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 males with no span.
Only those of equal mental process
Will see my smile and know any access.
Feelings don’t phase my skill to analyze,
Even when I flash my come-hither eyes.
I don’t have masculine strength or muscle,
But in games deductive, I can tussle.
Call me feminine, demure or girly,
Such true adjectives won’t find me surly.
Color my world with sheer lace all pearly,
Just remember my sharp brain is burly.
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 a
sanguinary poem for your savior today ?
Satish Verma
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.
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'
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.
I long to drip my palette into deadpan eyes.
Her passion invigorating a sensual stimulation.
Without God’s transcendent palette,
the chameleon must wear zaffre.
I muse…
7/12/2018
Cozart’s Brevity in Blue Poetry Contest
74 words according to PS syllable counter
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 cherished once, now faded, emotionless.
Forgotten both to me, and I to them.
My secrets are secrets no more -
I own my past, without connecting to it.
I am an open book, because who has to connect with a story?
People can project on a tale,
As what better to have in a confidant,
Than a horror story?
Something you can read from the comfort of your bed,
A scary, scarred stream of words that seem otherworldly.
Frankenstein’s monster will never be faced -
So, too, is this failures’ life.
You understand, you say.
You sympathise, you say.
But how can you, when I checked myself out long ago.
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
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, askew, as quietly he talked
of cemetery plots for sale, not far away, brand new.
With deadpan face and wandering eye, gazed off
with parched cracked lips, he spoke as spittle spewed.
A violent, bloody cough exposed his ills, he swayed
came forward to steady himself, then reached to touch
my arm he grabbed and clutched, I struggled away
then gasped, his foul breath reeked, it was all too much.
Suddenly his frail frame crumpled before my very eyes
he writhed and from his mouth sprang leeches from inside
that attached to me and sucked upon my blood until I died.
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 is hit.
U nmanagable in case of a collision.
L augh-out-loud on the success of a mission.
A deadpan smile on inability to write.
R easonably bright on an awkward sight.
S ocial smiles in old friends’ meeting,
M ona Lisa when getting caught cheating.
I ntelligent smiles in the staffroom,
L ost smiles in the ASL Room.
E ffortless on getting an I.Card.
S un shines when they party hard.
Date: 15/01/2016
Spectacular Acrostic - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
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 (Oh my...
heavens to Betsy), ennui
got pulled by Evan -
Jewel Lean, who handed this long fellow
(wads worth to you)
speculation with fan
see prestidigitation legerdemain - tan
ta mount to cheap tricks
re: out of thin air
by this half
fast hue man,
Hill Billy Willy Wonka Nilly,
who blithely doth asseverate
apothegm (poem title) equally applicable
Century21 today Aswan
damn maxim initially
bespoke, when collective
primates begat enfant terrible
foo fighting predetermining anon
metastasizing debacle Yeti
bedeviling civilization
a bajillion years in the future with
Matthew Scott Harris deadpan
words worth less his way
before even an odd iota
of dire straight sultan
of swing didst merely span
spottily scattered amidst
pristine Earth, where
unchanging arboreal
beastie boys to oman,
and flock of sea gulls
continuity elapsed – Ivan
hunch, albeit un
recorded disc contented sow
sow hogtied pan
dum mo' nee ham, or
blessed historical events,
kept (stay'n) alive,
courtesy"FAKE" Trump
petting Dapper Dan,
where he knit pattern,
qua oral tradition, sans clan
destine scattered hot pockets
of sparse *****sapiens,
i.e. humanity LESS preponderant,
primary, and/or prolific,
where superstitions parlayed
(voodoo with no Fran Schwa),
and whirling dervishes fed elan,
which earliest recorded (doctored,
digitized, and demented
oh yea), not
tomb mitt to dimly mentioned
asper "time and tide
wait for no man"
purportedly by one
Saint Marher, circa:
1225 anno domini.
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)
the creaming of eggs
the earth took a beating
(local yokels evaporating)**
the pounding of this poem
pretty bad prose
destruction of the first and second worst verse
because everyone knows a Vogon
must clink and clank
on its dink and dank typewriter***
the third worst clatter of antimatter
mama Vogon whisks their deadpan bottoms
if you think your kids make noise
you’ve never heard a Vogon cry
D…o….n, well f…i…n…i…t,
Fingers smack on each key, pounding little hammers.
