Best Clue Poems
The guests were partying in the big house
a burglar sneaked in armed with a lead pipe
Mrs. White in the kitchen bastes a grouse
Colonel Mustard had guests caught in his hype
A candle stick shone while hung from a rope
in the library Miss Scarlett, dressed in red
felt a cold shiver when a hand did grope
then led to the study, she, filled with dread
In the hall a loud bang sounds with a boom
a revolver echoed… Reverend Green fell
Professor Plum in the billiard room
bled from a dagger…a final farewell
In the lounge, Mrs Peacock ( what a wench )
reflects on her actions, holding a wrench
© 9/6/2014
This sonnet is based on the game of Cluedo it has
been the source of many hours of entertainment
and the source of many an argument, possibly
leading to murder.
Mr Green was originally called Reverend Green
it was changed to Mr. for the American market.
Categories:
clue, games,
Form:
Sonnet
The Play Bill for the Godspeed Opera House fell from my sweaty palm to the floor. 9/08/01. I’m still alive; it’s a miracle. Pushing my bifocals back, I frown. I can’t remember anything after arriving at 11pm.? A cell phone rings. I stumble toward the buzz; bend over to look for it, when I’m tackled from the wing. My heel slips on a broken pencil; I’m down.What did you do? You bastard,he bawls; looking toward the old theater house’s stage. He grabs the phone, retrieving the last message— Fred get to the opera house by midnight or you’re both dead.
the curtains part
revealing a pool of blood:
a chord is struck
Seems I’m alive and after midnight too. I had a moment’s relief. My arm’s wrenched to my back. The pain’s hard to ignore. I feel cold metal; he shackles me. There’s a shout from the lobby and the sound of sirens. Lifting me, he shoves me to the wall fixing the cuffs to the door pull. The theater hall is empty except for the two of us. Through an open door, he charges.We’re back here guys. It’s clear.That moment alone was all I had. The SWAT team arrived. Smells like the dead in here Marco’s where the body?“Ask him why don’t yah. Take him out and open some damned windows will ya. Two of the gorillas toss me out on the porch for a closer look under the moth ladden lights. Just when the cop was about to kick me in the head—a woman screams.
Categories:
clue, mystery,
Form:
Haibun
Who cut the curd cyanide cheese,
thinning out the rank suspect crowd?
Who gassed death in the air bleed,
releasing an odor murder most foul?
Follow the phew olfactory clues,
motive scented everywhere ghoul smell
Mrs. White was it your grey hairs ...
leaving a poison bottom bottle mist trail
spiraling down the Library stairs?
Professor Plum where did you
just Hallway fruity fungi come from?
The Observatory Room window was open,
but now it’s mysteriously been closed
Did you concoct this suffocating wrench plan,
and what’s with the cotton-stuffed nose?
Everybody here got the crimson royal flushed face,
that could only mean one candlestick thing —
Miss Scarlet’s been butt creeping around the place,
no doubt, looking for the hidden bling-bling
Still, who got the super bad mojo Bathroom bowels,
so flatulently criminal ... making eyes roll?
Who put Mr. Green’s intestinal aerosol-laced towels
in the Kitchen behind the snuff dish bowl?
What do those Clues tell you, Lady A.C. detective,
it’s a foul play odor-kill so Murder She Wrote
A farted-out farce, very nasal encore hard to sniff —
the last big reveal is an Insp. Clouseau note:
Colonel Mustard did it
with a gastronomical strangling choke
In the Guest Room
with a belly-loosened, vapor belt rope
Categories:
clue, fun, humorous, mystery, word
Form:
Light Verse
Your aura packs rapt confusion, it snap drags me with a cyclone’s aloof.
Your spring perfume cloaks your stroked fall-colored spoof
and your bright appeal conceals delusion -
yet, my eager seeks your smoked flair’s intrusion.
Hope seeking a clue, I examine climbing gaps in your fickle climate.
