Best Deadpan Poems

I am of soft, delicate skinned casing,
Housing an iron, logical facing.

I grant my femininity free reign
To follow dictates of my manlike brain.

My seductive charms can attract a man,
But he may run far once I show my hand.

My quick, mental wit delivered deadpan
Cannot be handled by...

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A Tribute to Jan Allison, I miss her on PS!


There's a sweet woman I know as Jan,
a valued member of the soup clan.
Her limericks are the best,
Poop humor above the rest!
Her long absence has been a sad span.

 By Tania Kitchin


Jan's bathroom humor could fill...

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In twilight,
the noose tightens-
and shadows start walking
towards you; to reclaim
your anonymity-
and declare in deadpan manner:
the author is dead.

Your smallness goes
on sale. You are subjected
to scrutiny by the small print, but
the truth escapes from lidless eyes.

A private punishment.
There was blood on the knife.
Why did you write...

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Green!
Alive
on tall grass,
blithe, lithe, limber,
swaying long and lean
in their beachy masses.
The deadpan sand eavesdrops as
breezes wave blades like silk banners.
Whispers whir with emerald voices;
long-winded grass gossiping with zephyrs....

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I knew a filly, thought she was bovine
Whenever she talked, out came this line
   ‘I am man’s best friend’
    This girl would deadpan
'He drinks my milk ~ He is udderly fine'...

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Still life.  What bite have my grapes and plums?
I capture the glaucous coating — the powdery residue.

A fairytale gown needs just the right godmother-dusting of azure.

The sparkling suds and frothy thrust! The concoction of a great day
— my brush reveals teal and Caribbean waves....

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I read, like an open book
All others can see the words written on my pages.
I contain tales, read as secretive,
A hushed whisper that only a handful have seen.

But how many times has this book been checked out?
A sea of white masks, deadpan through the years
So...

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I 
Can
Deadpan
Take more than
Any other man
This will be my unwritten plan
Continuing to take silence time and time again
From the most beautiful woman
Till I'm an old man
Madman
Can
I...

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Coplas on Wine

( here, the famous AntiPoetic Chilean Poet Nicanor Parra, b. 1914, uses the more popular form of the « copla » genre that he contains in quatrains of 8 to 10 syllables with two lines of each quatrain rhyming at random, though not...

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One lonely, chilly night, I awoke to faintly hear 
a rap, rap, rap coming from my front door knocker.
Too curious to ignore, I opened it a crack, and there 
stood a man, tall and wan, a strange night hawker.  

He wavered as he stood,...

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S pectacular smiles worn by schoolgirls.
P owerful and poetic when the answer is right.
E ngraved-in-anger in case of a fight.
C oward smiles on home-work not done.
T ight-lipped smile is just for fun.
A n annoyed smile when no place to sit.
C an-I-help-you smile if a friend...

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1. Ripples in warm sunbeams dwell.
From a sandy cocoon I wake and stir.
A floater in the blue does knell,
A dot, a stain, a blackened blur.
Am I the only one who sees?
No, the beach is afoot with myriad peeps.
The knell is deep -- a woofer wheeze.
A...

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Or Woman, Or Child, Or...

The following elucidated
     conjecture actually can
(reed best) be taken with a grain
     of salt, and no re ban
nah nah split 'ope ya 'ere me 
     cloud and lear, cuz...

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THIRD WORST CLATTER OF ANTIMATTER

clatter of antimatter
alien dishes splatter
(the shape of spaceships)

     his antennas* whir with rising
     he considers going wireless

a dish flying at warp speed
like a zillion cyclonic bats
(female Vogon shriek encapsulated by rage)

  ...

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Amazonomachy, leaping from the comic page,                                       ...

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