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Best Flat As A Pancake Poems | Poetry

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The Best Flat As A Pancake Poems

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So she will know

So she will know Riding the back of a tiger shark sinking Crossing an ocean that’s barren and dry Surfing on waves that the net hasn’t captured Wondering what a sand dollar will buy Chasing a thought that I just forgot thinking Vacuuming memories under the seat Blowing the horn when its allergy season Sneezing and sneezing and sneezing, repeat Singing a song just to bother Bon Jovi Shot through the heart but not casting the blame Shaving my head like a rock star in fashion Asking the barber to sell me his name Eating a waffle that’s flat as a pancake Bathing in syrup a soft maple shade Cutting a class while the lawns overgrowing Making a bed that is already made Changing the tune of a microwave oven Turning the knob till the volume is loud Watching it spin like a Rolling Stone’s album Yelling at them to get off of my cloud Eating dessert while the main course is waiting Leaving a tip but not paying the bill Telling the waiter he looks like my brother Blushing when he says to please call him Jill Squeezing an orange while lemons are striking Crossing a picket line out in red ink Finding that permanent means until Tuesday Seen through a highlighter glowing in pink Climbing a mountain in old worn out sandals Hurting my feet, it has taken its toll Wait, not a mountain I meant to say Motown Moving much better now that I’ve got soul I figure by now you must think I am crazy Based on the verses up there and much more The truth of the matter is I’m kind of lazy I’ve used this same style of poem before And like the others this ends in affection Regardless of what I have written above All of my poems are fueled by desire Written for somebody special I love So if I say the sun whispers in crayons A basset hound’s bark is as rough as a tree Piano keys will not unlock Beethoven Then all I really am hoping you’ll see Is how she makes me act goofy and silly Using some phrases that seem quite askew And why I’m sitting here writing this poem So she will know that my love will be true Good night Soupers

Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017

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In Another Time

I found him slumped over his Remington No.5, no more "Elite Typing" for this poor fellow. His Fedora was on the floor beside him, flat as a pancake with a stilleto heel print in the centre of it. Other than a pair of McCalls boxers, he wasn't wearing anything. The "Besame Red Velvet Lipstick stain on his crotch, matched the color on the cigarette butts in the black ashtray on his desk. I noticed the ashtray was embosed with a logo from the stork club.

I had been to the Stork club a few times, it's over on 53rd street. Not the kinda place for an ordinary gumshoe like myself. This guy musta been a regular, there were match books all over the apartment. In a place like that you never know who you might bump into. I seen Frank there one time, he didn't give me a second look. I tried to get into the Snub room once but couldn't get past St. Peter, maybe he didn't like that I was wearing a single gold earing. 

I did some calling around, it seems the poor chump was Vincent Scott, a rich banker from Hollywood. He had been about town with a Dorthy Lamour Wanabee. She had the attitude but was a bit lacking in the looks department. Mind you for a balding middle aged banker, she was probably the Cat's ***. Rumor was that he was planning on leaving his wife and two kiddies. Judging by the two, one way tickets to Cuba in his desk drawer, plans were well under way. I guess that bullet hole in the center of Vincent's forehead kinda spoiled his plans. 

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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A letter from Bristol arrived on my doorstep I knew its contents would cause me such pain An invitation for a routine mammogram – My Goodness …two years have flown past again I arrived at the breast-screening center And sat down on a bright lime green chair The x ray room I soon would enter I’d have to strip off my pink underwear The radiologist asked me some questions - Did I have any worries about my breasts… I replied they were droopy and sagging And no longer pert on my chest! The radiologist laughed at my answer My humour really did break the ice We discussed the detection of breast cancer She listened and was so very nice It was time for the dreaded deed to be done Each breast squashed as flat as a pancake Two images were taken of each compressed one Good grief my boobies don’t half ache! A few moments discomfort can detect cancer Soon the pain was gone from my Bristol Cities Early detection is really the answer And in two years they will re squash my titties! 09~23~16 (Bristol Cities is cockney rhyming slang for titties)

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

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One Pesky Mosquito

A Pesky Mosquito

There is this pesky little mosquito…
It nipped painfully down there on my big toe..
Quick! I’ll need to strike back or it will soon flit off again…
Even as my brain registers its itchy pain...!

Grrr! If only it stays in one place…
I’ll make sure it becomes as flat as a pancake…
Yes! If only it stays still till I’m ready….
I’ll have it all flattened and crushed already..!

One tiny but ever so pesky mosquito…
Merrily it flies off to land lightly on another big toe..
All it does, now and then, is to give a little nip…
You’ll see me scratching from each itch..!

