Best Crazy As A Loon Poems


One Picture At a Time

A toddlers Crayola masterpiece marks the box
Where the story of our days now tarry
Passages tilting the axis of a bittersweet equinox
As photographs eclipse yesterday and today unvaried 

The plans we made for a life
After years of work and worry
Useless installments when your partner dies
The crumbling of everything you once held firmly

Riveted, uprooted with every slide
Scenes of "our time" bring you back to life
I step from earth, you from the sun, for yet another goodbye
And the dam finally collapses behind brave hazel eyes

But not the brokenness your death left behind
Still, though no more than ashes it resides
Like faded photographs etched in the mind
Fanning the embers... one picture at a time

Rage rises, for you left me alone
Without refuge for all life's trials
And our sons fatherless before they were grown 
Every step feeling more like a mile

I've grieved so long 
And tried to move on
Like river water never looking back
But it's motion sings the the words to our song

Leaving me afraid I'll never belong
Or live out the plan we devised
For all my days my efforts give way
Blundering, burdened and blind

How does one truly recover
When the mate of their soul is no more
Or pass from one realm to yet another
When the walls of your heart no longer have a door? 

Frustration builds like Lego towers
toppling to the floor under the weight of the world
Is it grief or something disguised by cowards
When a heart gets stuck from the pain that it's learned? 

This ode to a man 
Who in covenant took my hand
The marriage equator engraved a permanent mark...
For his death left a total eclipse of my heart

Crazy as a loon
But my God... how I loved you
My eyes fixed upon our favored moon
And I wonder... Do you miss me too?

Anniversaries used to be a joyous accomplishment
Marking years of selfless love made
Now it serves only an acknowledgement 
Of a life interrupted by a cruel twist of fate

Of ill trusted hopes 
And a future unmade
For us left behind to cope
With memories and photographs fading away

On this the 2nd anniversary...
            Of your passing away



In memory of my husband of 25 years
Charley Romani 
(My Beloved)

Premium Member Six Relatives

Every Sunday after church
Old great-aunt Dora
Full bloodied Cherokee,
In her finest dress and fedora,
Drove her pink Cadillac
To the San Joaquin River.
She would stop in the same place
And sat on an old stump,
Under a camphor tree,
By the riverbank,
And would cast her fishing pool,
Drinking her moonshine liquor.

Old widow lady of ninety-two;
My dear mother-in-law
Lives by herself 
With nothing else to do.
She sits in her chair 
Next to the window
And stare out for hours
With dreams of her past.
She carries a small chrome plated,
Stud nose 22, pistol 
With white pearl grips
In her purse.
Don't get in her way,
At the grocery store,
She will ram her cart
Into yours and say,
"Sorry I didn't see you."

Then there’s my sister.
“She’s crazy as a Loon; 
Howls at the moon,”
My husband would say.
Her long-distance relationships 
All in her mind. 
Her husband 
Doesn’t seem to mind,
But watches over her shoulder
When she cooks,
To make sure 
Everything she uses 
Is clean before he eats.
Their two daughters 
Walked the same path.
Live in a world 
Of hallucinations 
And delusions,
In denial 
Of their illness 
Of schizophrenia.

11/19/2020


Six Relatives Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Wicked Mary's Been a Bad Girl

Goodness me, fiddle dee dee and la de dah
Mary turned into a black sheep, baa baa baa
That naughty little lamb
Has contrived a big scam
She's gone too far astray and has lost her way

Mary's been tinkering on an old fiddle 
But she can't play worth a piddle or diddle 
She's as crazy as a loon
Mind and fiddle outta tune
Even the cow can unravel this riddle

I heard about the guy, name of Jack Horner
Who hangs around the lamp post on the corner
Mary does his bidding
It's true. I'm not kidding
She didn't listen when I tried to warn her

What'd you plant in your garden, Mary Mary?
I heard smokin' it will make you quite merry
The feds have grown wise
To her innocent disguise
My goodness! She's become very contrary!

