Best Clunk Poems
New Year
Drinks Beer
Gets drunk
Heads clunk
Drink over
Hangover
Feels sick
Loo quick!
Is ill
Needs Pill
To bed
Sore head
Morning
Dawning
Feels sad
Looks bad
Want drink…
Rethink!
1st January 2015
Categories:
clunk, humorous, new year,
Form:
Footle
~ An Extremely Shallow Poem
with nothing significant
to say ~
Woodland nymphs, a chorus
are singing in the darkling forest
while a fearless brontosaurus
is looking for a florist
Starlight flickers, moonlight dies
forest creatures stop and sigh
When two grizzlies do collide
a twitter double homicide
Miss Raccoon takes her ballet slippers off
which explains her hacking cough
Her rhyming here's a little rough
to which she says ~ Life is tough
Categories:
clunk, poems, satire,
Form:
Rhyme
I once knew a crazy old man Uncle Hanky P. Hunk.
He had the dirtiest house, the drabbest bunk.
I think that he was often kind of drunk.
His bedding was full of icky sticky gunk.
Once in wandered a tiny black and white skunk.
He fell on the floor with a loud heavy thunk.
Did that even wake Uncle Hanky Hunk?
No. He was asleep next to his traveling trunk.
Did you hear that thud? It was a giant clunk
I said to my sister, who was in a moody funk.
I did not, she said. But look at this awesome junk!
A treasure trove unless you find a scared little skunk
Categories:
clunk, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Monorhyme
It was a Wednesday;
a day woven
into prison blankets and dish towels.
A day to assess hours unnoticed.
A time of trivial hungers.
The hard heft of earlier times: -
not fitting into anything,
teenage fluff and huff. Heartbreak,
rearing and loss. The fallow traipse of age.
The clinical clunk of clay feet.
Making room in a grave-yard moon,
for faces mislaid.
Those hard rows were all well hoed.
Washing a closed face in a misty mirror.
Listening to the coffee percolator.
trying to shave before its last burble,
ears catching the dark drops of a winter rain,
he creeps again too close
to a hole in his mind.
He should not be doing this still,
but the hole keeps tugging him.
He must keep throwing raw meat
into that roaring silence.
The hole is deep, and the end of it, is no end.
He wishes he could at least,
install an elevator.
for his ghosts to ride up and down on.
It would give him time
to drink more coffee, and write
some polite, well-adjusted poetry.
Categories:
clunk, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
I’ve been told
“things work out for the best”
in that way each of us
Divinely blessed
God in control they say –
if only Time didn’t hurt…
I believe in life hereafter
I believe no wrong God
can’t have undone; someday
somehow our dear Lord to make
all losses won --
God in control they say --
if only Time didn’t hurt…
God in control they say
though ticking I find unbearable
swinging pendulum a clank and
clunk~ when a heart sunk
too deep one’s despair...yet I
am told, God is always
fair – always there – somewhere
taking loving care
God in control they say --
if only Time didn’t hurt...
No theologian am I
just a common soul, treading, adrift;
questioning if sane to trust in fate --
dialogues with God sounding always
one sided debate --
I believe in love
while more questioning
my faith
God in control they say
your silence pushing me
further astray --
if only Time didn’t hurt...
If only Time didn’t hurt…
If only Time didn’t hurt….
Categories:
clunk, confusion, divorce, forgiveness, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
Born into a life of poverty crime and squalor
where hunger and cold winds bite
and disease is rife
and it was a daily battle to stay alive
and find some food to stay alive.
Uneducated illiterate caught in the poverty trap
drinking polluted water
from the same polluted cholera riddled tap.
An impoverished woman
sells her body for a cheap bottle of Gin
and a lodging for the night
while a pickpocket and mutcher
ever watchful
look for a pocket to alight.
The deafening clunk and clatter
of horses and carts on the cobbled ground
and shouts from the street market traders
echo all around.
Children play and run through the narrow
crowded streets
dressed in rags no shoes upon their feet
The putrid stench from the gutter
and thick choking bellowing
smoke from factories
make one heath and make it hard to breath.
Dilapidated hovels and buildings
covered in black soot
horse manure and raw sewage
under foot.
Beggars with large mournful eyes
reach out pleadingly to the passing gentry
to fill their empty bowls with plenty.
A peeler pins a notice of a forthcoming hanging
at the local Gaol for the few who can read
upon a rusty nail.
A Mother desperate to feed her hungry children
steals a loaf of bread from a market stall
but is soon captured in the sprawl.
The judge sentences her to 10 years
penal servitude far over sea in Botany bay
but she dyes aboard the ship of fever
upon the way.
Her 9 children are sent to the workhouse
for the poor to gain some education
and work hard behind it's hellish door
never to see their Mother or escape poverty
ever more.
Peter Dome.copyright.2012.
