Best Hop Out Poems
With Twilight's Glow Nature Boldly Speaks
Soft twilight glow just before dawn's new birth
When sun and earth show, art for all its worth.
O' tender emotions- send not thy cries!
For Nature holds more than blue, blue skies!
As light sends shadows burrowing so deep
Furry animals wake from midnight sleep.
Rabbits and squirrels hop out to and fro
Songbirds sing and splash colors just for show!
When night approaches with sun setting reds
Nature's night creatures, out pops sleepy heads.
Mother owl hoots loud to let man this know
She is wiser than both raven and crow.
Man wakes each day to Nature speaking clear.
Precious life is great, if souls would but hear!
Robert J. Lindley, 1- 04-2017
Sonnet
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 110
Note- From memory of scenes at lake cabin decades ago!
Entire area burned decades later from massive forest fire!
Such blessed scenes forever gone... gone... gone.
tadpoles growing in a pond
anxious for the great beyond
decreased numbers, fairly grim
takes too long to grow a limb
hiding from the larger fish
trying not to be a dish
feeding on the larval flies
protein bars in strange disguise
gain a voice before you croak
caught up in a ghastly joke
wishing you could wave a wand
hop out of this brackish pond
finally you climb a log
live your days out as a frog
in the water for a rinse
back on lookout for your prince
Young G’s sporting tattooed gunz, on rolling black streets,fishing without water, amphibians of the dark ghettos,with names like Ricochet Rob, because he once dreamt of shooting straight.Mumbles, who’s mom was a midnight walker. He was not named for that, butbecause he was hit in the head to much, as a tike and stays drunk, on liquid crack.Then there is Bboss, just because he says so and their ship goes wayback. Riding in circles, on the wavy vinyl streets.They roll up on their port, this side of an intersection, they cannot pass, for the other side its just to deepThey hop out of the grey primered lowrider and begin clubbing, off the hip.Clubing their wares, slingin caps, dumping on anything, that is hauling ass.The stray paint hits, an innocent ankle-biter, across the sea.The truth is black lives matter, unless you are a pirate, with a carbineand are colored blinded, by dead presidents.
4/30/2017
Hood fellow, pull her hair like I do the trigger
Plenty of cash, don't care if she's a gold-digger
She broke-up with her ex and got me, lost and found
Get in bed, take out my pistol, let off a round
Shoot her up, shoot her up, bang, bang
Blowing on my mic', the best song she ever sang
The chick's riding me, she started to pant
She dropped down low, started giving brain, transplant
She's eating that wood, like she's a termite
Got something to quench her thirst, but it's not sprite
I think I might go down-town, to get some dessert
She's like a water gun when she climax, squirt
Always takes showers, but she's oh so dirty
Started at three, it's going on four-thirty
Make sure I meet her needs, you're a minute man
She say I got flavor, but you're kinda' bland
I'm speeding, you get home at six, it's rush-hour
Gotta' clean up for you, hit it in the shower
She's so wet, it's like swimming in the ocean
Hop out the shower, dry off, wipe her down with lotion
Starts to get upset, said she wanted me to stay
Ain't in Florida, but she might go M.I.A
nice clothes
nice shoes
couple of girls
but i got a main boo
nice car
on 22's
lift kit on it
it's another 4in boost
hop out
see my homies
it ain't my forte
but all them smoking
big whip
car full
been drinkin since 1
n yet we still partying
fitted cap
yankee logo
girls say im fly
now they reaching for my "you know"
wake up
hangover
a hurricane went through the house
thanks mr Hugo
team liqour
super sick
i know i was texting
but dont remember this chick
she mad
im laughing
she says im an ******* anyways
i say i'm sorry but it was just another drunk day
The sun softly stirs the strawberry tree
Provokes a lovely green bird to hop out
They snuggle and fondle when the cocks croak
A young boy joins them in a smiling spree
A happy farmer throws up rings of smoke
‘Bill, come here’, came from mom a tender shout
‘Good morning’, said the white crest from the sea
The soft morning moves into a dense day
The sea starts conversation with the shores
The light brown wheat fields soak up some cool sun
Fishermen jostle for space at the quay
Traffic jam on narrow roads has begun
The mom is busy in her household chores
They have two kids and the third on the way
How magnificent is the setting sun
The happy bird hops back into its nest
Darkness falls and slowly mingles with light
Mom speaks to the guests at her house in turn
