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Best Duck Poems | Poetry

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New Duck Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Duck poems are below this new poems list.

I Was A Sitting Duck by Krutsinger, Caren
The golden duck by Worrell, Kevon
The Sad Tale of a Plucky Duck by Scutts, Julian
Duck Chocolate by Kiser, M. L.
Chuck the Duck by Walker, Sonia
Is A Duck by Divine, Lovie
CHICKEN DUCK BIRD by Lee Sr., James Edward
Duck Pond Disaster by Shaw, Kevin
SHUT THE DUCK UP by ALLISON, JAN
My Dog And Her Duck by Krutsinger, Caren

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The Best Duck Poems

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AT THE FOOTBRIDGE - LIMERICK COLLABORATION

At the footbridge Sue was meeting her beau (He was married to a woman called Flo) Sue soon found out his deception She dismembered his ******** For his love life it was a massive blow To the hospital fled poor Rodger For an op to repair his todger Now fixed, it's SO big Rodger grunts like a pig in **** films as Rodger the lodger Inspired by but not for contest BY JAN ALLISON 7~18~16 He promised Flo he never would leave her And she would be his only receiver But she caught him with Sue And his chances were through Gnawing off wood when he neared her beaver WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH Sue castrated that cheating deceiver With one whack of her meat cleaver she pulled a Lorena Bobbit turned Rodger into a Hobbit Sue's now known as an "overachiever" WRITTEN BY MARTI SUTHERLAND Across the table sits sweet Amee Once A Roger, before he became a she The master of infidelity So many personalities Before and after he became an amputee.. WRITTEN BY SKAT A He was known as a terrible stoner With a huge un-deflatable ***** It now sits in a jar At the end of the bar A reminder to all of its owner... WRITTEN BY JOHN LAWLESS It’s become a tourist attraction As a symbol of female subtraction Grannies sneak in for a peek Everyday of the week Dreaming of former of love action. WRITTEN BY MARK WOODS Oh how sad that pork missile should be unemployed but for all there to see if science, in a jiffy can rejuvenate stiffys then the first in the queue would be me! WRITTEN BY VIV WIGLEY Flo wanted to give Sue a high five For slicing Rodger with all his jive A two timing fool Who broke every rule Now lil Rodger don't work in overdrive WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y Rodger's story has been immortalized For having his thingy circumcised It's on display in a bar Now hanging in a jar While it's slowing becoming crystalized WRITTEN BY MARTI SUTHERLAND As she ponders on what to eat Hopefully, it won’t be red meat For there on the log Is Rodger's hot dog So she gets excited and jumps off her feet. WRITTEN BY WINGED WARRIOR There's a lesson I really must blurt To all those blokes out chasing some 'skirt' When you're on heat Don't share your meat 'Cause your todger might really get hurt! WRITTEN BY MARK WOODS Poor forgotten noteworthy Sue Looking so gloomy she blew At the pickled todger once belonging to Rodger kissing good times its last adieu WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER As "Rodger" snaked out of the door It went past a room on tenth floor. A woman therein Said "Come right on in." she kept screaming, "More, I want more! WRITTEN BY ANDREA DIETRICH After Sue chopped his tally-whacker Poor Rodger became quite the slacker He tried to bring his pecker forth Never again to be pointing north Now when he pees he sits on the crapper. He stopped at the house, the red-light was on Knocked on the door, the girls were all gone Stuck with his sawed-off ***** Tonight He's going to be a loner Damn, why did the girls all have to be gone? BOTH POEMS WRITTEN BY JAMES ANDERSEN A group of limericks quite clever Began with one simple sever Of engorged ***** which is, (between us), I think, a spicy endeavor WRITTEN BY H PENELOPE SWIFTLOCK There was perfection in his pecker, as a **** star he was a wrecker, but to his wife he was unfair, so she severed what was down there, now his only job is director. WRITTEN BY CASARAH NANCE Poor Rodger thought he was being slick when he carved out a handcrafted prick he rubbed his new attire his precious toy caught fire Now he is left with an ashen stick WRITTEN BY TEPPO GREN An ashen stick means man minus prick. Poor Rodger, now a eunuch, without a fix. He decided to become a transgender. Then off he went on a bender. Woke up married to a man from Bertrix WRITTEN BY JEAN MURRAY Rodger's new love was a prudish fox but for brains she had a head of rocks he splinted up his willy popsicle sticks look silly he said it was new and still in the box! WRITTEN BY SONNY ROPER (EVE'S HUBBY) To be fair "At the Footbridge" Now to be completely fair And to stop every persons stare Rodger was not actually circumcised As he was a player, so don’t be surprised This was from wear and tear and his willingness to share WRITTEN BY MARK PAUL VAN DER MERWE Now Rodger mostly stays home for lack of a viable bone. He reaches by habit down for his rabbit: he's got Phantom Willy Syndrome! WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART Rodger was a good friend of Eye Had a real hankering for cherry pie Tasted every chance he got And it would hit the spot Until his crazy wife made him cry WRITTEN ON 14TH JUNE BY EYE TRUTH TELLER Roger pretends that he's a sexy stud But when the ladies find out he's a dud they all laugh in his face anatomically a disgrace His manhood is referred to as "The Bud" WRITTEN ON 15TH JUNE BY LIN LANE Rodger thought his op was a success When he found he had more and not less But the surgeon's blind stunt Sewed it on back to front Well, he certainly lacks some finesse! WRITTEN ON 15TH JUNE BY RAY GRIDLEY As he crossed the footbridge, Georgie saw a duck Quite unique and raucous, it could quack AND cluck! (And did so incessantly) "Hey! Hey! It's all about me!" It loudly proclaimed, with much aplomb and pluck WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
I also wrote another poem but this one did not turn into a collaboration - if you read it you will see that it is quite different to my usual style https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/at_the_footbridge__2_822879


