Best Head Off Poems
Subtitled: WELL! You didn't have to bite my HEAD off...
Gladly would I die
for your love, my dear. No! Wait!
Just kidding! Just kid...
In the asphalt homeland
I lay down to sleep
In the background
a saxophone wails
and relaxes tired muscles
Streetlights cut through the darkness
The day has passed
as days do
This city dweller
wishes to head off to
dreamland
Jazz in the background
lets his mind wander
through sweet pathways
not created
by the hands of man
My heart beats with a rhythm
stolen from the heart of the city
Sax wails, drums beat
pianist plays lovely riffs
My dreams will be filled with joy
tonight
for I know
there are plenty
of
others
in
this
city
who will join
me in the jazz fantasia
which awaits us
Sad Sammy starfish, all alone on the beach
Wishes to find a soulmate, but no one is in reach
He looks around, raises his hands into the air
Is there a lonely starfish somewhere out there
Suddenly Sammy espies upon a rock
A stunning pink starfish wearing a frock
She's very beautiful of that he's aware
Has he found that special someone out there
He sidles over to her and soon catches her eye
Will she be his playmate; he looks up to the sky
Sammy wants hold her hand and ask her for a date
But which hand would he hold for this starfish has eight!
They head off for a walk together along the golden sand
Strolling along the beach hand in hand in hand in hand
Submitted to Story Poem Contest by Carol Eastman
26th April 2015
A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousin. He’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)
There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut off. Isn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)
Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)
He got kicked out of school (it was so funny. He set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyard. Now he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)
So to anarchy school he’ll apply!
Gosh, he’s right. This limerick sucks. It’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or something. Too bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazines. Most people don’t even consider limericks to be real poems. DANG it, I feel another one coming on.
Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.
Crap. Even trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do it. I just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerick. I just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads this. Yeah, the old chicken motif again. Always relating things together. So much for Chaos! I’m outta here.
Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name
Time to head off to the gym, for my daily work out session
Tummy bulging, thighs are wobbling, my body is in regression
Once I was toned and oh so slim
But the lure of sweets just sucked me in
Chocolate and biscuits are my downfall
A bag of ‘Minstrels’ I will eat them all
Here in the gym I am working up a sweat …
Sweets and chocolate I must forget
So I do my aerobics class and then have a swim
Do fifty lengths – oh I must be getting slim
Then off for a circuit class, oh I do work hard
For I want to look so sexy in my purple leotard
After all that exercise I’ve worked up a healthy appetite
Grab a bag of fries – no wonder my clothes feel so tight!
06~15~15
Sweats and Sweets Contest – Olive E Guillermo
On egg shells she walks
Hoping one will not break
For the head games will start
She does not want to partake
He jumps to wrong conclusions
That are farthest from the truth
He always assumes the worst
She needs rational, not uncouth
She's fighting a losing battle
For he never sees her point
She can't head off the fight
Does he enjoy being out of joint
She wants to walk on solid ground
To no longer fear the cracks
She deserves to live happily
Not worrying about his attacks
Finding the courage to walk away
When the heart wants to remain
If only he could change his ways
Love her without causing any pain
She would more than gladly stay
Embrace living happily ever after
But as important as true love is
Equally vital is trust and laughter
06/09/2013
My daughter is dying and as I'm praying, I'm pleading.
She has been stabbed and I can't stop the bleeding.
An ambulance is on its way but it may not arrive in time.
My daughter wouldn't put out so her boyfriend committed this crime.
If you're wondering how many other people he'll stab, the answer is none.
I'm so enraged that I blew his sorry head off with my sawed off shotgun.
My daughter just died and tears are rolling down my face.
She died for being a respectable girl and it's a disgrace.
(This is a fictional poem)
I was out walking my dragon, when I came across a Dogasaurus Rex.
It really wasn’t so bad until; they got into a real life-pissing contest.
My dragons’ roar was way less than his, and spitting fire, he couldn’t do.
So they squared off, eyes aglow, and yep, a true pissing contest did ensue.
Now, that was really icky, and flooded my neighbors whole lawn, ewww.
Well, it smelled awfully bad, but when they got going, what was I to do.
And a pooper-scooper does not work here, so I had to wait till both were thru.
If there wasn’t enough testosterone, now my neighbors’ was added, to the brew.
A mean old codger lived right there, and now, even he, was royally pissed.
Watering the lawn wouldn’t send it away; it would spread it more, amiss.
I ran to get my neighbor witch, who was laughing her head off, yes, indeed.
I’d need her help to save the yard, and with the old codger, to finally succeed.
The old codger amazed, started adding, held in, bubbling laughter, to the brew.
Seems he’s a lonely old man, with not enough fun added in his life, it’s true.
He tapped his foot, as his dogasaurus Rex did more, what was I to do, in truth?
I became worried, it would be the death of him, if he didn’t laugh out loud, forsooth.
I ask the dragon, to burn the yard, to save us all, but he just snickered more, thereon.
