Best Hobnob Poems


Premium Member I'M a Writer

Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job
My stories and poems make our days brighter
Fantasy often, and, occasionally macabre.

Some of my poems make your heart throb
They may elicit laughter when I am lighter,
Friends enjoy going out with me to hobnob
Some folks smile when I say I’m a writer.

Writing opinion, I can be a fierce fighter
A sarcastic line I have been known to lob
To meet a deadline, I’ve pulled an all-nighter
Some smirk, suggesting I should get a job.

My profession does not make me a snob
For I need your stories to write a nail-biter,
Just as history gave us Hugo’s Les Misérables,
My stories and poems make our days brighter.

I edit a great deal to make my writing tighter
Much time and effort’s required, I’m no slob.
I write a mixture of genre, I can be a compiler,
Fantasy, sometimes; occasionally macabre.

So, I pay little attention to the illiterate blob
To those who delight in being a backbiter,
Who are no more important than a watch fob
Spending their time in meaningless blighter,
                                When I say I’m a writer. 

Written June 15, 2022

#33 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 22, 2022

#36 on Best New Poems List
Poetry Soup
June 19, 2022

Premium Member Night Bewitches

The Night beguiles and bewitches me 
as shadow deepen and lengthen
The moon shyly peeps out at me
then bursts out in splendid stateliness.

Now clouds drift across its beaming face
causing shadows to change their shape
I see first a unicorn dancing in the night
Followed by a trio of old haggard witches.

The night sure belong to unworldly things
goblins, elves, pixies hobnob in its darkness
and shadows leap and dance in moonlight
rays of gold, silver and blood deep reds.

Soon. too soon the night will give way
and all the secrets hidden by darkness
will slip away and leave me wondering
were they  ever displayed in the darkness?

Premium Member A Poet Named Bob

I once knew a poet named Bob.

   Some folks consider him a snob.

      But that ain't true;

         If him they knew,

            They would surely with him hobnob!

Robert (Bob) Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired

Entry for Skat's "Sensitive Comment" Contest
Form: Limerick


Premium Member Queenie

A tiny bundle of fur a few weeks old
One little pup who missed siblings and whined
Many memories of you my life holds
A scar from the canned food on which you dined

Running and playing side by side those months
Until you were old enough to learn your job
Dad got my pet to herd the cows on paths
Not with the rich and famous to hobnob

When free we would walk down those dusty roads
Safe was the feeling when in your presence
Free from concern about the wood's heavy loads
Beside me each time truly a pleasance

Queenie so long ago your life ended
My awesome pet left memories splendid

Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest: Pets
Friday, November 28, 2014
Form: Sonnet

Don'T Stall a Hallowed Harvest

A little smile delights my soul
A little money appreciates my life
A little love achieves my goal
A little care flatters my wife 

Strengthening my resolve to perform better
Duties and responsibilities I bear
In my role as family pace and trend setter
In spite of mundane outfit and suit I wear

As through lifetime I educate siblings
Endeavouring to develop their potential
To scale heights, to break through glass ceilings
Beyond the conventional and the unintentional

As I elect and select to reflect on reasons why
At crossroads complications sometimes arise
To conflate faith and pride in minds of the lie
Lost in a labyrinth where to no surprise

Confusion and division estrange sinners from thinners
In the midst of splitting hairs and spreading fears
Among the lost sheep who deem it unfit to hobnob with cleaners
Immersed in verses of gossip as on my face tears

Roll down, fall on my chest in my quest
Into well intended missions that fall by the wayside
Too low for zero as I invest efforts to test
Waters in altars of misconception and prejudice propelled by personal pride

Gone too far to dilute and denigrate the sanctity 
The salvation mission entails among fishers of men
Who appreciate Jesus didn’t die on the cross to pronounce sinners guilty
But to save humankind and I from the odious omen

Misguided human lips with little knowledge utter
As they wallow in a sea of benighted bigotry
Where they play God and pronounce themselves better than the sinner in the gutter
Who pleads at the feet of Jesus to send her providential poetry

To open human eyes to tenets Christianity holds dear
Not because I say so or I should denounce the new millennium Pharisee
Whose grasp of the biblical truth swims in turbid unclear
Seas of ignorance where the blind and the benighted can’t see

Limitations and diminutions brought about by little knowledge
Raised to a puny pedestal
Wreaks havoc as it conflates sewage and sacrilege
To decelerate a hallowed harvest and cause it to stall.

Macabre Gaiety

Take my senses away
Make me crazy,
Stir some memories
Make a story;

Oh, Love me to death,
Give me a life then kill me.

Show me the way
Then lead me astray,
Enrich me with love
Then waylay me;

Be my friend, betray me,
Be my God, bedevil me.

Let's congregate in a tavern
Worship in this safe haven,
Follow no faith
Pander to no priest;

Let's hobnob with the angels,
Befriend the demons on the sly.