Mean ol' Mary dressed up as Little Bo Peep
To bully and mock the flock of grazing sheep
She is shamefully cruel
I'd meet her in a duel
To put an end to that mean-spirited creep

Last weekend she frightened Little Miss Muffet
Who was eating a light lunch on her tuffet
Munching her whey and curd
When Mary dropped a turd
Then ran off, telling Miss Muffet to stuff it!

What a fussy hellcat Mary has become
Her lies have people describing her as 'scum'
She's bonkers in the head
Obviously ill bred
and if you believe a word she says, you're dumb

Evil is a person who chases blind mice
But by now we all know Mary is not nice
She screamed at them, "Now run!"
Then shot 'em with her gun
One day that ghastly creature will pay the price

The Big Bad Wolf's a hero in Mary's thinking
Cuz he's dreadful to others without blinking
He was mean to two pigs
when he blew down their digs
Mary's just as horribly cruel, I'm thinking

Like Humpty Dumpty, who once sat on a wall
Mary's wicked ways will lead to her downfall
A powder keg's been lit
It will hurt quite a bit 
But she's a bad egg who always starts a brawl


Premium Member More Than One Kind of Crazy

Occasionally we should expose the wackier lobe of the brain
in order to better appreciate the more sensible side of the mind.
     ~THIS is one of those times...

I capriole between my arabesques
fugaciously spasmodic in fluxes and leaps
indifferent to their misanthropic mocking
and cheeky syncopated schisms

BUT LET THEM SCOFF!

I derogate their arrogance
in silent smirking repudiation 
for they know not of the decoctions
spating rapidly through my veins, 
nor of the massive assemblage
of my miscelany grey and white matter.

The mordant humor of this absurdity
is that I am irrationally rational...
psychotically speaking; 
I am dripping with percipience
sagaciously intelligent beyond the measure
of those cretins who kvetch, pule, and postulate
that I am strabismic and nonsensical as a loon.

After reading this write of gelastic absurdity,
it's become mereticiously opaque to me
that my discourse is oxymoronic, OR
I am a dimwitted addlepate.

There is more than one kind of crazy!
                                           *********************

A translated version of the above nonsense,
so now Jan doesn't think she's hopelessly lost.

I dance as if I were a ballerina,
a total klutz, but I don't care 
if they laugh at me. 

LET THEM MAKE FUN!

I don't care if they smirk at me because
they don't know what I feel or think.
The funny part of my silliness is that 
I'm really rational, pretending not to be.
I'm really smarter than I look or act
so let those idiots say that I'm
as crazy as a loon.

Now that I've read these words,
it's clear to me that nothing I've
written is clear. Soooo....
I'm either clever at writing an oxymoron
OR I'm crazy.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Stormy Weather

March has been so dark and dreary,
that it makes me sad and weary.
Can't keep from sighing.

If the weather doesn't change soon,
I will be crazy as a loon.
and weak from crying.


Motif: Nature
Written March 4, 2014

Cliche and Catch Phrase Party

Once in a blue moon I have been told
The cliché’s clan gets together with the Catch Phrase posy

If I have told you once I have told you a thousand times this story or are you the last one to know?

Well, it all started for no rhyme or reason but you could see the writing on the wall.

Rat Race and horsing around would be in charge of the children’s activities for the day.
 While crazy as a loon and Wacky Tobacky would take care of the entertainment.
Ice Queen would be the bartender for the night and Wall Flower would play the music.
Requests were already pouring in from the peanut gallery. 
Young whipper Snapper like to hear a country song called one step forward and two steps back
And Jonny come lately wanted to hear a rock song called Chip off the old block.
Class clown always wanting to be the center of attention got drunk and started dancing
On the picnic tables. 
 Simon Says and Mother May I where there to tell everyone what to do and where to sit.
 This would be a catered event so One sandwich short of a picnic was hired to feed this Motley crew.
On the menu was Fish out of Water served with two peas in a pod and for dessert The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Al- a- mode.
Everybody was having a great time until the trouble makers showed up.
One for the road and Three sheets to the wind where known for starting drunken brawls.
The worst thing was they brought their 3 grown sons Hammered, sloshed and pickled.
If I only knew then what I know now left early. She had a feeling there would be trouble.
Penny for your thoughts would be collecting the raffle ticket money and No time like the present would be handing out the prizes.
Liar Liar Pants on fire and Cry me a river were sore losers and always made a scene if they lost.
It will be a cold day in hell didn’t want to go so he sent his wife Heaven to Betsy.
Too much of a good thing got sick and ended up taking the bus# Catch22 home.
Well, nothing lasts forever was the last song of the night and Turn out the lights the party’s over security guard company showed everyone the door.
The end.


