Best Hairy Poems
Somebody suggested I write the tale using the correctly spelled words because my story (below here in the Homophone contest) is simply too distracting to understand with homophones. Hope you will take a peek!!
When Harry Met Terry
Once upon a time in a wood, a very nice prince named Harry
met in the mist, high on the bough of a tree, a fairy named Terry.
The fairy felt low, for he was weak, and he was in need of some meat.
He bawled, “Woe is me. I can’t even stand here on my own two feet!
My poor heart is breaking, and I’m in pain. The last time that I ate
was days ago. You see, I’m in a haze and do not feel so great.”
I perish and long for wine and ham. Even better would be lamb!
But I would settle for a piece of bread with some sweet berry jam.”
Prince Harry knew he had some mints, some Tic Tacs that were in the pair
of new red jeans he wore. He took them out and waved them in the air.
“Licorice too I have right here!” Prince Harry told the fairy.
“It’s not much, but please do eat. Later on, we’ll dine and make merry.”
Prince Harry placed the fairy Terry on his pale white horse.
Then away the royal with the fairy hastened on his homeward course.
All day long they rode and rode. When the fairy started to groan.
Suddenly, from the horse, both the man and fairy were thrown.
Hungrily, they paced beneath the setting sun and through the night.
They pressed on until morning. Harry’s residence came into sight.
Prince Harry’s wife had supper ready, and she’d made a pie.
From utter happiness, the fairy thought that he might die.
She heated up their food for them. They both had grown so pale!
She listened as the fairy Terry told his tragic tale. . .
of how he’d lost his way and, for food, had not one crumb
until her dear spouse rescued him. At last, his prince had come!
The girl of my dreams has long flowing hair
Straight from her armpits hanging down with flair
Crossed eyes to boot
Big bum, whatta hoot
A divine creature with flaws here and there
Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking and feel such dread.
What the hay is this nonsense on my head?
I can’t go to work, can't enter the office!
I will be seen, visible to peers and bosses,
be the fool who provided entertainment gossip.
God, please, send help, I am stress-nauseous.
I do not care about appearing faultless,
but I'd rather errantly tuck a dress in my hose
and walk through the office cluelessly exposed
than have everyone think this is what I choose.
I wonder if I should call in with a case of ugly,
hire someone to gently, but effectively mug me?
Perhaps I'll get pulled and cuffed on the roadside
for publicly exposing the ugliest hair ever dyed.
Shame a wig class wasn't at business school:
"How to Avoid Looking Like the Office Fool."
I look like a horrified, horror movie hostess.
Even my own mirror is refusing to focus.
Here I am, paler than even fresh new snow,
with midnight black hair grooving to and fro.
My very first dye and, oh my, I could just die!
Box said ‘brown’, now I'm so down, I might cry.
Universe, please – send a natural disaster,
nothing fatal, it's just one repair day I’m after.
Some say I'm an original and I tend to agree
After popping out they threw away the damn key
He'll never be matched
A weirdo' was hatched
Screamed bloody murder like a hairy ass banshee
(Revised with new homophone added in. Thanks for the catch, Becca!)
*Wants upon **uh thyme inn uh would, uh vary gneiss prints named Hairy
met inn the missed, hi awn the bow of uh tree- uh ferry named Tarry.
The ferry felt lo, fore he was week, and he was inn knead of sum meet.
He bald, “Whoa is me. Eye cant even stand hear awn my own too feat!
My pour hart is braking, and I’m inn pane. The last thyme that eye eight
was daze ago. Ewe sea, I’m inn uh hays and due naught feel sow grate.
Eye parish and long fore whine and ham. Even bettor wood bee lam!
Butt eye wood settle four uh peace of bred with sum suite bury jam!”
Prints Hairy new he had sum mince, sum Tick Tax that **whir inn the pear
of gnu read genes he war. He took them out and waived them inn the heir.
*“Lickerish to, eye halve write hear!” Prints Hairy tolled the ferry.
“Its naught much, butt pleas dew eat. Later awn, wheel dyne and make marry.”
Prints Hairy placed the ferry Tarry aun his pail ***wight hoarse.
Then aweigh the roil with the ferry hastened aun his homeward coarse.
Awl day long they road and road. ***Wen the ferry started to grown.
Suddenly, from the hoarse, both the man and ferry whir throne.
Hungrily they paste beneath the setting son and threw the knight.
They pressed awn until mourning. Hairy’s residents came inn cite!
Prints Hairy’s wife had supper ready, and she’d maid uh pi.
From udder happiness, the ferry thought that he mite dye!
She *heeded up they’re food four them. They both had groan sew pail!
