Best Hash Poems
Leftovers galore
Just means less trips to the store
Gastric overload
Hash-Tag Pupeteer
#totesamaze,
The comment left upon the page
#losttheplot
The response this comment got
#chatawhile
You have such a lovely smile
#cuttheswag
Your arrogance is such a drag
#instamood
Why have such an attitude
#instacool
Do you think I’m such a fool
#bigitup
You as hench as that close up?
#bootylicious
Come and see, don’t be suspicious
#hadmysay,
Now perhaps you’ll go away.
#disrespected
Your behaviour needs corrected
#notmyfriend
Rude boys like you should never trend.
#reconcile
Perhaps we two could jam a while
#onyourbike
Look and learn you’ve got no likes, but
#withasmile
You’re busted Mr. Paedophile
Heather Buxton
a giant eyeball
flashes
'cross the sky
I fly
to its retina
it blinks
I am trapped
my bed
is soaking wet
my libido
dies
I stand
I fall
to my knees
dragging
what is left of me
gazing
at my oppressor as
a giant eyeball
flashes
'cross the sky
Forbidden Pleasure
This morning I had a Hash brown
Something I almost never do
It was greasy and hot
And I liked it a lot
I was sorely tempted
To go back and buy two
The girlish squeals from my booth
Were embarrassing in truth
But I simply could not
Contain my delight
The smile on my face
Could not be erased
As it only grew wider
With each bite
One hundred fifty calories
Seemed as naught to my belly
As I scarfed the last morsel down
And I was not really conscious
Of regret or guilty conscience
Only the memory
Of that Heavenly
…Hash Brown…
Delicious and warm to eat,
Corned beef hash,
A real treat,
Mix-up mash,
Anything goes,
Or a concocted prose,
Very simple,
Not hard to do,
Carrots, onions potatoes
All in your stew,
Beefy oxos too,
All your own desires,
Best veggies for you,
Just like a poem,
Or a herb garden you grew,
Stir up with your spoon,
Ready very soon,
Smelling great!
Delightful in its taste,
Nothing left to waste,
Poor it on your plates,
Filling for your tummies,
A recipe just for dummies.
21/01/2017
Craggy rats and batty facts,
stupid slaps of morbid hats,
sordid snacks coming out with lacerations of the ax-
horrible hacks doin' these attacks.
I'm loopin' it like rope to attach,
only catch ever is a brat,
lettin' um' off as I scooter around and knack-
I've got so many I'm like 'just laugh'.
Hash Tag This
________________________
We used to carry conversations,
now it's just abbreveations
what, such a situation
#Icantype
We used to call one another,
now we text the other
with eletronics to discover
#Thisissomuchbetter
We used to pen our words
now pen and paper..that's upsurd
something now..that's so unheard
#thingsinthepast
If one day the net does crash,
texting begins to clash
we finally use normal words at last
#aboutfreakingtime
5/25/14-Jessica Thompson
# Inspired by many people who overuse hash-tag for absolutely no reason whatsoever! (#):
# You’re acting like a fool,
experimenting on every flavored pills!
Hash-tagging is worthless –
Who gets hash-tagging thrills?
You’re just looking for fame if you use that sign (# so lame)
It does eventually lead to shame without a name!
#’s overrated…seriously annoying as well!
What’s the point of using it?
Who can tell . . . It’s annoying (# just a bit!)
It’s even worse than someone saying something’s swag
# you’re so RAD! You’re bad to the bone I must add!
But, you can be a useless tool – repairing naught!
# What? Why are you still using the sign? You’re crazy and cool (# not!)
What’s the purpose of #?
It’s overused like a filthy, wet rag!
No more hash-tagging! I don’t wanna hear you brag!
# Your lame and so is your hash-tagging ability!
I hope you know no one cares about your personal life – # it’s not a cup of tea
# Say goodbye to the overrated sign!
Find something else to do than put up statuses with hash-tag in it –
I already heard about you through the grapevine – # you’re a gossiping target – I’m not trying to be rude! Obviously, I’m in a bad mood!
Don’t shut me out or ignore my calls! Hash-tag is okay to use once in a blue moon – # you are still “swag” and legit, so don’t throw your childish fit! Get over it and grow up, dude!
Okay! Maybe hash-tag is overrated in this verse, # but I have no regret! You wanna bet?
Chopping the meat of the problem,
I throw in cubes of potatoes -
the proof of my beliefs.
Serving my rehashed dish,
I keep hoping folks will taste it
before the expiration date.
