Best Hammond Poems


Bell's Blues

Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my 
kitchen.  Surely a symbol of my madness.  I can't help, but think, if the keys were 
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there 
enough black keys??  Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
     Wondering if I can stand another minute alone.  Atop my organ, music books, 
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
     Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish 
and distress.  Even to worrying of misspelling a word again.  Pure lunacy.
     Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became 
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation.  Or just an early 
sign of the madness to come??
     I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair.  My life's hopes down to 2 
desires;  one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld.  Money is 
meaningless to me.
     I am well aware that death is as natural as life.  And I would venture to guess 
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and 
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe.  But not for me.
     Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.  
And what a reunion it will be!!  But I must continue to go on surviving as though I 
cherish this long and barren life.
     My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician 
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not 
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday.  So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
     Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the 
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the 
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove 
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.  
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the 
story one finds in a false tale.  He never faltered, he never failed.
    Continued.....
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hammond, adventure, death, family, friendship,
Form: Prose Poetry

Wacky Weekend Challenge

DIRE STRAITS was playing on the KITCHEN radio while ROSIE tried in vain to play along 
with “Money for Nothing” on her HAMMOND organ. Her house always looked like a NUCLEAR 
WASTE(land) with huge TID-BITS of food all over the counters and floor. Her husband 
Roscoe was an inept VACUUM SALESMAN who went door to door wearing blue SPANDEX 
BOXER SHORTS. His face was full of zits that looked like LUNAR CRATERS. Roscoe constantly 
dabbed the zits with LISTERINE SOAKED TISSUE(s) as his MEDICINE of choice. It wasn’t 
CONVENTION(al) but it lessened the PAIN somewhat.
 
FRIENDS and neighbors never invited the pair to any of their GIG(s) because they ate 
like “cone heads” when they were in the WINE AND DINE mode. On rare occasions when 
they did partake of a repast at someone’s house they left WORMHOLES in all the sandwiches. 
They would just take a sample bite and put it back on the tray which always reviled the next 
one in line.
 
The two of them are so socially ignorant that when it came time to thank the host for the 
invitation, they felt it was a UFO situation. To them, this meant in their DRIFTING minds they 
were Un F...ing Obligated to say thanks. I say all of this because knowing my brother and 
sister-in-law as I do, I guarantee they will never experience any INSOMNIA or remorse over 
their outrageous public behaviors.

* For entry in the Wacky Weekend Challenge
Categories: hammond, funny, satirehouse, house,
Form: Narrative

Cliffhanger

In Dire Straits we now find Rosie,
Sitting with Hammond in her kitchen, cozy.
If only she'd taken her pain medicine
Gone with friends to the UFO convention,
Then she wouldn't be doing the wine and dine,
Scared of this vacuum salesmans intention.
He says he wears spandex boxer shorts 
His cologne smells like nuclear waste of some sort,
And his complexion looks like lunar craters,
While his smile reminds her of an alligator's.
The conversation keeps drifting, from wormholes to insomnia,
With tidbits of insanity to help her diagnose schizophrenia.
Hitchcock would really have enjoyed this gig.

Will Rosie survive? Is Hammond "The Ripper"? Tune in tomorrow,
For the next exciting episode "The Issue of the Listerine Soaked Tissue".
Categories: hammond, funny
Form: Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Organist

That Hammond B3 can spit and growl,
Any other organ will throw in the towel...
Add a nice Rhodes piano  to the mix,
And you have a sound that you'll never need to fix

Ah, a chance at a pipe organ would be ecstasy,
And likely the highlight of my life,
But a hot jam with good musicians,
Is more orgasmic than the most beautiful a wife.
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hammond, life, music, passion,
Form: Bio

Premium Member My Rock N Roll Party - In Memory of Mr Tom Bell - Poet

 
"Roll on tonight my mates are coming round
  For a few cold beers and some rocking sounds
  Time is drawing near, as I hear a knock at the door
  Blimey! at this time of the night, a vacuum salesmen stands before"


