Best Humongous Poems
How much do I love thee
Let me tabulate all the ways
I bought you a new Mercedes
With gold plated tire rims
I bought you a humongous diamond ring
The size fit for all Royals and King
I bought you a store of the finest lingerie
Secrets still held at the door by decree
I bought you a garden of roses so red
My love was surely in bloom, or so they all said
I bought you a ticket to heavens pearly gates
So that in paradise you’d have not to even wait
I bought you your very own private Lear jet
To see the world through champagne eyes
My love was a vault and you emptied it dry
My heart has now learned to never cry
How much do you love me?
Your lawyer seems to know
You claimed mental duress
Suffering under such stress
The Mercedes was the wrong color so I am told
I should have known, pink, not gold
The diamond ring was too heavy to wear
Your back injuries caused you painful despair
The lingerie didn’t cover you just right
So medical ailments kept you up many a nights
The roses in bloom where not the right flower
Your allergies they caused, thus making you sour
The ticket to heaven you plain out refused
Said it was one way, and that just wouldn’t do!
You had no issues riding my Lear jet
You rode the pilot as well, a mile high kinda bet
My love you tossed into the bin out in back
The divorce lawyer smiles at me, saying she sure is great in the sack
The moral of the Story is this!
If you are sitting at the table, and
You see a few beetles scurrying about
Maybe even whistling a tune or two
Listen carefully to what they say
We buried our dog, Ding
With her favorite things,
Like our couch, plus our bed
And pillows for our head.
Our carpet she muddled
With dirt and pee puddles,
The window she stared through
To bark at who knows who.
The hedge she sniffed and chewed,
All of our leather shoes,
My truck’s passenger seat,
But not the children’s feet.
Two of our best chickens
She chased like the dickens,
Seven of my wife’s hats,
But not much more than that.
We paid a contractor
Who with a large tractor,
Dug a humongous hole
For our dear doggy’s soul.
And it did our heart good
Though we now sleep on wood;
Without a comforter,
Since we did comfort her.
I remember the days I was like Dracula
Lonely, and sucking peoples blood!
The life force of my victims,
Now that I've realized my true purpose!
Im kinda like Batman saving society at the darkest times,
No jokers just the riddler!
Solving complex codes
Messages from the unknown,
Mr strange- Mr. weirdo just saved
Gotham from its strange outcomes.
Alien invasion:
The intrusion of friends In my work,
Hard work no pay; just more will
More fire: I go supernova,
Writing for justice
The path of righteousness,
Superman and wonder woman's,
The Flash: the lightning of the heart
The light rod of the right hand,
Knowledge so bright:
It bursts through my eyes,
So I wear sun glasses like Cyclopes,
A freak show,
Welcome to Charles Xavier academy for the special,
A mutant fighting for humanity!
The irony behind the talented and the wicked,
So I never stop practicing even though this comes naturally,
Attracting medals and propelling bullets
I'm Magneto: casting magnetic force fields and blocking all hate speech!
I'm the shine: blasting across the Pleiades
Like Silver Surfer- travelling the cosmos,
Conquering planets like Galactus
Searching for more dreams: those gems!
I'm Thanos I wield the universe,
My imagination: altering reality
From the norm to the impossible
Call me Dr Strange-healing
life through metaphysics and alchemy,
learned sorcery from ancient tablets
Humming runes and invoking shadows,
My many bodies of armor: The Iron Man
A nerd to the folks who don't
understand my study of science;
and a humongous ego
To the people who see my dreams-
I go hulk and I smash the abominations,
Haters and enemies be big in numbers
But I have my friends:
The Avengers cheering me on,
more love and more will power-
kinda like Green Lantern fighting Sinestro
Man the envy! But I'll save the world,
My dreams in this battle of self.
I opened up my cupboard door and then I opened wider,
Dwelling cozily inside, a most humongous spider.
I do not kill a spider, that’s against this gardener’s rule,
But I don’t pick up a spider, I am truly not a fool.
I closed the cupboard saying, “I’ll wait with you to deal
For tomorrow or the next day, depending how I feel.”
I went to work next morning without removing arachnoid.
I don’t know if I forgot or just was trying to avoid.
For in truth I don’t like spiders though she is a gardener’s friend,
But I’ll defend her right to live her span, right to the very end.
All day I mulled my problem, how I’d trap her and release her.
I knew I must be careful, if I was clumsy I’d decease her.
That evening I looked for her, but she wasn’t where she’d been,
And to me an unseen spider is much worse than one that’s seen.
Then my darling son informed he’d been looking for a cookie
And had found the big old spider hiding in its little nookie.
He remembered what I taught him, that a spider is our friend.