There it lands again, finally!
Steadily and stealthily I bend down, right palm opened, up and ready…
Ouch! What a mighty slap I did give…
Hell! My skin smarts but the mosquito, it still lives..!

One tiny pesky little mosquito…
I’m going crazy with the itches on both my toes…
Do lend me a hand, readers and my fans…
Please help me and see off this little fiend..!

O God, why such a nasty little insect…
Thank Heavens somebody invented this aerosol for insects…!
Here, eat this, you nasty, cursed little pest..
This aerosol I spray is supposedly the best in the market..!

Aha, oh glory be…!
My pesky and nasty little mosquito is finally at rest…
When fully into this bug aerosol I put my trust….!

Lord! What a relief…!
My itching toes, one final scratch, that’s all they need…

One pesky little mosquito…. And my poor suffering toes…!

Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015

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beyond the pale

Life inflicted a resounding defeat on you,
Down the drain you lied flat as a pancake;
And for many years you were silent still,

A phrase of call in the eye of the storm might have woke you up,
And because the fullness of your heart was needled,
You rummaged the future tirelessly,
You searched hard for faint solace;
For the last drop of hope,

But ever since you came back we never ceased to cry;
We never stopped complaining!
But we know who you are; we know you very well,
And we don’t wish to compose your innermost breath;
For we watched when you died the death.

Copyright © Mpho Leteng | Year Posted 2012

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What Says The Silence

What says the silence between us now 
  With dour acoustical deadness? 
Roaring waves of invisible vagrancy, 
Breaking down the white rock transparency 
  Heavy and burdened with leadenness. 

And all that is unspoken screams 
  With clinical padded-cell madness, 
Hissing clues in a deafening vacancy 
Falling flat as a pancake melody 
  With an albatross-fated sadness. 

What says the silence between us now 
  With love raped a dialogue soundless? 
Splitting hairs with a dumb antipathy, 
Lit up like a cross-wired Christmas tree 
  With its circuitry spitting and groundless. 

And whatever decays behind us breathes 
  With lungs cursed of punctured tissue 
Telling tales of an undying chemistry, 
With a quick-fire wit and repartee 
  You and I left the lonely issue. 

What says the silence between us now 
  With our feelings insidious as cancer? 
Hung upon a mutual reticency, 
What means it to you, what means it to me? 
  Even God can't conceive of an answer.

Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005

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Flat Tire Did Not Ply Deflating Psi Lance

True add verse situation,
     whereat me mission
     trans send dint state didst ache
after yours truly nearly
     did nearly break
chassis 'pon took drastic
     over corrective measure,
     not quite August, 
     nor jejune piece of cake,
while rounding raised

      curbed contra corner
     suddenly felt wrath of wife quake,
viz passenger rear tire
     gone flat as a pancake
impresario found myself 
     hearing Thus Spake,
Zarathustra, when in truth...
     twas ma constricted trach.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Some weeks back
     acting so cool and chic - bank
king all bravado, machismo
     self importance, and frank
lee babbling like a cripple creek
     off by a black key with Hank
Williams tune imagining
     myself swaggering like a lank

key trump petting Don
     (feigning faw being "Beefy") plank
walking lampoon able
     laughingstock Freaky, thank
less as a lapsed worn eraser head
     pencil necked Geek yank
key doodle dandy hood be
     forced to do penance as cap

     pit dull leotarded asinine
arthouse flop, where nary any words
     (worth their weight in gold)
     described my benign
behavior, NOT even
     smattering of unflattering deign
nig grating hammock colorful expletives,

     that would find an ensign
sailor to blush at my inept
     shameless travesty over the line
utter in apropos totally tubularly
     moronic juvenile mine
ness zero car raze zee antics,
     didst drive my doppelganger nine
tee bajillion miles away in search
     of another auto body – pine

ning for newer model
     then a 2009 Hyundai Sonata sign
ning off contract with this
     stunt driver wannabe 
     unimpressively try'n
to act the blithe dare devil,
     while thee spouse didst wine
and scream more'n bloody Mary

     as the gunned axle nearly broke
trying my damn nest to
     "FAKE" dagger a type cloak
his husband resembled a fool,
     where angels fear to tread didst evoke
unsuccessful, unstinting, and unsparing

     unstrung epithets of colorful expletives
     unsuitable for poetic folk
boot urgent prayer went out
     to incredible Hulk
Hogan, and/or even the ghost
     of Andre The Giant, this haint no joke!

Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018