Best Denture Poems
her increasing wants ergeses me
to satisfy
the need for meat
I never ask why
the gravy sauces the plate
and covers the imperfections
of potatoes mashed to accompany the meat
this meat so tender
so damn tender
the edges crisp with sweet caramelized sweetness
salted perfectly
pink the center of the funk
the plate holds all this junk
tender enough to eat with a spoon
cooked well enough to tell somebody
to come over here
and eat like I ate,
come on ya'll dig the ripe, ripe roast
chef want sum pleasing for his teasing
tip the waitress, no?
your glad bag, and sum pictures
remove the meat from yo' denture
the wine was cheat but sweet
I really enjoyed yo' sweet, sweet meat!
He said he was Herbert Buttery
Born and bred in Woodley Edge
And was owner of a little business
Repurposing outdated artificial legs.
They were a family of collectors.
His brother lived in Haywards Heath
And his speciality was amassing
Pre owned sets of artificial teeth.
They were here on neutral ground
To consider a joint venture
Outside their specific fields
Of either Prosthetic or denture.
He made no further comment
Of the content of their proposal
Other to confirm they had
Sufficient funds at their disposal.
Such strange folk i thought
As I bid him a fond adieu
To continue with my project
Of harvesting Equinoxal dew.
Tell me now please, are you my lost denture?
Cause I can't smile without you, that's for sure.
Your Best Pick Up Line Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Judy Konos
30 April 2015
I never ate a dinosaur,
Though I have always felt the call.
Sometimes I crave that giant beast
Like some wild Neanderthal.
I never yet have had false teeth.
I should be more thankful, I'm sure,
But sometimes at my granny's house
Denture humor make us all roar!
I never jumped from an airplane.
I always found jumpers quite mad!
The plane's not falling, pilot good,
Sometimes for small blessings be glad!
I never told my mom good-bye.
I'll always regret that mistake.
Won't meet again til some time's passed
A future for bygones to make.
Marveling
interrogated exclamation
of this sweet and bitter immense tickling loneliness
hard labor
plastified by diverse molds
deep filigree taste
in exhaustible muscle
mind that climbs and rolls
with a battery of titanium
In this loneliness of automation
free greetings of the denture
kind and inocuous farewells
that evaporate and disappear...
travelers of sealed spirals
where beginning and end
ciclically superimpose
recite the myth by memory
and unable to define their flame
exist when they think
dye when they sleep
vibrate when they love giving
plunge serene into the full void.
Who’s that fellow that came, you know, what’s his name?
The one who was quite underweight
He came round last week, with a zit on his cheek
And he mended and painted our gate
Come on, you should know it was you had to show
Him the things that were needing repair
He was ever so lean and not very clean
And was toothless with bright ginger hair
He had no teeth at all he was ever so tall
And was scrawny and lanky and long
He’d no meat on his frame but was awfully game
And for someone so skinny, quite strong
His mum had dementia he’d mislaid his denture
He came and he did a good job
He was gummy and thin with an odd kind of grin
Oh yes! It was thin gummy Bob
**** please note British spelling of ageing used ****
If the truth is told I’m getting old -
Of that there’s no denying
Grey hairs appear upon my head
I dye them, I’m not lying
My memory is not what it once was
I keep forgetting what I have said
I keep forgetting what I have said
Got wrinkles and lines around my mouth
My boobies sadly they have gone south
Thankfully all my teeth are still my own,
A denture smile has not yet grown
I’m lucky I’m slim and don’t have to watch my weight
Got my pile of vitamin pills they dominate my plate
I wear glasses for my eyesight, they help me to see
Alas, when I can’t find them I say oh deary me
BUT they’re perched on my head – oh pity me
My memory is not what it once was
I keep forgetting what I have said
I keep forgetting what I have said
Still it’s not yet time for the scrap heap for me
Now I simply curl up, pen a poem and drink a cup of tea
A tongue in cheek write - or is it …
17th August 2015
Why Do You Write?
The sleepy poem asked me
Before it vanished in my shy pencil
Speechless were my boats
On the waves of her eyes
When the sixth nail in my palm
Rode the the pencil I borrowed from night
For there is nothing else I can do
For I like the taste of ink on my palm
For my lady prefers soap operas
In the cloudy nights
For the clock is still humming a tune
That has lost its denture
In the immigration office
For there is no other thing I can do at all
I am writing right now
And because I have no time left to read the headlines
Before I go to bed
To share nights with the pillow in red
N.B
(The pancil sharpener fell in love with the white rubber on my desk)
Greetings to My Dentist
Just thought that I would drop by for a while
So I could show off my shiny, great smile
And also my friend here is the final clincher,
I have been brushing my nice, new denture.
When the sun begins to rise and I open my eyes,
I see only the path to my adventure.
I am taken with delight as I prepare to ride in flight,
If only I could find my upper denture.
