Best Clip On Poems
Beard looks weird,
that's a lyrical genius to be feared,
you wrote a 6 year song and got the facts wrong,
fired with the hair and safety still on,
I guess that scope's just a tele,
with sights and hopes on the tele,
Machine Bun Shelly,
initials, MBS, Caps empty,
Mostly Bull Sh……
a superficial sipping soup to his belly
or is it breakfast for a serial prodigy,
steadfast out selling cereal probably,
problems with his intellectual property
so he's just a prop to stop and see.
6'4 and standing taller,
picking on a man, his wife and his daughter,
who needs protection ay,
you're a big and bad ball-less brawler,
that's the shallowest level you can resort to,
and though it's none of my bees wax,
you did it to be witnessed and receive plaques,
but it was easy and witless like corny flakes,
the business doesn't need Autotune fakes,
forcing the rhyme like all you want is a smoke,
not literally you'd choke, that's such a weak joke,
clearly begging for your songs to be bought up,
as if we went from Shady please stand up,
to worshipping a hairband on a no flair brand corrupt
and yeah I admit some of it was good, generous, but look,
with 6 years to write it should have been off the hook,
this lame ass your best and you took as long as you could,
when your next hits out you'll remember when you last stood,
and you'll be mocked by the only line that was any good,
MGK can't stand up,
that'll get you like Cranbrook,
from Cleveland Ohio,
leave now and fly home.
Note the depth and the many double entendre in this,
written within an hour of hearing that diss,
MGK's peak, now for the diss-appearance,
I've heard you can't write your own lyrical sentence,
that's dense, how you ever gona go the distance,
now go into the distance with your spoon and bowl,
you had your 15 minutes so back to your hole.
Part 2: Picking the rhymes apart and taking a shot, on my page to read now.
* the second line is a double entendre,
a serious comment about Eminem and a sarcastic one about MGK, you know, cus rhyming beard and weird is amazing haa.
* Hair and safety clip on
* Just a tele, a telescope
* Initials - cus MGK initials but Eminem doesn't M&M
Categories:
clip on, hip hop, humorous, rap,
Form:
Rhyme
Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparents' grand home
for Christmas.
It was a gracious dining room.
Noontime sun streaming in.
Chair rail with deep red wallpaper, white trim.
Decorating the lace clothed "Big Table"
was a tallish 1870s porcelain Meissen fruit centerpiece
with lovers circling the stem.
Even the adults had to look around it.
Grandmother "Lil" and "Mister B"
were at their nouveau best.
All their progeny seated in good form
awaiting the traditional invocation by "Mister B".
Also seated were the ones that were to be
"seen but not heard" at our side table, the "Kids' Table."
Draped card tables for the dozen of us -
me, my brother and sisters and cousins.
Everyone all scrubbed in dresses and ties.
Mine was a clip on.
As expected, a milk glass got tipped. Spilt milk.
Besides that, we kids had great fun and
became friends again as we did each year.
The thing of it was, none of us liked
being at the "Kids' Table."
We felt lesser, unworthy, subtly so.
Even when I was ten, I knew there were
only two ways to get to the big one:
marriage or go in the army.
We all wondered what it was like to be adult.
After all, most of them smoked.
They all had drinks.
The women had figures, swishy swirls.
The men wore suits like they knew how.
At the "Big Table" they all talked like experts
about stuff we didn't understand
and they laughed loudly at Uncle Bob's jokes.
As the years moved on, things would change,
always do.
I saw virtually all my cousins
disassemble their lives too early -
marriages, divorces, addictions, lost jobs, left school -
beleaguered into inevitable submission.
My family miraculously unscathed.
But they're all gone now,
"Big Table" and little table too.
All that's left from the 50s
is my brother, sister and me.
For years, I was at the "Big Table" since my brood and I
took over the Christmas tradition.
The "Big Table" conversation was
superficial and posing was prevalent.
So one year, I put myself at the "Kids' Table." Just for fun.
Yes, milk got tipped.
But oh, the wonderment and hope. A meal that truly was
food for the soul.
Now that I'm old and looking back,
with a quiet smile, mulling it,
I kinda liked the "Kids' Table" better.
Colored pencil illustration by G.Gaul
Categories:
clip on, christmas, cousin, family, friend,
Form:
Free verse
goat yoga
relaxes body and mind –
no kidding!
