Best Gags Poems
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes --
Freely to Roam! And what, the prescribed
destination or direction? Wherever the poet,
himself, deems worthy of fond or pertinent
affection –
Poetic Theme (extended metaphor)
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes –
Freely to Roam! And what the prescribed
destination or direction? Only those fond
and pertinent, giving affectionate-justification as
reason for procrastination – to linger in a moment's
subtle discovery – the courses followed only those
which the poet deems entrancingly divine – he seeks
heartfelt permanent encampment – or just an
amicable pause, in a neighboring field, fertile for
blooming enchantment; with his companion pen, to chronicle
canorous visuals, fervently inspired – or simply folksy,
lyrical rides; for the poet, alone, decides where his poetry lives
or temporarily abides –
(his muse, never far off – nearby, perhaps reflecting in the shade of a flowering
fruit tree: heaped in petals, not trying to hide – more enjoying the velvety feel of an
apple before the outer peel, though colorful, would be far too bitter for his present
aromatic meal) – muse and poet, composing through a single eye. Writing as one:
sharing new sights – sounds with scent – their mind dutifully toward poetry
bent – shades of detail, mellifluously transcending common scheme and rhyme –
incanting verse worthy of a brief performance, or immortal, blessed shrine –
It's all fair, such dulcet affair! All subjects! All seasons! – preferring spring, in which to self-lavish and spiritually entwine. Therefore, his paths are fanciful, never truthful as definitive
would define; often choosing glitter over harsh realty, yet can be a prophet and oracle if a troubling-time -- though never, a ruling class mime; – in this sense, he is a likable charlatan, a chimerical rebel...irreconcilable passion his soulful crime, therefore not ever exhibited, an atoning-word or act of sorrowful contrition – so loved by God, who gags at his counterpart, the lying politician.
Categories:
gags, perspective, philosophy, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Disco dreams and disco balls
Big city,bright lights
Pub crawls and bar fights.
Mini frocks and hair dyes
Made up faces
Mascara filled eyes.
Vodka martinis and champagne
Bus trips and black cabs
Standing in the rain.
Nightclubs and deejays
Entry stamps on wrists
And tattooed fists.
Late nights and hangovers
Fast cars and kebabs
White wine spritzers
And mishaps.
One night stands and live bands
Autographs and queues
Sing-a-longs and sad songs
And over packed loos.
One line gags and handbags
Glitter and sparkling eyes
Cigarettes and suffragettes
Gossip and lies.
Brawls,another one falls
Drunks and punks
Frilly skirts and love hurts
And late rides.
Secret kisses and front row seats
Cinema aisles
Red lipped smiles
Beauties and beasts.
Flashy cars and night time stars
Takeaways and glad rags
Silly jokes and whiskey cokes
Dreams and high hopes.
Nights out and walkabouts
Cheap thrills and teenage wonder
Hitch hikes and motorbikes
Delinquent lightning and thunder.
Categories:
gags, nostalgianight, night,
Form:
Rhyme
a girl a child a life of 12 years
a by stander an innocent with no sense of fear
coerced, bribed, begged and beckoned
kidnapped, stolen, beaten and threatened
the thoughts now that run deep through her head
is how soon will they find me or soon will i be dead
he gags her, he ties her, he drives her to his lair of death
her heart, her soul, her mind will soon be at rest
he picks her up and puts her in a cold damp room
shes scared as she shivers and ponders her doom
he needs her so he feeds her as he keeps her alive
so he takes her and he rapes her for his sexual thrive
as daylight draws near and the sun starts to rise
all you see are dry tears that flowed from her eyes
with bruises and cuts and blood from her thighs
she was pure no more in her killers eyes
he despised and hated what she had become
unknowingly ignoring what he himself done
his anger and temper begin to arise
as he contemplates death for this young girls demise
he cuts off the cord from the lamp on the desk
he strangles and chokes her until her very last breath
then he drives her and dumps her small body to rest
the next morning they find her with a note on her neck
saying I HAVE JUST STARTED SOMEONE IS NEXT!!!!
Categories:
gags, death, death, death,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, the one on one days of yesterday,
Of boredom and babies and waiting.
Of school mornings and tagging along,
Brown paper bags, school songs.
