Best Harpo Poems
(A) brown skin girl from Kosciusko
now from the world of Harpo (is)
hubristic in determination.
Vitality is her achievement in Black America.
Patois she explores as she shares her vision that is
Apparent to listening to her OWN intuition.
Futuristic characteristic she deploys.
A mason jar of lighting bugs to bring forth
to revolutionize via innovation.
Ultramodern in her political activism.
Argots as she speaks.
She’s a trailblazer of ideas.
_______________________________________________|
Written February 20, 2016!
Categories:
harpo, black african american, history,
Form:
Free verse
Moshe, Larry, Curly,
Howls, cries, nyuks;
Three silly comic stars:
Smile, clown -- Cluck!
Chico, Harpo, Benny, Berle,
Moron grins, happy chins;
Crazy nutty comic kooks:
Funny jokes -- egads zooks!
Alvin Ailey, dance gaily,
False teeth: Brush daily;
Silly Sally, Dilly-dally,
Ollie, Holly, Mollie!
Belly flops, fatal plops,
Messy slops, lemon drops;
Harry Caray, Tooth Fairy,
Music Maven -- Chuck Berry.
Pitty-patty, kitty-katty,
Ticky-tacky, Cinci-nnati
Polly-Wolly, Wooly Bully,
Diffy-daffy, Laughy Taffy!
March 22, 2018
Contest entry in "A little laughter five," sponsored by
Edward McCall, closing date - March 23, 2018
Notes: Moe Howard's (of the Three Stooges) actual first name was Moshe.
'Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk' was a trademark line of Curly (3 Stooges.)
Berle is comedian: Milton Berle (aka 'Uncle Miltie').
'Egads zooks' is an exclamation my mother and others of her
generation used to use (frequently).
'Wooly Bully' was a pop song by Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs,
released in 1965; it soared high on the Top-40 charts.
Categories:
harpo, fun, humorous, nonsense, silly,
Form:
Light Verse
Most people did not know that Arthur was your real name.
However, with your brothers, you achieved great fame.
Even though you could talk, you never said a word in your flicks.
Your fans loved all of your comical antics.
Harpo, how many times did you reach into your bag of tricks?
Your brothers and your agent once played a card game.
That was where you and your brothers would earn a nickname.
Because you played the harp so well, they would call you “Harpo”
That was the professional name everybody got to know.
You have been gone from this world for half a century.
However, in your movies, you have achieved immortality.
Categories:
harpo, dedication, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
I said I like what you're selling
but I'm not the type to pay.
I live over there?; ?the yellow door,
come see me on? "free sample day?"
She laughed and said "you're silly,
cash up front is the only way."
And down? ?the street she went.
You know what?? ?She came by anyway.
Best fi'ty dollars I Never spent.
Categories:
harpo, funny
Form:
Light Verse
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
Categories:
harpo, 11th grade, 8th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Lewis Carroll, Harpo Marx,
Albert Einstein, Eminem,
Paul McCartney, Judy Garland –
These are just a few of them.
Add DaVinci and Obama,
Oprah, Jimi and Bill Gates,
Charlie Chaplin, Morgan Freeman –
All have something that relates.
R.B. Ginsburg, Mozart and
Ted Williams and, of course, Babe Ruth,
Helen Keller, Ringo Starr,
Matt Groening and Bart Simpson. (truth!)
Jerry Seinfeld, Larry Bird,
Ludwig B, Spike Lee, Mark Twain
Are among the ten percent
Who use the right side of the brain.
Since today’s Lefthanders Day
Let’s honor all of those who are
As I will with my grandson Henry,
Who’s my lefty fave by far!
Categories:
harpo, appreciation,
Form:
Rhyme
Whar art mine fervent zeal for Marx Brothers?
While figuratively trout fishing
for ideas to write about
analogous (hook, line and sinker)
idea wormed itself into mind with clout
moment of awareness arose
without shadow of doubt.
As a long haired pencil necked teenage geek
zany Harpo, Groucho, Chico ranked as idols
mine most favorite slap stick until I reached
cusp of early adulthood, yet of lately uptick
regarding said comedic acts unexpectedly a
rose, spurring me to revisit adolescent mem
rubble entertainers overarching unstoppable
nostalgic ache for their nonpareil antics did
pang ping pong within mine corporeal esse
Scents trademarked and christened Matthew
Scott Harris, somewhat alleviated watching
courtesy Internet random You Bet Your Life
momentarily experiencing giddiness bursting
with laughter - shy kid relishing hearing quip
lightning fast barbs oft imitated sporting his
greasepaint moustache nsync with cigar size
of small walking stick renown world over an
American iconic figure (+entire motley crew)
lively bunch post World War II boys groomed
since birth begat Minnie Marx (born Miene
Schönberg, 9 November 1864 or 1865 – 13
September 1929) mother and manager of the
Marx Brothers, a family of vaudevillians,
Broadway and film actors, she dominated
band of five boisterous and hilarious brothers
who dominated silver screen more'n nearly 3
4ths century ago sired by patriarch Sam Marx.