On Bill’s birthday the stars are shining bright
It is indeed a splendid fun food fest
I take a dark chocolate and a bun
Commotion fades making room for silence
In the wake of a bright star and the moon
The green bird chats with the sun in its dream
Bill looks up his grandpa in the lucence
His sister reads on how to become slim
The guard shuts the doors at The Pantaloons
The owl is busy in a conference
---------------------------------------------------------------
Like a cold winter night
I hear thy call my name
Little whispers
“Come play a little game”
The path arises and the pace quickens
The faster I run, the harder it is to see
The tiny white light at the end of the path
I need that forget-me-not
I grew closer and reach out
I stop running
Paralyzed in place
I can no longer quicken my pace
That forget-me-not is within arms reach
Fingers flutter and roam
They aren’t mine
Death is approaching
I gasp as I realized it was all a dream
I hop out of bed
And take a walk in the garden
Holding onto that forget-me-not
Sitting here in rush hour I moan and sigh
Horn’s honk, engine’s rev, a Monday to miss
Birds whooshing overhead as time ticks by
When from below I hear a squealing hiss
The tire! Is murphy's law to blame for this?!
I hop out to check and PLOP! That damn bird!
I pop the hood to a clang, clunk and creak
Was that the beep from the engine I heard?
I grumble and groan, I just want to shriek!
As cars whiz by, what a start to the week....
I start to tinker around when VvvROOM, SPLASH!
Surrounded by traffic rumbling past
One zooms through a puddle, my suit is trash
Coolant sprays up in my face with a blast
First day at the new job might be my last…
July 6, 2022
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
High school times were lived with fun and ease
Other peoples opinions I didn’t care to please
Found friends who accepted me for who I was
Wanted to enjoy it, soak it up, it was love
Class became less important, became such a bore
Going to school and listening started to be a chore
Intelligence and ability weren’t the problem at hand
Needed a challenge, motivation, Teachers didn’t understand
Getting taught the same thing, same lesson plan everyday
Made the decision easy, I’ll just go a different way
Basketball I still loved, it had always been my addiction
My new ways were causing trouble, not my smartest transition
Wasn’t making the grades needed to stay on the team
There I stood watching, as it drifted away, my dream
My whole life’s plan, I gave away just like that
Figured quitting was the answer, now I’ll never get it back
Decided on a new plan, a new worthless occupation
I was self employed, getting hired? No complication
Welcome to the party, I’ll be your host for the evening
What ever your pleasure, just ask, it’s for the taking
Which drug do you prefer, I’ll be happy to oblige
Smoke some herb, do some coke, or Lucy in the Sky?
Never was a dealer, just a consumer if you will
Then a new addiction, one special little pill
Just weekend party fun, you know, only here and there
But the feeling it gave me, well nothing else could compare
Soon it was a daily thing, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and such
Next thing I knew, I couldn’t smile with out my crutch
Still to me, all these things didn’t seem a big deal
What happen to that speech, the one about how drugs kill
Friends tried to warn me, things had gone too far
But I couldn’t help by stick my hand, in the evil cookie jar
Harmless fun turned to mayhem, actions with consequences
Tragedy was lurking, hiding behind the fences
Time to get out, but I tell you, it had a good hold
These demons and these urges, was I strong enough to control
Found a way to slow down, hop out the fast lane for a bit
It was a good ride with good times, man what a trip
I really thought I got lucky, no major repercussions
Thought I was out of the path of total self destruction
But hold on tight, this is just the start, of things I’d have to kick
Darkness was upon me, but my eyes were blind, what a trick
Upon the shore's banks the tide rolls in.
Sand is naturally sifted,
revealed is a Master's creation.
Created as intricate gold time pieces, thanks to You we are.
No matter how tarnished, You accept us as we roll up to Your doorstep.
The door is open as You reach down to pick us up with Your own special brand of love.
Place us on Your craftsman's table. Inside mending starts.
Your skillful use of tools is necessary to fix our life functioning wires.
A glow is then achieved on the outside by polishing us with zeal.
A window is open. Placing us carefully on the window's sill, we hop out again
into the world's unknown, eternally knowing that one day this place will
always be our home.