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016


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John F Kennedy - Martin Luther King Jr - Robert F Kennedy and Donald Duck

Listen to poem:


it was the sixties
we were young
we were going to change the world
spin it like a basketball on our finger
take the three point shot 
win the game
we had great leaders 
john, robert, martin...

the planet was singing 
with the purity of a four year old
...
The ants go marching two by two;
The little one stops to tie his shoe,
...
then 
it started raining bullets
our optimism soured
slightly at first

and the grassy knoll
and the sniper
and the magic bullet

john was shot 
jackie squirmed
we sat on the edge of our seats

The ants go marching four by four;
The little one stops to shut the door,

John F. Kennedy was assassinated 

The ants go marching five by five;
The little one stops to take a dive,

years had passed, five
look before you dive

the civil rights movement gathered 
to fight for their God given rights
the right to be treated as humans 
exactly that...humans...no more no less.
to listen to the man who had said
"Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon 
which cuts without wounding and ennobles 
the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals."


the man who stood on the hill speaking
"I have a dream today!"

The ants go marching seven by seven;
The little one stops to pray to heaven,

Boom, boom, boom, boom! 

Martin Luther King Jr. was shot 
died

and my God it rained 
it rained salt
as a nation black and white cried

The ants go marching nine by nine;
The little one stops to check the time,

time for the rise of Bobby
Hoorah! Hoorah!

Boom, boom, boom, boom! 

i wish he could have ran faster than the bullets
they murdered John's brother
Robert F. Kennedy was dead

the sixties where almost finished
and i wondered 
if the world would ever be the same
again

I marched away buried my face into the ground
To get out of my pain.

great leaders lost
words that radiated 
radiate hope

America was
the envy of the world

it's two thousand sixteen 
and we have sunk so deep into the dirt

i know we can't Trump this disaster 
have you ever heard of fools gold
we have a choice
our lives count

remember the ants
nature's banner is blowing in the wind

don't make
the little one shout
"THE END!!" 




March 16 2016
armand 





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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A Life In Sepia and Watercolours

When I was just a little girl I painted soaring seagulls in a dawning sky of duck-egg blue I painted ladybirds and whimsical butterflies A red cottage with square-shaped windows A misty mountain with a purple hue. All my fields were evergreen with flowers falling like confetti in between. A rising sun in molten gold so bright with shifting leaves along a riverside. I painted mushrooms covering faries Unicorns, princesses and queens Happy trolls and Naughty elves riding on watercoloured bees. As such was life, Carefree As beautiful as dreams. Years rolled on, trees turned old Vibrant colours became the past in an hourglass. All shadows now, are black as night All that is left are sepia shades dim as the gloom of a Winter day. But little child out there, Listen to me.. Never let clouds cover your soul with ash -of-grey Like candyfloss, clouds might seem huge But they're made of fluff...Blow them away. Blow them away before it rains Yet if rain pours its heavy drops and gusty winds whirl from strong storms Never give up! Lilt up your head, seek with those eyes In every journey a rainbow hides Just keep on searching, do not be blind Leave all your troubles way back behind. All shadows now, are black as night All that are left are Sepia shades dim as the gloom of a Winter day But now and then a spell's bestowed upon my name With an old brush and childhood colours I paint an orchard with sugar-maples and fragrant blossoms blooming in May.


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017


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I must Carpe Diem

I used to live life full of dreams 
Planning, for many years to come.
Where I will be, when I will go,
A future that was filled with fun.

Till the day my life was shattered.
Till the day when the hammer struck.
All my dreams now torn asunder 
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to duck.

I stood my battles, fought the fight 
We gathered and said our goodbyes,
Yet through all of your brave faces,
I could still hear the silent cries.

Last Will and Testament written,
Everything important was said,
“I love you,” still that magic word,
I’d sleep in peace tucked in my bed.