She listened as the ferry Tarry tolled his tragic tail . . .
of how heed lost his weigh and, four food, had knot won crumb
until her deer spouse rescued hymn. At last, his prints had come!
Written April 10, 2015, using homophones from various lists.
Note: I did not use letters, for example, U for “you” ; they were not on the lists I found.
Neither was “hee” which I was going to use for “he.”
The main list used was The HOMOPHONES LIST of John F Troutman and Joy A Miller
* these are a few more homophones I found on Wikipedia’s list.
** these homophones appear on Homophones.com, perhaps the most comprehensive one.
*** These homophones, perhaps antiquated, are from Suber & Thorpe British English
Loose and Hairy
he spent the night roaming her prairie
at sunrise the trip became scary
from under the sheet
stuck two gnarly feet
her beauty turned fat, LOOSE, and HAIRY
5/21/2015
submitted to – L&H Limericks – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Catie Lindsey
Hairy Nora reads the Torah from daybreak until dusk.
She’s got four different colored legs, but not a single tusk.
There’s a birdie sitting on her back that moves and sways like Elvis,
Her ears are crinkly when they’re pressed and there’s a mirror on her pelvis.
Now I’ve been almost everywhere on my old rusty bike,
But an elephant like Nora, I have never seen the like.
Hairy Mary, really scary
Hairs grow from her nose
Some sprout from her pointy ears
And in between her toes
She's got hair on her fingers
and her one remaining thumb
I can't confirm the rumour
That she's got a hairy bum
A hair grows from the mole
That is sprouting from her chin
Her wicked eyes are purple
And her nose is bent and thin
She said some funny words to me
when I was just a boy
And waved a knobbly stick
Like it was some magician's toy
She said that she was turning me
Into a slimy frog
I told her she was bonkers
And I'd rather be a dog
For witches live in fiction
But my theory has a glitch
I called her lots of names
And then my skin began to itch
I said she was a daft old bat
She didn't get the joke
And now I find it hard to speak
But easier to...
CROAK!!!
Eight legged hairy spider
We can see it everywhere
It can’t fly but with a long and sticky web
Insects will stuck and grab it with speed
On one moonless starry night
The shadow of a spider is in sight
Combined with color orange and black
On top of the giant leaves ready to attack
On its throne between two trees
Lies a perfect web for flying insects
A home for a king with fangs so big
Perfect position for grabbing flies on twigs
June 7, 2013
8Th Place Winner
For Suz-D Contest
Everybody's hairy
My Daddy's hairy
My Mommy's hairy
I am hairy
And all of us have hair in our noses
There was once a sweet gal named Mary
Whose face and legs were kind of hairy
She shaved once a week
One day she nicked her cheek
Had to get shaving advice from Larry
4-11-17
Alexis Y.
The gleaners undirt
these profane candy morphs
as they sift through the fields
in springs and falls.
Apiaceous, mud beige
burrowed beasties, them
bow legged, cowboy pulps;
others with flipped birds
sprung up from their hairy
carrot fists, bronxing to the sun.
You would think they
would be tough, those
mutter udders, those gangsta roots,
but they slice nicely into sticks,
lunch box size, far sweeter
than the common orange of their ilk,
far sweeter than their own
shrubby beards would veil.
Perhaps it’s the extra time
under muck that honeys them up,
dirt balls matriculating,
steeped in their element.
On weekends at the soup kitchen,
late May through long past Labor Day,
we pack the sweet gleaned under-chips
into sack lunches with smoked ham hero’s
and Frito's downtown behind the Kroger
where a sunny civil riot takes
place on Saturdays, and everyone
shows up out of their bag
to pick up the sticks, hungry stomachs,
all blood color-red in the gut
all ready to sit their hells
down…and eat.
"It hurts bald men as much as hairy men to have their hairs pulled out."
~Seneca
The bald man moans
for his house, rooted up,
dripping above the sewer.
A q tip might plug it.
Alcohol might fix it for weeks.
The hairy man sues
for his house, shooted up
miles above the hustle.
An underhanded tip will save it.
Alcohol could cover it forever.
Seneca's hair must have covered
his eyes.
When I met my wife, I thought that I was blessed.
But I changed my mind when I saw her hairy chest.
I didn't see her naked until our wedding night.
When I saw her topless, I nearly died of fright.
She has hair all over her chest and it's thick.
I puked when I saw it because it made me sick.
Her chest is so hairy that she looks like Austin Powers.
I have to get away from this woman because things have gone sour.
The judges won't grant a divorce even though I've given it several tries.
If I can't get out of this marriage, I'll have no choice but to poke out my eyes.
(This is a fictional poem.)
Hairy upon his lap did lie
Snuggled and contented
Hairy upon the mistress' lap
Snapped his hand when extented