Best Dunks Poems
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
When your boyfriend comes home late at night
Your chances are great that you will be in trouble
Here we go again
He stinks alcohol and vomit
// She is angry ... (how angry?) ... hysterical angry //
His explanation :
"Of course, things did not go as I planned, my dear
The beer was served in the German way, in liter mugs
I'm so sorry
There were wild conditions all night and time went so fast
The rules were simple ~ but a hard competition"
The walk of shame
(to the bathroom)
*
The head dunks, the party is definitely over
He :
"Life sucks ... stop the carousel I'm dizzy ... so dizzy"
"STOP" !
*
24.02.2018
Sun :) A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A woman walks into a coffee shop,
sits at the counter.
Right next to her is a gentleman
reading his newspaper.
His face buried in his daily
without looking
he reaches out
takes one finger
from her Kit Kat bar.
She can't believe what she just saw.
Clearly angry
she rustles the foil on her bar
as she herself takes a finger to eat.
A few seconds past
Once again the gentleman
takes another finger
of the now infamous chocolate bar.
Now the woman is furious
she grabs his Newspaper
out of his hands
throws it on the counter.
She then grabs
a piece of his doughnut
dunks it in his coffee
eats it and walks out.
The man is clearly in shock and confused
but says nothing.
He orders another donut and coffee
returns to reading his paper.
Meanwhile the woman heads to
and gets to her car.
She opens the car
Now you can see it all on her face
redder than a Kit Kat wrapper.
Sitting in plain view
on the passenger seat
quiet and unassuming
is her Kit Kat Chocolate bar.
Poor man
and he was so polite about it all.
Maurice Yvonne
19~10~2014
This write is inspired from an idea
I recently had for a Kit Kat commercial.
You will never see it in a poetry book
but hopefully you enjoyed it.
Maurice Yvonne
19~10~2014
At night I feel i’m riding solo
My dreams are with my lover and residing in Soho
My reality is living with the unheard voices and a mind as cold as snow
I’m feeling as if life has struck me with a low blow
I’ve lived through worse, it’s alright though
My mind is a scatter like a fiery kingdom without its ruler
I worry about if I can carry on another day, or even live until the year I’m a Junior
Suicidal thoughts and intentions are stuck to me, we should call them tumors
I’m here for me, and not you, so keep quiet with the rumors
I’m now slamming dunks, no longer a shooter
I’m living my life, almost like I want it to be in the future
My end is no longer near
My vision and head is now clear
I now can crack a small smile when I look in my mirror
The playing starts each October in the fall.
But alas, this year there is no basketball.
Another season should have started for the NBA.
However, fans will not see their teams play.
From the Knickerbockers in New York, to the Lakers in LA,
will this competition start? Nobody can say.
As we approach winter, there is increasing doubt.
The owners have gotten together and locked the players out.
We will not see free throws or slam dunks today.
It appears there will be no playoffs in May.
With no basketball to see, where shall we go?
Perhaps a blizzard will come, and we will shovel snow.
For Francine's Winter Couplet contest (a winter sport (watching or participating) category chosen).
Live head-lice thrive on Peter's crown
Head's itchy it's making him frown
But young Peter's no fool
Dunks his head in the pool
He's hoping all the critters drown!
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
The world was a troubled place in the '80's, home to a number of disasters
From the plight of Iran's hostages to the meltdown of Chernobyl's reactor
But in the world of basketball, the 1980's served to revive the game
From a decade, the 1970's, where drugs and crime had gone untamed
There dawned a rivalry, perhaps never again matched, the Celtic's Larry Bird
'The Great White Hope,' whose hard-scrabble heroics, the fans hearts stirred
In fierce, epic battles with the Lakers' nonpareil, Magic Johnson
Whose wizardy with the ball and no-look passes quickly became legend
All through the '80's these hardcourt warriors duked it out
Bird MVP three years in a row, '84 - '86, 'the Greatest Player Ever,' no doubt
With Johnson hot on his trail, the ultimate Team Great, fueling the debate
Leading the Lakers to the Championship five times, from '80 to '88
While meantime, the lowly Chicago Bulls were cultivating a new player still
Greater than Bird and Magic, who in the 1990's would rule
The incomparable Michael Jordan, "MJ," as he would come to be known
Whose soaring dunks and breathtaking heroics eventually put him alone
Atop the throne of basketball majesty and glory
That's how I remember the '80's, and that ends my story
Entry in 'Remembering the 1980's' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
In the game of basketball,
It's up and down the court;
Ready to dribble and shoot,
Each player shows his worth.
One cager emerges superb,
From every angle scoring;
He drives hard to the basket
As the fans stand, cheering.
He plays the center role,
Standing six-foot-eleven;
Armed with two big hands
As well as long fingers ten.
The heart of a champion
Beats in determination;
Either offense or defense
Has an ample attention.
He knocks down three-pointers,
Doing fade away jumpers;
Hauling down big rebounds,
Like a machine in four quarters.
He leaves the defenders in shock,
Using his lateral quickness;
He issues lightning-quick assists,
Highlighting no-look passes.
