Best Clanks Poems
Inside the Dishwasher everyone rushed!
Clinks, clanks, rattles, 'Ouches' and ' Ohs'!
"Would you pa--lease, settle down!" said Deb--They hushed.
"Now we can hear...let's just see how this goes."
Curious, Peter, looked out through a chinc,
And watched Vie and Chris-- approaching by twos.
They opened the door--and who do you think--
Standing there wearing her fine Jimmy Choos,
Ms Lost Sonnet!--spoke not a word--but winked.
Wilma Wine-Corkscrew, dressed in purple hues
Gave the 'all clear', and Peter spread the news.
"We're having a party Ms Sonnet, please,
Won't you join us? It's a magic party
For Peter", said Ruben Rotisserie.
Bob Blender poured her a drink--quite hardy.
Connie Candellabra was flaming bright
As Ms Sonnet swept past to the soft couch.
Carolyn Cookie Jar screamed with such fright,
"Quick! She's on fire!" Then Lost cried, "Ouch!"
"I'll save her", said Catie Collander. "Here!"
But the water leaked through her like a sieve.
Susan Spatula yelled, "Have no fear, dear!"
Yet, the fire held on and would not give--
Others tried, but could not stop the fire.
Then Peter said, "I wuw twy! I can do it!
With 'Awwy, I can fwy! Way up highya!
Togethwa, we can save Ms Wost Sonnet!
Awwy is my fwend. He tawks funny, too!
He's aw the way fwom Engwand and he is
My Supwa Cape! So I can fwy! It's twue!
No H's wive theaw--his name is wike this:
'Awwy--not Hawwy." So now, they all knew.
"Did I 'ear some bloke colling my name?"
"Yes! 'Awwy, me! We've Ms Sonnet to save!"
Harry Handtowel--AKA, Super Cape--fame
Was now on the neck of Peter the Brave!
With no hesitation quickly they flew,
Smothered the fire and saved just one shoe.
Brittle and weak, Lost needed more than glue...
"She needs magic! Oh! Paweeze! What can we do?"
"Peter...we only made enough for you".
Said Carol Crock-pot. They all cried, "Boo Hoo..."
"Then give huw my magic! That's what you do!"
So quickly they sprinkled the magic brew.
Ms Sonnet was greatful--then said, "Adieu".
"Peter, you've done well," said Anne Assam Tea,
"Let's all have a cup'a tea and you'll see...
"'Magic's believing in yourself, --frankly,
Do that--and you can do--anything!"
~©deborah burch
5/23/2012
*Special appearance by "Lost Sonnet", courtesey of David Williams...with much gratitude, thank you all for appearing ;)...Peter has many adventures to come...big hugs, love you all, cap'n deb
Categories:
clanks, allegory, faith, family, fantasy,
Form:
Personification
Driving past the couple
I could see
They were heading my way
Expecting tea
Now anyone is welcome
At my humble home
Except those two
Why have they come?
She clanks her teeth when she speaks
His nose always running... he eats like that
My stomach turns because she reeks
Her bladder is dodgy, smells worse than a cat
I open the door with a smile
Tea is ready I say with ease
Slurping the liquid she looks quite senile
Have a cake or a biscuit, I try to please
Grabbing the muffin he stuffs it in
Covered in snot, not a pretty site
Started to cough…. is smirking a sin?
Looked at him sweetly saying are u alright.
It is five o'clock time they were gone
I fetch their coats, saying good of you to call in
Sorry you have to go don’t make it so long
Closing the door I rush straight for the gin
Penned 28 February 2017
Categories:
clanks, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The glass chatters, clanks, and shatters
As it hits the ground
But makes no sound
The only thing heard is the
Screams of pain
As I get hit into the glass
Blood everywhere
Pain unbearable
The ripping of flesh
Cracking of bones
Screams of pain
Yet no one hears the screams
No one to save me
From this nightmare
From that thing
Evil and putrid
Bragging of his virtue
But he’s hurting me
Ripping my skin
Breaking my bones
No one can hear my screams of pain
Why can’t they hear me?
Does virtue truly block others from seeing the torment before them?
Does it make its followers so blind they cant see the bruises?
Does it make its followers so deaf they can’t hear me begging for mercy?
Categories:
clanks, abuse, betrayal, corruption, dark,
Form:
Free verse
This old House
__________________________
This old house, clinks and clanks
some things are broke, and then some aint
Fix it up before it breaks
this old house.
Could be made of stone, or even mudd
but still, it would make a thudd
if the heater breaks, it could flood
this old house.
The boards are a little thin,
they creak now and again
the cracks, let the sunlight in
this old house.
It might be just a little old,
but worth repair for stories told
to keep us warm, from the cold
this old house.