Do watch this clip on the BBC website!
www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/world-europe-isle-of-man-44473950/goat-yoga-you-must-be-kidding
7/3/18
Categories:
clip on, animal, humorous,
Form:
Senryu
Hats! Hats! Hats!
I love them! don't you?
They brighten my day,
and other people's, too!
"I just love your hat!"
you'll hear them say.
And just for a while,
you've put a smile
on their day.
Sometimes, the hats I buy
need a personal touch:
A clip on flower, a pretty pin,
something outrageous,
that will bring a grin.
The hat on my head,
says "Hi," to the day,
and I can handle
whatever comes my way.
A hat lifts spirits,
on days that we're down.
But when I'm wearing my
purple, poke-a-dotted hat,
who can wear a dark day frown.
We're all in good company,
when there's a hat on our heads.
Because even newborn babies,
wear them in their beds.
But Listen, hat lover's,
when you think
you've bought them all,
wait until once again,
you're at the shopping mall!
Categories:
clip on, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
(Lesley Ann Down was an actress in
the Golden Age of live TV drama.)
We live in an age of midgets.
There are no seers now, only lookers,
no values left, apart from digits.
Cash is the hook, and we’re all hookers,
no Carmen Joneses, only Bridgets.
Did you have to learn the equation
(“have to”? – what an odd suggestion!)
which represents acceleration?
It’s printed now, beside the question.
No gravity, just gravitation.
Subtitle writers, now, can’t spell,
and language teachers know no grammar.
When banks are hiring tellers, well,
in Alabaster, Alabama,
they sing aloud, “You Never Can Tell”.
Let’s get somewhat more sarcastic.
Our carpenters just never get wood.
Today our craftsmen just squirt mastic,
then, as any moron could,
they clip on bits of precut plastic.
We’ve got police (I like this best!)
who, far from being Texas Rangers,
have never passed exams or tests,
and can’t, by law, face any dangers,
or run rash risks, like make arrests.
No Richard Rodgers, Buddy Holly,
no more Stoller (as in Lieber),
but ‘tis the season to be jolly –
after all, there’s Justin Bieber!
Hence, loathéd melancholy!
Categories:
clip on, satire,
Form:
Cinquain
There is in circulation a video clip on whatsapp messaging service...
About a sophisticated attempt to vouch for Galileo's take on things that fell......
The learned man, bless his departed soul, bravely postulated to widespread awe..
That barring air resistance, all objects suffer the same rate of fall...
In a vacuum, a heavy ball and a wispy feather, they take the same time to fell...
It defies the everyday reality we observe outside when things fall...
Only goes to remind us, namely you and me, we have seen it all...
We are ordinary humans, we have never wondered at all why things fall...
Until the day another fella, Newton was his name, reasoned out why the apple fell...
Sitting under a apple tree, he chose to query the reason why an apple upon his head it fell...
To this day children the world over suffer to master the spectrum of scientific knowledge. ...
That good old Galileo and Newton started the day the latter questioned why the apple fell....
Of course, if they had not been around, science as we know it would be rather tame...
And Neil Armstrong would probably be an obscure name, bereft of his moon walking fame...
Categories:
clip on, community, education, humanity, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
Green is the color I forsee
With my very own eyes, I truly do see.
You see green is a very lucky color you see
A green object is easy to see
Where O Where can that Clover be?
When you seek a clover within the grass you'll know your lucky
Clover O Clover Where can that leprechaun be?
Can it be on a cereal box? called lucky charms.
Clover O Clover, you are so lucky please come to me.
Go and find it on the grass there's numerous of clovers around the world.
Where O Where can that leprechaun be??
Maybe you'll find one near a rainbow.
Is it here? Is It there? Where can it be?
On Saint Patrick's Day, if you wear green He'll know it for sure. trust me he does.
During this special day, people look if you're wearing green or not.
A few Women wear a plain green dress or polka dot dress.
some Little girls wear a green clip on their hair
Some businessmen wear a green tie with a suit.
Some women wear earrings on their ears or a clover pin on their blouse or coat.
Some women inclusively wear green eyeshadow on the crease above their eye
Few wear green nail polish on their nails
Saint Patrick's day is a lovely holiday.
If you write him a beloved poem for Saint Patricks Day, He will love it.
