Best Lordy Poems


Premium Member Just For Giggles

For those who don't read blogs or know of Jan's successful first book, I've written a limerick for her and included it in my comment on her blog. She's included her interview in a podcast. I was asked to post my limerick here as well.  If anyone would like to write a limerick in honor of her first publication, please join in and send me a limerick, or even a note to congratulate her.  Thank you.

Jan, our Queen of Poop has a sexy voice
Crowned as Limerick Queen, she is our choice
But oh my lordy
Some are quite bawdy
Book sales are good ~ she's getting a Rolls Royce
                                  by Lin Lane

Jan's poems are clever and funny too
Full of bawdy lines and some about poo
Comedy at its best
Her poems will attest
Read" A giggle a day" to not feel blue
                                by Tania Kitchin

No rolls Royce or Winnebago camper van
A sedia gestatoria, for Jan
One with a floating loo
For outdoor number two
Carried shoulder high around the Isle of Man
                               by David Kavanagh

LONG LIVE THE QUEEN 
Jan Allison has written her first book
It was a mammoth task she undertook
Preview it on amazon
I'll guarantee you'll want one
I've read a bit and my whole body shook.
                              by Tom Cunningham

Jan nixed the idea of getting a Rolls
She opted to put wheels on toilet bowls
Her farts serve as a horn
She ignores those who scorn
And she never gets stopped to pay bridge tolls
                               by Mark Koplin

In a bathroom where tales tend to unfold 
And humerous secrets are often told
There’s a plop and a cheer 
Laughter rings loud and clear 
In porcelain chambers poems are sold
                               by Arthur Vaso

Poetry Soup’s Queen of Poop
has made herself a news scoop!
She published her book
and that’s all it took.
A second book is now in the loop.
                              by Linda Alice Fowler

Congratulations Limerick queen Jan
A poetess who’s from the Isle of Man
Pleased your book is a hit
A giggle a day gift
From an hilarious comedian.
                   by Beryl Edmonds
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lordy, friendship,
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Slang Footles for Male Names: Part 3

Always Prepared

Ready 
Freddy

The Untamed

Feral
Ferril

What’s in Frankie’s Pockets?

Frankie’s
hankies

Patriotic Guy

Yankee
Frankie

Of the highest Quality

Fraser’s
razors

Small Eater

Grazer
Frazer

The Warlock

Pagan
Fagin

The Brilliant One

Star Glow
Fargo

Something’s About to Happen to Him

Herald
Gerald

Poet

The bard
Gerard

The Mimic

Parrot
Garret

Who Needs Pudding and Pie

Georgie 
Porgie

Good Grief!

Lordy,
Gordy!

Best Things in his Garden

Gerrett’s
carrots

The Stoic

Steely
Greeley

What People Always Say to Him

Really,
Greeley?

The Generous One

Sharin’
Garen

Thrill Seeker

Gnarly
Harley

So Angry

Snarly
Harley

Embittered

Soured
Howard

Not Brave at All

Coward
Howard

What’s in Henny’s pocket

Henny’s
Pennies

The Pest

Vermin
Herman

What Herman Gives Each Sunday

Herman’s
sermons

Why Can’t He Just Stay Home?

Roamer
Homer

Better Than Ice Cream
 
Sherbet
Herbert

Get Him Band-aids

Howie’s
Owies

Nonsensical

Phooey
Huey

Always Amazed

Wowie
Howie

The Overly Sentimental One

Gooey
Huey
Categories: lordy, boy,
Form: Footle

Grilling Days

My driveway is packed with the cars
of friends and family,
chips put out, and the little ones
are running joyously.

A cooler filled up with bag ice
keeps cold soda and beer,
I think half the folks I know
were able to get here.

I stand over a charcoal grill,
today it is my thing,
propane may work in a pinch,
but briquettes remain king

Coals seer some discount longhorn steaks,
bought from a friend of mine,
will turn the meat ninety degrees,
get perfect grill-mark lines.

My vegan niece sits not far off,
always looks thin and ill,
ready to tell everybody:
“It’s not okay to kill!”

As if the plants she likes to eat
didn’t go to their death,
some day she might see how it is,
but she ain’t got there yet.

The youngsters go high on the swings,
I hear metal chains squeak,
one even gets up far enough
to brush against some leaves.

Every few moments one flies off,
and lands half-stumbling,
turns back to his cousins and cries:
“That jump was amazing!”

The older kids are further back,
shagging some fly-balls down,
they mix it up with fast bouncers,
racing across the ground.

Inside men sit and watch the game,
share opinions on sports,
each convinced they know the deal,
which players to exhort.

Not a word of work goes around,
and to me that’s just fine,
Boss-man gets five days of the week,
but these two? They are mine.

Wives and sisters sit on the deck,
indulging in girl-talk,
it may be a stereotype,
but lordy, how they squawk.

Then again, maybe it’s just me,
the introverted type,
gossiping in a big circle,
not something I would like…

Take off the ones medium rare,
three more minutes—well done,
plate them up, then give a shout:
“The steak’s on, everyone!”
Categories: lordy, celebration, family, food, fun,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Political Nightmare

not entered in a contest

"There is no more dangerous menace to civilization 
than a government of incompetent, corrupt, or vile men."
                                                    ~ Ludwig von Mises


Presidential candidates are men of the same unfit kiN
Only one thing they are after ~ the votes of you and I
Left wing or the right; it's a catastrophe in the makinG
Its leadership offered, but it's just their word of moutH
They've made promises that neither of them has kepT
I make no distinction between a donkey or pachyderM
Curmudgeons are they, past prime. One with dementiA
And the other a felon with insufferable moral behavioR
Lordy, what dismal choices when America goes to votE
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lordy, political,
Form: Acrostic