Categories:
clunk, childhood, dark, grief, history,
Form:
Free verse
TO TAME A SHREW
Tunke Tunke Tunke
I dragged her along and into the trunk
Clunk clunk clunk,
I hear some screaming from the Tunke
I drove away, in my brand new Lex
Avoiding both grammar and spelling checks
Safely away, I saved the day
Off I am to the road by the bay
Tunke Tunke Tunke
Her crass verse I too stuffed in the trunk
Drunk drunk drunk
How else does one explain a skunk in the trunk?
So by the bay, I opened me trunk
Someone is gonna be going for a dunk
I unloaded the cargo chapter and verse
At the bottom of the lake let’s see her converse
Categories:
clunk, abuse, bird, dream, horse,
Form:
Ekphrasis
oh hello-
my name is frigidair and I am
a (retro) refrigerator
for food
I have been in this apartment
since 1950
a nice kitchen but I cannot move
so not sure about
the rest
I am tall as a person
and a bit fat
a lovely creamy white
with drawers
(and an egg compartment)
and of course a freezer
I am restored a restoration
not quit an antique yet
but feeling my age
my father was general electric
and mother was pink
my sister was turquoise
free standing happily I hum
all day
and all night and sometimes I
clunk
I look crooked but that's the floor
I seem to be going
downhill
inside me are good things
like meat and poultry ice cream
milk eggs vegetables juice
fruit
please be careful with my door
oh some of my shelves are lopsided
(well that's old age)
and lets not talk about the cracks
but I still work
and some say I am quite appealing
I've aged well in this heritage building
or at least that is what
I heard (and the word vintage)
did I tell you they restored me
to be frost free
(they put me to sleep for that)
the girl likes that about me
I like it when she caresses me
with a wet damp clothe
she is quite proud
of me
and I like this room big and roomy
and the window
looks out on a lovely garden
that's so nice
and the little things the girl has
on counters so pretty (she is)
she always puts some flowers
by the sink for me oh how sweet
its really a good life for a refrigerator
although not sure how much time
I have left
(no regrets) and to all refrigerators
let me say keep cool and plugged in
__________________________
September 10, 2015
Free Verse Personification
For the contest, A Tribute To Major Appliances
Honorable Mention
Categories:
clunk, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
It started with a drink I drank till drunk
when I started to wonder if I'd blink till blunk.
As I opened my eyes in a stink I stunk
and I started to think and thank till thunk.
Life beginning to sink, it sank till sunk.
I was feeling the fink; a fank with funk.
With my money going clink and clank till clunk,
I was poor to a plink of a plank gone plunk.
When I thought of a link I had linked till lunk,
come as fast as a mink of a mink gone munk.
And I started to write in an ink gone unk,
just to write down a story in the pink gone punk.
Then I started to slink and slank till slunk,
all from writing a story of kink and kunk.
Just afraid of an ending that I'd flink and flunk
as if out on the rink to rank my runk.
All to make me a trink of a trank to trunk.
I was rich in a prink of a prank gone prunk.
Categories:
clunk, creation, children, kids, fun,
Form:
Monorhyme
Why can't I do it how I want to do it?
Been told my rhymes are sophomoric - at best
I may violate pentameter but I write what I like
Why must it pass some journal's vapid test?
Behind a block of writers I've been hiding
Cowed by thoughts of editing snafus
Trying to write deep, intensive tomes of valid lore
Only to be chastened and abused
There's elegance found in concise expression
Saying all the world in just a line
No matter that I know this, I belabor all my thoughts
Create elegies for elegance in time
Onomatopoeia is my best friend
And alliteration waltzes through my dreams
Thoughts chatter, clatter, chirp and clunk around about my head
Demanding that they be released in streams
And after I have done what I have done here
Exposed my heart by opening my head
I send it forth with hope that someone will enjoy my words
And get rejection letters only, in their stead
Won't you like my poem - just a little?
I promise it won't be a trite conceit
I don’t emulate the standard ways of any other writer
But you've called my words monotonous and cheap
But yet my writing keeps on remonstrating
That whether it be ballad or blank verse
It should be able to do, just exactly what it feels like
And it finds your journal editing perverse
It says it does not care if it is published
Doesn't want you to consider it profound
For if you did, it might become repetitive and common
And make cool people, like me, put it down
But won't you like my poem just a little?
At the least - you could be non-committal
Categories:
clunk, anxiety, dedication, funny, hope,
Form:
Ode
Click
Clack
Click, clack
Click, clack, click
Click
Clack
Click, clack
Click, clack, click
On a steady morning walk -
Got a rhythm going
Hearing aids in
And yes, I'm "strollin'"
Click
Clack
Click, clack
Click, clack, click
Noisiest coat in the world.
Thunk
Rain drops falling
Thunk
Click, clack, thunk
Click, clack, clunk
Thunk, click, clack
Yes - The noisiest coat in the world.
Forget it. Focus.
Enjoy the beat
Feel the rhythm
Listen to the tweets
Tweets?!
Birds? Cool, that's sweet
Tweet. Click.
