Best Chart Poems
Abusive soul who tormented my heart
I didn’t wait for us to drift apart
I found inner strength at last
So don’t look at me aghast
You’re merely a crumb on my heart’s pie chart
A defumigator removed your scent
Into the trash all your hunting boots went
And those ghastly deer “trophies”
Ablaze with your spoiled green cheese
Your firearms too in the bonfire were sent
Valentine, let me give it to you straight
Goodwill came by for the very last crate
Maker’s Mark* for the homeless
Now that’s ironic justice
Hope your new home in the tent is just great
You wrecked my car and destroyed my credit
So you got off easy from where I sit
Not that you had much to lose
Just hair, weight, someone to use
Cupid aims, may your hemorrhoids get hit!
*Maker’s Mark is expensive whiskey
Entry for Sidney~Lee Ann’s valentine to an ex-lover contest
Written January 17, 2012
I have to admit I’ve got a confession
About my unhealthy obsession
Other kids love pop stars with all their heart
For me it’s the Bristol Stool chart
There’s seven different types of poo
With pictures that give me a clue
to how long the poo’s been in my bowel
Poos that’s both fresh and some that’s foul
Each morning once I get out of bed
For breakfast I’ll have brown bread
The chart is a handy tool
To identify your type of stool
Now I’ve decided to tell
You about the different poos that smell
Cos it’s clear that the Bristol stool chart
Can also indicate your type of fart
Type 1 is as hard as a nut
And stays longest in the gut
Type 2 is a sausagy lump
That’s hard to squeeze out your rump
Then there’s types 3 and type 4
These are the poos I adore
These are the poos I prefer to make
A cracked sausage or smooth like a snake
Types 5 and 6 are easier to pass
Blobby or fluffy ones from your ass
Type 7 is the worst of all
It gushes like a waterfall
So now you’ve got all the scoop
On all the different types of poop
I love identifying my poo and type of fart
The Bristol Stool chart fills my heart
Pleasingly Plump
Obese, bloated, overwrought with contrition
Lainey hung a chart of each yoga position
Couldn’t deal with stretching
Mice she’s still fetching
She defies my lectures on nutrition
When Jill was asked to create a “Pie Chart”
She believed her teacher meant a la carte
Using a Lego set
Jill felt her goal was met
When she finished, there was not one spare part
Her project resembled a Ferris Wheel
Huge peach pie in the center of the reel
And her passenger carts
Were scrumptious cherry tarts
But Jill’s effort had an Achilles’ heel
She took care bringing the pie wheel to class
Some oohs and ahs her project did amass
But the wheel in motion
Caused quite a commotion
Pies flew to faces with a forward pass
Kids didn’t mind as they ate the remains
But most of Jill’s friends had custard for brains
A class pie fight ensued
And Miss Bigbutt so shrewd
Gobbled crumbs citing eminent domain
*October 11, 2014
In our evolution
we’re ever forced to chart,
with compass and the Master’s rule,
our lonely, needy heart.
Biogenic engineers,
legofederal bankoneers,
psychologic auctioneers:
WHO GOES IN THE STIRRUPS.
By our constitution
we’re challenged from above:
the value of the sexes,
the cost, the price of love.
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
"Oh that this too,too solid flesh would thaw
And resolve itself into a dew"
Water slips through our fingers ,so fresh and sweet
Yet a solid mass will smash all before it
Where scree sits,solid on the slopes,
Dislodged it will sweep down,wave after wave,
A sea of stones
That blanket of snow off piste lying still
Shudders into life thundering
With oceanic power
Drowning all in its path
How solid is cold metal until molten
And then its white hot stream
Spits and scalds and settles
Into its mould
Try to numb it down, dumb it down
Gloss over it and paint it with a smile
Rose-tinted gloss paint
With a hint of insincerity
Somewhere between Violet Desolation
And Optimistic Yellow Glow
I paint my own colour chart
Backwards from the finish to the start.
Hopeless, helpless? Then Passive Blue
Is just the right one for you;
Lost and confused best suits Muddy Brown
If you don't know if you're up or down
But when it gets too much, I find
It's easier to be colour-blind.
