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Best Happy As A Clam Poems | Poetry

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Happy As A Clam by Ellison, Jack

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The Best Happy As A Clam Poems

Details | Happy As A Clam Poem | Create an image from this poem.


That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!

Would you like it on a couch?
I think that I would still say ouch!
Would you like it with champagne?
I think that I would still complain.

I do not like that mammogram.
I’d rather eat green eggs and ham.

Would you like it with no squeeze?
I think I’d still be ill at ease.
Would you like it fully dressed?
That I think would be the best.

That mammogram! That mammogram!
I do not like that mammogram!
What, then, would you most prefer?
Maybe others would concur.

If I could have a cute masseuse
Who sounded just like Dr. Seuss,
Perhaps that yearly mammogram
Would not be such a cruel exam.

Then I would like it on a couch
And wouldn’t act like such a grouch;
And I would like it with champagne,
Ignoring that annoying pain.

I would enjoy my mammogram.
I’d be as happy as a clam;
But ‘til that time, I will protest
Each time that tech does squish my breast!

Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2011

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I'm fresh as a daisy
and happy as a clam
refreshed and replenished
Enthused is what I am!

It helps I'm off work now
I'm not watching the news
No murders or mayhem 
To bring me the blues

Sublimely oblivious
Spells "happy" to the letter
As far as information
Sometimes less is better!

Copyright © PAT Adams | Year Posted 2017

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A Fond Farewell

A Fond Farewell
M P Walsh

I text her every day at Ten, just to say good day,
Ask how’s it going, Nana, is everything okay?
Did you sleep the sleep of slumber, or stay awake ‘til 10,
And by the way the real good news, the Red Sox won again!

She answers back and I could see the tiredness in her text,
I woke again, she tells me, for that same old 5 AM.
I offer her a fix to keep her sleeping through the night,
But she writes it just won’t work for me: “I’ve already tried it twice.”

I send her back a ha, ha text to let her know I care,
She then sends me a big red face (I guess I wasn’t fair).
She asks me if my walk went well and did I wave at cars,
I answer her with big bright eyes, emoji eyes not mine.

My Nana Jo, a precious jewel, whose friendship means a lot,
We seem to get along most times but scold me when I’m not.
She is one of my darling Angels number one to be exact,
The other two are there for me but Nana tops the lot.

All three Angels are my friends we share some precious dates,
Like birthdays and of Christmas time with dinners to celebrate.
We laugh and joke and smile a bunch and try to stay at ease,
We’re happy as a clam and snug, my three Angels and me!

Of course I’m getting older just not ready to leave the Girls,
They’re also over 50 but they just don’t look their age.
I celebrate my life and pray that I will go with ease.
Because after all is said and done, it’s where I want to be.

And when it rains look at the sky to Heaven and beyond,
Because the rain that wets your face is just a gift of mine.
And when the rain lets up and a Rainbow comes along,
Just sneak under the Rainbow, pause, and hear me sing my songs.

Copyright © Michael P Walsh | Year Posted 2018

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Possum of Possibilities

The Possum of Possibilities was invited by Grandpa Troll to visit our brood,
The Possum heard Carol had a dry spell and a terrible writer’s block, so true.
With the troll’s adventures, penguin’s antics, and witches brew...
With Dragon’s mayhem in town, something had to be done, they knew.

Grandpa Troll brought Possum over, for Carol to peruse,
He looked her up, down, and sideways to everyone’s amuse,
Her mind’s wheels were not lined up right, he announced.
You have activity all about you, that's very pronounced.

It is all swirling around and not latching to the cogs.
Ideas and stories are coming in fast and plenty, but…
There are so many and they are acting like a stream of logs,
Her brain is overloaded and getting a little bit clogged.

Possum instructed Grandpa Troll on the best course of action,
But Dragon was nearby and overheard the conversation.
Our fiery friend was planning on how to clear the brain jam,
Then ski-daddle and go on the lam.

Like so many plans before, he knew Carol’s brain was crammed,
And his ideas always ended up like some explosive spam.
Grandpa Troll saw that look in Dragon’s eyes and knew there was a plot,
And said to Possum; “We'll need your help again, before we’re in a spot.”