I touch the floor with feet and slippers hope to meet,
But instead I find the floor so cold.
I am reaching for my glasses as my spouse so often sasses,
On my head she says; I must be getting old.
Out of bed I wander to the closet of the water,
Hoping to awaken to a younger man.
My grandpa so I see I'm so sure that it's not me,
That I say to him in mirror gramps the man.
Though the wrinkles on my hands look like twisted rubber bands,
I know that I am stronger than I seem.
My hair, though not it's tint is all there leaves me a gent'
And with in my eyes you even see a gleam.
I'm walking rather slow, these days and don't you know,
I see so many things I'd long forgotten.
How a bug crawls upon the ground intent
And how a twig so twisted like me is bent.
Oh the pains that life does dish.
Each night as I retire my spouse say's how's the fire,
And I answer not as hot as I may wish.
So does end my daily adventure another one to come,
The end of this dear poem, my life's days a brand new sum...
Many years ago my partner gave me an unexpected birthday surprise,
A trip to Lake Windermere, the beauty of it there’s no compromise.
The hotel where we stayed was right on the edge of the lake,
A perfect location for a peaceful and relaxing break.
On the first evening we went into the hotel bar and brasserie,
We looked through the menu to decide what to have for tea.
As we sat having our drinks, another couple I observed,
The loudness of the woman’s voice was really quite absurd.
I tried to ignore the opinionated tone of her voice,
Hoped our food would soon be ready to get away from the noise.
I suddenly realised she was staring across the room at me,
What was her problem and what she was hoping to see?
I stared right back at her then my attention was pulled away,
Our table was ready, pleased near her I didn’t have to stay.
The meal passed by with laughter and lots of pleasant chatter,
Forgotten was the woman who’d seemed as mad as a hatter.
As we walked down the hallway to go back to our room,
The woman was staring at me again which really made me fume.
She watched every single step as we walked on by,
I was so annoyed with her; I looked her straight in the eye.
We continued to walk and turned into the customer lift,
I looked right at the ignorant woman and raised up my fist.
To my partner’s surprise I then gave her a two fingered gesture,
An old lady in the adjoining restaurant saw and nearly lost her denture.
Choking and red faced, she pointed her finger over towards me,
Her family totally shocked, looked at me helplessly.
It’s horrible to say but at this spectacle before me, all I could do was laugh,
My partner got me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me further back.
As the lift doors shut, I turned to face him waiting for my fate,
“What am I going to do with you, you’re an absolute disgrace?”
The moral of this story is, if you’re going to give someone the bird,
Have a good look round who can see or you’ll end up being cursed.
Philosophers debated:
Can a medium ever be small or large?
Is faux leather from fake cows?
Does a hypochondriac think he has everything except hypochondria?
Do denture wearers always give us false smiles?
If a snail loses its shell, does it become a slug?
For Su’s Suzette Prime contest, 27th November
(Asia may not know, this LIX city split baby boomer now ranks himself as an in denture charred sir vent reflecting on that painful instant when enamel collided with frozen water versus the recent removal of all teeth - courtesy of periodontal disease, and reckons how quaint that facial fracas).
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
inxs of cold playing air
froze natural pond, where
over head Canadian geese did blare
honking the latest goose sip loud and clear
when from behind a bush
(color antler protected doe against fear
of smashed pumpkin) did peek a deer
alert to any danger by parking
upright either one or both ear
lest predator doth lurk and induce fear
while Harris Family and friends
oblivious attired in wintry gear
which protection from cold caused difficulty to hear
necessitating cupped gloved hands
to punctuate every muffled word
to be but barely heard
akin to talking with mouth full of custard
above the quiet riotous mirth
from this then gawky child nerd
precariously maintaining balance
on his skates and glide like a bird
such attempts made
this then boy appear quite absurd
ah, if only this mind of mine
did two step quick think
but woe misfortune awaited
across the bumpy natural rink
blithely jettisoning myself hither and yon
like a rolling stone going plink
unaware while in camouflage pose
disguised as one sneaky slippery fink
that snuck up in a blink
that found me squarely face down
shattering left front tooth
immediately discovered
via tongue as private sleuth
finding me in extreme agitated state forsooth
as if on fire from red hot chili peppers
wrought from jagged booth
winning sympathy from parents
who did level best to tend distraught son
who ushered playback of events
with less disastrous rerun
praying for an angel
to grant reverse outcome brought none
gut wrenching grief
immediately terminated former fun
damage irreversible and
perfect white smile forever broke con!
Well sing hallelujah and hang out the flags
My denture are broken and my body doth sag
Still a happy old pig
Can still do a jig
But lately having trouble some parts to wag
One sunny day little Mary Miller
Picked up a mottled green caterpillar,
Which became a monster moth.
One fine morn her dad grew wroth:
Her moth laid eggs in his denture filler.
5/2/2023