Then something magical happened,
I came back from places of dread.
Now more a part of the living,
Each day I get stronger instead.

Now I know what’s most important
Enjoy precious moments each day,
Learned not to live for tomorrows
That just might not come anyway.

I enjoy each sip of coffee,
Watching leaves turn colours and fly,
Kisses from my sweet little dog,
Every time I see a blue sky.

The music of my Children’s voices,
Love of family never ends,
Carpe Diem, just seize the day,
That is my new motto my friends.


Written 10.25.2014
For Regina Riddle’s Contest 
Seize the Moment (Carpe Diem)
5th

James 5:15
And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up.

Living for the moment makes everything more special.


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


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The 50's

There was a time when I was young
To share an era that begun
From music to the fashion trend
TV shows and history
Fads and other mysteries
I saw them all as time moved on

From classic pop to rock and roll
Bill Haley and the Elvis craze
And four years in my Air Force phase
But Jitterbug still hung around
The big bands had that unique sound
Time moved on to start the clock

European cinema
Fellini, Bergman made the mien
And Japan added to the pie
To film The Seven Samurai
Brando, Newman and James Dean
newly captured on the screen

Television's Golden Age
All the programs set the stage
For Gunsmoke and the Twilight Zone
I love Lucy, I married Joan
TV tubes were changed a lot
Wrestling shows were really hot

Mantle, Mays and Robinson
Took baseball to another rung
The coonskin cap and hula hoop
Duck tail hair and snapper soup
I wore one with a thick pomade
And ate the soup that Momma made

My fashion sense left much to judge
As if I had good taste for fudge
Pegged pants with a six inch rise
Ladys skirts were different then
Lengths that came down to their shins
Three inch higher was a sin
Still dirty minds existed then

In Belgium back in 58
I saw an exhibit on that date
The Sputnik with a cute stray dog
was launched so high up in the air
Before the U.S. could get there 
Then the race to conquer space

McCarthy hearings, lives destroyed
The Cold War was our only plight
The Commies kept their nukes in check
And Castro entered on the scene
There were no hot wars left to fight
Days still continued as well as night

I share a new millennium
But today the future's not so bright
No more long hand, the laptop's here
Facebook and Twitter have conquered our sphere
The death knell has tolled for how life was then
Rekindle your past and live again 




Ralph Sergi February 19, 2015 
Decades by Kelly Deschler


Copyright © Ralph Sergi | Year Posted 2015


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The Quiescent Water Way

Still shallow waters,
Fish unseen, hugging the brackish bed,
Salt grass and saltwort give ample shade
And shelter from hungry predators 
That fly around the insurmountable 
Pinnacles of the surrounding hills.

The lad sits quietly on a small wooden pier,
Mulling on thoughts that elevate his soul.
No vale of darkness shall invade his being,
At least not while he rests before the stretch of water.
For there alone he feels at peace.
Indeed the quiescent waters refresh him.
Even the flapping of some solitary sea duck
Will not ruffle his meditative mind.

Suddenly he hears voices and a boat arrives
To end his peaceful stay on the water way.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017


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Poets of a New Dawn



Taking a long ink dip in a desert pond,
rejected drake words
ripple echoes in the wilderness: Tread with care!
Dreadnought thoughts silicate crystalized,
glass menagerie opens to a darkening sky
Wing-tipped metal muse raised to the foreboding air,
infusing liquid lightning to the bard birds
Watching intently as the anti-gravity atoms abscond,
executive electrocution is on a delay timer
Prose avian sentries see
Splitting anti-social charges
seep into the hate-soaked, polluted atmosphere
These momentous crisis changes,
poets of a new dawn articulate so very clear
Tho’ labeled by a scornful society
as being conscientious ugly ducklings,
the fear factor in the swirling wind
keeps increasing it’s whirl war buffeting
Incoming V-formation of ionized mallard birds
dropping kinetic malevolent words
Stork deliver radiation babies — 
Blackhawk moving targets that glow
with surgical stealth Caesarian precision
Whilst the designated survivors 
be the fleeing flock having open duck ears
Poets of a new dawn
continually pen agitate 
strong current ripples in the desert pond
Letting their U2 ugly quill mirage liquidity
dose infect the minds of those 
who syringe swan dive in beautiful disbelief 


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018


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Tongue Study

Tongue Study 
4/22/2014
Steady it wags
needing to know
more, about the
the very thing that
causes wars.
peace and pain.

I study my tongue.
Much has been said
about the tongue yet
how has it pertained
to my own.

My tongue has delivered
and served, it has given
and taken, it has blessed,
it has cursed.

It has been bitten,
and it has been written,
the tongue can be tied, twisted
curt, sweet, sharp, wagging or
bragging.

It may be your
native tongue
or foreign, it may be
exciting or boring.
If quiet is your tongue
"the cat may have it".