 "Hey pal make it quick, I have a party to host
  Tell me your pitch, now disappear your a ghost
  The best place for them is in the lunar craters
  Sucking on Listerine soaked tissues, singing, "see you later alligator"


 "Another knock on the door, and I'm pleasantly surprised
  All my intended buddies on my doorstep, the parties arrived
  For a night of drifting, ending with earache and pain
  Entering wormholes of insomnia, no pain no gain"


 "Our party is going to be like a cool Rock 'n' Roll gig
  Beers flowing a plenty, this ain't no highland jig
  We start with Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention
  Best friends and myself, our schooldays convention"

 
 "This is no wine and dine as Dire Straits play
  The "Sultans of Swing" sounds excellent any day
  Next we play Deep Purple, listening to Jon Lord's Hammond sounds
  Music is our medicine in six speaker surround"

 
 "In between sounds to the kitchen we head
  Tid-bits and more beers to keep our gig well fed
  We sample some Grunge Metal listening to Nuclear Waste
  But once again Classic Rocks rules, as Grunge is not our taste"

 
 "For the next couple of ours it's like The Monsters of Rock
  AC/DC and UFO, the Rock never stops
  We air guitar to "Whole Lotta Rosie"
  Wearing spandex boxer shorts, one of us drumming like Cozy"

 
 "We all awake in the morning, some with sore heads
  But it was never a night that we were ever going to dread
  It was a bunch of guys who met whilst at school
  Who released their friendly energy, like fools but really cool"

 
 "Tom, I never knew you, but I thank Catie for this
  Writing this poem, just fills me with bliss
  I know you will be busy, but if you happen to look down
  Give our convention a shout, join our Rock n Roll clowns"




My tribute to Mr Tom Bell, so many people spoke about him.
Reading what they said, I only wish I knew him.
Categories: hammond, inspirational, music, on writing
Form: Quatrain

Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention

My friends Rosie, Hammond and me
Had insomnia and were in the kitchen one Sunday
Discussing The Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
We wined and dined and had a good old time,
Hammond in his Spandex boxer shorts and
me feeding Tid- Bits of Listerine soaked tissue
to my crazy, vacuum salesman biting Bichon Friese,

"Are we going to go to that gig?" we all asked eath other
After all, the convention was held on  a UFO.
"Ahh, heck, maybe we should go," we deliberated
"Otherwise we may be in Dire Straits and infiltrated!"

So hence we went- to the Nuclear Waste Medicine Convention
Speaker talked about lunar craters and wormholes.
Me, I was drifting off to sleep, as Rosie
held her hands to her ears as if in pain-
Hammond asked,"What is there to gain? Let's go
and blow this idiot convention."

There was nothing to gain except a fun way to go
Riding around in a UFO.


A. Green
© Amy Green  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hammond, funny
Form: Free verse


I'M Sorry, Your Honour

Grey was his wig and angry was his mood
On that fateful day I served him his food.

The sudden silence in his court was deafening and
Oh, it remained so till the very end.

He wasn't prepared to listen to me
Even when all things proved my innocence.
Lawyer Hammond, thanks for making him now see.
Later, I'll apologize for saying the first letters vertically!
Categories: hammond, funny,
Form:

The World Is Run By Tyrants

The world is run by tyrants who don't really care
Like the Cameron's the Clinton's the Bush's and especially Tory Blair
These warmongers ruin lives and destroy communities 
And they all should spend life in prison doing toilet duties

People are coming together realising where it went wrong
United in solidarity is what'll make the people strong
We need to keep up the momentum and push for fairer times
And stop the evil Tories committing heinous crimes

Because under the current Tory rule it's caused a lot of pain
Theresa May and Hammond I look down on in distain
Giving tax breaks and subsidies to their Etonian chums
While offering the poor and vulnerable only loose change and crumbs

So why do we accept homelessness and foodbanks today
While the rich quaff shampers on luxury yacht's far away
Because under the current system it only benefits a few
So people need to suffer and that includes me and you

