Best Jocks Poems
Don’t you know I like things sweet?
Sewage water and pickled feet
Noses that run like Kenyan jocks
And year old milk that’s kept in socks
Don’t you know I like things wild?
Little old ladies with crocodiles
Butterflies and taser guns
Grizzly bears that have the runs
I'm young with no identity,
A faceless boy, alone and shy.
To classmates, a nonentity;
My parents fret and wonder why.
I'm part of the unnoticed pack.
I step aside as others pass.
To be alone, I sit in back
And never volunteer in class.
I cannot dance or speak on stage
And hate to pose for photographs.
From social scenes I disengage
Avoiding bullies' taunts and laughs.
Uncaring, they my spirit crush.
At lunch I have no company.
I shrink from hugs and tend to blush
And dirty jokes embarrass me.
I dread the days we swim at school
And shower with the other boys.
I try, but nothing 'bout me's cool.
I lack both confidence and poise.
I'm frightened by the internet
Where vicious rumors often spread.
There mockery's a constant threat
While thoughts of vengeance fill my head.
The girls and jocks just walk on by.
They're unaware that I exist.
No welcome waves or friendly "Hi."
I'm seventeen and not been kissed.
The popular comprise a clique
Where bolder boys have fun and flirt.
Among my peers, I'm seen as weak,
And girls avoid an introvert.
The meek inherit all the earth.
That's what the Bible verse asserts.
But while alive, we've little worth.
We're targets for disdain and hurts.
Tomorrow's graduation day.
This high school torment will have passed.
When college life gets under way,
I hope for friends and peace at last.
Squatting next to a garbage bin,
she dons a fake smile that doesn't fit.
And though track marks tattoo her skin,
her addiction won't let her quit.
Abused by pimps and those she serves,
each encounter has left its mark.
And a cheap dress hugs girly curves,
as she shivers there in the dark.
Forced into a life of disgrace,
she feels she hasn't a single friend.
And her hair hides her haggard face,
trapped in the land of let's pretend.
Whispering sly, suggestive words,
she advertises sex for sale.
And propositions jocks and nerds,
feeling frightened, hungry, and frail.
Lewd proposals, oft crude and stark,
are overheard above the din.
And she sells herself in the dark,
praying God understands her sin.
(Quatrain)
8/22/2015
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Incredibly hung ,
with the one bung lung,
And kidneys not quite a failing,
He went to the dentist ,
Tooth reefed out,
Sucked ciggys without inhaling.
The guys in the bar,
Sucked on cigars,
Checked him, the toilet, ha,
Were enthral led with ,
The girth n gift ,
“how come it are”
Said, “Wear no jocks,
Or stinking feet socks,”
Too big for the average shiela,
She took one quick look,
Went back to her book,
Said jam it in a jam jar.
Aha.
Don Johnson
watch out for the jammy jars,
plum jam or apricot good tuckers are,
but not 4 jamming Jimmy...ha,
not 4 jamming Jimbob...
What's a single mom, overworked witch to do?
School potlucks won't suck up fat vats of witch brew
Green goop soup disinfects science projects
Magic wand deflects coupon blonde's rejects
Soccer field congealed, frogs in fish tanks
Your warlock son mocks the jocks with dark pranks
Your daughter barters love potions, your cat's a Clydesdale
Your cauldron is maudlin; no time for witchy cocktails
There's hearses to disperse, fortunes to curse
Restless pests - even witches need a nurse!
You've cobwebs to thread, graves to rake
Sugar greedy goblins to scare straight
No spells to swell your apothecary
Your broomstick's picked other places to be...
10/28/19
For 'Itch, Witch, Glitch or Twitch' contest
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Placed 7th
Lively words on tiptoes left,
Vanishing in the night.
In vain have I sought to find them,
Those precious prodigal words.
Did they slip away like mice
Through temples worn out by age?
Like jocks who rode the bench too long,
Have they quit for lack of play?
Or have they found me faithless,
Lusting after phrases
And daisy chains of impish words,
And in anger run away?
Fled they like southing swallows
Escaping Winter’s blight?
Will they come back to me one day
Like old Capistrano’s birds?
If a wordless king is a pauper;
And a well-spoken peasant rich;
And words are the gems we offer
To woo the ones we love,
Am I then to be destitute
When I wear the crown of years?
For if my wealth of words is gone,
I cannot beg at Heaven’s gate.
The Fifties were really and truly not all that square
Though that dullard Dwight D. sat in the Executive Chair
And his frumpy wife Mamie had really bad hair
Matching those dowdy, plain dresses she'd wear ...
While husbands toiled in obscurity for large corporations
The "Ugly Americans," reviled by most other nations
Their stay-at-home wives feeling mostly frustration
Downing "happing pills" daily instead of real medication
Their sons sporting letter sweaters, obedient jocks,
Their daughters in plaid skirts and white bobby socks
Penny loafers and saddle shoes were in for ten years
Along with white levis and coca-cola -- never rum, never beer
Yet how about Krushchev's dust-ups with Tricky Dick Nixon
What about Sputnik 1 and the panic it put us in
And remember George Wallace and old Lester Maddux
Hosing down *******, echoes of Crispus Attucks ...