Taking fouls from ferocious foe,
He is strong in body and mind;
He goes straight to the stripe,
Making free throws from the line.
He blocks every single shot,
Making a fruitful fastbreak;
Doing double crossover
To put an icing on a cake.
Hard to stop catch-and-shoot,
Points his team pile up;
But the other wants to take the lead,
To emerge and win the cup.
In the last two minutes
The score is tied at 99 all;
The great dribbler dunks,
Wanting not to lose or fall.
After the tie-breaking shot,
He steals from the point guard;
He wants a step-back jumper
Done by the power forward.
But behold the other quintet
Defending so very tight;
The lead remains at two,
Until they make it all right.
The very exciting game
To overtime period goes;
As both clubs deliver,
Trading every shot that flows.
With half a second remaining,
To give up no one does want;
After the last full time-out,
Both hope to be in front.
The ball now is in his hands,
The score is still the same;
He makes the last shot to earn
The best player of the game.
It started with a smile
A true love a dirty deep love
Panda dunks and bands flying
Clubs and soft skin
Past in the can can you remember
He was so sweet so loving
You wouldnt see it coming
The slow poison
Shes living live laughs jokes with his boys and then
He snapped
The bruise ripened like the fake fruit that sat in the kitchen
He was different that night
It wasnt a fight he swung she cowered face wrung
Hes wrong but heres the thing
Hes a manipulator
He tires her and hides it
She tries to talk but ends with a sorry
He gaslights flicker flick but he never said sorry
She left a few times
The phone dragged her back
Small things
I can change i have changed
She lay in bed
Bang of the door
You whore he says
Stomp stomp stairs cower
See the part of the story you see
In the news
in the paper
Nothing new
Domestic abuse words not new
To the ear
See she should have stayed away
She should have run
She should have hid
She should have done this
She should have done that
But she shouldnt have to
That was the end of her story
Over before it started
20 years he got for the life he took
Hows the reaper balance the skale
With a finger or fowl play
Any way you say she still lays there
In her wooden bed
Yet,
She still cant escape
That phone still rings with his name
She would never be free
As August approaches its end
It’s harder for us to pretend
That the summer’s still here
For it seems pretty clear
That to autumn our thoughts do transcend.
All the stores and the sites advertise
Sales on clothes and, of course, school supplies.
Camps have shuttered their bunks,
Swimmers had their last dunks
And the sun takes much longer to rise.
Those who can may enjoy one last week
When routines aren’t set, so to speak
But when Labor Day hits
Summer’s calling it quits
Leaving those not prepared up the creek.
A mouse in cool cat Air Jordan sneakers.
Tremendous bounce. He sails high and higher.
With plain whitewashed canvas, he’d be weaker.
Mickey, you’ve made the team and you’re on fire.
Tremendous bounce. He sails high and higher.
Basketball dunks through hoop, far up in clouds.
Minnie’s found where he spends his time, aspires
to top her boyfriend’s best, to please the crowd.*
Basketball dunks through hoop, far up in clouds.
The orange orb hangs out in outer space.
Minnie’s Air Force, stylish, and gumption-proud.
Oh dear, will Mickey keep up with her pace?
There once played a Chicago Bull
To spellbound fans, a stadium full
His name was Michael Jordan
He jumped above the rim so high
It seemed his head might touch the sky
His dunks were legend
He made his team into world champs
Impressed on it his signature stamp
A fist-pump in the air
Yet more than all the points he scored
More than all the memories stored
Jordan really cared
He posed for photos with his fans
He'd set aside his private plans
He stayed humble
He'd just show up, a huge surprise
The kids would gape, wide-open eyes
Their tongues a-jumble
He'd play with them, and praise their moves
Then thunder-dunk, as if to prove
He's number one...
The years have passed, yet we recall
His majesty when he played ball --
And all the fun
Dear Sam.
Today, you have been called upon to deliver
a message, words of inspiration to your former
classmates. May you go there with full faith
and confidence that God has called you for this
moment, their moment, your moment.
In light of his high-flying dunks from as far
as the free-throw line, Michael Jordan was once
asked if he could fly. I will never forget his
reply when he said, "For a little while".
May you 'Go Fly' today and inspire your former
classmates. May you also assist them in ascending
as God uses you to fly, if only for a little while.
I love to sit on it,
And ride without a saddle.
It’s stronger than a stallion.
Riding it makes me sweat all over,
Especially down under in my Australia.
I curse often about how my down under
Feels when I bounce and pounce on the dark horse.
The owner often grunts, curses, calls me names,
And forces me to ride harder with no remorse.
I love such torture.
I love to feel it slide as I glide sloppily,
On the dark horse that belongs to my daddy.
My boobs bounce like basketballs
While I lie on top sideways or sit up so tall.
Daddy sucks and bites my morsels
While he dunks my rear,
Up and down,
Like an Oreo in milk,
On the horse you know.
I never want to get off,
Because it gets me off.
Having that strength poking me,
Feels heavenly.
I love to feel it slide as I glide sloppily,
On the dark horse that belongs to my daddy.