No particular rhyme nor reason explains why
aforementioned nitty gritty personal trivia thy
actually more accurately & specifically yours
truly metaphorically unexpectedly did qualify
as teetotaling poetaster to craft poem well nigh
acknowledge inexplicable passion regarding my
heartfelt affection constituting zany wily troupe
linkedin with baker's dozen films iterated wild
3 ringed circus antics did all these years schtick
well lodged within me noggin + gamut of stars
whose career launched during quaint silent film
era albeit (Betzwood, one time, between 1912
and 1924), one of the largest film studios in the
world located in downtown Philadelphia and
their studio lot in Valley Forge, Pennsylvania,
right next to the park, I kid ye not, and... take
look see for yourself by visiting following link.
https://americasbesthistory.com/
spotlight2017-11.html
Categories:
harpo, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Met some famous people in a dream I had last night.
Meeting and greeting them was surely my delight,
However, the way they mingled was more than I could bear.
There actions made me worry and made me stop and stare.
The Duke, John Wayne, was poised with a gun there in his hand.
Mae West was there, too, looking for many a one-night stand.
Groucho, Harpo and Chico were chasing the women away.
While Nero, with his fiddle, all he could do, was play.
Nary a one, had given notice to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Be careful with your money, there goes Bonnie and there goes Clyde.
Gandhi, who was trying to gain peace within himself,
Was being hit, on the head, by a unicorn and an elf.
Marilyn was careful that the photographers wouldn’t see,
But, it was too late for her, for they saw J F Kennedy.
Lincoln was doing his best to calm old Mary Todd back down
Because she saw him with Lana Turner and it turned his head around.
Plato and Socrates were in a scuffle over life.
King Henry the 8th was there, seeking out a wife.
Both Hepburn and Tracy were there spouting out their lines
And the entire Barrymore family had just run out of wine.
The Mick and Ole Blue Eyes were there exchanging notes
On all the girls and liquor, that surely got there votes.
Poor Elvis, in the corner, was struggling with dessert,
While Gypsy Rose Lee was dancing, lifting up her skirt.
Too many of these famous people for me to say I know
Therefore, from this poem, now, I will have to go.
But, if I get the time to write some more of this for you
Then please check back, again, for this poem, number two.
Categories:
harpo, fantasy, funny, imagination, me,
Form:
Quatrain
a limning rush of sinister
fiery angry flames bent avast
analogous copse,
where every limb bough, bore full
roaring furnace hot blast
spewing weighty incendiary volcanic
magmatic eruption out classed
Krakatoa, no longer the benchmark,
sans most powerful trajectory arc
this latest supernatural phenomena poetic
pre sent dent trumpeting not don
shearing, slamming,
and stripping off tree bark
(most definitely paging the innocuous Clark
Kent, where like loess lain
during Pleistocene Epoch
rendered, manifested dark
kenning shroud likened
to world wide webbing em brace
where lava floes easily did
(like a poetic souped up Chevy)
out to chase innocent prey
smoothing over (akin to mason,
or gigantic glazier) clearly shining deface
of planet Earth with a smooth glassy like face
though starkly barren, bereft, bilked
every last trace of civilization
nonetheless exhibiting amazing grace
which global catastrophic event poo tin brake
fast upon ONE haughty, egoistic
arrogant *****Sapiens chief drake
particularly Reich king machine "FAKE"
superman usurping free reign crowning himself
totalitarian American tyrant,
bare ring his right arms
emulating gesticulation sans dictatorship
of the Proletariat make
pact with credo of Karl, Harpo,
Groucho, and Chico Marx,
where mortals DID NOT quake
especially empowered youths
asper grassroots action they did take.
Categories:
harpo, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Wrap in dry onion skins and dip’em right;
you’re going to get a big surprise.
It’s colored oval onion bliss;
something you wouldn’t want to miss.
Grab those, Sharpies now, my friend;
colored poems, you can pen.
Color’em in Crayola black;
make a lightly scraped, penknife hack.
Etch your poems on every one;
this can be a lot of fun.
You can Crayola colors, too;
etch those poems very loose.
One time, I, portraits drew;
Groucho, Chico Harpo, Zeppo, too!
Dip some string, tape it tight,
swirl it ‘round the eggs, just right.
Folks will rave about your gift;
you’ll enjoy a ”fab” uplift.