The rise of brutal pro football threatened apple pie and baseball
Heralding the next decade's premiere spectator sport, i.e., 'spaceball'
Joe McCarthy dug up the dirt of a "red scare's" nitty gritty
In the work of the House un-American Activities Committee
Then there was Rosa Parks refusing to sit in the back of the bus
Championing the yearning for justice in so many of us
And the music, the music, so outrageously wild
Chuck Berry, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper -- that overgrown child
Yes, the Fifties were really and truly not all that square
Though we shan't heed the call of those who'd return us to there
'Twas nine o'clock on Monday morn
And Ned was full of cheek,
Depositing the cash he'd won
From gambling through the week.
The manager was curious
And asked Ned for the drum
On how he’d manage to procure
Each week a tidy sum.
"I only bet on sure things sir,"
Was how old Ned replied.
"Then show me an example friend?"
The manager enquired.
"No worries sir, I'll bet you now
Five hundred of the best
That you are wearing bright red jocks
And sir I do not jest."
The banker oozing confidence
Let out a joyous cry,
"You're on my friend!" and bared the cash,
A twinkle in his eye.
"Well drop your trousers sir," Ned said,
"Don't leave a bloke in doubt."
The banker thought the office more
A place to sort it out.
Then once inside he dropped his dacks
And with a grin he said,
"You've done your dough for you can see
These jocks are sure not red."
"Not good enough," old Ned replied,
"For they look red to me,
Perhaps it's 'cause I'm colour blind,
We'll need a referee."
"Let's ask your good Accountant sir,
To cast the final lot,"
But when the Banker called him in
He fainted on the spot.
"What's up with him?" The Banker said,
"The man's out like a light."
"He's in a state of shock," said Ned,
"But he'll come 'round all right."
"You see we waged a little bet,
A thousand he would pay,
If I could drop your dacks by ten;
A sure thing ... wouldn't you say?"
Jocks
gruff, tough
grinning, winning, sinning
asses and passes; glasses and classes
fluting, computing, disputing
wordy, nerdy
Geeks
For the Diamante Contest of Janis Thompson
I don't look like those muscle bound jocks
as I stand wearing nothing but socks
so I bought some dumb bells
but can't use them, oh well-
since I can't lift the lid off the box !
21st Feb 2016
For Limerick contest II, sponsor Jan Allison
Coach Alan Brown was incredibly unique
At eighty he had an athlete's physique.
A fullback mocked his years,
Brown hefted him by his ears.
Since then mouthy jocks have squelched every squeak.
'Twas pouring, and the thoroughbreds
Did gallop and thunder in the rain.
All muddy were the jockeys' silks,
And the weather quite insane.
"Beware the Kentucky Derby, Son!
Fame and fortune the trainers haunt.
Beware the length of the Preakness run,
And the exhausting Belmont."
He took the leather reins in hand.
Long time the winning horse he sought.
So mounted he on the saddle tree
And rode awhile in thought.
And as in dreaming thought he rode,
Secretariat, with eyes of brown,
Came sprinting through the tiring pack
Searching for renown.
One, two! One, two! and through and through-
The other jocks did frown-
He crossed the line by thirty-one lengths
And won the Triple Crown!
"And did we win the Triple Crown?
To the winner's circle, my wonder horse."
O fantastic day. Hurrah! Hooray!
The multitude did discourse.
'Twas pouring, and the thoroughbreds
Did gallop and thunder in the rain.
All muddy were the jockeys' silks,
And the weather quite insane.
I've been set aside
As if I should hide
I'm the social outcast
Let's see how long this lasts
I walk down the street
So may people to meet
But I see none to talk
So I guess I'll just walk
Saturday night rolls around
And I leave to go down town
So many parties to go to
But my social status is to low
I've been set aside
As if I should hide
I' the social outcast
Let's see how long this last
First day of a new school year
And it's all just as I feared
The preps and jocks over run us
Not like anyone cares if I make a fuss
They just need to wait
And I'll keep an eye on their fate
The looks and muscles will soon fade
Oh, won't that be a sad day
I've been set aside
As if I should hide
I'm the social outcast
Let's see how long that last
Fifteen yeas have past
I have climb the latter of success
That fast food joint your working at
yeah it's true, I own that
I'm not the social disease
I realize as you beg on your knees
You have five kids to feed
I can't imagine the help you need
I remember those high school years
When being popular was so important,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Each grade was like changing gears
Readjusting to teachers was torment,
I remember those high school years.
I spent lots of time in laughter and tears
Some years wondering what it all meant,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Freshman year was rampant with fears,
Hoping the dean’s office never to be sent
I remember those high school years.
All through the sports’ jocks nasty sneers
I was a band boy carrying my instrument,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
I think I may have even tried a few beers
Some credence with the guys that lent,
I remember those high school years
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Written April 3, 2022