The world is run by tyrants who don't really care
Like the Cameron's the Clinton's the Bush's and especially Tory Blair
These warmongers ruin lives and destroy communities 
And they all should spend life in prison doing toilet duties
Categories: hammond, corruption, humanity, political, poverty,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Day In the Life of Rosie

* For Catie's contest

Rosie was relaxing in her kitchen
Alone she sat, friends at a convention

So lonely, no one to wine and dine
At her Hammond estate on Lake Michigan so fine

Munching on Tid-Bits that had the taste
Well…let’s face it…of nuclear waste

Medicine she had taken to ease the pain
Of an insomnia-induced migraine

Wearing only her husband’s Spandex boxer shorts
A knock at the door; “Vacuum salesmen!” her retort

Tried to freshen her breath with Listerine soaked tissue
But the medication was developing another issue

She felt her mind drifting through wormholes of space
Not even a UFO had found this place

In Dire Straits now, she stared at lunar craters
That were filled by eerie invaders

She beheld a strange species of alligators
“We need a new gig,” said one of predators

The reptile approached her hungrily
“And you look like a grand prize of culinary”

But suddenly she sneezed; it broke the spell
And now she was back home in vacuum salesmen hell

She awoke in her kitchen and trashed the medication
Knowing she sorely needed a lengthy vacation


*Dedicated to late Soup member Tom Bell.
Categories: hammond, funny, imagination
Form: Couplet

Impression: a Scene From An Empty Urban Apartment.....(A Psychic's Rendering)

"Man, I love that Dire Straits song "Brothers In Arms" ", he said in the kitchen
"That Hammond organ just takes me drifting..."
Through wormholes and lunar craters in a UFO.
Friends, nuclear waste, pain, insomnia, vacuum salesmen, all disappear in a single tone.
"Rosie!!!...bring me a Listerine soaked tissue for my cold sore...Ahh! That's the medicine!"
She struts by in a pair of Spandex boxer shorts, like a groupie at a gig.
So far from the Sci-fi convention where they first met
Not the old "wine and dine" for them, no sir!
He set the trap and baited her with Tid-Bits of his inner self, painfully bare.

From humble beginnings, a love, long and true, exists in quiet majesty.
© Jim David  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hammond, urban, me,
Form: Free verse

You'Re Going To Die Laughing

I could just imagine Tom 
dancing in the Lord's Kitchen
wearing his Spandex Boxer Shorts
while his other goofy Friends Hammond and Rosie
pose as Vacuum Salesmen 
at a Dire Straits Gig
making Tidbits and poking Wormholes
with their Listerine Soaked Tissue box
Oh I know Tom has to be laughing in sweet Pain
as these two nut cases aboard an U.F.O.
and stay drifting to another brilliant Convention
on  Insomnia and Nuclear Waste Medicine
Bet they end up thinking that  Lunar Craters
is the head cheese in charge 
As they sit to Wine And Dine for free
Categories: hammond, death, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form: Free verse

A Tale of My Life

There's a tale to tell, 
That happened back in the '60's. 
Oh, how I remember it well! 
Back in the days 
On the street of Dire Straits, 
When I lived life in a haze. 
One night I awoke with a start, 
Thinking of innocent Rosie 
And how she'd broken my heart, 
Creating insomnia for me. 

I was driven up from my bed, 
Needing medicine to sleep, 
I couldn't get her out of my head. 
One, two, then four pills I took, 
Sitting in my Spandex boxer shorts, 
Soon I was drifting, without any pain, 
Having a weird dream, of sorts. 
I floated through wormholes in the wall, 
Into lunar craters filled with nuclear waste. 
This really happened, I still clearly recall. 

Vacuum salesmen were arriving on UFO's 
Gathering for their annual convention, 
Bringing friends, they came in droves. 
“Let's wine and dine!” their leader said, 
As the crowd demanded Tid-Bits for food. 
Then suddenly, I saw back in my kitchen, 
My friends gathered in somber mood. 
The gig was over; a Hammond organ played, 
Listerine soaked tissue was passed around,
While I lay on the floor all frazzled and frayed.

