Best Gobbler Poems
They organized a church bazaar,
To raise money for the poor.
A booth for selling chances
Was set up, outside the door.
When I bought the raffle ticket,
My reasoning was murky,
And I could only just believe it,
When I won that doggone turkey.
Now, the kids were all excited
When we brought the critter home.
So we placed him in the barnyard,
Where he'd have lots of room to roam.
Since the date was late October,
I'm quite sure you understand,
That to have him for Thanksgiving
Was my awe inspiring plan.
Well, the turkey was no birdbrain,
As I was very soon to find.
That bird knew what I was thinking;
Why, I declare, he read my mind.
I let the children care for him,
To my most profound regret--
He turned on his charming manner,
And, quickly, he became their pet.
But that fact did not deter me,
I told myself it didn't matter.
I was dead set and determined
To see that gobbler on a platter.
When the kids perceived my purpose,
They turned on the tears and pleas.
Then, the wife joined in their chorus,
And that brought me to my knees.
So I told my grieving family
They could dry up, and relax.
I concealed my disappointment--
Went and put away the axe.
Came the dinner of Thanksgiving,
Not a sad face could be found.
And our live Thanksgiving turkey
Was the gladdest bird around.
We gathered around the table,
And I humbly asked the blessing--
While Tom gobbled down his corn, outside,
We had hotdogs and dressing.
Irregardless of effort
or desire,
we can't stop time.
Weeks fall into months,
seasons stream past
like runaway trains,
stamping birthdays on calendars,
etching wrinkles on skin,
planting age spots everywhere.
The galloping gobbler
moves ever onward,
with sharpened blade,
to slice away memories,
and bestow;
weaker eyesight,
diminishing strength,
brain skips,
plus popping joints.
Alas, twilight stops soon for thee,
Twilight stops, now, for me.
cfa ? 9/2/2012
Revised 4/20/2014
A wild gobbler strutted into the woods,
it did not see all the camouflage hoods,
straight into a turkey shoot;
trips over a gnarly root,
with ruffle feathers made off with its goods.
11/17/2019
Poetry Contest: Holiday Themed Limerick
Sponsored By: Tania Kitchin
Roll it out or squoosh it flat;
Make a pie or cobbler,
But the eater must be
An imaginary gobbler.
Form a bunch of little balls;
Fill a little bucket.
Poke some holes and when you're done
You might decide to chuck it.
If you do, just mush it up
And stuff in its container.
Kids and time and Play Doh?
I would say a real no-brainer!
Since I can't say the words that I want to use
We r going to have a little fun and light the fuse
I don't give 2 flocks
Wrap that shizit up in a box
Ready to swing on a mother father
Make sure ur girlfriend is flocked proper
I heard she's a real gobbler
Meaning she's a swallower
She is kinda twisted and slightly demented
Don't worry, she consented
If u don't know who I'm talking about, she hasn't told u
Acting like it's laundry day when I fluff and fold u
Watch ur face! That last step is a doozie
The last shot was a little boozy!
My proper pussycat pounding turned ur girl into a floozy
Oops! I added more liquor to the drink
I got way more game than u think
No words r necessary to get her in my bed
Her mouth was moving but it wasn't cuz words were said
Dirty talk is the preferred language spoken
Making sure to leave that pussycat broken
Begging me to make her bed my own
Told you, I'm the King and nobody can take my thrown
U will need every drop of drip that is in ur mother flocking profile
I might be gone for awhile
I shall return like a Knight on a quest
I cannot give you my best
She did a number on me
Realness is what u see
It has been an honored to occupy ur mind
Until next time...
'Twas the night before Thanksgiving
And all through the forest
All the turkeys were gathered
From the richest to poorest
For a meeting was called
To plan their revenge
For all of their loved ones
Who were ever cooked or singed
Now this turkey rebellion
Was long overdue
How would they get even?
And what would they do?
I was there that night
When their meeting adjourned
Keep reading this poem
To see what I learned
This meeting went on
For what seemed like an hour
'Til a gobbler stepped forth
In their circle of power
Now all the turkeys agreed
To this gobbler's idea
They'd all eat some exlax
And give them diarrhea
No matter how they cooked it
Bake it or boil it
The humans would spend
All day on the toilet
So, remember this Thanksgiving
As you try to relax
Have plenty of TP
For those sudden attacks
There once was a young lad named Oliver
His Mom told him, “Don't be a gobbler!”