May 25, 2020
for Hexastich It Poetry Contest
Sponsor: nette onclaud
word chosen: Rehash
Note: Hash(not the drug) is a dish that uses cut up meat with vetables like potatoes added
I wonder if sage Socrates
opined today
And said listen good people to
what I have to say
Where would those people who
are paid just to spin
Fit this sage controversial free
thinker in
Or if Jesus Christ happened to
show up unannounced
And gently our greed and our
hubris renounced
Would we be like doubting
Thomas of old
And need to see for ourselves
the scars and nail holes
The owl of Minerva flies only at
dawn
But the curtain of doubt has
been long since drawn
By Cyberspace knowledge that
frowns on reflection
Sadly rendering so many with
more answers than questions
If the unexamined life becomes
the standard of living
And free thinkers pose
questions to a world less
forgiving
Who's left to take sides in the
age old debate
Is it necessary to deny
knowledge to leave room for
faith.
Christmas decor has begun to bore
Season's diminishing returns must not ignore
Ingenious craft stagnates; no longer hearts implore
Straggling trinkets of blithe, Christmas lore
To be quickly discarded or saved for dated encore
Spent wreaths fading yellow on every crest, door
Stray needles scattered around porch and floor
Mellowed holly berries dangle in sickly, twined ward
Scaly, shedding Christmas tree barnacled to lifeless moor;
Sticky resin seeping from each, tapped-out pore
Once sturdy timber now dry pulp to strip and core
Empty boxes lie around crumpled and gored
Treasured contents have long been pilfered, scored
Pretty wrapping paper no longer beauty doth afford
Shattered, punctured and recklessly torn
Ribbon strands now loose, tinseled chord
Decorative bows plucked; in dark, dank closet stored
Pageantry and festivity shorn; colloquial vestiges restored
Common fabric now doth the hearth and porch adorn
sitting in an old run down
barn
dreaming
of the day
upon waking that the animals
will be non-rabid
towards me
they do not
sit with teeth bared
they moved with the precision
of the preternatural
ability
that makes me calm
i move like a 90 year old man
with all the knowldge
but with hands
that
boast fingers which
simutaneously
make
a floor clean
and
a whore scream
the un-struck match, does darkness bring,,
the unfair world's a bitter thing,
the unloosed demon meets his match,
so poor, the former rich do sing...
when logic don't smoke the hash,
yes lassie, per alas,
i'm thinking,
its just a logic swing...
Don
re: Dr Ram "The Matchsticks"
...
I just found myself clicking and
reading one of my favorite poet's Jennifer Proxenos poem's called
An Early Addiction
In which she spells out her joy
and love for poetry and how she
got started
Which inspired me to try make
sense and write or tell my story
After all is not the point of great
poetry to inspire other's
And i realized i have been posting
on soup for over 10 year's now
Given my lack of patience and
limited attention span 10 year's
may as well be a lifetime to me
The only thing i can recount or
recall when it comes to poetry
is that my Dad wrote a poem for
my niece Kayleigh
Otherwise i have no starting point
from which to begin
As when it comes to school i
was never interested in english
and barely passed with a D
To this day my spelling is atrocious
and my gramma little better
Sad as it may be to admit but i can
count the number of books i have
read on the fingers on one hand
and that's discounting index finger
and thumb
My sister was an accomplished
english student and even joked
it took me a week to read a comic
I only started or even wrote my first poem closer to fourty than thirty
year's of age
How on earth and why i'll never know
but i am eternally grateful i did
My only regret is i did not start before
my father died and i could not share
my poem's and poetry with him
And although i am not a poet
persay more like a driver
who needs assistance and
to use a sat-nav to get places
may need to cheat and use
spell check
That my wrote and verse which
posted ascertained as ugly duckling
attempted writting to me is shrouded
in my inner thought expresses
Are to this day still some of my
most proud achievement once
reading back
So much so i struggle to find
the me in self and fully
grasp my worth
Yet here i write and stand cap in
hand begging fir an auidance
proud of most of what i have wrote
Poetry is a passion
Poetry is my drug
Not merely just a hobby
Or passing phase
So cheers
Yours Sincerely
Kind regards
Thanks anyone for reading
From i the understated
Undersigned
Christopher of Flaherty
I love a man who’s rash
and who carries lots of cash.
If he has a little flash
that only adds to his panache.
I dug into my stash
to provide a birthday bash
for my caballero with his sash
who really made a splash.
My dreams have turned to ash
when my lover made a dash
and took off with my antique Nash.
My heart can’t survive the gash.