Since then, I never touch those little pills that I took.
It's rare times, when I can't seem to catch any sleep,
Then, I pass the long, quiet nights by reading a book.
I wish I could convince everyone my story is true!
Such a scary time, when  I went out of my head,
And saw me quiet taken by the turn of events.
How can I ever explain the words I never said?
The words, “I love you Rosie. Please be my wife.”
Oh, but my best friend beat me in winning her hand,
Now, it's him, not me, having a miserable life!
Categories: hammond, funnyme,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wacky Weekend Convention

Rosie Hammond went to a convention held in the town of Gig Harbor
With vacuum salesmen she would wine and dine while worrying about her daughter.

She was suffering from pain caused by the medicine she took for her insomnia disorder
Drifting off to sleep before the meal was complete she dreamt a UFO took her to the boarder.

Being in such dire straits to stay awake she sniffed a Listerine soaked tissue
Loosing their wits watching these tid-bits her friends asked, “What’s been bothering you?”

“Don’t get your spandex boxer shorts all out of sorts making lunar craters from wormholes,
You’re daughter will be fine just give her some time,” are the things that Rosie was told.

So they continued to taste the nuclear waste sent from the restaurant’s kitchen
And Rosie’s mind was free to let her be a contributor to the convention.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: hammond, funny
Form: Rhyme

Louisiana On My Brain

Louisiana on my brain
As I’m arriving in my city of Hammond / Ponchatoula
All I see is a delightful   town .
I see the beautiful peaceful swamps.
I see the beautiful bridge that scares me.
They call Louisiana the poorest state.
But I say it’s a special state.
The home of the strawberry festival in Ponchatoula 
The home of LSU
The home of the Lions/Lady lions in Hammond
The home of the Brown Pelican
And the home of Mardi  Gra.
Louisiana isn’t a ghetto story that we talk about  .
It’s a place to be peaceful and have good times together.
The swamp tells us that we should have hope and faith in us and everyone we love and respect.
Louisiana is an ambitious state that holds on our generation to generations and to generations.
I’m glad that Louisiana has given me talent.
It ain’t about the grass being greener it’s about knowing what to do and how to make the grass getting greener to grow and rises.
Louisiana is my roots
Louisiana is my blood 
Louisiana is my growth.
Louisiana is my love.
Louisiana is my heart to my kin.
And Louisiana is my spirituality when I demise and go up to Heaven to join my dearly beloved Uncle Clarence of Savior.
Categories: hammond, adventure, beautiful, black african
Form:

The Wedding Day

white doves and white roses,
white gloves and right poses,
small fingers,  big diamonds,
famous singers like beres hammond,

my bride well dress,
my clothes steam pressed,
i kiss her on her cheek,
then watch her tears fall as she speak,

on the mic she speaks loud,
mom in the crowd looking at me proud,
our day is finally its bin a long walk,
she's done her vows  its my turn to talk,

so i say" i wear your name on my heart like a crest,
             my heart beats for you as if it were your own i must confess,
             you've touched me beyond my heart....you touch my soul,
             everywhere we go i watch my back because your worth more than gold,
             so im told" were a match made in heaven" its written in the sky,
             i promise to always love you and never make you cry,
             i promise to be honest, faithful and true,
             i will never go astray i will only belong to you,
             through the good, bad and sick times mental and physical,
             i promise to keep the faith and pray an wait for a miracle,
             because our love is so strong we will always stay connected,
             we have a bond and no man can delfect it,         
             i know life is not always about a happy endding,
             but we have ours because this is or wedding,

now the day is done,
where two have became one,
exit the church doors and enter the white cadilac,
our friend up in front and we in the back,
we both call our boss and then turn off the phone,
thn enjoy ourselves on our honey moon...........
Categories: hammond, weddingheart, day, heart, love,
Form: Couplet
Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Reflection on the Important Things

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter