Best Cyrus Poems


Butter Ball, To the Tune of Wreaking Ball By Miley Cyrus

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me
Form: Rhyme

Butterball-To the Tune of Wreaking Ball By Miley Cyrus

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me


Again!?!
Will this madness ever end?!?

Premium Member Cyrus the Virus

CYRUS "THE VIRUS" IS EVERYWHERE. 
WREAKING HAVOC WITHOUT ANY CARE. 
BORN OUT OF WEDLOCK BETWEEN SLIME AND MOLD.
MORPHS HIS WAY THROUGH LIFE I'M TOLD. 
BIRDS AND PLANTS, TREES AND PEOPLE. 
HIS GOAL IN LIFE IS TO TURN ALL INTO FECAL. 
WICKEDLY MEAN, TREACHEROUS DISEASE. 
TRAVELS THE WORLD AND DO AS HE PLEASE. 
HE'LL INFECT A NATION AND THEN HE'LL FLEE. 
APPEAR SOMEWHERE ELSE AS A TICK OR A BEE. 
MASTER OF DISGUISE, MANY DIFFERENT FACES. 
ALL OVER THE WORLD IN ODD AND STRANGE PLACES. 
HOT ON HIS HEELS IS THE WORLD CDC. 
THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND AND ASK HOW CAN THIS BE. 
HE CONTAMINATES WATER, INFECTS YOUR MIND. 
DON'T TURN YOUR BACK, HE'LL INFECT YOUR BEHIND. 
HE THINKS IT'S A JOKE. 
TO HIM IT'S A GAME. 
HE EVEN APPEARED IN THE FORM ACID RAIN. 
CDC, WILL CATCH HIM ONE DAY. 
UNTIL THAT TIME COMES, HE'LL HAVE HIS OWN WAY. 
THEY'LL CATCH HIM ONE DAY AND BOTTLE HIM TIGHT. 
THAT SHOULD SUFFICE AND SERVE HIS CRIMES RIGHT.
Form: Rhyme


Butter Ball - To the Tune of Wreaking Ball By Miley Cyrus

Hate to do this to ya'll but it would help if you listened to Miley's version first...YouTube it. 

I spent my early life
Looking out from behind
The chain link fence on the turkey farm

There they fed me right
Fattened up my thighs
After all, what could be the harm

If it was up to me
I would never leave
It's where I prefer to spend my years

But alas will come the day
When all good turkey's have to say
Arrivederci...I am outta here

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          Unlike those sloppy pigs that live next door
          To be a tender turkey is my call
          And all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, you wanna eat me

They just took Turkey Jack
To the shed out back
Where we never heard from him again

Just like yesterday
With my friend Turkey Dave
Strange they haven't messed with Turkey Slim

Am I the next in line
Could this here be my time
My head placed on the chopping block

As I say my goodbyes
To all the gals and guys
I gobble to Mary Lou as an after thought

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          So delicious they're coming back for more
          Tenderized to the very core
          All they want to do is eat me
          
          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          A slap in the face to the Honey Ham
          To be a tinder turkey is my call
          Heavy on the gravy with a side of yams

Now that you know my tale
I hope I told it well
Enjoy this day with your family and your friends

So remember then
Don't leave the stuffing in
And dinner will go the way that it was planned

          I was born to be a Butter Ball
          The highest honor of them all
          Into the open oven I must fall
          Cause all you want to do is eat me
          Yes, all you wanna do is eat me

Premium Member Cyrus

Cyrus...

President of the country, 
not like any that came before. 
Or... Like any that will follow. 
Standing in the gap between the flood, 
and the waters of eternity, 
threatening to consume the weak, 
kill the innocent, 
and feast on the unwary.
The man was voted in by the people, 
but clearly printed in the word, 
his name; a Trumpet... of His Coming! 

Your hand Sir, held high, 
a pen,  sword, a law to be made, 
a few to be broken, 
that should have never...
been written at all. 
Blessings on you, your family, 
all those that serve the righteous 
cause of the Lord's plan. 

The military might of Moses, 
winning by the hand of GOD...
against the chariots of Pharaoh. 
No obstacle before you, beside you, or...
behind you, will pull you down, 
as you hold Israel high!
God's blessed land...
God's blessed people!

Killing off the minions of darkness, 
in sweeping storms of truth. 
Draining the alligators, 
the crocodiles, and tiny slimy sucker fish...
from the swamps of our country, 
in order to prepare better fields of green. 
A glory to God on the highest!

Prayers to you, Sir. 
Prayers to your family. 
You hug our flag in your arms, 
like you hold something dear. 
There is no fear left in the land, 
only the echoing sound(s)...
of the Horn, 
the Horn of Jubilee!
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Cyrus Neff 1842-1914

Cyrus Neff
1842-1914

You will never find me and the missus, 
Not back here amongst the roots and the scrubs!
We are among the forgotten dead of Mt. Olive Cemetery!
Our graves have disappeared, completely
Eaten away by time and rain and wind.
I bought these cheap graves in a potters field, my friends.
Mt. Olive is nothing more than a cheap graveyard,
Just a donated acre of Quaker farm land,
Given over to the community to bury the poor, 
And the early dead; those poor pioneering souls,
Succumbing slowly to the poisons of diphtheria in 1887.
But we survivors are snoring away still, out here,
Behind this dense crowd of whispering walnut trees, 
Which bend a little in the September wind,
And dutifully guard the grave of Greek George, over there.
Truth be known, me and the missus loved it here in Whittier.
We had a nice house on dusty Penn Street, 
Over by the spreading Hybrid tree,
And enjoyed a brace of decades under the California sun,
Living, working, and then dying.
My friends, you are all invited to our graves,
The missus and me, well, you won’t find us here.
For we are now one with the roots and the scrubs!
But you are invited to come by, sit a spell, 
And listen with us, the missus and me,
To the whispering voices of the walnut trees.
Form: Epitaph


Premium Member Cyrus the Magnificent

Cyrus the Magnificent was flying high
What a pity Cyrus had to flippin’ die
When the rope on the trapeze broke,
Here we buried this unlucky bloke.

Written August 5, 2022
Form: Epitaph

Premium Member Cyrus the Virus

Cyrus the virus is now among us
Known as Corona, causing a big fuss
Hailing from Wuhan city
Infecting without pity
New yellow peril for us to discuss

Over reaction quickly takes traction
Toilet paper now missing in action
Everyone should stay in bed
Then Cyrus will end up dead
But just how long our sleeping protraction
Form: Limerick

Not Since the Days of Cyrus

Not since the days of Cyrus
do they never cease to tire us
with dire news of a deadly virus.

Now we hear the young retort:
'Life is passing, life's too short
to renounce all fun and sport.

When this visitation's over
 I hope once more to be a rover
on rolling hills and fields of clover.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Our Friend Cyrus

Our friend Cyrus 
caught corona virus
    his girl Iris 
   just wired us
Form: Monorhyme

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