Zip..(return carriage)
How oh how did those earthlings type with these
Zip…(return carriage)
But this is rather priceless after earth’s fiasco
3/7/2017
Shadow Hamilton’s The Noise contest
*American television show depicted a martian with antennas
that would rise from his head “My Favorite Martian”
**Local yokels – an inhabitant of a particular locale
***Everyone knows that a Vogon doesn’t know the “meaning”
of the Universe (or words for that matter)
"Intermission: Flutterby Reveille"
Impromptu like a moth
pale words flutter out of his
psychodelic mind
curious funny flutterby…
for a second then, I didn't move,
deadpan, I said,
"... try again with some panache, some style"
incredulously, I smiled,
he's tripping guitar leads
counting long-tooth years
and numbers between drum beats
here no rest for the wicked, we...
hear pretty worded poets
walk on tip toe
balancing wet bars
on bipolar tightropes
shaking up and banging upside down
all the pretty snowglobes
In his land of silent muses
driving as he wrote
Singing “Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper Louise's”
Pushing the envelope
aside, he writes,
retirement is a caged zoo
he gets high on cryptic puzzles
and cracking her
Sudoku
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Breakfast Reveille:
The Angels, “Take a Long Line”
https://youtu.be/4LdZAK2Rfkg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://youtu.be/4bWsbCpCwOg
The Angels, “Rhythm Rude Girl”
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/angels/rhythmrudegirl.html
What strokes the heart, bridges the tears?
A rainstorm is near; I can touch it.
His shoulder’s a rock that bears my weight.
My heartbeat’s in the air - its peaks and valleys.
A blossoming umbrella crowns my head,
holds me steady. My smile’s underneath,
though buried in the kiss on her forehead,
the last “I love you’s,” my palm on her heart.
A chihuahua under her bed - nestled in her sheets
when she speeds to the emergency room.
What will the old blond do when she is gone -
her one eye open then forever closed?
Yet hope arises…she will life forever
in our Savior’s embrace - the rock of ages
will reunite her with her grandson -
oh how whole, how full, how courtly
and bright after the long kiss goodnight.
Still, her bouquet of daughters
will reel, having recently lost
the appeal to God of too many close relatives.
Their home t’will be vacant
of her encouraging words, starved
of her presence, deadpan, and hollow.
The nurse took care of them for so long -
in sickness and health, through divorce,
widowhood and transplant. Her faith planted
on the solid ground of Christ -
may they embrace the trace of life.
For me, my spouse’s minute kindness -
I lean on the bough as he shock-absorbs
my grief, and I prepare my mind
for an upcoming wake which I
will not awaken from, except for hope,
glorious hope, in the risen Dayspring.
8/3/2022
*S* Spectacular smiles worn by the teachers.
*P* Powerful and poetic to flaunt their features. (Actually character traits)
*E* Engraved-in-anger for unnecessary arrangement. (Extra/absentee periods)
*C* Courageous smiles on super management.
*T* Tight-lipped smile is just for fun.
*A* n annoyed smile when they have to run. ( To keep records )
*C* Can-I-help-you smile if a friend is sick.
*U* Unending smile is their all time trick.
*L* Laborious smile on the success of a mission.
*A* A deadpan smile for cut-throat competition.
*R* Reasonably bright on an awkward sight, which then turns into 'extra polite'.
*A* Affectionate and approving for special ones
*N* Never ending as they need it in tons
*D* Demanding smile to gear them up, which finally bags them medal and cup
*S* Super soft smiles for new admissions
*U* Unconditional bears no conditions
*P* Pan Am smile for every occasion
*E* 'Extra effort' when PTM is the reason
*R* Refreshing and reliable for every season, which helps them to take the right decision.
*C* Calculated smiles when the matter is serious
*O* One can't predict, they are really mysterious
*O* Octopus smiles during online classes
*L* Laugh out loud on clinking of glasses.
*S* Satisfactory smiles on seeing children learn
*M* Majestic and Magical when it is their turn
*I* Infectious smiles for the kids who are shy
*L* Lengthy and laborious to help them try
*E* Energetic smile on getting an award
*S* Sun shines when they party hard
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany