Best Likes Poems
Her chopsticks are at the ready.
Her hands are good and steady.
She likes to knit her noodles!
The task has just begun...
She starts off with a mango Welt
With pride, with zest, with tang.
It's a mesmerising watch
While the wiggling noodles hang.
Next. She's on to saucy Stocking Stitch.
Her garment sure does grow!
Knit one - Purl one - Knit two together
On each tasty row.
And this main course is called
" Knit Purl Chopstick Cha "
With a curry Cabled centre,
With sides of paprika Purl and Knit korma.
And as an extra tasty treat
BBQ Rib Raglan is on the menu.
Trust me! This kind of cuisine
Can't be found in any old venue!
From there on, the sleeves do drop
Like the soy sauce shaken a top.
Neatly Knitted are the Ribs.
Who voted for fish and chips?
To finish this fine course...
Knit - Slip - Knit - Pass Slip Stitch over.
This will make the button holes
For the chocolate to melt all over.
And on completion, these knitted noodles
Slide straight on down her throat...
Before we've had a chance to prove her skill
This talent to others gloat!
A politician called Ronald Dump
Loves to pat pretty girls on the rump
At a peachy pert tush
All his brains turn to mush
His wife floors him – you should see the lump!
Fictional write for fun
7th June 2016
I know a place; no one likes to be there,
yet nearly everyone I know has gone
to sit with trepidation in a chair,
and then reclined, each person sits and drools
while helplessly they stare up at the face
of someone who is cramming too big tools
inside their mouth, which has too small a space -
too little space to have to let inside
large forceps or that vacuum that lets pass
the grime collecting in mouths open wide!
Perhaps some go just for the laughing gas!
But go we must - and sit still for the drill,
enough sometimes to make a grown man ill.
Written June 17, 2016
for the If it hurts so bad, why do we do it? Poetry Contest of Silent One
at the same time seen
dawn and dusk on the same earth
matter of regions
same thing few say good
few say bad few say nothing
main thing's likes dislikes
it's God's creation
our hummer upon ourselves
we use and fight on
one who likes honey
sweetness whispered
whiff of wetness
portent of shadows
sleeping
off the cold
tundra
to utter…to utter
insane
barely brave
bravado covers
the lay
of miles and miles
stickiness roars
from his lips
don’t be insane
his name
an apparition
waiting
to wake up
your nightmares
the intent
of silhouette
moving across
your tent’s face
chiaroscuro
drawn onto
your forehead, eyelids,
cheeks, nose, chin
distorting the thrill
you felt at dusk
this polar beast
might employ
your safety net
as a handkerchief
then nibble
a late night snack
(hand over mouth)
“b e a r”
When my hair was blonde I did not see
I looked pretty close to age one hundred and three.
Why people crossed the street wherever I’d be
Was a complete utter consternation to me.
No one likes an old person in the USA.
They run from us all night and day.
My hair will never be blonde again.
Burgundy hair dye for me is a win.
Most sponsors do not place a poem
Based on its merits, rhythm, or rhyme,
So, friend, if you find your poem N/A’d
Lose no sleep, it happens all the time!
Contest wins are approval of one person
Hundreds may love your poem, not her
Or him, and it matters not a single whit
A new contest appears, theirs is a blur!
If you like your poem, it was a success,
You liked your sonnet, your selection,
You are expressing your innermost self
And, let’s face it, no one likes rejection.
Out of all the poems submitted to me
I have the joy and pleasure of picking ten
The ten I like most, the best of the best,
But, keep in mind, it is only MY opinion!
If I fail to recognize your genius, my bad,
Generally, I have my strong reasons why
Could be I simply find ten more appealing
Often those I eliminated make me cry.
Written October 5, 2022
Baby, I saw you wishin' on him,
But you ought to give me a whirl;
'Cuz he's a handsome hunk,
But when he gets drunk
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
Yeah, he still lives with his momma,
Even tho' he's thirty-three.
She starches and irons his jeans and shirts
And he brings home new recipes.
She's told him he's good lookin';
Says, "Women are lustin' after you."
But when he takes a pretty woman home,
Momma says, "Son, she won't be true."
Momma says, "Son, if you want good lovin',
A plain and homely gal will provide.
She'll treat you right, mornin' and night,
And keep you satisfied."
So, baby, you can stare at him;
Or you can give me a whirl.
'Cuz he's a handsome hunk;
but when he gets drunk,
Baby, he likes ugly girls.
Yeah, Baby.....ugly girls.
You don't stand a chance.
And how that boy loves his momma.
Wouldn't you like to dance?
There's this chart as formula in making a movie you see....
Ever being adjusted brought abreast unto her times and here
We are amid the twenty-first century silver pears cherry squares
Taking notes casting votes statuettes bell tower pets his writers tea ?
Crunching numbers computers quiz shake your glass; green back dreams.
These chillies are so spicy and hot
And they could change your sex life a lot
Cos if you’re in the mood
Grab this hot spicy food
It may work...why not give it a shot
If your brewer’s droop is just brewing
But your lady fancies some screwing
Try some natural Viagra
She’ll be willing to bag ya
Soon you’ll both be billing and cooing
09 07 17
Willy is a Brussels Griffon breed
with a distinctive mustache and beard.
And he will steal your heart; guaranteed,
because he looks so lovably weird.
A chivalrous soul like knights of old,
Willy lives life with vigor and style.
And a jester with a heart of gold,
he survives on little more than guile.
The neighborhood's his private domain
a happy place where worries are nil.
And yet, city streets are paved with pain
and unforeseen dangers lurk there still.
A genuine source of ready wit,
as an artist, he favors abstract.
And born with a will not prone to quit,
modesty keeps his ego intact.
His wagging tail always sparks a smile,
he's a dynamo in constant flight.
And eager to go that extra mile,
he loves to play, and he likes to bite.
(Quatrain)
4/21/2015
01/28/2020
poka-dots and stripes
black blue red purple and green
these are my favorites
Daddy likes to live that luxurious life,
Racin ‘round lookin for a one night wife,
After night he come runnin to the same ‘ol girl,
At night he come runnin to the same ol’ *****,
Throwin her money out the window like he worked hard for it,
Like he walked miles for it,
Like he stood on the corner for it,
Like he got sticky for it,
Like he shot whiskey for it,
Like he pissed in a bucket for it,
Like he got the back hand for it,
Claimin he get money and
The “hoes” wit holes in his pockets,
With rips and tears on his wallet,
He got,
Rips and tears on his wallet,
He got,
Whips and rips on her back,
Like he cooked for it,
Like he cleaned for it,
He got whips and chains on his history,
But this seems to be a mystery,
A misery,
A memory,
Now he’s a memory,
Put out of his misery,
Put out of his history,
Daddy likes to live that pimpin ass life,
Boot leg wife pissing in a bucket,
For the rest of her life,
Cant have piss in her bucket
But it cant be dry,
Gotta make this money,
He her honey for the rest of her life.
She likes to cook.
Often, it seems,
and perhaps more than is deserved.
Like all good cooks,
her generosity will sometimes be abused,
her culinary delights devoured carelessly
to sate the greed
of some as well sustained by Maccas.
But chefs so splendid,
so gifted and so generous as she,
enjoy the pleasure given.
Given patiently and carefully
and willingly and happily,
and in helpings undeserved
far more than what's returned.
She has fed me too her cakes
and banquets of sweets and such delights
as leave me desperate to repay,
with dishes that she might
enjoy as much.