If you use your
tongue to speak ill
of the dead, you may,
challenge a force and
be cursing your life's course.

The tongue's confession's
may sweep out
dirty secrets from the
corners of your mind.

Wise words have fallen on death
ears, words smothered by pride.
truth escaped lying eyes.
Ignoring what you saw and
twisting what was heard.

Tongues may bond
with imbeciles or angels
forming positive
or negative energy.

Be careful, mind your tongue
it is closest to your own ears
and will affect you first, rather
before the others hear.

Be not at the mercy of
an imbecilic tongue
read their eyes
and duck the darts
about to be thrown.

Do not despise the
a foreign tongue
for it is the aptitude
of the brain, the tunnel
to his bilingual, do not
expect the champions,
to cater to the dunce,
or those who can barely
master his own tongue.

In general, I have concluded
whether you live by the sword or
stand on principals, I had to
learn to manage my tongue
as I would a loaded gun.

I will not justify my tongue
when I use its power for the wrong
and neither hold my piece,
to placate the sword of the unjust.

The real power is in
the righteousness
of the speaking tongue.

For those who live by
the sharp and sworded tongue
and wield words as death
blows to the innocent,
or those who are silent,
while others suffer;
May also die
by the mighty tongue,
or by the holding of it.!




Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014


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MOONLIGHT SHADOW

in the dead of night moon reflects on rippling lake shadows duck and dive 20th February 2015


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


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His Old Pick-Up Truck

He begs me to come, but he's run out of luck You won't catch me dead in that beat-up old truck! It was painted blue...now the color is rust But you can't be too sure...since it's covered in dust!... The engine must idle, (about an hour is good) You can feel the vibration, around the whole neighborhood A life is at risk, if you go for a ride! The windshield is broken, and leaks rain inside It makes a weird noise, rides bumpy and rough The dashboard is littered and covered with "stuff" The seat cushion's torn, and it pokes at my rear The dog sits beside us and licks at my ear There's no place below us, for resting my feet There's a hole in the floor, O my God, there's the street!!! The windows don't close, so there's more than a breeze Wrappers from Twinkies, a Burger King box... One lonely old sneaker, and smelly old socks Half a stale donut smashed down on the floor Darn!! The dog beat me to it, and is looking for more!! The muffler is loose, you can see the sparks fly Dirty looks from the folks, who get smoke in their eyes When we drive by the neighbors, I duck my head and I hide I'm no Prima Donna....but I've still got some pride!! He loves that old truck, he calls her a gem! Make him choose between us??? ....I'd be out on a limb!!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For Verlena Walker's Slamming Battle Contest


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008


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Trussed Duck Alouette

Another lame duck
That ran out of luck
Encountered financial loss
A failure at work
Now seen as a jerk
He happens to be the boss!

Employees revolt
His feathers will moult
His dignity has been plucked
He needs a new perk
Lost wife then his work
In more than one way he’s f***ed.

--------------------------------------------------
3rd September, 2014 
Collaboration ~ Paul Callus & Casarah Nance
Contest: A Lovely Alouette (revised)
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Placing: 5th


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014


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I Love Guns

I love Guns


Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too

Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!

Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun 
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction


And......... any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack

Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right

Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns

By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights

I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is



Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018


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The Duck That Lost His Quack

The Duck That Lost His Quack


A Duck woke up late one day last week,
And all he could do was to squeak.
He looked everywhere and listened to different things, 
Even heard sounds all around, from pings to zings.

For example, he tried many gates, stairs, and barn doors,
Then went and stepped on cracks in nearby creaky floors.
He visited several witches, doctors and some were both,
They prescribed everything from lemons to ginger troth.

In his travels, he came across a quaint woodshop, 
Being so tired, he sat down with a solid plop.
A carpenter saw that the Duck was so very sad, 
From behind the counter, he came to help the lad.

After hearing of the tale of a missing sound,
The carpenter leapt up with a double bound.
He said, “From within is where it comes, 
Not outside, as most would sum.”

“I have made many instruments for music, 
And what you need is something acoustic.”
He brought out a short board with a nail, 
Then attached several metal strings to a pail.

The carpenter said, “Play away and listen to the sounds in your head.”
The Duck strummed everything from Enya to the Grateful Dead.
After a fashion, the Duck was soon lost in the tunes,
And started to dance and sing like a midnight Lune.

Who knew that this Duck had a knack,
And in the middle of it all started to quack.
So you see, it’s not external to what you seek,
In many cases, its internal and who you meet.



Written by Michael Eastman, 8-25-2015,

This, after listening to Bubbles the Mouse speak,
And hearing a long story composed of squeaks.