He'll know how much you truly love him just like I do.
I truly see green everywhere I go.
I see it on trees, plants, grass. Green is everywhere I go.
Saint Patrick, I truly do love you.
Categories:
clip on, celebration,
Form:
Rhyme
Paper-clip on my floor,
I wonder what he's there for.
Holding all my life together.
That little guy's my friend forever.
Fixing fender-benders ending
Up inside my mind.
Little friend, you're very shiny
Even though you're oh so tiny,
I can tell you're mine.
Silly piece of wire,
Paper-clip, you never tire,
Holding all my thoughts together.
Here I find you, on my floor.
Tell me what you lay there for.
Maybe I should pick you up;
You don't belong; you know enough
To stay off my carpet, dear.
I see you, for I'm laying here.
I see you sitting, bent around;
I see you 'cause I'm on the ground.
Something 'bout you caught my eye;
You really are a funny guy.
Lay there on my floor so still;
I bet you'd sit there longer still,
If I decide to leave you be.
How 'bout I'm you
And you be me.
Paper-clip, on my floor,
I'll never know what you're there for.
Categories:
clip on, childhood, confusion, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
Luscious Sausages Anyone
This early morning, I've viewed a most interesting video clip...
About how tongue licking tasty sausages are produced in the pink...
The latter half of the clip shows a very highly hygienic mechanical production line...
Complete with human handlers plastic suited, in face masks and with gloved hands...
It portrayed a super duper mass production environment......,
All clean and hygenic, all spick and spank, methodical and efficient...
You get to see fast producing lines of long strips of pinkish sausages...
It shows the stringent standards applied to have sausages properly sized and shaped...
There is both a human and a mechanical process to select only the best sausages...
Before they are packaged and stamped, presumably to be marketed thence...
Make no mistake, the production of sausages, a staple diet of the Caucasians...
Is undoubtedly undertaken by food manufacturers who adhere to the highest standards...
On hygiene, safety and countless other recommendations that meet all the existing food regulations...
After all, sausages are such a part and parcel of the fast food segments for generations...
But...
But people, if you watch closely the initial part of the video clip...
On how the tractor trough get ready all the processed meat...
Brother, be warned! You will be so disgusted that you may want to puke...
Seeing this clip, I can't help but feel extremely relieved....
For such a processed meat, be it sausages or burger patties or whatever you call it...
Does not featured on a regular basis in my family diet...
Now it is crystal clear why processed meat are are deemed extremely unhealthy...
Watch this clip and discover yourself why processed meat is so tasty yet unhealthy...
Sausages, pink and delicious, hot dogs and hamburgers, anyone?
@@ NOTE... a video clip on the production of sausages ,
from churned carcasses to packaged sausages...
Should be on the internet, look up on it and be educated...
Categories:
clip on, anniversary, business, community, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
It caught my eye as I walked by
On a cool and cloudy morning
So, I stopped a bit to stare at it
And right away with no dismay
The memories came flooding back
Of an August day thirty years past
And a sail we made on a windy day
Across the bay of Bras d’Or Lake
We set a fine clip on that twin-mast ship
And my heart raced quick as we keeled a bit
Now the windward run was exhilarating fun
As over the waves we bounced and skipped
It’s amazing how fast a morning can pass
While you and your bride are taking a ride
On a twin-mast schooner, as honeymooners
Now I told all that so I can share this
On our way back to the Inverness Inn
We made a stop at a quaint little shop
There sat a heart shaped sign made of pine
With a welcome banner across the top
Painted with the scene of our twin-mast ship
Sailing past the light house we’d seen on our trip
Easily the second cutest thing in the shop
Now to discover how much money it cost
Thirty quid, not a whole lot you may say
But half days pay back in those days
Thirty years now that sign has hung by our door
Welcoming family and friends by the score
Now we have lived in multiple places
And that sign has welcomed many faces
It catches my eye as I walk by
So, I stop a bit to stare at it
And right away with no dismay
The memories come flooding back
Categories:
clip on, boat, family, home, wife,
Form:
Narrative
everything the world does wrong
will have some connection to Iran---
as the media does the bidding of
mr. hope & change n’ his cronies,
everything the world does wrong
will somehow come back to Iran---
until they can manufacture decent looking
“believable” pictures of nukes in Tehran,
or buried in some underground cave
that suspiciously looks a bit too hollywood,
then
everything the world does wrong
will come back to Iran in some way---
even though gen. benny gantz insists that
“they have not yet gone the extra mile”
in producing nuclear weaponry,
everything the world does wrong
will come back to Iran---
even though the empire has more nukes than anyone &
the empire still beats the world over the head with its club,
everything the world does wrong,
everything that happens which makes the news, the front page,
the buzz clip on face**** & twatter,
it all will come back to Iran
until Iran is vaporized,
forced in submission &
squeezed of its oil
like a sponge being drained
with a tight hand
gripping.