Clack. Thunk.
Tweet. Clack.
Click. Clunk.
Engines ever revving
Bus burps and roars
Noises from everywhere
Just walk. Don't pause.
Roar. Click.
Growl. Thunk.
Burp. Tweet.
Rev. Clunk.
Cold crisp morning
Breath hangs in the air
Echoes in my ear drum
Like a symbol and a snare
Loud conversation -
Don't look back.
Scrape of the foot
Catch a puddle with a splat
Breathy bash
Puddle splash
Click, clack
Click, clack, clunk
Got a pace going there
And enjoyed the view
Tiny terrier yaps
Yes, I heard you - thank you!
Yap. Bloody yap.
Click, thunk, clack.
Keys at the ready
As I get to my door
Clang & bang as they jangle
And pick the paper from the floor
Even newspaper's noisy
Rustles loudly - what a pain.
Hearing aids - OUT
For quiet sanity again
No more click, no more clack…
Categories:
clunk, journey, sound,
Form:
Free verse
In his damp, snail smelly, back yard, water boiled in a vat.
"Hurry honey", said Grandpa, "the tide has just gone out".
In my six year old mind, we were in for a "great big treat".
Willingly, I'd fill my bucket full with sand crabs we'd all eat.
Overcast dark sky and dank fishy cold wind didn't dampen
spirits while scanning wet sand for holes that were sunken.
Intently digging, then oh so thrilled, I yelled,"I found one!"
Clunk! Into my little tin sand bucket it fell; one prize won.
Sadly looking, seagulls mocking, I'd managed only eight.
Grandpa smiled, dumped them in the vat with, "GREAT"!
Categories:
clunk, beach, childhood, family, grandfather,
Form:
Rhyme
clink clunk the bones go clank
hanging there from the curtain rail
large pumpkin and shaping knife ready
it will be a great party time, without fail
when you enter the room you need to
swish swash the spray net out of the way
I said don't spray it round the room til its time
time to party but no, had to be done right away
just in case hmmmm it doesn't look right
remainder of many parties afore
hang from the ceiling and the light above
room had a kind of orangy glow silently
awaiting the children, looks like a treasure cove.
deadbat sandwiches, mildew cakes
globulous drinks, orange shade of course
music where's the music,
must play .ghostly music, I endorse
have you seen the punch bowl
with a kitchen glove filled with water
been in the freezer, sitting in the middle,
looks spooky better than it outa
games galore here ready to be played
right then let's start on that pumpkin
shall I give it warts lol or buck teeth
looks good enough to eat will call it Munchkin
something is missing now what can it be
yep I know what's missing it's meeeeee.
penned 14 October 2015
Categories:
clunk, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
Twas sordid that thought
Midwinter handed a lit
Oil lamp
Glowing
Showing the way outside to the shiny black paint of
The toilet door
Lift the latch....clunk! as your eyes scoured the darkness the bushes
For bogey men, trolls and murderers
Place lamp on window sill
Put small buttocks on the winter chilled toilet seat
Heart beats at a quickened pace
As a small scared face gazes
Out
Eyes foraging the white painted walls
For spiders and daddy long legs
Anything that crawls
And flys
And eats small, small children
Eyes down on two chubby little legs
Distant from the floor
And go girl go!
As quick as you can
As the sounds and rustles blown outside are
Definitely
The bogey man
He's coming after your guts and gore
Push little lady and try to be gone
Before
The doors ripped off its hinges
And you are dragged into the abyss
And they will all read about
The little lost Miss....
Categories:
clunk, childhood, fear, funny, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
a set of old tires,
bald as a turtle's head;
the engine won't start,
'cause the battery's dead!
sank my last dollar,
on this piece of ol' junk;
all it does is rattle,
and go "clunkety-clunk!"
a funky lil' dealer,
in high water pants;
sold me a lemon,
and did a happy dance!
mix-matched panels,
from front to side;
where are the seat belts?
it's almost suicide!
ain't no way in hades,
i'm having a thrill;
this clunker dies out,
when i drive up a hill!
the seats are tattered,
i'm feelin' paranoid;
every time i hit a bump,
i'm pushin' hemorrhoids!
when i'm doin' sixty,
i'm really goin' ten;
i think i'll need a priest,
this car's a wicked sin!
when it comes to braking,
i'm guaranteed to lose;
it's another day at Pay Less,
to replace my worn out shoes!
this car's got more dents,
than an 18th century bed;
when i cruise the neighborhood,
i hide my shallow head!
i pulled up to a corner,
next to a homeless dude;
who held a cardboard sign which read,
I'LL GLADLY WORK FOR FOOD
he reached into his pockets,
pulled out a load of change;
"take your car to the vet!" he pled,
"i think it's got the mange!"
such a funky lemon,
for now it'll have to do;
beware of the "no credit" dealer,
he'll sink his fangs in you!
Categories:
clunk, funny
Form:
Rhyme