In the cycle of life
In time
Will we forget the ones who passed?
Will we learn to forgive?
What was, can it become buried with the past
In time,
In the cycle of life
Will your hands be clean?
Can the lies turn to be true?
Will we all believe?
Or reality will be blown like dust?
In time
Will there ever be my time?
Like the times of Marley, Garvey and Gandhi
Are we going to tell the same stories of time?
Or sleep on the same bed
Only to wake up on time
And make up for another time
In time
Where love is lost
Will it be found with time?
Will the wounded hearts heal with time?
Is time truly the healer of all wounds?
Wounded by passage of time?
Will they tell the truth of our time?
Will reality be real with time?
In time
Will we complete the cycle of life
Can existence be measured like distance?
Will we get to see the end of time?
Will this story of mine end on time
Or we should say our prayers in time?
Before we close this elemental chart
Abusive soul who tormented my heart
I didn’t wait for us to drift apart
I found inner strength at last
So don’t look at me aghast
You’re merely a crumb on my heart’s pie chart
A defumigator removed your scent
Into the trash all your hunting boots went
And those ghastly deer “trophies”
Ablaze with your spoiled green cheese
Your firearms too in the bonfire were sent
Valentine, let me give it to you straight
Goodwill came by for the very last crate
Maker’s Mark* for the homeless
Now that’s ironic justice
Hope your new home in the tent is just great
You wrecked my car and destroyed my credit
So you got off easy from where I sit
Not that you had much to lose
Just hair, weight, someone to use
Cupid aims, may your hemorrhoids get hit!
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2012
I faved this poem because it depicts Carolyn's unique style of writing and her witty humor.
It was for an ex-lover valentine contest, which she did place.
She won countless contests using various forms, she is a very talented and accomplished poet. Her poetry will forever live on, as she will in spirit form. I will miss you sweet angel.
TEN-DECADE LIFETIME CHART - Where Are You?
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LIFETIME—
October 18, 2018
Vaccination Chart
1.BCG at birth dose 0.05ml.
2.Hep B at birth dose 0.5ml.
3.OPV at birth dose 2 drops.
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4.06 weeks baby Hep B dose 0.5ml.
5.06 weeks baby DTP dose 0.5ml.
6.06 weeks baby IPV dose 0.5ml.
7.06 weeks baby HIB dose 0.5ml.
8.06 weeks baby Rota V dose 1ml.
9.06 weeks baby PCV dose 0.5ml.
----------------------------
10.10 weeks baby DTP dose 0.5ml.
11.10 weeks baby IPV dose 0.5ml.
12.10 weeks baby HIB dose 0.5ml.
13.10 weeks baby Rota V dose 1ml.
14.10 weeks baby PCV dose 0.5ml.
----------------------------
15.14 weeks baby DTP dose 0.5ml.
16.14 weeks baby IPV dose 0.5ml.
17.14 weeks baby HIB dose 0.5ml.
18.14 weeks baby Rota V dose 1ml.
19.14 weeks baby PCV dose 0.5ml.
----------------------------
20.06 months baby Hep B dose 0.5ml.
21.06 months baby OPV dose 2 drops.
----------------------------
22.09 months baby OPV dose 2 drops.
23.09 months baby MMR dose 0.5ml.
24.09 months baby Typhoid dose 0.5ml.
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25.12 months baby Hep A dose 0.5ml.
Note.Keep out of reach of children.
Lesson.Medicine is the worst thing after Poison.
Blessed is the gift of forgetfulness
Each generation shall surely refresh
With hoary optimism springing afresh
To chart again culture’s steady regress.
Silence accepts, absent solid discourse,
While eyes cower bitterly in remorse,
Birthing fearful looks of doubt scanning round
For a champion to argue high ground.
Tyranny offers only lies and force
To forge an iron path for culture’s course.
Liberty brings a lovely, lonesome light
That tyranny labors to snuff to night.
Blessed is the gift of forgetfulness
So, tyranny may shackle with darkness.
An experienced ship's commander
uses AIs similar transponder
knows what the map blur is
don't sink ship for quiz
not blur of mosquito , i ponder
new seat arrangement
focus on final exams
we will all get A's