Best Doodled Poems
There's a new kid at home,
One nobody sees
But we all know he's there.
His name is Not Me.
He took out all my colors
And doodled on the wall.
You can tell from how high he reached
He isn't very tall.
When my mom asked,
"Whose art work can this be?"
The answer was unanimous.
We all said, "Not Me!"
Not Me is very naughty.
He always makes a mess,
And what he did with Sister's doll
Is anybody's guess!
He ruined Mommy's makeup.
He messed up Daddy's hat.
He even cut my bed sheets.
Now, how bad was that?
And when he takes a bath
He gets water on the floor.
And just last night
He got toothpaste on the door.
He spilled Kool-Aid on the carpet
And broke some dishes in the sink.
He left the milk out on the counter
So now there's none to drink.
When something's going wrong
And Mom's angry as can be,
You can always be sure he did it-
That kid named Not Me.
jsc.2004
This was written when my children were small and yes I read it to them often. Not me lived in my house for many Years and still makes an occasional visit.
Categories:
doodled, children, funny,
Form:
Light Verse
Not to sound so personal,
so hard to speak out of frozen cold,
but from old to young-
framed to freed...
From bossed to doodled,
to cop-land inside my noodle,
call me into the brewery-
set sights on chewing me,
because time is my only eulogy,
and your prank is not doing things.
Banging isn't what's new to me,
and you are not a tool to bring,
though you're not much weight-
so I can still sing,
I am just doing things,
you keep the hate as you're schooling me,
because in one more age we will truly breathe,
...One more phone call and you are suing things-
such as a bird with ugly wings,
the earth isn't turned to the burning its leafs,
and this wage I am paid isn't buying jewelry,
like lazy Lizardry, I wiggle at the spilling of things,
eye ball when I ruin the breeze-
in the aisle with a basket and some briefs.
Categories:
doodled, confusion, cute, dance, dark,
Form:
Imagism
who knew
sounds like YOU
bravo romeo
you’re at the hotel
whiskey at the bar
and papas doing well
he played two rounds
and his echo said tell
juliet his sweet
that an oscar cost a mill
....get dressed
almost time for the ball
the mr.mc.melon
made a million dollar call
Yankee doodled a candy
November is handy
for remembering
to give our thanks
Fox trotted to the bank
and booked a flight
x-ray vision
wants to dance tonight
charlie says to victor
“i knew she could hear”
just slow to bet
she is a sweet
my dear
i do
i owe you
one kilo
“horse knows the way
to carry a sleigh so it's
off to the 'hood, we go”
the delta is wet
there are beans
in a net
and a play...
is what she swings
;) x.wings.
.
~just for fun
i like to dance
Categories:
doodled, adventure, art, funny,
Form:
You are a woman, with numerous names –
Whore,
Harlot,
Courtesan,
Street Walker,
Concubine,
Lady of the night,
Prostitute,
a sex worker???
Bird of prey -
eyed by predator pimps,
numerous numb nights
spent in bleak brothels,
flocked like cattle in filthy sheds,
Time-etched face -
worn-out profane beauty
concealed in mask of makeup
lures lewd customers
to satiate their lusty appetite
in the jungle of devouring groins.
Whirr of rickety wall-fan drowns in
cacophony of coughing customers
caricature of intercourse doodled on cracked walls
painted with betel-nut spatter stains…
Blemished ruffled bed and
stink of semen-soiled sheets
mingles with fumes of cheap liquor
and whiff of stale cigarette stubs.
Your wasted life –
a snapshot of soiled images,
a tarnished tapestry -
smeared and smudged
with sexually transmitted diseases.
sheds tears of anger, hurt and deceit
for the relics of
dreams of a dignified life…
I would rather call you -
Mother of manifold miseries
Sister of silent sufferings
Daughter of decaying despair
Wife of worldly woes!
Yes, you are still to me -
a woman with numerous names
and weeping eyes…
Categories:
doodled, woman,
Form:
Free verse
** Mother Nature Draws the Dawn **
Already,
Dawn sets off
This longitude’s waking,
Displaying nearby trees
Into their scribbled silhouettes
In shades
Of gray with blasts of black masses —
Points gathered
Fronting the quick brightening over
Yesterday’s leaving darkness,
And bringing forth this day’s white-glazed,
Cloud-faced sky —
Appearing before my sleepy eyes
Without any distinguishable color, and
Simply seen as an unfoldng background —
A lightening
That shows even before the blendings —
With the coming gifts to sight
Of the perception of dimensions
And the aspects of perspective,
To be seen in the expanse beyond my window
In this dawning moment ~
As the world appears quite like
A flattened Earth,
Like a doodled scene
Of blotches and specs — in
Mother Nature’s ink line & wash
Landscape
Created on her personal, unbordered paper.