Copyright © Michael Eastman | Year Posted 2015


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Blind Terror - 'Memories 2'

Memories Episode 2 ... continued from 'Memories' (Episode 1) 

Unaware of my surroundings but knowing it’s a dream
Instead of lulling me into a fake sense of calm
It accelerates my ominous dread even more
Intensifying the fear factor through my core
Adding to the creepy dark sinister feel

I glance nervously behind - Yes they are still in pursuit
Dark silhouettes following - that I know are male
They take their time unhurried and unfazed
And I sense that whenever they want
They can bridge the distance between us

They seemingly glide - one glide to every six
Of my swift fairy like running steps
 
Regardless I push myself harder
Fear radiates from every pore of my body
What do they want from me?
Why do I fear them? Who are they?
Why have my memories not returned?

Aren’t some memories best to be forgotten?
Connected to these shadows that remain to haunt?
Will tomorrow’s sunrise bring them back?
The self-destructive memories so misbegotten

All these fear riddled questions seemingly hasten my flying feet
When I glance behind they seem to have fallen back somewhat
The cliché tugs my mind - ‘You can’t see the trees from the forest’ 
As I see a thickly wooded area up ahead
In spite of a somewhat bad fairy tale edge 
I intuit it might be the means of escape that I seek

I run hard to the low slung branches
They seem to reach out a welcome to me
Some five minutes into my running 
A strange sound reaches my ears, crisp, crackling,
I realize it’s my own bare feet, slapping
The dry earth and the leaves crunching below them

I sense a shift of energy, although welcoming at first These very same branches now seem to be trying to ensnare me
I pray that this dreadful nightmare will end. A finale to this strange dream is what I seek I skirt and duck and just as I think I am getting proficient A protruding root trips me I scream and swear as heavily I fall
I pull myself up, determined to get away But survival instincts so strong trigger A warm sticky flow of blood trickles down my leg Can’t stop and even as I run I figure Stop I must not
Yet another shift, I hear water My feet seem to be laboring Looking down I perceive that I am on a beach It is arduous running on beach sand and so tiring In an angry crescendo - waves roar and crash to the shore
The images I have swirling in my head Roll in and out like those endless waves That I would like to keep at bay That a part of me wants to resist instead
Adding to the fear that I feel knotted in my stomach. Gasping - panting I take another furtive look over my shoulder THEY are not THEY anymore - JUST ONE One figure seems to have peeled himself away from the crowd He runs fast gaining speed at the rate of knots Running towards me Silly fool that I am I seem to have stopped running Hypnotized like a deer? - Waiting for him? No - curiosity has taken over me I think I would like to see my predator One of his arms hangs slightly lower I think he is carrying a weighted pole of sorts A crowbar? Oh dear God - what am I doing just standing here? He draws nearer and I catch a glimpse of his face Handsome and arrogant - But it’s the set cold line of his lips, A snarl, a sneer, a lip upturned Like a wild beast about to rip apart its prey It’s this expression that chills my blood to ice
I scream as I turn to run once more Intuition tells me that it’s as futile as before Run run as fast as you can I can catch you I’m the Gingerbread man
What a chilling cold thought to have pop into one’s head An incongruous rhyme in this fear riddled moment
The brain- such a complex thing Trying to protect my sanity A nervous giggle escapes my lips The reality is grim HE’S GOING TO KILL ME
I wake to my favourite nurse shaking me asking if I am alright My nightie is soaking wet with sweat and I am sobbing She enfolds me in her arms reassuring me it’s just a dream
I look to the window - a new day is dawning So much for a New Optimistic Day for me So much for my memories returning Do I really want them back is my plea?
Stay tuned for the next episode continued in ... 'Wistful Expectations' - (Memories Episode 3) Episode list in consecutive order: Memories - Episode 1 Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2) Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3) Deception - (Memories Episode 4) Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5) Running - (Memories Episode 6) Music Video clip – ‘Jungle Chase’ - Jason Lam OST Published on Nov 5, 2015 for JasonLamMusic


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017


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Run Run As Fast As You Can - 'Memories 5'

Memories Episode 5 … Continued from 'Deception' - (Memories Episode 4)

