Best Elbows Poems
Keep Your Elbows Off the Table
By Elton Camp
It has always been the rule
Both at home and in school
Elbows on table were a crime
And not permitted at any time
There’s no reason it should stop
Elbows are a really handy prop
If elbows, man and God offend,
Why are our arms made to bend?
Butters Drippin’ From My Ears
Summer’s mostly over
I’ve not once mentioned Iowa corn.
It’s the symbol of the state
In which this rhymer’s born.
There are other places
That grows passable “sweet” corn.
I’ve eaten several others
But my druthers always torn.
In dead of winters dreary days
And it’s all the markets got
That “shipped in” product
May pacify the corn longing spot.
But when Iowa summer’s here
Weathers so hot & steamy.
There’s nothing like fresh corn
With melted butter. . . so creamy.
I’ve always thought eatin’ corn
Was the most sensible fashion reason
Hot butter drippin’ off my elbow
Makes short sleeves so now in season
We start dreaming of its coming
As soon as local gardening starts
Sweet corn & vine ripe tomatoes
Are close to this old couples hearts.
There are various spots to buy it
Lots of small, road side venders.
There are local “farmers markets”
Even “organic” stores for heavy spenders.
But my wife has a favorite seller
So weeks early we start spying.
To find that special farm fell'er
Many years his ears has been buying.
When she says, going out the door
”I’m going to see the little man”
I know I’m in for a real corn treat.
She’ll soon return with ears in hand.
It’s always cool and fresh picked
The husks are tight, the color bright.
The ears are chuck full of kernels
And almost never a bug in sight.
We get them all shucked
The waters now boiling
But the season is short
Soon there will be no more toiling.
We close out the season
Cut a few ears for the freezer.
Soon we’ll be saying “Good-by”
To this special taste “pleaser”.
Written by oldbuck after another
wonderful home cooked meal that
included “Iowa” corn on the cob.
It's an ice hockey term that means, "Let's Fight!"
A Canadian rally cry by right
Against annexation
to stay their own nation
It's against Trump's greed for control they smite
His arrogant audacity's surreal
For wanting another country to steal
To be king on a throne
He's destroying his own
Before him he expects the world to kneel
The term, 'Elbows Up' we should take to heart
Freedom is a right for which many fought
I fear it's being lost
When Democracy's tossed
Jeopardized by Trump, the depraved upstart
Rubbing elbows on the table Etiquette a ticketed fable in hands of Neanderthal Blowing wind a meander squall rocking the boat don’t knock unless you tried it, squawk All hawking and mighty and the cloth was all tidy The weapon of choice, a spoon Nothing like a vulture, you buffoon My elbow is on the table, you pig while you are at it straighten your wig
Said to my daughter: The Canadians elected the Liberal Prime Minister
She responded: That makes them smarter than us.
Elbows on the desk,
hands shoved against eyes,
knuckles pressed into their corners.
You know how it is:
you’re thinking, facing the screen.
Pondering, trying to meditate, excogitate.
Where is it? Where was it?
It was in my mind a moment ago.
It’s gone, my brain has lost it.
I even ask what it was.
The kettle boiled, whistled.
A letter hit my mailbox.
A car screeched to a stop out there.
A fly buzzed about my head.
Elbows, hands, knuckles,
thoughts, ponder, meditation;
brain plays with thoughts.
Then kettle, mailbox, brakes, that damned fly.
(Posted 7 Aug 2024)
lets pray on our knees
and ankles
elbows and knuckles
and repent
red clad priest coughs
blue blood
cups full of wet kisses
he will come again
in the last days
yellow butterfly hangs
by the thread
till they bleed he urged
us to plead
lord in heaven forgive
us please
green ushers walked
past silencing
the little children below
the age of three