Noisy Neighbor

chocolate covered nut,
was my neighbor
and crazy as a loon
banged on his pots and pans
each night
while howling at the moon

disturb me once more, I thought
and I will teach you well
with noise so horrific
you'd rather be in h_ll!

he did not heed my warning,
and howled on night and day
so I set my alarm for 3AM
sure I'd get my say

I pointed mighty amplifiers
out my windows old
I opened up said windows,
I did not fear the cold

so it's noise you want? I muttered
so angry and so sick,
pushed down my organ's "on" button,
and gladly heard it click

now my mighty organ would rumble
with sounds so awful you would run
discordant notes I blasted
volume pedal pushed  full gun

the roar was long and frightful
my own ears began to bleed,
but I'd teach this momma mucker
what he must surely need

so my windows, they did shatter
as did his and others' too
but I kept my keys depressed
I even used a shoe

now a sound this bad, I understand
can waken up the dead
so sure enough I rumbled on
pain swelling in my head

and there among the mists of night,
a thing most to dread
so eerie- scary and more
appeared the ghost
of my long lost love
my most beautiful Lenore

she did not look so pleased
and in her hand she held
a pot to brain my noggin',
until from it silence was finally bled

I gasped, I chocked, I whimpered
frightened out of my very wits
and if you checked my underwear
you surely would find ____z

so i stopped, and she was gone
my neighbor still banging gong, gong, gong!
only now when he does this
I smile and join along
I sit and howl, and drivel
banging gong, gong, gong, gong, gong!!!
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Into the Sullen Night

"Loving and losing: 
          Different only by one letter and a million degrees of pain."
                                                                    ~ Jessica Katoff ~

With each rising sun and waning moon
I envisioned the dark eclipse of our ruin.
"You're crazy as a loon, he said. "It's delirium."
I did not pretend his caustic words held truth

To burnished stars I grieved, forlorn for love
Melancholy blue, I knew I had to turn away
I mourned, heart bereaved in solemn reverie, 
as if interred in a crypt of egregious umbra 

I longed for an awakening, from shadow to light
for someone to mediate a semblance of sanity
but into the sullen pitch of night, I quietly ebbed
There was nothing left of our love to consecrate

Bound by chains of despair and indigent of faith
I became obtuse to reality; I had given up on me
but with wounds etched across my delicate heart
I freed myself from apogee and rose above sorrow


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 9, 2019
Eight Word Challenge
John D. Hamilton
Challenge was to use the following words: 
OBTUSE  INDIGENT  EGREGIOUS  DELIRIUM 
DELICATE  CONSECRATE  MEDIATE  AWAKENING
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Sweet Sixteen

Sweet Sixteen
by Franklin Price
1/1/2016

Sweet sixteen is finally here
and sixteen minutes in
If I waited to write longer
Would be too sleepy to begin

It's eight sixteen I went to bed
At the ending of verse one
Watching the bright ball drop
Was tiring but fun

My wife said if you stay up
You're as crazy as a loon
You can finish in the morning
If  you awaken before noon

As you see it's not near noon yet
And I really must confess
Did not mean to write about myself
But New Year's greetings to address

Happy New Year to you
To your friends and family
Hope this year is awesome
Hope it's the best that it can be

May your road in life be paved and smooth
May peace and love abound
And at the end of sweet sixteen
May we all still be around

Premium Member Call Me a Lunartic

Sometimes I think sleeping
        is entirely overrated,
especially when thoughts come creeping 
        into me unabated.

