Best Heigh Poems
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
painted in black from head to foot
like a mourner
why not a veil and snowy white
showy wedding gown
after all, nunsense knows
that we are the bride of Christ
while we are at it let’s glue
some angel’s wings and halo
to our ensemble
and heigh ho purchase
a white horse of course
the nuns are coming
fast like gunslingers
but prettier
and the weapon of choice
the two-edged sword
no, nunsense knows, it’s sharper
the good book
open all day
what nunsense knows
you might suppose
is that God
really knows it all
and might suppose
if he really does
that we might want to
glitter-gold plate
our fingers in the endowment
of the Great Creator
of the paramount groom
his word is his promise
Christ’s grand promises are always kept
and on point
is that brothers and sisters in Christ
from all lands
will wear white
and inherit all, beside the lion and lamb
fill your lamps with oil
don’t spoil your marriage
when it’s dark you need your supply
of extra oil
the nuns they ride
as they hear the groom call
as they hear him call
too many nuns are left behind
in mourning gowns…
brighter afternoon
after the solar eclipse
four eyes put away
as couples are high-fiving
emphasizing photographs
heigh-ho back to screen
first to post solar eclipse
along with the throngs
lucky strike of sunshine gold
its older than the black hills
the sun soon will set
but will all appreciate
the normal darkness?
sunset taken for granted
without retinopathy
The Carrion Crow
Crows abound in the
neighborhood and around the
yard. Often in early morning a
great, noisy caw-fest occurs.
A carrion crow
sat on an oak, fol de rid-
dle, lol de riddle…
Only tiny oaks sprout here and
there, as planted by industrious
blue jays. Crows sit in the
neighbors' incense cedar,
redwoods and other
miscellaneous, unlooked-after
bushes.
Watching a taylor
Shape his cloak; Sing heigh-ho
the
carrion crow, fol…
Crows are very smart, it's
known. They can pick latches,
love to collect small shiny
objects and are good thieves.
Wife bring me my old,
bent bow, fol de riddle, lol
De riddle, hi ding…
Crows in this neighborhood are
urban crows. It may be this
makes them smarter than their
country cousins. Nevertheless
they are well nourished and
sleek for living on the city
streets.
That I may shoot
Yon carrion crow; sing heigh-
Ho, the carrion…
Crows often crack a walnut by
dropping it repeatedly from a
street light standard. There's
an instance in town where a
house down-spout was clogged
with too many shells. A crow or
crows opened nuts while on the
roof.
The Taylor he shot
And missed his mark, fol de
rid-
dle, lol de riddle…
A crow across town enjoyed a
left-over, smashed-flat-in-a-
parking lot, bag of French-fry
and hamburger leavings; held
the paper down with a foot and
picked it clean.
And shot his old sow
Quite through the heart; sing
heigh-ho
The carrion crow,
Fol-de-riddle, lol de riddle, hi
ding do.
Wife bring brandy—in
A spoon for our old sow is
In a swoon! Heigh-ho…
When I was a kid we watched with hearts aglow
and Snow White’s skin was always white as snow.
But all bossy and meaner
Snow White is now Latina
and heigh-ho heigh-ho it’s off to smirk they go!
Well the folks at Disney have changed it all since
and real dwarfs too offensive they try to convince.
Virtue signalling I see
that toxic masculinity
so sadly there’ll be no more kiss from a prince!
Written: March 2025
Walt would be turning in his grave!
No more suprises now christmas holds,
As day by day I’m growing old.
This I wish to confess,
Now christmas makes me pretty depressed.
I was fond of natural yule tree,
But now my grandchildren pick it from online for discount or free.
Within a seconds the remote control automatically decorates,
I fairly don’t admire this and just artlessly hate.
Even the presents are now pre-ordered,
As to make it a cinch for Santa to dish out them across the boders.
Santa has become freaky and kooky too,
He wears a glinting red coat with a sunglass blue.
Now he doesn’t ride on a sleigh,
But drives the latest fancy ferrari on each christmas day.
Guess who is the driver Dasher, Dancer, Prancer nor Vixen,
Comet ,Cupid, Donner, Oh yes its Blitzen.
Rudolph with other reindeers roaring in a hike,
Follows the car with their speedy bikes.
Now no more he says ho ho ho!
Rather heigh ho, heigh ho, heigh ho.
Santa arrives with a rocking radio beat,
For me its time to snooze when all meet him and greet.
Well yes it still snows,
But its colour keeps changing and even it glows.
Remember the old christmas tree,
Sitting around it with gifts and glee.
Once the gifts used to lay below,
But now in the air it floats and flow.
Sorry if I sound a bit rude,
But now its time to go and atleast cheerish the food.
Bye bye the age old X-mas.
Albiet its 2060, but still we wish Merry Christmas.
12/12/2015
A FUTURISTIC CHRISTMAS- POETRY CONTEST
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
To the ship they row
Pirates Pete and Bo
Sea prowess to show
Sailing!
Argh! They proudly crow
Greeting all they know
With a 'Yo-ho-ho'
Hailing!
Sea terrors, heigh-ho!
Stolen treasures stow
Overboard men throw
Quailing!
