Best Down Pat Poems
Sighed Adam to Eve:
“Because you were deceived,
Like a fool, I believed.
Sadly, all our conceived
Will be sorely bereaved.”
Well, that should be it, right?
No, boys and girls, not quite!
So you can hear what they were all up to,
We now bring this long lost tape to you:
Adam:
“You really are a stupid cow!”
“Just look at us! Where are we now?”
Eve:
“Shut up! You filthy, pawing pig!
Before I kick you in the fig!”
Angel of the Lord:
“You’ll have to leave, take this outside.”
“Your presence here, we can’t abide.”
And of course, the slinky one:
“Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah!”
“She’s such a fool and so is he.
If I had hands, I’d clap with glee.
If the rest of them are all like that,
I’ll soon have my routine down pat!
But I’d better scoot before they crush
My poor wee head to compost mush.
I’ll set up shop, lead them all astray
And collect them all for Judgment Day!”
“Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah!”
For now, that’s all that we can send.
Thank you for your time, my friends.
So, remember, girls, no fruit to lend,
And boys, say “NO!” or it is THE END.
In youth, vacations lent my Summers wings
and Christmas gilded wintertime in gold.
I've aged (a bit) and love my Falls and Springs
for landing in between too hot or cold.
In time, I've learned it doesn't pay to be
too up or down, too rich or poor, too round
or thin. Avoiding each extremity,
I balance life by seeking middle ground.
I used to have my weight control down pat,
then physical exertion simply froze.
I'm somewhere south of fit and north of fat;
my muscles shrink yet still my middle grows.
As seasons come and go, I grow more sage;
I know the meaning now of "middle" age.
You are one cruel hearted man.
One too many for my life span.
You have inflicted one too many abuses.
I am so tired of your lousy excuses!
Whether it be with your mouth, fist, or actions
You found ways to punish for imagined infractions.
It sickens me that I did not leave as soon
As I realized that you always sing the same tune.
You claim that I don't love you enough.
I am not falling for that bit of fluff.
The truth is, it is you that doesn't know how to love
Go on you know this is true what I speak of.
Wrapping your hands around my neck to choke
Because you did not like what I had spoke.
You giving me a black eye
Because you assume what I say is a lie.
Some one says a victim that makes me.
Well I guess we shall see.
I no longer want to be thought of as that.
Survivor...yes I have that down pat.
I survived your endless abuses.
I survived all those bruises.
Victim...me....HELL NO!!!
SURVIVOR that is me. Way to go.
Charmaine, the dear soul writes like an angel
Her poetry is beautiful and touching
She writes with a passion known to only a few
You'll find your heart you'll be clutching
Some just know how to create those phrases
That leave us in awe and wonderment
A natural talent that some are born with
For others it a struggle and torment
But Charming Charmaine has it down pat
It's to do with her approach to life
Definitely sways the way she writes poetry
A style that does surely entice
Charmaine, the dear lady is a friend of mine
I'm so happy to know this soul
Stands tall in the world of romantic poetry
So fortunate she's an honour to know!
© Jack Ellison 2013
My loving tribute to Charmaine Chircop
Gravity keeps our feet on the ground,
Stops us from slapdash flying around.
This force of attraction ‘fictitious’ gives weight
And makes all fall down at equivalent rate.
(Albeit in flights of fancy it seems
That gravity follows the laws of dreams.)
Relativity caused Newton’s view to shatter,
In positing spacetime to be curved by matter.
So objects will take a particular path
That must correspond with Einsteinian math.
(The upshot is bodies have odysseys
Appropriate to their geodesies.)
Gravitons, a gravitational source
Of controversy, are seen as a horse
Of a quite different color altogether.
But then scientists aren’t birds of a feather.
(Some sit upon their a priori-based fences
And come up with theories defying the senses.)
Weak or strong, short or long, what is this thing
Called gravity? Wide hypotheses swing.
There are those who suppose that it’s this, others that.
Maybe someday, they all just might have it down pat.
(Meanwhile gravity, though we resize and shape it,
Will still have its own way— for who can escape it?)