If it stands, we'll pass it on
to our kids, who are grown
with a repair list of their own
this old house.
5/20/14- Jessica Thompson
Categories:
clanks, caregiving, children, hope, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
My Life as a Car
Rusted and busted see my orange face
Used to grace the showroom place
See these broken eyelights that shone so bright
They saved your life one darkened night
Edsel body, wet shell to forget
Dear little voices asked “Are we there yet?”
And still my memories are mildew clear
Now through the busted fenders to yesteryear
Down the road we'd go far and wide
By rolling hills of still countryside
Uria finally got his license one day
So, in the back seat, he and Neat did lay
Taking lunch on a hunch by the road
Early moving morn and those three trunk loads
Days soon came with the clanks, clinks and pings
Can’t start, what’s wrong? everything
As grass grows up under my lowly gears
Road memories are crystal clear
Categories:
clanks, age, car,
Form:
Acrostic
Lets leave you here'...
um over there...
Feel the freedom pier! And clanks in their dear old ships heightened, and waiting the fear.
The weed of the consternation, and overall equity to be so lazy about a non- conjoined thing...
To our future, that is nothing ethical, only a memory of the impregnable!
I know the rant is like the cascading drinks, lining imagery bars, 12 TV's per star, and they don't begin developing any memory until 2029 and ever afar!
That town was dirigible itself, threatening the fires of the eons by claiming their guard!
We did this time!
We even ate art!
We even flew cars!
I am sam of the cambridge a-part!
I do wood...
I am out on the sea of stars!
Please let me rhyme far.
...This mans a genius!
Categories:
clanks, adventure, age, allegory, allusion,
Form:
Blank verse
For Didds
Four tankards found at the foot of the hill
Bet someone got w*nkered, and now they feel ill
Bet it went down so easy that no one resisted
And now they’ve forgotten the tankards existed
But down at the pub there are rumours of scandals
Of boisterousness, and the theft of four candles
And a gap on the shelf where the tankards once sat
And out on the roof someone’s comedy hat
Maybe barred from the pub and a walk out of town?
With enough beer in tow to conceivably drown
As they woke up the town with their loud shouty glee
And blessed all the hedges with vomit and pee
“Here’s bashin’ yer metal” and “Cheers, me old china”
Drinking alfresco, well, what could be finer
Well, ale, I suppose, for it goes down a treat
Not that one cares when one’s drunk on the street
The next day the tankards just sat by the road
All hopeful and waiting, but nobody showed
Until round the corner a giant appeared
Wearing a rugby shirt, smile and beard
“I’ll tell you what, lads, all back to mine”
Four trusting tankards all followed in line
Expressing their heartfelt and infinite thanks
With tinkles, and clatters, and resonant clanks
There followed a search, and some transient glory
And some vain attempt to uncover their story
So brightly they shone in their moment of fame
Then they just disappeared, in the way that they came
‘Tis said, down in Rowde, that the veil is thin
That mischievous fairies throw stuff in the bin
That strange things do happen, when folk have been drinking
All myth mixed with moonshine and magical thinking
Whatever, wherever, they’re not coming back
So; whose were the tankards, and what was the crack?
by Gail
Categories:
clanks, drink, england, humor, lost,
Form:
Rhyme
The city moves and laughs and sings
Of lurid lights and fancy things
Of static electricity
And many opportunities
The acid clouds are dismal gray
Leave not a single trace of day
Wind withers and regains its speed
A buried, lonely poplar seed
But while the city screams and clanks
And people march in suited ranks
A little light the clouds do show
Wait now, the seed begins to grow
Categories:
clanks, imagination, city,
Form:
Couplet
Clanks,
blanks,
cranks,
clash!
Slams in tank,
detours irate!
Ingenious infiltrates,
sojourns knocking,
indignation on the plank,
plutocracy dank!
Dotards are prate,
iridescence is just as late-
prime meridian,
songs obsidian,
and the incandescence great!
Categories:
clanks, allegory, animal, crazy, culture,
Form:
Blank verse
She guides me in and sits me down.
Not the Remington portable typewriter this time.
I grab a pen and some parchment they have more life i believe.
The mechanical twists and clanks sound so hollow.
In this depression my colored skin only attracts sorrow.
I would like to escape on one of those planes high in the sky.
I dream of a ticket to ride wings to tomorrow.
If only this ear piece of gold was worth mountains of gold.
Everything so stagnant, grey and cold.
She offers a cig of course i say no.
I see the ashtray full of lipsticked butts.
Each puff takes life from her soul.
How to be free from this life.
They yell and throw stones.
My darling my lover to hide our love isn't right.
I see only our union it's colorless.
Why must everyone else see black and white.