How, you ask, was I to extradite myself? I went home to put a fire retardant suit, on.
Coming back I kicked, the dragon in his butt, for always being so crazily, put upon.
That quickly brought his fire on me, as I took it into the middle of the yucky lawn.
With the taunting done, the icky stuff gone, the witch put the grass back, with great skill.
Then, the dragon started laughing, his butt off, while thinking I’d owe the witch’s bill.
Hah! He was incredulous, as I said; he’d do the witch’s bidding, till it was fulfilled.
Then, the silly dragon, down right cried, as I told him, the walkies, would now be nil!
But, Grandpa Troll intervened, with us both in timeout, again, facing across the lake.
And, the old codger, spent the rest of his life happy, entertaining the town, with our fate.
From then on, the dragon and dogasauraus, were seen everywhere, as great playmates.
And me, I always carry an umbrella, so Dragon can never rain on my parade…
When I was young, we moved often, but then we bought
a farm; in the spring at the feed and seed
Daddy purchased two dozen chicks
In the small pen they're placed
Momma cared for them, giving them food and water
They grew at lightning speed; each day roamed free
One of them turned into a shiny feathery
Rhode Island Red rooster aimed for slaughter
He was territorially based
He chased me and did kicks
Terrorized by one mean bird, I feared I would bleed
When in my face the spurs tender skin caught
My mother saw the scene and the red rooster taught
She chopped his head off with an axe, he's freed
He fluttered twice, I stood transfixed
Under the house he raced
My mom crawled under, she did this for her daughter
We had rooster and dumplings~ what a tea!
Sponsor: Constance La France
Contest: A Little Memory
Date Written: 01-08-2021
Check with Syllable Counter.com, it is close as I can get with it saying what I want it to say.
I checked the spelling on my computer. I checked the grammar on poetrysoup.com. Nothing major. I probably needed to work on some word choices though.
1When I was young, we moved often, but then we bought 12
2a farm; in the spring at the feed and seed 10
3Daddy purchased two dozen chicks 8
4In the small pen they're placed 6
5Momma cared for them, giving them food and water 12
6They grew at lightning speed; each day roamed free 10
7 0
8One of them turned into a shiny feathery 12
9Rhode Island Red rooster aimed for slaughter 10
10He was territorially based 8
11He chased me and did kicks 6
12Terrorized by one mean bird, I feared I would bleed 12
13When in my face the spurs tender skin caught 10
14My mother saw the scene and the red rooster caught 12
15She chopped his head off with an axe, he's freed 11
16He fluttered twice, I stood transfixed 8
17Under the house he raced 6
18My mom crawled under, she did this for her daughter 12
19We had rooster and dumplings~ what a tea! 10
So many possibilities parade up and down the perimeter of the page.
Some wiggle their petootsies at me; one sticks out her tongue.
Being super confident, adorable, and quietly intrusive is the rage.
The word LUCKY gives me an Eskimo kiss, making me feel young.
Lucky what? My muse asks, as she lies on the edge polishing a nail.
She does not care if this poem works or flatly bombs, a total fail.
I pretend we are friends and suggest a few things to go with lucky.
She laughs her head off with a donkey kick, making me feel suckly.
I start making a list of what we could do with this pristine page.
The elves, gnomes, faeries, and brownies take over, they are all sage.
I write lucky penguin, sweet crocodile, happy peacock and tiny giraffe.
I know I am still being made fun of when I hear Trixie’s evil laugh.
So, what is your idea? I ask her, and she grabs the pen from me.
She makes whirls and twirls, dots, slashes, dashes, D’s, F’s and a B.
I study what she has done, and I have to be sort of kind.
Because after I read it I see that Trixie has a super brilliant mind.
Give into pure thought, I'll entice you a spell,
Extracted from fear, fear my own hell.
The trees, they fall, the air, it drowns,
From beasts of skin, these earth-dwelling clowns.
Stuck in my mind,
Thoughts confined,
Of a life lived purely; a being redefined.
So I slip on my thought cap,
A brain full of tears,
To express all my feelings,
Few cheers - no cheers,
Jeers, the jeers.
The savagery of melancholy,
Befits of thee, a contrast to me!
Diluted eyes make everything fine,
Even through qualms,
Of spilled red wine.
If wine be thine own,
Yourself to condone,
For the seeds of pain already be sown.
No nature to blame,
Your soul to shame!
For life is more than only a game.
Blow your head off with solemn conviction,
Nought was heard save one conniption,
A cry to thy god,
A blatant ophidian.
A human unfit of a life coexistent,
Fear of slipping, running so distant.
Human, none of nature,
Just a foul spirit, a damnable creature.
O cruel confinement, I so wish I could live,
In a tale of nature,
True, righteous existence to give.
But such is the fate of all human being,
Of a life of eyes, prone to not seeing,
Seeing the pain of mother nature's tears,
For shame to you all,
You have become your own fears.
