Best Conga Line Poems

The conga line stretches on for miles,
With wedding gown leading her groom,
Swerving in and out of future trials,
Before the newlyweds head to their room.

With wedding...

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The sherbet orange light of a fall morning in Connecticut crackles with the scent pine. The lake’s parking lot overflows by nine thirty. The S.U.V.s...

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The suburban pressure cooker expelled its multiethnic horde north. Laden with implements of leisure, bicycles, kayaks, canoes and camping gear; world weary travelers of urban...

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There was a garden gnome named Griselda
who lived by my back garden gate
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
to Gregor, her poor garden...

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Most everything written
(and learned ya in school)
     Yukon coon sitter, (and bet
     your bottom dollar) tibia bunch
...

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Vagabonds – the lost Avatars


Virtual Vagabonds, avatars
lost amid the teeming Ethernet,
signal searchers illuminated
in the blue light of emptiness

Hobos of a cordless conga line
falling in and...

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Bartender Oh Bartender
(a stout rendition of O Captain! My Captain!
Perfect rhythmic rhyme with tonic 
when the doth ale).

Mine eyes espy the glory per the ending...

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Dutiful discipline drives devoted diligence...

Quotidian dedication describes
das deft dude,
his promising passion
with English language
within recent past dim sum
might notice he brewed

poems about common
trials and tribulations food
for...

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I know it’s coming
that urge
the pressure to perform
on queue
a conga line of the incontinent
living the Maxwell House dream
“good to the last drop”.
We wait in shuffling...

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the beast detests the prince of pomposity.
the chin upturned. each blackened strand of hair

in place with grease. his too white smile released
to aproned maids —...

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parTA
My sweet little gran-mire is 94 Years old.
She still works, as the chairwoman of the family trust.
You can call her “Godfather.”

The “frail old lady” is...

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Devouring wings, my drip is dramatic,
Flames ignite tongue, buds sting acrobatic.
Capsaicin conga line, thrusts are erratic,
Spicy-raised roof, heat hitting the attic.  

A gourmand adventure,...

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Some call me a contrarian
because I shun the Conga Line
observe the strange gyrations
of a movement serpentine.

I stand alone, often dismayed
they chide me: “C’mon take a...

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Follow Me

Come on, join in,
hook onto the end
of the conga line!
Hands on the hips of one ahead
all following along
in a snaky, winding, whooping line
like a...

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