hard to pin them down
but he was very persuasive
yet, very serious
he will always haunt me
even in my sleep
the memories are slowly killing me
He is nothing but corruption
then he acts so innocent
But his eyes are so opaque
you could never see the light of life in them
his explosive ways
eat at my spirit night and day
I just pray he will go away.
Poetic Judy Emery
Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017
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We constantly deal with poetry which puts us in a soporific state,
we sit here apathetic to the cause of studying this beautiful art-
but Poetry’s breath Ad Nauseum about love and laments is bad for a date,
oblivious to the images, while attempting to turn the key we begin to depart.
Yet the door haunts us, novels, plays, yet poetry is the apex,
of this ethereal mystery within the maelstrom that is our mind,
alas this frustration is focused upon the conundrum of poetry being complex,
is it just a condensed novel, this Herculean Task of understanding the undefined.
There are many who deem poetry obsolete but tis rather far from its nadir,
now begins the unequivocally splendid power of the imagination-
hidden by poetry from the vituperative invader,
who’ve made an egregious mistake in deeming poetry a partial differential equation.
Imagination, oh what a beauty long forgotten in the age of reason-
we’ve been given Hobson’s choice, force fed Occam’s razor, given epitome-
yet good ol’ imagination persist like an excretion,
from the eyes of the true daughter of time, Science’s proficiency.
People assume poetry is the modern day Gordian’s Knot-
well- let us assume this is Utopia, were Imagination runs wild-
as she watches her forest, a black cat surreptitiously passes a man in thought,
startled because it is Friday the thirteenth his Triskaidekaphobia- this is all rather mild-
Just the tip of the iceberg was touched upon, just the tip-
Poetry and humanity is an oleaginous affair we mix but do not blend,
Or should we, poems are nothing more than what we put in, as if to dip-
just our toes, before we plunge head first into poems so as to apprehend.
Poetry is the Sun, as you are the flowers shined upon,
given warmth of knowledge and power if you are to just reach.
Not to let Poetry in as if to catch on-
give it back in your own form of speech.
Through your own imagination feed poetry,
It hungers for your reality, though not reality-
procrastinate not- hopefully,
for your conceptions are your sanity.
Or rather is fancy your sanity- decide,
it will affect your observation of poetry forevermore.
It will excite-
whether you believe it to or not- you will love or abhor.
Poetry is not arduous -
just do not assume there is a secret door.
In fact poetry is quite virtuous-
Seek only what you can give poetry, I do implore.
Copyright © Luis Martinez-Rivera | Year Posted 2013
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I've never understood how things work
gears turn and cranks crank
circuits connecting and forming a link
all of this stuff is out of my reach
its all so confusing, fuses and plugs
that plug into sockets
and HUDS that have numbers and belts that have notches
motors that whirr and shake so profusely
only do more to stump and confuse me
I'm not at all mechanically inclined
trust me I know, I've tried many times
I can't understand battery's without power
have to charge for almost a whole half an hour
drivetrain won't drive, forward or reverse
transmission whats that, this sticks stuck in first
the bumpers don't bump and the flashers won't flash
speedometer and fuel don't work on the dash
there are spots under the hood for the fluids it takes
and I don't understand how a carburetor.. carburates?
mufflers to muffle the sounds that it makes
drive shaft to control the turns that you take
key to ignition
ignition to starter
starter to the whatever the hell that you call er'
it's all so disturbing, it bothers me bunches
gas pedals, brake pedals, what are these clutches
automatic and manual drives drive me crazy
has anyone checked the oil here lately
the tires have tread to catch on the ground
hydraulics to make you go up and go down
there are switches and knobs
that serve no functions or jobs
there's gearboxes, spark plugs, fuel tanks and handbrakes
and I couldn't even tell you which one keeps the car in place
how it all works is way beyond me
I have a hard enough time just finding my keys
Copyright © Jared Day | Year Posted 2017
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"Poppycock and hooey indeed,"
Said the man of the new machine ran by steam
"It shall never catch on,
Even after I'm gone."
Sobering words by the first train casualty.
Copyright © Keith Baker | Year Posted 2011
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In a rain
downpour
to keep from
getting wet,
we open
an umbrella
put it
overhead,
but yet........
I wish
to make
a suggestion,
that may
take
a moment
to catch on,
for after
giving this
quite some
thought,
an idea
upon me
did dawn!
There is
another
type of
downpour
for which
this tool
could be
used!
Now
take a second,
and give it
some thought
for this
new use
I doubt
you'll refuse!
If the
downpours
are blessings
from Heaven,
in such
"ABUNDANCE"
that you wish
not to
drown,
you might
want
to consider
trying to
catch
every drop....
"by turning
your
umbrella
upside down!!!"
The very
idea
that the
floodgates
of Heaven
would be
opened
with such
a deluge,
means the
downpour
of blessings
would cover
the earth
WOW!!!....
Now this
would really
be HUGE!!!
So I hope
in your
life
good things
come your
way
that give you
big smiles
and
no frowns,
because
when it does
you'll want
to be
prepared....
"by turning
your
umbrella
upside down!!!"
Copyright © Walter T. Ashe | Year Posted 2016
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Between the sea
And the mountains that seem
To hold hands
Refusing to let go
Of each other's ties
For together is the home that lasts
While at the same time
Bathing their feet
In the love of deep blue sea.
A place of serenity
That once seized
One comes to feel infinity
Watching the tides
Moving onward to the shore
As they have done
For thousands of years and more
Protecting all life
For it knows its size.
Many have come and go
I suppose
But the land remained
The mountains have kept their hands
Together, hoping some day
Some will catch on to their message
It is here one can know peace
That holding hands enhance
That the sea from the moment of first glance
Has been so in love with
Reaching out to this eternal bliss
In tidal waves of
Everlasting love.
By CarolineCecile
Copyright August 2010
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2010
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Here are some fun things that happened
On that classic Candid Camera show
A man walked backwards on a sidewalk
People copied him, wouldn't you know?
A man wearing only tighty whiteys
Asked the hotel clerk for a room
A street cleaner starts cleaning the gutters
With a broom handle but missing the broom
A man was pumping gas at a gas station
It ends up costing eight hundred dollars
Obviously, the dial was tampered with
Strangely, he got hot under the collar
A lady is surprised by a job interview
Conducted by a six year old boy
A mailbox that says, “Have a good day!”
People didn't catch on to this ploy
This couldn't happen in today's modern world
Where everyone's on top of their game
Back then, we could all laugh at ourselves
Too bad the time's had to change!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2012
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Catch On Poem
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Allow DNA to stew for two billion years
Names become important as you mature
Stay clear of people called Frankenstein
Nature comes equipped with multiple devices
Most animals do not wear clothes
Some are called on to know how to move
Apparatuses are optional when nude
Never use a credit card
Stay clear of lightning, electrical wires
Including things that catch on fire
Safe sex depends on this
Remember to mate within your species
To carry on the lineage
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2017