Best Gymnast Poems
Shark, the cat, is sitting catty-wampus today. He is a contortionist. His head is to the north,
His tail to the west, paws to the east, crossed in a southwesterly way, except for one which is
Somehow sticking up in the air like a lone feather. He is licking his Neverland region, as I step
Over him. At first when I noticed him on the porch, with all these extensions, I thought he was a
Fat, giant spider. Shark is an older cat, there is no way he should have this kind of agility, but
He does, and I am in awe.
The gymnast taking trash out back
As a joke gave the girl no slack
In a quick blitz
He did the splits
Then yelled, "I think I tore my sack!"
Simone Biles
International superstar
Most worthy of a world-wide
Ovation
Never to be topped for
Excellence in accomplishment
Because she’s a gymnast par excellence
Incredibly talented
Long may she receive
Every recognition
She so richly deserves
written 5/24/2021
You've heard of an orchard/
I've stirred up an artchard with girthed art to be heard/
Words come in with fun as the function never turned defunct/
Metaphors and puns run an injunction to sever clues debunked/
In sum strict hits depict a re-script on your chatter to chit/
Stick glum in its sect and restrict a sore batter to get lit/
Be quick sly-n-sleek with this filth scum I won't remit/
I’ll ploy-n-peek for consult to revamp and reprint/
Style coy speak to strive proof to stamp a sneak’s stint/
I drive joy street to soar aloof and boost amps to tweak my print/
A quiet divide as I’m alive to ply and connive art like photosynthesis/
Flow my Go-Joe cleanliness to show how I win like this/
A pro symbolist or a lyrical Go-Go Word Gadget gymnast to be missed/
I’m froze frigid until he fidgets to flip it and rip it/
Time arose rigid he’s still then twitches to sick it/
A fine boast toward sets of wit roasting but the credits aren’t rolling/
Bets not locked in or tests not taken/
Don’t fret quests with pests/
Just let bad bets be like a sad pet’s steps too wet/
Flex while wept won’ts went away sent with welts/
My words can be felt/
Skyward is where this guy’s eyeing to soar/
Backward is a slack ward I won’t tour I don’t act hard/
Like an orchard with delicious fortuitous fruits my art dwells in an artchard
Charm beauty
Flexible frame
God's creation.