She also said , “Son,
Ain't no prize to be won!”
The fuzz will be checking your swallometer
© Jack Ellison 2015
Elmer Fudd went hunting for a big prized Turkey.
A Big Gobbler he heard, Gobble near an Oak Tree..
He aimed his rifle, fired a shot!
Missed, Fell back, landed on his butt!
The Turkey saw, ran, and laughed uncontrollably!
I wish everyone a festive
Thanksgiving with family
and friends. Stay safe
out there, enjoy your tasty
meals, and give thanks
for this joyous occasion.
God bless everyone and all
you love...
Thomas the Turkey was an uncontrollable gobbler
Had been way overweight since he was a toddler
Gobbled up lotsa food, he wasn't slim
So he started working out at the local gym
“Go Go Thomas”, the young girl turkeys would holler
© Jack Ellison 2015
There once was a turkey named Tom
Always persecuted by those with aplomb
He managed a stay
From one with much sway
But still served to all with much calm
the inlaws and outlaws have left
the turkey has so much less heft
got pies for the flies
and naps for the eyes
the icebox has suffered from theft
but
still got ‘nuff leftovers to make peach gobbler
Last night I met an incredible ghost
I offered him the cheese and chicken roast
The ghost was a gobbler
He was a bit hobbler
Wobbled all the way for his sweet next host
He raises his charmed-horn frost-cup filled to the brim with warrior-sweat of a thousands fallen wineberry Hail to the spoils and plunder Hail to burning friends and Thor’s thunder To ravens who gather the ones in wonder Eric’s the reds white-headed swan of blood and blood-bearded-gobbler may one give us free in all are Things and in our bowls meats of thanks-giving Carving the turkey with his sharp-rail-of beheading whacking a leg and then the other small talk and etiquette flew out the proverbial minds-eye But uncle Bob fit right in chasing his wine with gin
“Oh my, the weather out is real nice!” Said the Papa Turkey.
“Hey Mrs. Gobbler get the kids. Lets go for a nice Fall stroll.”
“Line up now. Listen to your Ma.”
The rafter of little poults wobbles by like Russian stacking dolls.
The gaggle gobble around the apple orchard,
pecking at fallen bruised apples and protruding worms.
Smoke comes from the farmhouse. A woman is hanging clothes on the line.
The farmer emerges from the woodshed carrying an ax.
“Hey Papa," said Mrs. Gobbler "look at the ole coot all bare-chested."
You have a better pair of breasts than he does!”
The Farmer's pace quickens, as he nears Mrs. Gobbler.
She flies laughing onto a branch an apple tree
which overhangs the duck pond. The kids scatter.
Papa does a running take off from the dirt path landing on the Farmer’s bare chest,
pushing him and his ax into the pond. Mrs. bombs the Farmer with dangling apples.
The kids pick up acorns and pelt the farmer in the head with them. There he sits surrounded
by bobbing apples and flaoting acorns, spewing water and wiping the hair from his eyes.
“My, my, my” says Papa Turkey.
“Sure does look like a tasty Farmer stew! Too bad we don’t have acorn biscuits.”
The woman drops her laundry basket and falls on the ground laughing.
“You Ole fool!” She says.
“You better try the chickens! This year the turkeys have your number!”
“But watch out for flying eggs! No yolking!”
WALK IN THE DOOR TO A LOVELY SMELL.
THE SMELL OF PEACHES COOKING MAKES MY MOUTH WELL.
LIKE AN OVER FLOW OF CINNANOM SPRINKLING AND CRUST CRUNCHING
THAT MOUTH WATERING DELITE
PUT INTO A BOWL AND WITH A DOUBLE SCOOP OF THIS COLD ICED
BUT SOMETHING NICE, TO BRAIN FREEZE MY MIND
TO TEASE ME WITH THIS WONDERFUL PECAN DELITE OF ICE CREAM
IN MY HEART MAKES ME SCREAM
WITH JOY OF THIS SWEET PEACH COBBLER
BUT NO TURKEY GOBBLER