Categories:
clanks, black african american, change,
Form:
Free verse
Yellow cabinets, like sunflowers are planted on top of floral walls,
the sink is clean; the lemon scent still lingering in the corners,
the cooker whistles, and the sound echoes excitedly, bringing smiles to the waiters, making Grandma herself hurry to the stove.
The smell of meat overpowers everything; as every second passes by, our mouths salivate childishly.
Awaiting Grandma's voice, soft and sweet, calling us to dinner; a lovely family reunion.
She mixes the curry, places the rice on the table, sets everything in place; a perfectionist.
Round table, for everyone to join, none to miss. Laughters and stories pass around like a bowl of nachos and chips.
Clinks and clanks of utensils and glasses, Grandma's face is lighted up, with love and happiness.
Dirty dishes, finger licking fingers, stained stove, but in the end, for Grandma, it was all worth while; her everyday life story told in short.
Categories:
clanks, childhood, family, grandmother, joy,
Form:
Goodnight, my whistle whispers
muffled by squeals and clanks,
the freights' heavy weight cradles the breath I take.
Exhales through chilled wind churn coldness steel,
solidifies my being real,
through every jolt shakes every bolt, a thrash, clash, pulsing bit,
steal me up a comfort ladder, with dirt upon its' grip.
As southern evening falls, does burning spark of metal wheels in the dark,
miles before the port breaks clear
before I hop off to see you near.
Categories:
clanks, absence, identity, leaving,
Form:
Bio
Steam from fresh ground coffee
Mixes with smoke from cigarettes.
Syrup mixes with butter.
Eggs mix with toast.
Clinks of forks on plates
Mix with clanks of spatulas on the grill.
Last minute bar stragglers
Mix with early morning risers.
Morning crew coming in
Mixes with night crew getting off.
It's shift change at the diner.
Time for me to mix with my bed.
Categories:
clanks, on work and working,
Form:
Free verse
“Four dollars a shot,”
marched from the bartender’s mouth -
each syllable carried the clanks
of Herbie’s Rhodes – jutting like
glacier crags in swells of desert-base.
They carried the smoke curling like
a silver chain draped around a neck,
and the bulges of slurred blurbs.
The words seeped from the regular collection of
the blood-sweet odor of smoke –
not the bartender.
I understood the bar, but I didn’t know what he meant.
The four dollars rustled out of my wallet
and crinkled on the table like
brittle leaves popping back into form.
The sap-colored whiskey
plunked on the bar,
and hummed a sharp
alcoholic song.
Masked, the bartender noticed
an obtuse heap of slurs that
rumpled his skin into a smile.
His shoulders flipped,
and he was swept into
the patterned shrub of sensation.
He was now an indeterminable piece in a clouded order.
I swilled the amber,
and stumbled through links of smoke
until I spilled out
into the violent protrusions of the quiet evening –
like sails glaring on a sun-crushed sea.
I still can’t figure out what that four dollars was worth,
or what the bartender said to me.
Categories:
clanks, confusion, introspection, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
Mirror, Mirror
I look at the clear glass in front of me framed with decorative carvings
Back at me stares a pair of somber eyes
With those eyes I see the fiery abyss of my left chest cavity in the reflection
Clank clank the sound it makes as it pings against my rib cage pushing to break free
clank , clank
My heart clanks on as my large breasts protrude from my wide middle
I look in the glass to see the fellow faces of my peers staring and smirking at me
I look to see the harsh angered face of my mother and her ridicule pouring from her mouth
I look to see my long nose and my damaged hair that lay upon my skull
I look to see a girl no longer a girl but an ugly shell holding in a dangerous beast
I walk through the musty gum ridden hallways of my jail to see exuberant eyes and pearly white enamel exposed
As I walk I see those exuberant eyes glance towards the shell of my body but merily they trudge on
I sit down in my hard plastic chair and listen to my friend make jokes about me and I just pretend i’m fine
I stare back at their gorgeous innocent face and I push out a laugh forced by the metallic clank of my heart
I feel the palm of my moist hand and stab it with a blade and pretend it is hades himself
I hear the demanding voice of my tyrant beckoning for me and I jab hades into my wrist and watch in joy as the blood pours out
I feel as though my heart is locked in a cage like a tiger never to be seen again
I feel like a servant to god making motions with my shell but my innards do not follow
I feel as though life hands me fire but everybody else sugar
Day in day out threatened by the tiger in my rib cage waiting to escape like houdini
Day in day out pretending I am fine
Day in day out until the blood pores from my wrist
Until the metallic clank of the tiger beating against the cage dies away and with it the shell of my body as my demon floats up to hell where it belongs
Categories:
clanks, abuse, anti bullying, anxiety,
Form:
Blank verse