I kept passing up that contest, realizing its difficulty.
However, sometimes I do enjoy jumping into challenges,
but this one proved to be beyond and above mere difficulty.
After jumping into 'this river of cold water poetry', I was prepared
to hop out of those rapidly-flowing currents just as easily as I jumped in.
However, I reached a point of such uncharted waters that I decided
to master this feat of omitting the "O" vowel as if it never existed among
the 26 alphabets of the English language. I wanted out, but pride kept me in.
I proceeded as cautiously as I possible could, and after 20 lines and repeated checks for the "O" vowel, I thought that I had achieved my goal. So I submitted my poem to the contest, and after submitting it, I continued to check for any "O's" that I might have missed.
I tell you, I never realized that my sighting for the "O" vowel was so impaired. This is without doubt one of the most edited poems that I have ever written. I think that I am "O"-vowel-free in that poem, but you can be sure that I will continue to check, hoping that all the "O's" have disappeared by the time the sponsor finishes. Anyway, win or lose, I am a certain and proud winner in that Lipogram contest. And another thing, ......
061121PS
Poetry is a world,
Pure and innocent as a pearl
It is form of view,
That is only seen by a few
Poets can unfurl their truths,
And don't need to support it with any proof
It's a place where the grass can be blue,
and broken cell phones can be transformed into glue
Where the sky is yellow,
And people rejoin with loved ones within a sweet meadow
Where flightless birds are given the sky,
To hop out of gravity and just go up and fly
Poetry is a world,
Pure and innocent as a pearl
I hop out of my shower about 8
I got to get dressed
Because I got a hot date
I out on the Roca Wear
And the Timberland boots
Then I checked my pockets
And counted my loot
I stepped on the scene looking sporty
Me and my crew, doing things that are naughty
But then I, saw this girl
I mean Shorty was fly
Like a mad scientist I was hypnotized
But the way that she walk, and talked
And the way that she dressed
But what really caught my eyes
Was her two breast
One said BOOM
The other was like BOW
And her booty was yelling
HOW U LIKE ME NOW
So I left my boys
And started to walk over
Before I asked her name
She invited me over
For some fun time
Or some play time
You think a brother slept on that
Well I..
Arrived to her crib about 10 o’clock
And by 10:30 the boots was knocked
We when from the bed on to the floor
I tried to pump the breaks
But she was bagging for more
So I went on for just a little more
But this is our first date and I'm hitting it raw
And what was funny and really a shame
Was when I asked her her name?
So said my name is
Anna Iren Dorsey Smith
Please pay attention
Or you might miss this
Rush and Roulette
Know the name of the game
And if you ask me again
I'll try you the same
And if you didn't wrap it up
Then that's a crying shame
Because AIDS is my nick name
I take another pill because the last one did not kick in fast enough.
Fourth nap of the day, feel disappointed when I wake up.
What do I have to do to get rid of this pain?
I am grumpy, and irritable.
My husband hides from me.
I have had a malady too long; I am exhausted and angry.
I do not care what happens next,
I am ready to close my eyes and rest
in a permanent way
My hobbies are not fun.
People have stopped visiting.
There is no purpose to my life.
I take another nap, and a few more pills.
When I wake up I am disoriented.
Is it day time or night? Do I even care?
I hear a tiny voice on my answering machine.
It is my four-year-old grandson.
I hop out of bed and give him a Facetime call.
As soon as I see his beaming smile, I know I want to live.
Sight, feignedly fixed on chess board;
Mind, slinking toward smart phone
---the Sacrosanct Savior that just has to be enshrined in the toilette---
urging new hot tips to hop out and help out.
Each toilette patronage pays back an omnipotent panopticon
through which to pirate opponent's move patterns;
Each stool stay serves back stunners,
or even sockdologers
with which to sock it to the opposite side.
Triumph and trophy, lustrous and alluring, though,
the way to catch hold of the twins bids no thoroughfare.
Steep seems improving personal playing strength;
Cheap shot against supervisory loopholes,
a nice shortcut for patzers to spurt into pantheon.
When wanglers walk off with wins undetected,
when honest players get snookered in the dark,
snollygoster's spirit surges at the epicenter
while chess ethos withers in the wilderness.