Over to Dragon Possum went, then a once over, right, left, and top to bottom,
Grandpa Troll reached into a dusty drawer that hadn’t seen light since Suttom.
Out he pulled two pens, one larger than the other, filled with magic ink.
An incantation filled the air – “E pluribus divideous writeous inlink.”
(Basically saying; what stories were divided are now joined by two writers.)

Possum handed one to Carol and the larger one to Dragon.
“With the magic pens, you both will be able to see the stories about you.”
For Carol, he pointed out; now the cogs won't get dinked, as ideas get linked,
And Dragon, a source of the jams, once written down, became happy as a clam.

Both help each other, now, as Grandpa Troll had hoped with all the activities.
And with a little help from an old friend, called the Possum of Possibilities.
A writer’s block that was going on with his dear...
Is a tale that Hubby has now told, and made so clear.

And now another peaceful evening… was suddenly shot all to Heck...
Until Next time…. As Dragon and Carol are now racing all about!

Michael Eastman & Carol Written 7-21-2015

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2015

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For this Turk Turku is a 1-horse
city but he has got to have horse
sense. He will not be as happy as a peacock in Turkey.
Hindi, the Turk word for turkey, is how we'll call this turkey.
Hindi, when living in Turkey, was a horse
dealer. Today he's no longer into horse
trading. He quit selling that drug. One morning
when he got up all his belongings were gone
He was shocked & almost started mourning
over this theft like a baby. His gun

gone too. Instead of going bananas
he sat down & thought: "That a lot of my country fellas have a monkey
on their backs is my bad! I won't cry over my pilfered pelf! No more monkey
business! From now on I decide to be a good egg!
I'm starting a new life! Today I cease being a yegg"
The Turk turkey put all his eggs
in one basket & wended his way to Turku!

He got a job in a Turkish bath as a front desk clerk. One noon he met a not
pigheaded porky from Alaska who told him had quit smoking blunt cold turkey
of late & was quite itching to relapse. Hindi didn't want to be a cold turkey
nowadays so he gave him advice on withdrawal. He jotted down some
notes for the porcupine to read & apply & didn't ask, at all, a sum
of money in exchange for the nice advice. The porky thanked him a lot & got
inside the bath. Finn tongue was Greek to Hindi
Whenever he had a chance, took a gander at

the phrasebook to learn Finnish.
At 5 pm he was glad to finish
his shift get the puck
out of that place
go home have duck
soup & plaice.
He wanted to invite the hake for supper. The latter
refused, didn't want to feel like a fish out of water.
Hindi, quite offended, told him off but it was like water
off a duck's back. He didn't want dinner alone, so
he thought who else could come. Bingo! The sow!
And she did. He did indeed bring home the bacon.
The food was very simple to prepare. It was duck
soup. He was cocksure the sow would love duck
soup & plaice. For dessert, a piece of cake
they'd have. Cooking all this was a piece of cake
without doubt. When nosh was ready, the sow
brooded over & said: "Wait a sec. This is so
weird. You invited the hake, a fish, to eat plaice.
You're eating duck & you're a turkey. In place
of eating explain. Are you a cannibal?" "Clam
up & pig out!" he said, not happy as a clam.

"O In a pig's eye I will! You are such a cold fish!
Horsefeathers! Besides, I am no longer hungry!
I've never seen anything like this in Hungary!"

"I eat duck soup and, if I want to, I cook my goose!"

The sow, horrified, at once did for sure vamoose.

Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2014

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Observed in a Small Town

It was Friday night in small town, USA. The convenience store clerk was outside in the parking lot, arguing with her boyfriend. Instant recognition, one person is both clingy and aggressive, perhaps slightly inebriated, and jealous or insecure or having some sort of emotional semi-crisis. The other one has responsibilities and places to be, yet still wants to calm the first person down easy, get free for the moment while not burning the bridge just yet. I felt like telling her to drop that loser, but who knows?

Inside the store, three people are talking in a back corner, laughing and leaning against a freezer and the store walls. The now-returned clerk greets the first person in the check-out line, a grizzled older man, wizened, almost, leathery skin over an impression of inner strength still, despite many hard years gone past. An 18-pack of beer and a carton of cigarettes and he's out the door, happy as a clam. Next is an urgent young woman, who just asks, "Where's your restroom?" The clerk points to the back corner where the three people are laughing up a storm. Off the young woman goes, with all possible speed.