– Harley White
You think you have me down pat
So, I’m going to move when you say this or that
Go scrub the rust from the pipes in your head
Can’t you remember I escaped your bed
Your heart engorged with congealed blood
Can only be cleared by a massive flood
Don’t think I’ll go throw a pity party
A stand I should take since you were forty
I’ve long stop feeding babes with spoon
This time, I need, myself to groom
Crystal clear, stream of water
This to myself I’ll joyfully gather
Nurturing hope, change and love
Redeeming the grace, from God above
So, with my new self, let me bond
Need no disquiet here to stand
So go! Go with your selfish greed
No longer with your ache I’ll seed
So, with my new self let me bond
Need no disquiet here to stand
The pain of your love, pricks me to the bone
Like a pissed off praying mantis, I plead with tentacles
The pedigree of your love, powers me to a craze
Pumps my heart to a refill, primes my soul for a play
Painstakingly I peel back, promises in sync
Perilous is my denial, for you poisoned me with love
Where my past dwells, and the present relishes
A bowl of wet rose petals, a morning petit four
The palms of your hands, with a petal soft pat
Your name puts me in a party spirit, oh poetic darkly
Having your love down pat, a huge payload there is
Would you pay me back, for I am a parrot not
You ply in my veins, you keep my password
Your prowl a peachy keen, peek-a-boo it poses
I placate you with praise, I pledge my loyalty to you
Oh poetic darkly, I pledge my soul for your love
My love for you knows no bounds
An exquisite affair of the heart
Passionately addicted to the nth degree
Knew it right from the start
The signs were there for everyone to see
Google-eyed and mumbling away
Forgetting important meetings and such
Or the silly stuff I wound say
Us humans don't have it down pat, yet
We still have a way yet to go
To call us perfect is a bit premature
But the progress we're making shows
At times people actually make some sense
Of some of the things I say
But bidding someone a fond farewell
Is not how to start each day
It seems I've been bitten and bitten real good
By this bug that's known as love
Haven't slept soundly for many a night
Dreaming of my sweet turtledove
© Jack Ellison 2014
One Day I was listening to an old Cowboy song
My boots began to tapping & I began to sing along
A Cowgirl stepped to the mic & as she began to sing
It sounded like a falsetto auctioneer pulling vowels out on a string
I perked my ears & listened, it didnt seem that hard
If I could learn to yodel, I'd be a Cowgirl Superstar
So I warmed up & just let loose
Was that the call of a lovesick moose?
So I adjusted my pitch, had my stance down pat
Just as I began to yodel, I swear someone stepped on a cat
I struggled on through most of the day trying to warble & trill
And If I'd not sprained my tonsils & tongue, I'd be at it still
Let's hear it for the Cowboy Yodeler, Head & shoulders above the rest
For in mastering the yodel, you surely passed the test
I only have one question, I'd really like to know
Why they sing about her & where did the little old lady go?
A funny little observation
from my garden
the Indian Myna birds
Walk Like An Egyptian
as they
bob and strut
like a Pharaoh
have the look
down pat
even to the Cleopatra eyes.
Pence told his boss, "I can't do that!
Though Rudy has it all down pat!
But I have my pride
So I'll go and hide
And hope the GOP won't rat!"
n,b. China, Iran, North Korea, and Russia
are hoping Americans will choose
a President who will stick his head
under the sand until everything
blows over!
I Should Just Give Up
By Elton Camp
Limericks I’ve always wanted to write
But I never manage to get them right
The rhyme scheme I’ve got down pat
But that’s not where the trouble is at
They never turn out funny and bright
I don’t remember much about our party line, only that we weren’t quite as bad off as what they showed on the Green Acres tv series. We didn’t have to climb a pole to make our phone call. Three rings and it was ours. The kids were discouraged to pick up till they got the number of rings down pat. How annoying when someone didn’t. It was the late sixties and we weren’t rich, this was the least of our problems.
to this day
remembering
our old phone number
AP: 2nd place 2022
Melania spotted a louse
And caught a cab home sans her spouse
When Barron asked, "Why?"
She said with a sigh,
"Your father is in the dog house!"
Well, Ivanka soon learned the score
And despatched a nurse to the door
Nurse said, "There's a nut
Who barks like a mutt;
And groped me like I was an whore!"
Well, Ivanka's heart was so glad
For she knew that nut was her dad
She said, "Never fear
My dad's somewhat qu*eer;
His manners are ever so bad!"
Melania went out on the lawn
Exactly where Donald had gone
She called for a scoop
To pick up the poop
That Sessions had left and stepped on
Donald thought he'd bark out a tweet
Then he saw Melania's feet
He said, "Its a pity
That you feel so shi*ty
But the nurse has got something sweet."
Melania could smell a rat
And looked where the nurse had just sat
It seems a quick cuddle
Had left a wet puddle
Proving Donald had got it down Pat
Melania noticed a trend
Where Donald went off the deep end
So she could surmise
The President lies
And on that she could always depend
Now porcupines have their defences down pat
With extra sharp quills, enemies don't tackle this cat
I wouldn't, would you?
Imagine getting pricked, yucky poo!
Especially if you get quills stuck up your ass