Categories:
clip on, life, world,
Form:
Free verse
I clip on a leash so I can try to hold her back.
My old friend will prance all the way down the block and back.
She’s frightened of noise from the garbage truck.
And early morning before the heat is always a must.
We walk the sidewalks to keep her nails trimmed nice.
And we know everywhere to find a friend like us.
Lord knows, I try to stop and talk, so I can catch my breath.
We will cross the street to avoid mean and barking dogs.
We know all the obstacles that might get in our way.
And we go a different route for each weekly day.
Together we know we appear to be a walking machine, but
We smell the roses and notice flowers from all the houses we pass.
But it’s nice to see the yards as they go slowly past
We have plenty of work waiting for us at home when we get back.
But for a moment each day we chose it, to ignore.
My old lab and I need to get out while the weather is good
In the end we’re just two oldsters…trying to get out of the house.
A smile comes on our faces we go down the block.
Categories:
clip on, animals, friendship, happiness, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
It is ALLright, my brother
Clip on those wings
Your conflict is of
the greatest tragedy
I can feel your rage,
frustration of the hustle
Take on those wings
Ascend to the skies
Envision the dream
Our new Black Paradise
You are not your struggle
Go on, grow this hustle!
Breathe, climb higher!
Believe, glide through the fire
Channel the voice that roars within
Pummel the void that snares the weak
Clip on those wings and set to the skies
Seek out salvation, Black Paradise
Let off the channels of idiocracy
Hold onto hope as you set your sails
Look to the glory,
Glare beyond the skies
See the grand meaning, Black Paradise
It was more than a word
More vivid than a dream
A nation united, unified by peace
The dream of perfection,
The hope of freedom.
Still it evades us, Black Paradise
In the land of my Fathers
Lay the seeds of the earth
And with the sweat of our mothers
They suckled the plains
So grow forward my brothers
Set to the skies
Glide through the fire,
Black Paradise
Categories:
clip on, conflict, courage, discrimination, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
It’s how I learned to laugh at the moonlight, and reuse reusable things
Save electricity, and like the color yellow.
She’s the woman behind the pearl clip-on earring,
And white cake with butter cream frosting
I know why I love cold days and rainy nights,
When her smirk of needlessness to go out wades sitcoms in.
All the potpourri flowers can’t last to her fragrance,
Crimson satin drawer pillows and apple peels, perfect ripe ribbons,
Roses, and dove soap,
Fried egg sandwiches on crumb-free bread.
Grass on her lawn holds no candle to green,
Compare to her field of long-stem billowing tulips
Her great beauty, her yellow buds of glory.
-Jess
Categories:
clip on, family, loss, peace
Form:
Free verse
A daytime in Madrid
Gray sky overhead
The mist forms rows
Eyeing, hesitating
As spectators in a field
Hovering for kickoff
Masses of zealots
Shining bands of fans
In the style of a royal army
The sound of shoes trampling
Moving to a specific ground
Hovering for kickoff
The reals of Madrid are tough
They defy tooth and claw
The adrenaline level is rising
Blood of steel ran in their veins
Artistic knives are at the ready
They hurt the stadium
The reds of England look anxious.
To do this, a hero must be called.
A savior in times of peril.
A leader to rally the troops.
A Liverpool that flips the tides.
Halftime is near
Relief for the Spanish is near
But there is a last terror spell
One final shot towards glory
A clip-on their lips
A blow on the Reals' souls
The fate of our heroes is unsure.
What lies next for the Reds?
But one thing is certain.
They seek victory.
Will they master the chaos of war?
Written: June 2, 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
clip on, analogy, appreciation, sports,
Form:
Free verse