The blowing of wind and weather,
Long stockings and hair and lunch bags,
Yellow buses and friends to savor,
Long highways, Texas dust gags.
Oh, Saturday morning quiet and wonder,
Pondering age and foreboding.
From childhood to now to that end of ends,
I stand, speak to my past now going.
Categories:
gags, how i feel,
Form:
Elegy
She drives that wobbly car
Stacked to the roof with goods
Squalor taunts her thus far
As she hides under hoods
Her babe cries behind bags
Baubles of plastic sneer
Purpose chokes on ball gags
When spending serves to steer
Tears well in her bright eye
While she struggles with rent
How will her child get by
On cash already spent?
She bats those long lashes
As she stands at my door
Wounded bird with gashes
Maybe she’ll need to whore
I long to comfort her
To regulate her pain
Emotions tend to blur
When yanked by Cupid’s chain
So foolhardy with joys
At discovery’s gate
I shed some unused toys
To help her mournful state
I’ve learned to live on crumbs
With circumstance’s ebb
All billionaires and bums
Depart this fateful web
Conjured visions of us
Tease my eroding mind
Intentions won’t cause fuss
When paid forward in kind
Yet her concept of friend
Surely differs from mine
Manipulations end
Alliance once divine
Wounds either kill or cure
What I am meant to be
Yet one truth shines for sure
Love keeps consuming me
Categories:
gags, friendship, loss
Form:
Ballad
I am tired
I am weak
I am fragile
I sit in the corner
My weary head rests on bent bruised knees
The dark and musty room reflects how I feel inside
My bloodstained clothes are torn
I sob into my dress
As I sit
Behind closed doors
Salty tears sting my face
Pain sears through me
I tremble with fear
It hurts
I am critically wounded
I am not good enough
Hopeless and useless he mocks
I made him do this
It is my fault
My drained body and hands shake
I want to sleep
The door slams
Has he gone?
I can’t take any more
My battered body lays still
In the dark stale corner
Silence... glorious silence
He is gone
No more shouting, slapping and kicking
No more clenched fists forcefully contacting my face
Swollen and sore, I cry and scream
He gags my mouth with his fist
My jaw cracks
Pain surges through me
He doesn’t care
An uncontrollable rage, a furnace within himself
Angry eyes, empty, dark & dangerous.
Evil.
I want to move
My broken bones prevent
My frail shattered body screams in agony
Tortured, crimson blood pours from my wounds
My tattered clothes
Covered in the sticky red substance
My battered, bruised and damaged body
All tell my story
Of suffering
Of domestic abuse
Exposing me as a victim
Of what goes on behind closed doors
I lay down, too tired to sit
I feel my life draining from me
I close my eyes
I need to sleep
I am weak
I am tired
I am fragile
I am not scared any more
As my life ebbs away
I am happy to leave
Do not cry for me
I suffer no more
The angels have come to rescue me
Categories:
gags, abuse, anger, angst, deep,
Form:
Sonnet
Stan was one of those insensitive blokes,
who gorged on Jerusalem artichokes,
when gas formed in his gut,
he thanked God for a butt...
now the entire USA gags and chokes.
Categories:
gags, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
I'll bring a tear to every eye,
and I can make a grown man cry.
To grip you is my specialty,
for once you are caught up in me,
strong feelings will intensify.
I'll make you ponder things like why
a nice guy has to cheat or lie.
I mirror sad humanity.
I'll bring a tear.
It's by man's flaws and sometimes by
the hand of fate that he must die.
To see man face mortality,
you'll empathize; I'm tragedy!
Have tissues ready. Dry your eye.
I'll bring a tear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m full of fun for everyone.
Watch me now and you’ll come undone.
Test me with a humor trial -
If you frown, you’re in denial!
I’m a funny son-of-a-gun!
I’m full of silly, zany puns.
I’ll make you forget life’s problems.
With my antics I’ll beguile;
I’m full of fun!
For I’m Drama’s beloved son.
I’m Comedy, second to none.
Full of tricks to make you smile;
Entertaining for a while.
Don’t go yet. My gags aren’t done;
I’m full of fun!