———————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 8/17/2023
(For Jim. Happy 40th)
Categories:
doodled, art, day, imagery, light,
Form:
Imagism
For a long time I've questioned the phrase
"Women are from Venus, while Men are from Mars".
As my science classes memory stands, Venus
is a ball of lava and eruptions,
while Mars is a planet destitute of life or warmth.
I began questioning whether that's why men
tell women "you're hot", while women tell men
"you're cool....."
My thoughts wandered further, and I began questioning
what mode of transport both sexes used to arrive on Earth,
and why they left their planets.
I doodled my theories so much, until they tied themselves
into knots, which created immature conclusions.
I began asking myself whether I was a Martian,
and maybe that’s why women perceive us men
as aliens without green skins or swim suits.
I searched for all the tins and metal sheets,
and began building a rocket in my backyard.
I chuckled in my heart as I joined the pieces together,
for I knew I needed a flame from Venus, to thrust me up
and away, to face the truth. My rocket also needed a co-pilot
who would use the sixth sense to guide me throughout the journey.
The co-pilot would be none other than my wife!
We would streak together like a shooting star in the night sky,
as a girl makes a wish to us, asking when she would visit Venus,
her roots……
Theme #2: Travelling to Mars
Categories:
doodled, humanity, imagery, life, metaphor,
Form:
Narrative
A flood of grackles,
black-leafing the tree
who seem to’ve forgot
that its not
Winter;
it’s Spring and everything
is about to flower.
Eva says they are starling
and they may be.
She says they crowd the uncrowded
barebranch trees and blot out
the sun and blot out the Spring’s sounds.
The nattering and chirp-chattering
is a great April chorus for us,
down here...in the frostbit grass.
The ear is rung like a town bell
as thoughts are misshapen and lost.
A woodpecker, somewhere
is into his or her daily
mind-numbing rat-a-tat-chattering;
Unburying dreams, dreams in the heartwood.
It’s the 16th day in a row.
Or seventh.
Or 38th.
(It was once that I could count.)
A neighbor’s rooster breaks the night,
breaks the dawn,
breaks the morning
wide open.
An earful all day (break)
The horses whinny in
their morning mare-compare-mare-ing
then find their way to their place
in their paddocks.
The air is abound with sound.
Three geese,
circle over.
From dawn’s waxen East
feathering past a flaxen South
gaggling to the black sun West
they klaxon forth to nourishing North.
and there is no hearing, now...
not even
a single starling
(If ever there were such a thing.)
Not now, not even -
a single peck of wood.
Not now, not -
a single cockle is doodled or done.
Not a single mare is heard from her herd.
and there is no hearing, now...
not even
a single grackle
(If ever there were such a thing.)
Categories:
doodled, bird, nature, sound,
Form:
Free verse
Their yellow teeth smile, stained a lacquer brown.
We swap greetings, though the format banal.
Actions reveal bedeviled, forced manners - - -
though fear could not goad me to leave, undone.
The wise one approached, glistening black, shines.
Covered with burned motor oil, the smell reeks.
Chanting, he leads high above the lagoon.
A small cave, on the outcrop of the cliff,
would be where my ritual would begin.
He crushes some small pods into a paste,
and motions to hold it under my tongue,
while I drew on a long gurgling reed pipe.
I went inside the cave, but he stood firm.
Confusion began to muddle my thoughts ….
His finger in the flame began to burn,
and his whole body shortly thereafter.
It was so peaceful, I waited enthralled.
Suddenly a fiery mouth engulfed me.
As I shrank into the mottled abyss,
the creatures converse and our minds entwine- -
Their entire saga long before the earth;
how this grand experiment came to be.
How pleased they were with the spirit of man,
and his penchant to learn and understand.
The beautiful gel being, touched my chest.
It felt more strange than the fire still burning.
I could see all manner of strange symbols,
instantly knowing the meaning of each.
Equations, by the hundreds, flowing in.
Faster and faster millions and millions,
of bits of data flow from his vast mind !
And I awoke---how long- -what- --just a dream?
My mouth funky, I needed some water.