I attempt to riot your depths of private.
Your sky-air raises hints of midnight blue
to dance breezy-twirls on my need's point of view.
Intoxication steeps your vibrations; flirt notes disguise your spirit’s tone,
still my swollen need seeks burns in your cool zone.
Your essence boasts self-confident foundations
while my patina pales from riled frustrations.
Categories:
clue, character, confusion, desire, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
You're surviving on milk but not baby my friend,
If you never eat meat, it's a joke to pretend
That your ego's poetic!
Your fool's soul's diabetic!
Yours a comatose bliss (that's not real) at the end.
Friend Ku's radioactive, MAN-made, hence unstable,
You've not studied the Bible, yourself? It's a fable
That a monkey turns Christian,
That God's Truth's a suggestion,
For humility MARKS souls of those in His stable!
Faith's not bending the life of the fallen to Gods
(You imagine) you're pleasing, just think of the odds
A true God needs your help,
He's a service like YELP,
To seek Him gives those aid who dare drop all facades.
To need 'clue' means your lost, 'klux' cannot start a fire,
Though you dress in white sheets, it's external attire,
Yours are water-soaked logs
A fool's stale monologues,
You've a voice, but not pundit, man's role is God's choir.
To be full of yourself might just mean you're depraved,
To be full of God's spirit more sign that you're saved,
To judge others not your lot,
More a warning of soul's rot,
It's in love that I whisper "Be better behaved!"
May 22 of 2019
Categories:
clue, faith, love,
Form:
Limerick
I saw you with him
and him kissin’ you.
Ain’t that my clue darlin’,
ain’t that my clue?
Your eye and my eye
ain’t seein’ the same
Ain’t that a shame darlin’,
ain’t that a shame?
I’m not fallin’ for your bawlin’ this time.
This time you’ll find you’re way over the line.
You made me yours
with your lovin’ lies,
Ain’t I the prize darlin’,
Ain’t I the prize?
The love you gave me
didn’t scratch my itch.
Ain’t that a b* darlin’,
ain’t that a b*?
I’m not fallin’ for your bawlin’ this time
This time you’ll find you’re way over the line.
Get out of my life,
this time I’m sure.
Ain’t that the cure darlin’,
Ain’t that the cure?
Goodbye and adieu,
I’m through with you.
That'd be your cue darlin’,
that'd be your cue!
I’m not fallin’ for your bawlin’ this time
This time you’ll find you’re way over the line.
Categories:
clue, emotions, feelings, goodbye, how
Form:
Lyric
I just read the most beautifully written,
articulate poem today and envied
Why cant I write a poem like that!
As I travel through mind sheds
Blown out by too much drink.
I can neither contend nor describe
These descents into darkness.
The waking hours when all else sleeps
Unravel half truthes sea deep.
Do you know how many sheep I have counted
Not to be reminded of these frailties
That walk this nightly beat.
I catch glimpses of grandness
Most fleeting at best.
This need to govern a life less traveled, solitude filled
Quiets the psych of a poet, desperately stilled.
Categories:
clue, loss,
Form:
Free verse
"still a game of clue"
with every moment of love
it is the sound of whispers
between frozen impressions
it is each glance and stare
found entirely beyond shadows
are secret pearls of promise
held by desire and solid glare
through all corners we journey
you and I have chosen jewels
carried between sun and moon
within our world of it all
it remains a game of clue
SkyWatcher
11-29-23
Categories:
clue, love, romance,
Form:
Light Verse
You can put it on a table five ways.
Categories:
clue, black african american, natural
Form:
Free verse
Well, it was a Hardy try my love.
Categories:
clue, allegory, animals, anniversary, art,
Form:
Chastushka
It's a grand thing, yes, it is.
Categories:
clue, mystery, nature, on writing
Form:
Look okay; I have NO clue what to say,
To be honest your
Peanut to my butter
Moon to my ocean
Di** to my Con***
c*m to my v*g .