A Double Rondeau
Part one/Andrea Dietrich
Part two/ Susan Burch
For Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's
Opposites Attract (Collab) Poetry Contest
Categories:
gags, art, me,
Form:
Rondeau
Journey began for a family wedding
Lucky one is the brother in law
Love or arranged all seem chatting
Everywhere laughter some is awe
Reached the venue a day before
Gossip time along with fancy cheer
Discussions about beauty… on floor
Speculations for new comer un-clear
Greeting few known to many unknown
Everyone giving their words of wisdom
As if met many times…love over flown
Gathering so big like a family kingdom
Talks around…of old times and new
Rushing to the marriage tunes like crazy
Practicing for best roles solo or in crew
Laughter and gags to spice up lazy
Trying the untried talent activity
Wedding day spreads it unique glory
Dressing their best to be a celebrity
Dance, drink, dining…completes story
Couples remembering their times
A family photograph among all clicks
Making memories which sublimes
Wedding moves with happy-sad streaks…
Categories:
gags, wedding, family, day, family,
Form:
Rhyme
Her hands were happy,
she fluttered them against
a cliché sense of blue in the air
and laughed when the allure of
the flowers further on trilled against
her skin. She submerges herself in light,
filtering through veined jade appendages.
-deeper-
Life is what she lusts for,
twirling in circles with the moon
to see if she can become a world of her own.
She picks roses and strips the petals
to smell the thorns –and shakes her head
because none of her pain is original.
Even so, she breaks into a run, bitter
at the dust beneath her and
every single one of the
footprint after footprint scars.
She might as well not even try the other road,
they tell her.
-the light bends around her, she rubs her eyes
to rid them of the green edge-
She realizes too late, the thorns are disappeared.
The path stretches on without end –it draws her into
a malachite mist.
She inhales slowly and
gags against the moisture that now
condenses on the walls of her lungs.
Clawing at her tongue, she stains her fingers
with mucous.
-The sky bleeds poisonous green arcs-
-what happened to the blue-
The heels of her palm against her eyes
-a vain attempt to salvage color-
she screams as she turns –
inside out, emerald. She feels them
sour, glassing over premature
and dripping venom. Liquid
strains her veins against her clouding skin.
She vomits bark,
desecrating the space between her toes –
putrid, willowy leaves sprout from her hair.
She looks up as if from beneath miles of
sea water, her undulating legs firmly rooted.
-I don’t want it-
she says faintly.
and the forest groans against her weight,
settling slowly like ash on the residue of thorn-ridden existence.
-The pulse glows green-
Categories:
gags, allegorygreen,
Form:
Narrative
I once knew a poet called William,
Of renown was this Stratford lad.
A writer of plays and sonnets was he
And his gags, they weren’t half bad.
Now Queen Liz wanted him to join t’ army
Cos she’d ‘eard pen was mightier than t’ sword
And if this were really true
She could well beat Spanish horde.
She pictured Will as a warrior;
Well his last name was Shakespeare,
And she thought that the Spaniards ‘d tremble
If they heard that he was getting near.
But he didn’t impress Raleigh or Drake.
Two more of Liz’s great band.
“We’ll not have nonce what writes poetry and prose
On any of the ships we command”.
So William the bard got barred
He did not get on board with his sword.
And though William the bard thought he was ‘ard
‘is sword was more bawd than broad.
Now ‘ed written about the King ‘eneries,
One of whom was Liz’ dad
And remembering ‘enery’s fondness for ‘eads
‘e ‘oped she never got mad.
One day the Spanish came visiting
As Drake, his bowls he did play.
He said “’ey up lads ‘ave you come for a scrap?”
And they said “Si” and “ole”.
Now at this William felt miffed
And sat down to write a sonnet
He had enough in the lines he’s allowed
To put enough emphasis on it.
He sculpted his verbs and his nouns
And his insults were quite that of a predator.
They cut and they thrust as from the masts they were read
Such was his iambic pentameter.
Against this the Spanish had nothing.
Back to safety they quickly retreated.
Of William they roared and they cheered,
Never before has an enemy been so forfeited.
Now Liz and the court were impressed.
Never before had a battle been so fought.
No blood had been spilled nor gunpowder fired
And of mayhem and killing there was nought.
Honour had remained intact
And the victory was ours.
The pen had proved mightier than the sword
A fact admitted by the disavowers.
Categories:
gags, adventure, england, history,
Form:
Rhyme
Lloyd and Harry, two dim witted men
they made me laugh, laugh, then laugh again
with their innocent acts
slapstick, gags and wisecracks
I love this movie, well now and then.