Shadow dance of distortion fade in and out Teasing to the fore then get wrested back Manipulative psychic games with subconscious Like the sun rays flitting behind clouds of black Memories of hers succumb to quiet whispers Disappearing hope with each ponderous breath Green eyes with sadness reflects in the mirror Broken spirit recedes into shadowy death Fading expectations with each passing hour A life once had - Gone for no reasons Day brings no enlightenment or answers Night brings its own dreams and demons Whispers that fade into lurking silhouettes Seeming familiar faces slink back into regress
I’m back in the office He threateningly comes towards me Meekly putting the phone down I intuit This is not a man to be trifled with
I know for sure getting away from him is imperative I duck - skirting and dodging past him with dexterity He dives at me but I side step with fear driven agility
I’m running again, this dream is recurrent The second time around more terrifying than before
How is it conceivable that emotions linger to torment?
‘When memories from ones past are all wiped clean Why do I feel an inexplicable sense of De’ja’vu? Linked with futility and fear in-between?’
All this running - dream state or not I should have shed at least 3 kilos by now? The irony is - this time I know the game’s for real It feels like I’m trapped in a scene from ‘Hunger Games’ And even more ominous is that I seemingly know my predator And it’s painfully obvious he wishes to kill me In a cowardly effort to hide his deception, avarice and greed Vital incriminating information I had gleaned If it happened to get to the powers that be I glance nervously behind - I know I’m fast but he’s gaining Fear rips into me - Knots in my stomach Muscles burning - Heart pounding like it will explode - yet I push I push because I know this time I have to give - Give it all I’ve got or die Dear God will this dreadful nightmare ever end? A finale to this strange dream is what I seek
My Angel Guardian if you hover near A good time as any to abolish this fear
Unable to resist another look - so I do Another man hard on the heels of my predator Shock Horror!! This is the love of my life! How could I ever forget the wonders We shared on the beach The man whose child I am carrying? Two men with determined aggressive faces Both seem hell bent on catching me Will this nightmare ever end? Both are carrying poles of some sort Why am I even running? There’s no possibility of surviving this? Yet I do And then I hear the second man call out ’Dani - Dani - head to our place - head to our place’ Is this a trick or is he giving me a clue? His voice oddly familiar And in a flash - a ‘mind pop’ and my memories come flooding back The key to unlock Pandora’s Box A trigger to stimulate my mind into motion Was the familiar voice under duress Calling out my name? I read somewhere - That even ordinary memories have various levels of accessibility Memories you cannot access but yet remain in there imbedded That hopefully gets released in time I hear yet another voice - a sweet musical voice My Guardian Angel My Mum - ‘Dani - Dani come in now dinner’s ready’ And then more firmly - ‘Daniella Richards come in right now’ I know she’s annoyed when she uses my full name A wave of emotion hits me as awareness dawns Realisation that she is with me no more Floods of sorrow Shock Waves So strong that I almost double over So strong because I know who I am Daniella Richards Stronger still when I know the man behind the monster IS MY HUSBAND My assailant behind me is Greg Roberts In hot pursuit is my beautiful husband Jackson The man whom I adore - Doing what he does best Protecting me like he’s always done I feel my neck - the half heart pendant on the chain still intact I glance at my left hand - relief My wedding and engagement rings are there Instinctively I know where he’s telling me to go The sea caves - the place where we used to play as kids
Run Run as fast as you can You can’t catch me I’m the Gingerbread Man Yes I am - Yes - Yes I am
The Next episode …'Running' Episode list in consecutive order: Memories - Episode 1 Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2) Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3) Deception - (Memories Episode 4) Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5) Running - (Memories Episode 6) Video clip - SARAH MCLACHLAN, ‘Answer’ - Published on Mar 31, 2014


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017


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POSSUM JUGGLING

POSSUM JUGGLING  
  Written By the Poets Listed After The Poem.  
  
Possum juggling is a trick conjuring sport.  
You should never do it if your arms are short.  
Nasty teeth are gnashing as they're tossed in air.  
The juggling of possums requires flair.  
Full-grown possum are very massive fellows.
Their bulk when lifted, like handling jell-o.  
They are so at ease as they fly through the trees.  
Are you ever so tall?  Fight them on your knees! 
Though cuddly and soft, please never be smitten.  
Asleep they appear, in a flash you're bitten.  
Upon one look, so UN-cute the ragged claw!  
Surely reminds me of my mother in-law.  
In my compost bin found this fury creature.  
Pointed nose, stinky as my English teacher-  
For that part which sticks out of the can at dark.  
Not a pretty site though pink, duck. It’s a fart!  
Quickly grab his leg and throw him really high 
Let the little blaster soar into the sky! 
Be quick, juggler, Granny Clampett is waiting 
It's possum stew she hopes to be creating 
Wait, I forgot! My arms are too short for this.
Now on my face sprinkles a souring mist.
The moral of this story, surely you see!
Never juggle opossums! Just let them be… 

Contributed Poets (in alphabetical order)  
Charma Chircop, Austin Daver, Carolyn Devonshire,  James Frazer, Robin Gass, James M. 
Goff, Raul Moreno, John Robbins, James Peranteau, Dane Smith-Johnsen,


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009


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Quacking Crackers

Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom 
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards 
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects 
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal 
except in his alternate universe of oneness 
 
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon 
while war looms close by this feather prides himself 
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
 
 
Sleight of hand reflections move 
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
 
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing 
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend 
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies 
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth 
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
 
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on 
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands 
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
 
 
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem 
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building 
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come

Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster  
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source 
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of 
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me 
only me, me only me, me only me!