I stood before the mirror, one last check,
a quick inspection, then head off to town,
silver kipper tie around the neck,
shirt of green, sports jacket of light brown.
Platform shoes on, I boogie down the street,
a first date to look forward to that night,
flared pants flapped in the breeze around my feet,
and my jacket lapels both jinked like kites.
I patted my breast pocket to make sure
my cheque book was inside there, just in case
the night I had in mind costed more
and ended up leaving me sat red faced.
She met me outside Ramsdens, half past eight,
I kissed her cheek and said how good she looked,
went in the bar, got drinks for the short wait,
eight forty-five I had our table booked.
Melon boat for a starter, prawn cocktail,
then chicken in a basket with some fries,
two ice cream sundaes, wafers stood like sails,
we ate and gazed into each other's eyes.
Once the Mateus Rose wine was downed
the waiter swiftly took our plates away,
I paid the bill, got change from twenty pounds,
the chequebook lived to fight another day.
I saw her on the bus, a brief embrace,
a kiss, for one second did our lips meld,
she smiled goodbye, I tried to read her face,
her eyes gave no clue what the future held.
Though forty years have passed since that one date,
my mind still recalls every detail now,
I was told she'd someone else by my best mate,
I pause and still remember her.
The cow.
22nd February 2018
For contest 'where were you in the 70's ', sponsor Line Gauthier.
The Jester puts on her smile,
Plastered to her make-up smeared face.
Bright lights blind her empty eyes.
She can see no one in the crowd.
Inside her mind,
She screams for release.
Twisting the head off her doll,
Blood runs down her cheeks.
Her hands gripped tightly around the neck of the doll,
She pulls as hard as she can.
No one’s around for miles;
They left her to die.
Smiles and laughs surround her,
Taunting her every move.
They tease and mock her,
Pointing out flaws.
How her hair sticks out;
How her tooth has a chip in it.
Her eyes go dark as she wishes them death.
Under her breath she curses.
They will never lead happy lives.
They will know what it’s like being a puppet.
Just a toy in a closet,
Thrown around like nothing.
She wants to rip them all apart,
Limb by limb till there’s nothing left.
In her mind she makes up stories.
Stories where she’s no longer the jester,
No longer do they laugh at her.
With bloodshot eyes,
She cranes her neck to the sky.
Her screams echo through the stadium,
Reverberating off the walls,
Bouncing back to her ears,
Killing everything in its path.
She falls to the ground in a puff of dirt.
When it clears,
The Jester is nowhere to be found.
Old Flossy
by Don Johnson
Brisbane-Australia
It was there on Sharpen station, ....(ranch)
west near Adavale i'd be.
Back in the early thirties,
worst drought you'd ever see.
Five thousand cows were dying slow,
brought from lake Nash to Adavale. ....(droving trip)
They lived on mulga bushes low, ...........(13% tree leaves drought food)
to feed their bodies frail.
I was the boy who manned the pump,
fat crows in thousands waited.
With not a blade of grass or single clump,
those crows for sure i hated.
The cattle bitsa old flossy had nine pups,
more company for me.
For i'd get a visit once a month,
yes it's then the boss i'd see.
The dead cows around the trough did lie,
and i'd snig them right away.
I'd shifted hundreds by and by,
cut and quartered where they lay.
The pups were disappearing fast,
one every day for sure.
I checked the camp and missed the last,
saw snake tracks upon the floor.
Old Mulga snake would breathe no more,
he'd had his last pup meal.
He was big as nine foot four,
when the last pup he did steal.
Old flossy fought him tooth and nail,
he'd bit her also too.
She chewed his head off didn`t fail,
was dying this she knew.
I held her dying with my arm,
her pleading eyes i saw.
She went to sleep so very calm,
passed on through death's front door.
in 1936 old yellow flossy died game!
In this lonely place with death all around you, it was tragic for young Don to lose his
dog. Aussie shepherds (cattle dogs) will defend you, camp on your doorstep.
Beautiful berry bushes have grown renegade all over our yard.
Garden catalogs call them this, it is not a name I made up. They are beautiful, but also strangling.
They have strangled three crepe myrtles, and a couple of lilac bushes, forcing them to die.
One has wound himself around my apple tree,
The apple has given up. She produced less than five apples this year.
Another is climbing precariously close to my largest oak tree.
These beautiful berry bushes are bullies, and I will have to do something about them.
Bully berry bushes, I think, renaming them, to give myself a bit of power.
Beautiful at first, but after they ingratiate themselves, fooling you completely with their prettiness
They strangle all other vegetation in their path, killing bushes and trees, and not caring a whit.
Sort of like a beautiful woman without a conscious, who ingratiates herself into a family,
Strangling it and killing it with her lack of integrity. A beautiful man can do it too, it is not always a woman.
Beautiful berry bushes, not unlike charismatic beautiful people with no conscious feelings for others.
I am looking for my chainsaw now. Best to cut the head off the snake, right?