Yes I went there.
But I love you so much
You are always there for me. & I love your many accents
We can be on the phone for HOURS and have no dull moments.
We both enjoy the love for soccer & both enjoy the love of men.
We both know each other’s secrets (;
& we both get each other’s joke.
& I swear your goanna be saying
"I need the lord”
"Oh my goodness"
"This is too much"
Before the end of this month.
Categories:
clue, art, imagination, love, i
Form:
Verse
.
Ask me not why
this soul prefers me most
For I the soul most know
favor the locked lass
with
gold
Yet this day
before me
the stroll long her back down
was black
The sylph’s eyes
pitch
just as black
her figure to I
was
just as blond
Categories:
clue, love, me, passion,
Form:
Free verse
Miss Scarlet was driving her car across town.
She had a meeting with Professor Plum at the library .
It was regarding a paper she had written in the study at home.
About the life of Colonel Mustard and the revolver he carried during the war.
Mrs. White was on her way to the school.
She had just left the kitchen,she forgot to put the knife away.
So she slipped it in her purse, she had colored eggs baskets for her students.
It was near Easter and she was driving to the ballroom to set up for the party.
Now, Mrs. Peacock was angry.
She had brought a rope to use to tie up the hole in the hutch.
Her prize bunnies were escaping, her best sales were during Easter time.
She needed to secure the hutch so that no rabbits would escape.
Mrs. Peacock put a wrench in her purse to secure the bolts on the hutch.
Well nobody knows what really happened next, they can only surmise.
All they know is the rabbit was lying in a pool of Easter eggs and baskets.
Three cars were totaled in the accident, all of the women died.
What was peculiar was what else they saw.
A wrench,a rope, and a knife, were found at the scene.
No one had a clue as to where, how, or why?
In the meantime, Professor Plum was in the Library with the revolver.
2-27-13
.
Categories:
clue, humorous, nostalgia, satire, easter,
Form:
Narrative
It’s been ten days, the Easter Bunny is gone with hardly a trace,
The Missus is inconsolable- an Easter basket-case,
Evidence in plastic bags, some fibers and some fur,
The family suspects foul play, the police, they do concur,
This once pristine meadow has senselessly been fouled,
Safety and security has now been disemboweled,
“Mark my woids!” Bugs cried out “Sample that bastids’ blood!”
“No one hates rabbits more than that twisted Elmer Fudd!”
“You’re paranoid” Rodger snorted “the one who murders for kicks...
is that obvious cereal killer, the rabbit from the box of Trix,
“Wrong again” sniffed Uncle Wiggly, “you’re no kind of private-eye”
“But speaking of tricks, when you see her next, tell Jessica that I said hi”
“You can’t just point your finger and tell the police to slap on the cuffs”,
You’re so afraid of your own shadow; you’ve filled your pants with cocoa puffs,
Peter leapt up “A demented rabbit killer, it’s McGregor that’s plain to see!”
“He’s got my clothes on a pole in his garden, hanging in effigy!”
Wiggly shot back “…or is it gang related? Their alibis are somewhat frail”,
“Exactly where were those thugs, Flopsie, Mopsie and Cottontail?
“Hanging around Thumper and Br’er Rabbit; I tell you they’re all the same!”
“Do I really have to remind you all how Thumper got his name?”
Borrowing their hole deeper and deeper, down into that rabbit hole
Theories and explanations, none of which could console,
It will make little difference, because now there will be no Easter
The debate will go on and on, as scared rabbits talk out their keisters,
In a squalid little burrow on the wrong side of the rabbit tracks
Amid the empty red bull cans, lies a bloody axe,
On the handle of the door a “do not disturb’ sign is hanging
And in the bedroom is the Energizer; but it’s not his drum he’s banging,
There the recent widow is doing what bunnies do best,
Meanwhile across the field they are laying her hubby to rest.
March 5 1012
Categories:
clue, funny, easter, easter,
Form:
Burlesque