Categories:
harpo, appreciation, art, color, easter,
Form:
Rhyme
Wildflower field tells me beauty is greed
Blooms never at rest in clay pot homes,
but in a field that sprawls to the river's edge
Wildflowers thick like curls in a Harpo wig
Hot colors straying skyward
Poppies, cosmos, daisies steal the sunlight full,
embroidered medley,
reds, blues, whites, purples
quilted composition
Colored lanterns on green stems,
Patches that fuse into each other
inextricably
like your fingers into mine
Blooms of promise to hummingbirds
who hover in jittery beats,
frenzied chorus of faith
A landscape kiss of hot human pleasure
breaking virtuous restraint
Royal skin of budding blooms,
gifted egotism
to cheer earthbound captives
dispelling petty worry
with summer's bounty
in bits of tissue-petals
A mish-mash flag of flourish
that flaps a grand sweep
spread before us
like the grace of a skilled weaver
Categories:
harpo, beautiful, beauty, color, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
There I was in the 1970s
an impressionable sort of guy
then I learned about a lady
who when she sang I did sigh!
One of her albums just shook me
'we're children of coincidence
and Harpo Marx', where did he appear?
her music was filled with confidence
Ar that time of life, I was down
life didn't mean much these days
but Dory Previn was a voice of light
speaking to me what her music says
So many great tracks, I loved so much
'The Comedian', 'Wild Roses and 'I Wake Up Slow'
but 'How I Gonna Keep Myself Together'
inspired me to be able to musically grow
Of course who could forget the final song
the magical ' The Owl And The Pussycat'
sadly Dory passed away in 2012
thankfully her music lives on the fast track
(Dory Previn was my star of yesteryear, (1925-2012)
I just wanted to write about my favourite album. Why it is my favourite album, what a lot of special memories it holds, What feelings within me it still holds.)
Categories:
harpo, memory, music, song, star,
Form:
Rhyme
Lumbar ladies stroll by as the night sedans plunder the ho-dad hostels.
Looking to find nothing except another dozing cigarette beyond the cadenzas.
Another hot afternoon in suburbia with the repeated barkings of a distant dog.
Billy boy in his red asphalt-eating machine turns the dial to San Bernardino.
There is cool music bobbing in the hot accepting winds, south of Dragons Head.
In smoggy Corona, the dizzy Volkswagens travel in circles like demented dogs.
Billy boy guns the engine as he and the Mexican chick cruise in a ’67 beetle.
They pass the Chuck Wagon, as Slim Harpo melts the sun with Little Liza Jane.
Traffic signals, and the elderberry trees, pretend to dance to the muted cadences.
The hot afternoon winds play their own love-games as Billy boy comes to a stop.
Brown-eyed señorita with long hair flowing tells Billy boy to turn up the sound.
‘Music is life,’ she says, as the red asphalt-eating machine turns left at 6th Street.
Lumbar ladies stroll by now as the night sedans receive the night’s embrace.
At City Park, Billy and his latin lady sleep soundly in the cottonwood darkness.
Categories:
harpo, car, memory,
Form:
Free verse
32 Bar Blues: A Spoken Word Poem
In the shadow of the neon’s dusty glow, Oh, the blues, got me cryin’/echoes of Otis Span whisper, “Why?” Champion Jack Dupree, a voice so true, I’m lost in the Bad Luck blues/
In a world of broken souls, where the road to nowhere stretches on, I found you, baby, like a light in the dark, the blues never dies, it lingers, and it holds you tight/
the weeps and wails, on the south side of a town that’s seen its fails, Slim Harpo in the corner, feeling down and out, the county blues sing a song of doubt/
From the river delta, a treasure unfolds, Folk Cotton Blues, stories untold/ Lightnin’ Hopkins, electric and fast, In the warmth of the back porch, shadows are cast/
Sun House, the father of Folk’s embrace, his lonesome roads live no trace/ blues before sunrise when my baby says I don’t want you any no more/ man, I’m out the door/
Stormy Monday blues, heavy on the Mississippi nation, Tuesday is just as bad, Wednesday just as worse/ man, the week is losing control fast/
Jimmy Witherspoon croons, “Take a chance!” Shake your hip, girl, let the blues make you dance, but baby, I’ll miss you, when the work gang calls/
As Howlin’ Wolf’s spirit through the night sprawls, Back Country Blues, a lineage so strong, in every heartache, a back breakin' song/
In the rhythm of the blues, our souls collide/ let the blues chords carry us, let the rhythm guide us not to a world of sorrow, but to so much joy in our blues pride, from the ashes of a blues life we'll rise and shine, with the 32 bar blues/ I hope you won’t turn me from your door when I have all this blue’s pain of mine / so dig this, the blues are nothin’ but a good man feelin’ mighty bad/
Categories:
harpo, spoken word,
Form:
Spoken Word
"duck soup"
quack quack
Harpo honks
canadian geese
Categories:
harpo, color,
Form:
Free verse