Drag my soul through the desert
Then carouse there in an oasis,
Set me ablaze with your passion
Then douse it with your sweat;

Let's sleep on a bed of cactuses
And thumb our noses at the heavens.

Ha, let's grow up
And just kid around,
Lie down in a grave
And wake up in a cradle;

Let's usurp the world from Atlas
And rattle the hell out of its core!


~A Strand (1047) contest
~Sponsor: Brian Strand


Hobnob

Poems are pointless
Poets are dense
To filter expression
Through  meaningless lens
If I'm feeling sad
Yet tell you I'm blue
Do my words really have
a deeper meaning to you
Blue skies turn gray
The clouds will never pass
I think that I shall
Take an umbrella to class

Mea Culpa, Extol Belles-Lettres

The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim...
Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay,
God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks,
a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious; 
haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts,
foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt,
if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings, 
"Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring,
via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance,
wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!"
Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance,
Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight!
"Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?"
tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet,
Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars!
When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more,
jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims,
Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame,
Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod,
Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
© R.G. Inigo  Create an image from this poem.

I Am a Raven

Crafty, conniving, sly and stately,
I am associated with dead and lost souls,
An ominous bird of yore spawning myths and legends,
A messenger of deities in the mortal world, 
I am a wily mediator between life and death--
Dreaded but revered nonetheless!

I showed Cain how to bury his murdered brother, Abel,
Perched on the shoulder of the god, Odin,
A royal resident of the Tower of London,
I hobnob with sorcerers and saints
with monarchs and mendicants;
With beady eyes and lustrous ebony plumage
I am mantled in a grave aura of foreboding.

Take heed when I fly across your path,
Perched just above his chamber door
I made Poe fella famous evermore!


Raven=magic, shape-shifting, creation.
"Picture yourself as a Bird" contest by Andrea Dietrich

Somethingness

SOMETHINGNESS
Ugly, shapeless, formless:
Amoeba metamorphoses 
into concrete images;

Dark, void, hollow-hearth:
Dim cave metamorphoses 
into residence of light.

Dungeon beggar hobnob palace princes:
Nothingness metamorphoses 
into somethingness

©Angel Simon 2013
Form: Haiku

God Bless the Tourists

Bloody streuth look out mate here they come
The Tourists Downunder to have some fun
Clickin’ their cameras, looking goggle eyed
While out in the hot sun getting deep fried
Askin’ for service and getting in our hair
Makes you wonder if there really all there
Thinkin’ it Spring in the middle of May
Speakin’ foreign lingo, as they say G’Day

Forget we’re multi-cultural and highly urbanized
Give em the Aussie salute that the ads advertise
Imports are out, the Aussie image wins
Now here’s were your work it really begins
Wear Moleskins, an Akubra, Drizabone
Hide the credit cards and Bluetooth phone
Cover the microwave, throw out Sarah Lee
From now on its damper, pavolvas and billy tea

Yack about the outback and the old pioneers
Have a bush Barbie and down a few beers
Quote a couple of verses from old Banjo
Hobnob round the fire, put on a dinkum show
Get out the four wheel and take em for a drive
Never mention our crooks can eat you alive
Ignore all the snakes, sharks, mozzies and  the flies
Crows flying backwards, and them peckin’ magpies 

Explain that kangaroos don’t hop down our streets
Nor for breakfast do we bush tucker eats
Throw a boomerang, take em to a corroboree
Tell em the tour guides take care of the fee
Bush dances are popular, and so is Uluru
Dingoes, frilled lizards and wallaby stew
Show em the Australia that we’ve never seen
Mate tourists on nature are so bloody keen

Let em hug a koala, they’re as cute as can be
Just watch the bloody bastards don’t on em pee
Before they go home, help them spend all their loot
Then add departure tax, so they’re real destitute.
Sing “Waltzing Matilda”, “Advance Australia Fair”
In those tourist dollars, we all want to share
This Aussie image to some may seem passé
Mate you watch em flock here, what more can I say!
Form: Rhyme

You Can Run But You Can'T Hide From Yourself

Lie low when convenience calls
Stick out your neck at optimum moments
To climb and scale high social walls
As you swerve away from avoidable torments

To shunt aside a servile lifestyle
Predicated on premises so thin
You risk to frisk and whisk green bile
If you hobnob with characters so mean

They drive you into a ditch
Where awash with confusion and indecision
You struggle to make a switch in the stitch
That misses the fabric from which a fusion

Mixes and waxes fact and fiction to forget
Why for a while you chose to lie low  
How you determined it wasn’t worth pursuing the target
You once thought you knew lay in row

Number one at the behest of fairness
Until you perceived much water under the bridge
Had gone by to cede room to meekness
Grown more significant outside the fridge

Where belief in necromancy
Blew a hole in the knowledge base
That inadvertently fed sycophancy
Deemed significant in the case

You strove to consider for possible inclusion in the novel
You contemplated writing
But gave up when it became clear your sleep in a Kafue National Park rondavel
Lit up and rekindled your fighting

Spirit to reject out of hand
The notion that social associations grow cold
When you openly take a stand
Against attitudes that strike the prude as too bold

To contemplate
Too weak to make a lasting impression
Too forward to merit a serving of caviar on a silver plate
And too silly to warrant a mention in a poetry recital session.