He had carried her to the garden, the rest of her life to spend.
Written May 26, 2003
“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
Like any family, mine’s the same, they leave Mama with the dirty Chores.
You’d think with Trolls, and Dragons, and such… There’d be magic galore!
But I concede defeat at Pooper Scooping Time, my sons taught everyone well.
You’d think just once, they wouldn’t run away, with such a humongous bombshell.
The Witch next door is out of town; she usually uses it to fertilize her yard.
Her magic does it in a minute flat, but she’s not here, as my yard becomes marred.
She flew on vacation with the first snowfall; in spring she’ll help my backyard.
In the meantime it’s just little old me… It’s like cleaning out a yucky stockyard.
So I gave a shovel to a grouchy old Dragon, since he’s so big and does so much.
But I came back fricasseed and charbroiled, my shovel totally melted, as such.
I put on my fire retardant suit, and I gave him a special spot where he can unload.
Apparently he didn’t like that either, as I dug out from under a humongous load.
Finally, raking it all up, I ask the dragon, to make cinders of the yucky stuff.
Instead he laughed as he huffed and puffed, blowing smoke at me, in a huff.
I smelled kinda bad as I went to the house, getting a cart to fill to the brim.
I’ll admit, getting mad at a dragon was never a good idea, to originally begin.
But I was pissed, as it looked like rain, and my mind was beginning to spin.
I filled the cart to overflowing, then tied it to the sleeping dragon’s… butt end.
When he woke up, he flew half way up to the moon, spreading it on the wind.
Unfortunately it was me, my yard, and my house, that finally got it again.
Who knows where that darned old cart now lies, as he came flying back alone.
I had learned my lesson that it would never be wise to lose my temper again.
So as the rain began to wash my folly away, I looked up and kissed the rain.
Sometimes it’s prudent, to just relax, and get in touch with the elements again.
The music begins, then the singing
I close my eyes, and even my ears smile
inhale.. humongous exhale, arms raise to the heavens
then my hands pose, lingering in jazz dancer's style
My mind begins to fly
Or perhaps as I glimpse the shadows going by
it's actually birds, yes birds fast forwarding to the rhythm
flying past majestic leafy trees beneath a dusky sky
Then the speed slows from 78 rpm
to 33 and a third
my body relaxes a bit more while I sway
becoming hypnotized to each note to each word
The clouds are outlined in smoke
a gentle breeze blows against my face
dancers appear, adorned in loosely draped gray chiffon
enchanted by the music, they swirl with finesse and grace
The wind picks up, so much so, that now, I'm flying
the shadowy scene about me is racing
it's as though I'm soaring through a vortex
unfettered, perhaps it's a virtual paradise that I'm facing
Feeling mellow with this
Byrd's band flickers in and out, the notes float and transcend
the song finishes but the music doesn't, not yet
I pen this piece as I peace out, so the music doesn't really end...
Inspiration: Places & Spaces by Donald Byrd
2/4/16
Didn’t digest my all-dressed pizza
Suffering now from insomnia
A touch of every possible phobia
Mostly of ravenous bacteria
And humongous tarantula
O yes, and the sordid mafia
Did I call my Grandmamma
Did I put away the spatula
Did I book girls’ day at the spa
Did all the bourgeois really die of cholera
I’m drowning under this plethora
Remind me What’s that formula
O yes, Abracadabra
Tra-la-la and La-di-da
And poof now I’m in a gondola
On the way to utopia
Dressed in graceful taffeta
Eating baklava in the basilica
Hanging from the candelabra
Swinging to the tunes of Lady Gaga
Supported by the silliest orchestra
Hey you Pass me the foie gras
I have a cockeyed camera
You’ll see me at the cinema
I love you Etcetera Etcetera
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2025
The dream I had last night was huge,
I mean that thing was large
Much bigger than a bread box
on an ocean going barge
To say it was humongous
wouldn't be far from the truth
It barely fit inside my head
and that should be some proof
It almost seemed gigantic,
the most massive I have seen
Of any evening vision or
an afternoon daydream
I'd even say enormous is
what in my mind I saw
Mammoth, vast or sizable,
you can pick one or all
My sleep last night was restless
after this colossal show
My only wish, I'd wake up soon
and this whole thing would go
But when I woke this morning
I just knew I couldn't win
For I would need another night
to fit the whole thing in
Dream big my friends
Dear Santa Claus, can I ask a wish
A wish come true- for everyone
Be'eth I too old..to ask
Will it fit on your sleigh
It's not a small wish
It's humongous
Everyone
Will love
It
I
Myself
Will share it
To one and all
To the entire world
Even for you, Santa
Several times I wrote you
I wished for peace and love on earth
Maybe I forgot to put the stamps
Double Nonet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
12/13/2020
Rooty Toot Toot, two men in a boot
Bobbing along on the waves
One was old with long silvery hair
Renowned for being quite brave
The other had pimple on the tip of his nose
He was cross-eyed and cranky at best
“That's an omen!” the old man told him
“Squeeze it, and you'll surely be blessed”
As he squeezed it a humongous zit popped out
Flying through the air it transformed
To a beautiful maiden with wings of silver
And a sweet tender smile so warm
The maiden decreed, “You both have a wish
But your wish you must never reveal
Make someone happy beyond their dreams”
They took on the task with much zeal
The pimple guy had a marvellous plan
Knew Rachel the young girl next door
Was always wearing the same shabby clothes
Decided she needed the wish much more
As for the old man, he'd had a good life
So he also wouldn't keep it for himself
Thought he would help out this needy family
Blessed them and wished them good health
So the silvery haired man and the pimple guy
Were rewarded for their unselfish act
Nevermore would they want for a thing in life
Absolutely nothing that they would lack!