As I sipped at the table and doodled,
(something which I never do)
I glanced down at my college grad Buddha;
I had drawn him looking at a blueprint- -
An inter-dimensional transporter?
for Catie's"out of body" contest.
Categories:
doodled, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Thoughts and ideas are entangled
within and inside doodled concepts
that tie and cross themselves,
in a fashion I cannot comprehend
sometimes.
Often I meditate and reflect,
to get all my thoughts together,
like kinda looking for a needle
in a haystack....
Categories:
doodled, art, imagery, life, me,
Form:
Free verse
divine destiny
decided before birth
delivered on life’s course
determines life on earth
designates direction
or
doubts after choices
doodled guilt maybes
disturbed self-image
desires need to believe
destiny caused everything
Categories:
doodled, destiny,
Form:
Verse
Words shy away.
Emotions taunting me.
Heart is overwhelmed,
Stifling my pain
Just doodled, thoughts.
Feels good, yes.
Thanks for the win.
It’s not just mine.
Ours for poems.
World needs more,
Not just poems.
Much is unsaid.
Saved in my notes
My delirious mind
Hurt felt for others
empathy penned
My one and only friend,
my secrets divulged.
Posted my doodling
her pleasure, I did not deny.
Response, was warm and nice.
Even now cannot comprehend.
I woke, from my slumber,
doodling more and more.
Life goes on day after day
Cannot stop my passion’s spate
Thanks to the sponsor,
they really motivates self.
Winners all, till we stop to pen.
Thanks to poetrysoup,
For lending its stage.
Categories:
doodled, thank you,
Form:
Free verse
Wending her way westward, wafted on whispering wings
Sailing serenely southward, slithering past secluded scenes
Nudging northward, noticing narrow, noctilucent moonbeams
Edging effortlessly eastward, entering ecstasy's eerie baleen...
Grace dillied and dallied, then dithered and doodled and dozed
Could Heaven's Handiwork save her? ~ Neither angels nor seraphs know
Categories:
doodled, angel, destiny, fantasy, heaven,
Form:
Alliteration
Ishkabibble the little k-nibble
went down the garden path
He whistled and skipped
and doodled and dipped
beneath the garden leaves
hustle and bustle and whistle he did
With a hop, skip and a jump
Over the pebbles and through the moss
An amazing garden he did see
With wonder and laughter he explored the garden
And discovered so many great things
He saw…
flowers blooming
rocks a booming
moss all fuzzy
bees a buzzing
butterflies a fluttering
bugs a muttering
Leaves waving in the wind
Ishkabibble the little k-nibble
Went down the garden path
He whistled and skipped
and doodled and dipped
beneath the garden leaves
Categories:
doodled, adventure, fantasy, childrengarden,
Form:
Light Verse
The first night I arrived on my own.
Streets were darkening, yet kept alive
by lights in café’s and couples
walking arm in arm.
The driver carried my forlorn bag
into a bright, over ornate foyer.
Preliminaries over, I checked into
a room that at first glance
was sultry to my eyes.
I sat on the bed and, taking
out my red not pad,
doodled lovers’ scribbles
and the vagaries of life.
I drank one glass of
heavy merlot, and as tiredness crept
I slept alone beneath covers
of tightly cocooned childhood.
Breakfast was solitary,
as families chattered.
I held my cup between two hands
indulging myself in wonderings.
He would arrive by lunchtime
and so I placed myself behind ferns
in an over-panelled side room.
It’s strange people watching,
their lives re-enacted
like a drawing room drama.
I watched, and he arrived
as nervously as I,
love on foreign soils
without familiarity of lies.
Beneath rose glow we made love,
then rose and explored,
tasted food, drank wine
Copious sensations as if
before we had only fasted.
W indulged in the pleasures
of opulent enjoyment
where we are strangers
and not conformed by rules.
The remaining nights
we looked into each other’s eyes
and on the fourth, I left
alone.
©EMG05
Categories:
doodled, love, rose,
Form:
The Top Man, the Cock of the Walk,
He loved being the head of the flock.
With the first faint ray of morning light,
He cocka-doodled with all his might.
The farmer was deep in a farmer like dream,
When he was wakened by a terrible scream.
The crowing his wife could no longer stand,
So the cooking fire flames she started to fan.
She'd do away with this feathery clock,
Planning to make her own chicken stock.
Our Avian friend managed to flee his abode,
Now we know why the chicken crossed the road.
Categories:
doodled, animals, funny
Form:
Couplet