Premium Member What We Gave

Oceanic
sight awful shudder
haunt;
media echoing news;
Poverty sad sad
view....

Begging for some
mercy and food to
eat;
Rags and filth  ~
children on street;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!

Rain bullets and
bombs clouding the
heavens;
Scathe canopy
'causing fear;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!

Black and blue polka
dots pattern
scattered;
Zigzag drumbeat
beatings hurt;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!

Hobnob campaign
rapport on
elections;
Blind eyes ¬ deaf
ears corruption;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!

our earths' lifeline
continuum decline;
widespread worldwide
pollution ;
Is this what we
gave?! STOP!

Collapsing to brain
drain thoughts,
hearts and soul;
Spread wings push
down poverty;
Set mind! Strive
hard! Act now!

YES, WE can MAKE
this EARTH a BETTER
PLACE!
Life legacy beyond
years.
Come one! Come
all! START SOON!

(c) Olive Eloisa
4:17pm
July 03, 2014 

Sponsor	Sheri
Fresonke Harper
Contest Name	What I
Gave 
2nd place, to God be
the glory.. :)
Form: Kimo

Bliss and Peace Threads

Aspire to disseminate inspiration
Respire to ameliorate affection
Mire fires and spires of misinformation

Contribute to spreading care
Distribute love to play fair
Develop attributes with plenty of love flair

Seek to provide answers
Hobnob with love dancers
Fight and blight social cancers

Break backs and stacks of malice
Build bridges and bonds of justice
Scoff at the bluff of prejudice

Share love
Support love grown from above
Rabbles and squabbles dare to solve

Don’t jump on the bandwagon of arrogance
Steer to bonds of care in every circumstance
From evil and weevil maintain a healthy distance

Grow into a harbinger of good news
Principled friends dare to choose
Abstain if you can from strains and banes of booze

Perfect the art of loving
Delight in healthy living
Build a field and shield of forgiving

Arise to sunrises and surprises of initiative improvement
Sway away from egregious involvement
Build and wield a progressive movement

Cement and augment halos of happiness
Desist from fists and twists of sadness
Dispel bells and cells of wanton weakness

Above all be a pillar of immutable truth
Discount chains and mountains growing uncouth
Cling to wings of hope, moulding the youth

As bliss spreads
A swathe of sorrow dreads
A bright future weaves peace threads.

Doctors Particularly Biomedical Engineers

Doctors (particularly biomedical engineers)...
really trolley train hard to keep track of patients

Eye tell ya we (spuds)
pulled up stakes after four yar
and zero scores ago living in Bryn Mawr
salutary heart and lungs figurative
storied Main Line Health medical network
latter part of June tooth thousand seventeen

approximately July first
same year bidding au revoir
bid good riddance account
to slumlord - hood did spat and spar
moved to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
unsafe to ride bicycle without handlebar

economical, geographical, practical...
subjected by Grosse and Quade tyrannical czar
dom low income facilities housing
nattering nabobs of nihilism whose intellect subpar
candidates vetted by Jaclyn Geiger registrar
courtesy nepotism unexceptional manager

thanks be to her papa, she drives fancy car
unlike this pauper and the missus
limited to schlep near and not far
afforded by rattletrap motorcar,
no driving prohibitive number of miles,
crossing sketchy territory warning signs

picturing dangerous avatar,
(especially during inclement whee thar)
determining risk to forego
top manic kin Michelin
money grubbing cannibalistic
surgeon's earning equivalent silver star,

or comparable civilian rating touting specialists
while bonafide topnotch indivisible tailors swifty
stitch ink, viz tattoo back parlor shop whar
exemplary Patients Matter Always
buzzfeeding, inoculating, kickstarting...
healthy medical network,

hobnob, kibitz, schmooze...
drown lackluster lovelife at the bar
parting paramour with such sweet sorrows par
for the course during pouring rain how bizarre
necessitated our lucky find locating physicians
supreme nsync with Google high reviews

receiving, scoring, nabbing,
incorporating... truevalue re: vector and scalar,
we veteran trooper seasoned renters
luckily blessed chance
cost us pennies on the dinar
general bang for buck amazingly
found yours truly strumming his air guitar

pleasantly situated among picturesque poplar
resort within Skippack Village, a tourist
mecca for devout or 
secular gourmandizing, earning
catering and acquiescing savoir
ole mighty faire Benjamin
legally tendering expensive bazaar.

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