Best Flat As A Pancake Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Flat As A Pancake poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of flat as a pancake poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Flat As A Pancake poems, articles about Flat As A Pancake poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Flat As A Pancake poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
See Also:
New Flat As A Pancake Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Flat As A Pancake poems are below this new poems list.
View all new Flat As A Pancake Poems
The Best Flat As A Pancake Poems
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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…!
http://www.star2.com/living/living-environment/2016/04/27/fear-em-or-hate-em-mosquitoes-are-very-amazing-creatures-heres-why/
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG | Year Posted 2015
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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
Details |
Flat As A Pancake Poem
|
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