Nowt funnier than dumb and dumber
this great film makes me laugh and blubber
so fills my mind with glee
because they are like me
I'm stupid, but a lot chubbier.
3/13/2018
contest, favorite comedy movie,
Sponsored by: Alexis Y.
Categories:
gags, best friend, crazy, film,
Form:
Limerick
DEATH OF LOVE
When gazing at my
love-struck eyes
He said
"Romance gags me
Marriage is a business deal
Love is for weaklings"
I
Wasn’t dead
yet
When
gazing at my garden
He said
"Plant only
Food
Dump
Out the flowers"
I
Wasn’t
Dead
yet
When gazing at the moon
He said
"Close all the windows
Seal all the cracks it
saves money"
I
Wasn’t dead
yet"
when
the birdsong faded
in the silence
I crawled away
I
Wasn’t
Dead Yet.
2013
Victoria Anderson-Throop
Categories:
gags, life,
Form:
Free verse
I am tired
I am weak
I am fragile
I sit in the corner
My weary head rests on bent bruised knees
The dark and musty room reflects how I feel inside
My bloodstained clothes are torn
I sob into my dress
As I sit
Behind closed doors
Salty tears sting my face
Pain sears through me
I tremble with fear
It hurts
I am critically wounded
I am not good enough
Hopeless and useless he mocks
I made him do this
It is my fault
My drained body and hands shake
I want to sleep
The door slams
Has he gone?
I can’t take any more
My battered body lays still
In the dark stale corner
Silence... glorious silence
He is gone
No more shouting, slapping and kicking
No more clenched fists forcefully contacting my face
Swollen and sore, I cry and scream
He gags my mouth with his fist
My jaw cracks
Pain surges through me
He doesn’t care
An uncontrollable rage, a furnace within himself
Angry eyes, empty, dark & dangerous.
Evil.
I want to move
My broken bones prevent
My frail shattered body screams in agony
Tortured, crimson blood pours from my wounds
My tattered clothes
Covered in the sticky red substance
My battered, bruised and damaged body
All tell my story
Of suffering
Of domestic abuse
Exposing me as a victim
Of what goes on behind closed doors
I lay down, too tired to sit
I feel my life draining from me
I close my eyes
I need to sleep
I am weak
I am tired
I am fragile
I am not scared any more
As my life slowly ebbs away
I am happy to leave
Do not cry for me
I suffer no more
The angels have come to rescue me
Categories:
gags, abuse, childhood,
Form:
Free verse
The cauldron bubbles
With blackest of black
Boiling over the rim
Thick and tar-like liquid
As putrid fumes fill the air
It gags you, chokes you
Making you wonder
What is IN that
And you look around to find
A rotted, termite infested shelf
Coated with years of dust
Webs spun by spiders long gone
One jar is labeled: Serpent tongues
Cunning and slithering
With lies, deceit, lashing words
Next to it sits a tin canister
Curiosity gets the best of you
So you pull off the lid to find
Bulging, gluttonous leeches
Eager to suck out the life
To drain you dry until discarded
Until you are no longer any use
A wooden box sits waiting
The lid creaks open revealing
Black, shriveled, petrified hearts
Formed by spite and hatred
Rattling inside a can
Are enormous troll teeth
Rotten and black from years
Of ripping and gnawing of flesh
In a sack there seems to be marbles
But inside you find owl eyes
Harden from all the scrutiny
All the harsh, critical glares
Stunned, it hits you and you realize
These are boiling in the cauldron
What makes up the blackness, the smell
And on a gnarled table
Scarred and weathered
From years of hosting
Is a bowl waiting to be filled
For the brim to touch my lips
And the thick liquid to trickle
Down the back of my throat
Invading my body
To spread throughout
Wreaking havoc and devouring
Everything it touches
Until I am the blackness
Until I am the host
Of this vicious venom
To spread the infectious disease
Fear of this driving me
I grab the large pot
Searing the flesh of my palms
And push with everything in me
Until it topples over
Spilling out onto the floorboards
Seeping into the cracks
To never fill another bowl
To never be consumed
To never inhabit another
To never take over me
Categories:
gags, hope, life
Form:
Free verse