Storm winds fiercely blow
Apprehensions grow
Enemy adds woe
Trailing...
Formidable foe
Tragic overthrow
Sad, their ship's death-throe
Failing!
Sloshing to and fro
Amid undertow
Down and down they go
Flailing!
Out the waters flow
Bath-time over, so
Out the pirates go
Wailing!
Another attempt at a Lai poem... still not sure whether I'm getting it right, but either way, it was fun! ;D
Mirror mirror on the wall she wants me so
but I am little and she is white as snow.
In this tale of small things
Horny the 8th dwarf sings
heigh-ho heigh-ho it’s off to twerk we go!
Written: May 2015
Note: wrote this ten years ago for a contest
but reposted seeing as how it is a very
topical subject at the moment. As you
can see my version is a little different
to that of its 21st century makeover
from Disney’s propaganda ministry.
With a,
Heigh Ho,
Heigh Ho,
Heigh Ho
In defense of nature we go
Like Night's on Crusade
But i fear we will need
More than seven dwarfs
Unless they are standing on the shoulder of giants
And holding Don Quixote lance
Because we are up against
Our mortal enemy
Hephaestus
Hail I will a heart centered healing that can heat
Head, heart and hands and that’s why I heartily rhyme;
Heart it heals like holy herbal; he heartily does tweet,
He – nature’s hero, hails in his rhyme her heart, prime.
Hence, here, I hire his heroic healing writing
Heigh, ho – heigh ho, in this holly wintry season
Hay, ho, I hire his healthy system of fighting:
Healing heart through rhyming, for a worthy reason.
*A 3rd Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 22, 2020)
Dec. 21, 2020
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Eve Roper
It took me time to embellish
myself
And long to reach you!
And there I stand confronting
you and lionise,
Behaving uncontrived and
candid!
And now you waste golden
moments talking to my better
half,
Bereft me and become
nonpareil!
Your fairer half still sits staid,
Not inveighing our inexorable
closeness!
Do not evince your antediluvian
ideas,
And undulate perplexed
disconcert!
If you vitiate my selfhood
today,
It would addle and might moire
me beyond identity!
Look into my eyes I am
dogmatic,
Very positive that Love will
triumph!
Written on 22/9/13 for
' Charles heigh wood contest'
While walking alone
Tears were blown
I can't resist
The pain I felt
My mind, say-so
Cry heigh-ho
And after this
The best of bliss..
October seventeenth ninety sixty one ...
Born sixty one years ago,
the follow poem from your bro
transmitted courtesy flagship
named Jacques-Yves Cousteau
constituting countless ones and zeroes
instantaneously traversing cyberspace
as packeted, framed dataflow
binary digits bit of information
to acknowledge when
thee transitioned being an embryo
(approximately the second
to eighth week after fertilization)
approximately nine months prior,
whose birth marked debut
of bouncing daddy's little girl,
whose inquisitiveness nourished
birthed perception buzzfeeding
capital one earthlinked baby
fostering, kickstarting, and
orchestrating cognitive aptitude,
who throughout storied existence,
which kudos ye
proudly promulgate to and fro
hither and yon across
social media platforms
understandably, opportunistically, and
humbly letting family and friends
across the webbed wide world
know amazing accomplishments,
when ye did initially grow
from being precocious genetic pedigree
into a whip smart self confident
globe trotter, whose curriculum vitae
dwarfs (by powers of seven)
feeble accomplishments of mine,
went thee invested with a heigh-ho
positive state of mind
every endeavor undertaken
(in one physically gruelling instance)
biking, hiking, riding
to your private Idaho
(fast as a B-52)
versus humdrum life of one common Joe,
whose heightened perception
aside from singing the praises
of admiration toward youngest sister
after countless years, he failed to know
about her trials and tribulations
exercising your potential to the maximum
invariably feeling dog tired
with a dose of lumbago
thrown in for good measure
nevertheless adept as bilingual person
quite helpful travelling
to Spanish speaking countries
during your roaring twenties off to Mexico,
and just recently taking a jaunt
to Portugal donned accruing
vibrant sense and sensibility
treasuring richly pocketing nouveau
memories attracting natural outgrow
of ardent followers, whether online
or in flesh, who clamor for selfie photo
with thee and steadfast husband
unlike henpecked wife of mine
enjoyable as pesky miss Quito
who pesters me to get off computer
so she can binge watch Netflix
hence adieu as I hop on my cubii
off to complete
another stationary roadshow.
The Seven Dwarfs of Facebook
By Elton Camp
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to Facebook they go
Each dwarf represents a type of person you know
Lonely the truth about himself does hide
How little is in his life others mustn’t decide
*****y acts that way, himself to protect
So that hurtful interaction he needn’t expect
Stalky to certain ones obsessive attention pays
Whether it’s for months or weeks or days
Grammar Nazi minor mistakes points out
To show he knows what things are about
Funny tries to make everything into a joke
But is seen as odious, making others choke
Drama Queen makes a big issue of it all
Even of things in life that are very small
Moody is as unpredictable as can be
Can’t know what response you’ll see
Saying “dwarfs” is politically incorrect
But their names show what to expect
So if Snow White encounters any of these,
She’ll see that they’re impossible to please