From whence they arrive 
        I'm often surprised and void of explanation,
other than the atmosphere 
         and strange affiliation.

With whom these letters think I am
        some sympathetic host, 
as if I'm nothing but their bloody ride
        to take them coast to coast.

How dare they arrive inside of me 
       with no invite from my brain,
they just jump in from where and when
        another dimension, place, or plane.
(And yes, I know it sounds insane)

I know it sounds ridiculous 
        as if I'm crazy as a loon,  
but I swear sometimes I think these lines  
        comes straight down from the moon.

So go ahead, call me a “lunar-tic” 
        Or don’t hesitate to call me weird,
but letters and words fall free from the sky 
        landing right between my ears.

Premium Member Mephisto Waltz

MEPHISTO WALTZ

Lost in the forest
And worse – the night has come on
Many strange noises
Shivers up and down my spine
Moon just peeking round a cloud

Then    this old farm house
One window lit up    (a barn?)
Smoke from the chimney
I’d heard a hermit lives there
Crazy as a loon they say   

Seems I have a choice –
To stay the night in his barn
Or    find my way out
I decide to take the barn
I’ll sneak around    out of sight

Find some hay inside
And curl up comfy and warm
It’s quite daring    but
What he don’t know won’t hurt him
So    my plan seems safe enough

The barn door opens
There is a soft   but weird    light
I am tentative
But I’m also very tired
I enter and hear music

The dies irae
Before I can turn and run
The hermit has me
In one hand is a bible
In the other a big axe

“Shall we dance?” he says
“My friends play such sweet music”
His friends? – ghouls    zombies!
They play the weird dance of death
The hermit begins to prance

His eyes red as fire
Now I must try to keep step
To ghastly music
I’m in a whirl – off my feet
This mad laugh – the axe descends!

Dream Again

Dream again...
 an endless journey to pretend.
 Just to dream again,
 for something more!

 Something more one can achieve,
 to be more one can believe.
 Feel a passion for a day...
 and forever, sail away!

 Sail away,
 and take a chance,
 one can begin...
 a new romance.

 To be as crazy as a loon,
 and be a child again,
 all in full bloom...
 To be a friend unto oneself!

Tell Me What You Really Think

You sat and looked at me as if,
I had lost my mind.
You told me I was crazy,
That I was unrefined.
The kind of life I offered
That you could not accept.
I think there’s just a few lines
That I may have overstepped.

You said I had a screw loose
That I was fruity as a bat.
You called me crazy as a loon 
 Delirious and erratic.
Deranged, demented, dingy daft.
Bonkers, crazed and cracked
Unbalanced, unglued, unhinged unzipped
Kooky, mad and whacked.

You said I was a lunatic
Psycho and berserk
Out of my freakin mind
A screwy, batty, jerk
You called me a screwball
A flaky no good fink
And I said babe tell me
What you really think.

Premium Member Nonsense Song Nursery Rhyme

If it seems absurd
that a cuckoo bird
is as crazy as a loon,
but you hear the talk
he’s around a clock
all morning, night, and noon,
then it should not astound
that he’s a little wound,
and sounds a kooky tune.

When a pachyderm
gets the urge to squirm
does it wrinkle up his skin?
If he dunks a skunk
with his long gray trunk
would you say he stinks again?
Can he use his nose
like a big long hose
to wash away his sin?
If the sky turns gray
on a rainy day,
does he just blend right in?
The world is oh so deep.
It keeps me from my sleep -
like, why do we count sheep?

If a rooster yells,
is he on egg shells
when he tiptoes ‘round the hen?
And can you confirm
that a mattress firm
is on hard times again?
It’s matters such as these
that bring me to my knees;
I need some answer, please!


----------

for the Be Creative Poetry Contest
sponsored by Eve Roper
written on 11/1/22
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Professors Secret

The professor kept his cats secret because he was a man.
He had been told that cats were women’s pets by cousin Fran.
She was completely off her rocker, as crazy as a loon.
Still he was embarrassed when I saw all of them yesterday at noon.

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