Then, a kicking and a pounding, doorknob rattling. "Hey, hey - there's somebody in there!" The three people are trying to set the young woman straight, but she's on a mission, and kicks the door again. From inside the room, another young woman's voice, not too pleased from the sound of it. She appears in a minute or so. Must be a party somewhere nearby - she's got plastic devil horns and a cat face painted on. With Miss Urgency, she exchanges epithets and imprecations, and then she too is out the door.

There is no bar in this town.

Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2016

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Happy As A Clam

What's all this about, why are we here Time's much too short till we all disappear We're having so much fun Many challenges to be won We're happy as clams, year after year © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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Hidden Treasures Of Summer

Toes are dug into the sand,the sun chases the clouds away.
Traveling along the sugared shore I search for treasures of the sea.
Scalloped edges or smooth as silk I hunt for them the live-long day.
Determined to find what I can for these are just like jewels to me.

Shiny shards of old sea glass or many hued and lovely shells.
Colors of magnificence or pewtered layers in the sands.
I cherish every prize I find that's washed up in the sudden swells.
These treasures are useful to me for things I create with my hands.

The sun blazes and paints my skin as I continue on my quest.
I'll take a dip into the sea to cool down and rejuvenate.
Filtering sand through my fingers I look for and only keep the best.
My bucket's full, I'm happy as a clam now as the day grows late.

This day has been a wondrous journey that I wish would never end.
I love the sea and all it holds for mankind to experience.
Taking my jewels with me now I walk the shoreline 'round the bend.
My heart is filled with gladness and a feeling of peace so immense!

for contest "Write me a summer day"
written June 9th,2013

Copyright © Deb Wilson | Year Posted 2013

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Road Food

I really would like to thank you 
for taking me out in your car,
I can’t remember the last time 
that I got away this far.

And even though I’m not the driver 
it’s good to see the town,
No need to hurry back again 
let’s have a look around.

Traffic isn’t any more polite 
they still insist on blowing their horn.
What the heck is that in front of us? 
That car is giant a box of corn.

I really do love popped corn 
And at movies I would eat a lot.
But the size of that box of corn 
fills up a parking spot.

And there’s a mother and her kids 
driving Jell-O pudding packs.
Is this the way to get somewhere, 
do people drive around in snacks?

There’s a hippie in his carrot 
and I guess I should have known,
His bumper sports a sticker, 
“My car was organically grown.”

You should consider getting yourself 
a sporty new bag of chips,
Then spend your time driving around 
looking for roads with dips.

As for me I know just what I’d drive 
and I’d be as happy as a clam,
Because I’d drive a loaf of bread 
and go looking for a traffic jam.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

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Swimming happily 
in the aqua green ocean 
Looking peaceful 
and relaxed 
Blissful as can be

Magical mammals
Beautiful looking 
And spectacular 

As long as dolphins 
are around 
I'll be happy as a clam

Copyright © Emily Krauss | Year Posted 2016

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Young and Happy

Walking with a purpose—
Smiling as I step—
With my feet above the surface,
I dance gracefully with no prep.
Innocent and young I am—
With so much future ahead—
I am as happy as a clam,
And positivity is all I spread.
So as beautiful as I dance—
And my tiny voice so calm—
With every chance I will advance,
Nothing is possible without my mom.

Copyright © Collin Wolfer | Year Posted 2017

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Tom Bell's a ham

Tom Bell’s a ham 

That Tom Bell he’s a ham 
Making us laugh 
Happy as a clam 
He reminders me of a joker jumping in front of 
The queen 
Oh the laughter 
What a scene
Springs in his socks 
So silly the way he talks 
Peanut butter in his pocket
There he goes up like a rocket 
That Tom Bell he’s a ham 
I wonder does he likes green eggs 
With his Spam?
He must, in his kitchen cooking
I was thinking is he good looking?
Lanes and games in his writings 
Oh they put us to shame
Do you think he’s insane?
I know he's got time on his hands 
His poor wife and all the demands 
That Tom Bell he’s a ham
I think we should roast him 
Like a lamb!

(Dedicated to Tom Bell all in good fun)

Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2008