a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam Mcdaid


Copyright © Donna Loughman | Year Posted 2017


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Love Me Or Hate Me

"Love Me Or Hate Me" ~ Says the Limerick

I am only five lines written for fun
Mocking someone with foolish words of pun
Love 'em or hate 'em
You praise or condemn
A poetry form some call "hit and run"

Some think of me as inconsequential
To the haughty I am nonessential
It's a thought I refute
And would gladly dispute
Cuz nothing I say is confidential

I read Jan's limericks about Tess Tickle
But did you know Tess spent her last nickle
Buying new underwear
Cause she hadn't a spare
She kept leaking in some sort of trickle

Tess had a good friend with the name of Neve
Cheated by keeping aces up her sleeve
She thought she was smart
Until she got caught
That taught her it doesn't pay to decieve

And then there was the one they called Maisy
Made faces that caused her to look crazy
One day her eye got stuck
And she looked like a duck
So now everyone calls her Miss Daisy

There once was a gal whose name was Mary
Wore wings pretending she was a fairy
Then I swear on my word
She flapped 'em like a bird
And started singing like a canary

Heard them tell about a gal named Sally
Made money hanging out in the alley
But then she got greedy
With those who were seedy
It was curtains in her grand finale

I used to know a chesty lass named Pam
She had to tote them around in a pram
Then had an operation
A booby castration
I heard she now goes by the name of  'Sam'

Did you hear about the one called Yvette
She can't remember and started to fret
It made me want to cry
I can't figure out why
Umm.. umm.. I'm too old and tend to forget


Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2018


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Quacking Crackers

Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom 
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards 
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects 
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal 
except in his alternate universe of oneness 
 
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon 
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself 
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
 
 
Sleight of hand reflections move 
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
 
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing 
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend 
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies 
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth 
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
 
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on 
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands 
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
 
 
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem 
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building 
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come

Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster  
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source 
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of 
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me 
only me, me only me, me only me!



a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid


Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017


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Passion

Passion
blue sky ignites,
passion incites,
passion fights,
to be free to ride.

lady delights,
heavy breathing might,
beach  might us abide,
he stood alone and cried:(  

and it was hardly tried,
no consequence to ride,
just realitys bride? 
bewildering, delight sometime tonight.

the artist draws within their mind,
and couples words, duck ponds and yet,
the water flows and it will rhyme,
and on it goes, the passion sets,
until another time:)

Don Johnson 6-jul-11



Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011


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Inspired by Slim Shady

You can probably tell I've always been inspired by Slim Shady 
By the way I rhyme words and the fact my pen's crazy
I'm the equivalent to Jason Voorhees listening to the Marshall Mathers LP with a pen in his hand instead of a Machete 
This is a horror movie on paper and I don't think you're ready 
You want to dress it up, well I'll jump out of your fashion catalogue 
I'm happy to stand out, forget hiding I don't need camouflage 
I got in my own way too many times before and I used to self sabotage 
No more though, you may want to duck and hide when I let my pen's ammo discharge
I'm a one man army,bring your whole battle squad 
You should know by the way I put words together that I'm a scrabble god
Should I rhyme simpler and dumb it down because these days the dumbest people and ideas get the biggest views
This generation need things simple, and handed to them, they don't want to look for hidden jewels
These days people get everything Misconstrued 
Kids today seem to think the best rapper is the richest dude
I don't care about a Kardashian or an Amber Rose or who is kissing who
my dad left me with issues and fears of abandonment 
I just want to wake up to my dream girl wearing my shirt and making me sandwiches
Have her look at me like I'm the first drop of rain after a drought 
Forget the past and future, I'd rather just focus on the matters of now
tell Cupid if he shoots me again to make it Demi Lovato 
I wouldn't say it to his face but Brock Lesnar looks like Johnny Bravo
People throw shots these days and they're barely Vodka 
My pen is a magic wand that makes me poetry's Harry Potter
Some won't like that I'm bringing rap style punchlines to poetry 
but even when I'm writing for fun and joking I still speak openly
Unsure if I had writers block or if I've been lazy 
But I'm back now and my pen's crazy 
You can all probably tell by the way I rhyme that I've been inspired by Slim Shady 














Copyright © Alex Duffy | Year Posted 2018


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I Was A Sitting Duck

I was a sitting duck when the tide came in.
No idea it would go past my chin.
I struggled and I flopped.
I bucked and I hopped.
It took me way out to sea.
I went under quickly, poor little me.

But a dolphin came along and gave me a push.
That old water threw me up in a whoosh.
I found myself all safe and sound.
To say thanks I looked all around.
But the dolphin was gone with a flip and a wink,
And I resumed washing dishes in our old kitchen sink.


Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018


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Game Day

Mighty Ducks win the game
Pass the ball perfect the play
There's so much riding on your fame
Men clad in armor win the day

The crowds are grumbling they've all gone wild
The stripes bad call has hardened your trial
Yard by yard your penalties mass
But you'll take the lead with a touchdown pass

86 yards with a kick return 
Your rival now should show concern 
We love your power your drive your speed
The beer the bets the company

Football Game day 
Phones be texting
Tailgate fun scores projecting 
Simple fun that's life affecting

It's more than manly testosterone 
That compels us to the game
It's teamwork pride the thrill of the fight
How the underdog pushed and overcame 

Sports and competition have always been a way of life 
Revealing the mighty but also the contrite
Teaching lessons of brotherhood
More victory together than alone we ever could 

So when we gather scream and shout 
Seemingly insane over a meaningless thing
Remember this on Game Day proud
When from the rest of life we simply check out

Is it really so bad to drink too much 
With Oregon's O displayed 
Colored faces worshiping the Duck
When they fumble we yell O  F_ _ _ 

Be it victory or cruel defeat
There's more to this than meets the eye
It's about families, lovers and the best of friends
Gathering to play to laugh and to cry

Game Day for the Oregon Duck
Of our team we're so damn proud
As a fan have you made the cut
Or resigned to just miss out 








Copyright © Sarai Virden | Year Posted 2013


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How Much Longer Will It Go On


He was the child that did not smile, or live
or breath, towards his death he did not look
as though he had the time to duck and dive
he was taught to live or die by the book

Bruised and battered in a dishevelled state
hiding in corners wrapped only in tears
he, deprived of love, a child they did hate 
starved of food, under the stairs, hiding fears

Then justice stepped in and took him away
to a home full of love, fun and laughter
in that tormented life he could not stay
as one so young he could not look after

He grew into a man without a care
Adopted a child, saved them from despair.

©1/3/2014


Shackled

Deprived of freedom then held as a slave
mental torture, in every race and creed
trapped in a void, while trying to be brave
inside looking out, a broken heart bleeds

Tormented, abused, while home is their jail
shunned by a partner and tainted with lies
no contact with friends including no mail
then pushed to the brink each day they despise 

Whispered sweet nothings, then captured by love
charmed to the alter, their vows they both read
the cracks appear, as does a boxing glove 
sentenced to life for an innocent deed

With prayer and patience they will be released
A living hell at the hands of a beast.

1/3/2014



Note*  This is a double sonnet. I used the same title 
for both as these despicable crimes can happen to 
anyone of any age in any country and we should not 
close our eyes to the fact that it could be happening 
in our neighbourhood to people we know…


Copyright © David Williams | Year Posted 2014


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Painting The House

Summer’s winding down, it’s chillier with the new born morning dew.
So I ran out to finish painting my house, before caught in winter’s Noose.
Yeah! I DO procrastinate. It’s true! But there’s a Gall-Darn reason why!
His name is Dragon… Yes-sir-eeedie! And when he helps… Oh My!
So be forewarned, as soon there’ll be paint, found clear up to the moon! 

The first thing was the ladder…He knocked it down once or twice! 
Grandpa Troll finally, locked it in place. Now isn’t that really nice! 
Fortunately, I’d already finished way up high, earlier in the spring. 
The penguins painted the lower parts as they made their brushes sing.
And Dragon lifted them up on his tail for another section. How sweet!

But if he can work so well with the penguins, just why did he have to… 
Knock me of my ladder, twice? A tail cramp he stated but… Honestly!
Do you believe that? Oh My? But things got worse as I spilled some paint…
On his head… It was just a drop or two. Honestly! Sorry, was what I said! 
He wiped it from his face, head, and topknot plus all that bling he wears!

But did Dragon believe me? Not on your life! But I got to hose him down.
Hey! That was fun! As we only use water based paint, with him around.
As he wiped it off his face and all he wore, I saw his eyes spark red, Darn!
Here we go, again! But EVERYONE knows not to duck beneath, my ladder.
Don’t you see! But as Dragon readied to singe my butt, a Priest came forth! 

He’d stopped by, to bless our house, just then. Now wasn’t that So Very Sweet!
I’m no dummy and asked people over, to distract Dragon, one by one, you see!
Ambulance drivers arrived to say hello! The police sold us tickets, to their ball! 
But the best thing of all, they helped paint our house. Done with brotherly love! 
We even trimmed the house in cute little penguin feet! And I turned to see…

Dragon feet going up a very tall tree. We’ll keep them. What do you think?
As a conversational piece! Then the firemen barbecued everyone some lunch.
As we got out our telescope to check the moon for Dragon paws… Sure Nuff!
They were really there! I secretly, think the neighbor witch had been involved.
I know sure well, some agency will call! I say, let THEM go wash them off! 

Now September has officially become the Dragon moon. Stop by to celebrate! 
The whole town’s here! Let the block party resume! Come on Y’all partake!
 


Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014