Rooty Toot Toot, two men in a boot
Bobbing along on the foam
The pimple guy and the silvery haired man
Are heroes wherever they roam!
© Jack Ellison 2012
When big rocks turned into tiny trees
Flocking gulls balanced atop laser beams.
Ginormous people, accompanied by humongous animals, toted big axes behind them.
All of this happened way back when . . .
Way, way back when kids were just plain kids.
4.21.2017
Irene....My Mother and I.
I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.
Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely were they.
However,in platformed heels, she was
true beauty in motion.
Panagiota, her daughter, the dreamer,
Thinks everyday day is Carnival in Rio!
And would wear a Samba outfit
Right this day, if only she could!
Be a true Sambanista, bringing the joys
of Brazil to your neighborhood.
Loves humongous earrings and necklaces.
People stare at her with strange faces.
And she is insane over shoes metallic.
With colorful gems upon them or
flowers, totally exotic.
Her dreams to be a Rockette, alas, if
only she could.
Quite the woman~ a legend in her own
mind!
Writing poetry, in an imaginary land
of her own making.
In her magenta robe, sparkling adornments
in her hair and gold MaryJane shoes, as dainty as flowers!
Writing her soul poems by the hours.
Cannot forget her paramours!
Listening to the music of Antonio Carlos
Jobim, total heaven!
Enjoying her freedom and ever so blessed!
A Princess~ ruling in a land all her own
smiling with flowers.
Her hand, with the giant moonstone
ring from Peru,
Her passion for all things turquoise,
jade or Santorini blue
Her head, never stuck in things practical.
Just flies in all directions,never pedantic.
Purely, romantic or totally magical.
Thus~ is her setting for writing poetry,
She cherishes your comments in this
land of the free!
We roaming souls connecting by things so
ecstatic~
This is so very joyous and totally
far from all things tragic.
Panagiota Romios
3/24/2019
Anchored in the solid granite cliffs
On either side of the tree-lined gorge,
Above the C&O tracks and rickety shacks
Of farmers and miners and naked children
Playing in the dirt ‘neath the front porch,
Who stop to watch the coal train passing
Underneath the arching silver steel girders
Wondering wide-eyed how they built that bridge! --
Way up yonder like a humongous gray rainbow
With its promise of faraway places,
And pots of gold someday in recurring dreams,
Knowing it’s not likely they will escape
Just like none of their older kinfolk did
Even though they believed that bridge
Was the road to places somewhere, anywhere
Away from deep and narrow seams of coal,
And raw memories of their poverty-stained childhood.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
a Brian Strand Contest
Poetry Soup, January 14, 2022
One of the first ways we feel love flow into us from another person is in a gesture simple but grand…it’s when we reach out as a baby and hold a parent’s hand.
Okay…chances are we only grabbed one finger…after all…they had humongous adult hands while our baby hands were small.
But we both felt it at that moment…felt the love between us linger as they held onto our hand and we…onto their finger.
And as we grew…so did our hands…and we came to understand how safe, secure and happy we felt when we held a loved one’s hands.
It looks as if holding hands is a simple act…nothing too extreme…but along the road of life we realize holding hands…is not as simple as it seems.
We learn in the simple act of holding hands all the things we silently say…how when two hands come together there is so much we convey.
Holding hands is sharing friendship, kindness, love, trust and security…it’s a way to multiply our joy, divide our sorrow…to show compassion and sympathy.
I imagine that’s why as death is imminent…through the tears we cry…
we want to hold hands one more time with our loved one…before we say goodbye.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if the whole world came to understand…
the key to peace and love and kindness…
can be found in simply holding hands.