A Bottle of Red

Slipping down inside a crystal chandelier 
red rouge cheeks running on through
breathe  as visions settle in my mind
you're just a little bit of nutty 
with an apricot perfume
quite exceptional  I do say
a kindred spirit bouquet

Teasing along the tip of my palate 
caramel gaze of grandeur glows
as you kiss my parched lips away
partaking a perfect compliment 
in every simple way
sparkles spill in anticipation
topping off a pleasant kind of day




lordy
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lordy, beauty, butterfly, imagery, love,
Form: Personification

Fiddling and Footling With the Super Duper Soupers

Well if it isn’t the Italian Princess herself! I just KNEW we’d finally meet. It must be our:
Karma,
Charma
(Whatcha say we…Ow! Look, you left a mark)

I swear to GOD I haven’t been drinking Deb! It’s YOU that’s making me all:
Woozy,
Guzzi
(Hold me up whouldja cher? Ohh yeah)

Wow, I’m trippin’ out Ortello! It’s like FAR OUT to rap with you man and those threads are like:
Groovin’
Ruben
(I’m an old hippie, what did you expect?)

Well look who’s here! Andrea, the sonnet queen herself! What you drinkin girl? How bout some:
Brandy,
Andie?
(Or maybe some ‘Southern Comfort?’ Ouch! You too?)

OH-MY-GOD, its Ms. Claudon-I-I-mean ONCLAUD (gulp) you’re getting me all:
Sweaty,
Nettie!
(Here, check my pulse)

C’mon Ms. Richards! Let’s take a walk and have a nice long talk about poetry…Why do you:
Tarry,
Carrie?
(I KNOW you’re busy but I’m SO lonely)

The Flower of the East! May I have this dance? Whew! Lordy me...Do I detect the sweet aroma of:
Jasmine,
Yasmin?
(This was SUPPOSED to be for your contest but I footled around and didn’t read the footling RULES)
Categories: lordy, poets,
Form: Footle


Premium Member Daft-- Couch Potato

Dear Lordy, what have you done
this loony spouse given me…
he rants and TV- clicks all night
much like a  freakish banshee!

Obsessed with horror movies
remote  control is life's drug:
This model needs rebooting,
It's time for urgent de-bug.



11/11/2017
Written for Kevin Shaw's Surreal and Daft
Categories: lordy, america, husband, silly,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Catch My Drift

Strange how it goes, they're waiting their turn
To flood my thoughts, these ideas to burn

Other times nothing, just rack my old brain
Get all pooped out, my attempts are in vain

Is there no place smack dab in the middle
Where rhymes reside and efforts are little

Why do we suffer a blankness at times
There must be a pill for starting these rhymes

Oh well, I'm really having the time of my life
Annoying struggles just add to the spice

We'd ALL be poets if these rhymes came easy
Wouldn't stand out with our words so breezy

Do you catch my drift, am I making any sense
Keep plugging away, don't be so damn tense

Rhymes will soon come, have ye no doubt
Flooding your brain, you'll stand up and shout

Lordy, I'm a poet just knew it all along
My heart doth sing a happiness thong!


© Jack Ellison 2013
Categories: lordy, humorous, poetry,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Fabulous Fun Footles-Fairytale

Adventures In Wonderland-Condensed Version

Alice
malice

Rabbit's
habit

"I'm late
can't wait"

tardy
lordy!

deep hole
took toll

she fell
oh well

found note
I quote,

"Drink me"
it's free

too big
took swig

she drank
then shrank

ate cake
mistake

Hatter
chatter

treed cat
too fat

March Hare
he's there

Red Queen
so mean

beguiled
poor child

from shakes
she wakes

it seemed
she dreamed

amends
tale ends


>>>>>>>>>
March 22nd, 2017
Jan Allison's Fabulous Fun Footles
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: lordy, adventure, fantasy,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Missing: Muse

What has happened to my muse?
          It's not an easy thing to lose
               Yet, it seems that I've misplaced it
     Or, perhaps, I just erased it

In some absent-minded funk
          (Lordy knows, I'm never drunk)
               Maybe it's just up my sleeve
     Waiting for a love's reprieve

Or stuffed deep inside a pocket
          Hoping hopes a dream will rock it
               Or perhaps behind the couch
     Intent to end my writing slouch

Lost in darkness 'neath my bed
          (A metaphor for "in my head")
               Drifting on a spring-tide mistral
     Or poised for ruin, in a pistol

Gossamer as an angel's wing
          Or ebbing life, as sirens sing
               Dancing on a moonlit sea
     Bound for harbors, heavenly

In the grasp of horrors, dim
          A last endeavor, chances, slim
               Perhaps it's waiting just inside
     The smile of a blushing bride

Or in the twisted roots of trees
          A thousand angry honey bees
               Framed like all the grandest art
     Or served on silver, a' la carte

The promise of a mustard seed
          Or in the depths of evil greed
               The fevered itch of aged scars
     Hot like dust, among the stars

See, that's the beauty of a muse
          It hides inside whate'er we choose
               Imagination sews its seam -
     Bound only by how deep we dream

So, it was hiding, from the start
          Within the chambers of my heart
               And if your muse is missing, too
     I'm sure that's where it waits ...

For YOU!






Written on May 10, 2020
Submitted on June 18, 2020
To the "Your Fave Poem 2020 Not Written For A Contest" Poetry Contest
John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories: lordy, humorous, introspection, poetry, writing,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member I'm Standing In This River

O’ I am standing in this river, in its waters clear and pure
I am washing away my troubles until they are no more

Accusations are beneath me, they’re not even worth my time
I can see right through you baby, I was never born blind

My vision is as clear as that water running beneath my feet
There will come a day my dreams will be more than complete

O’ I am standing in this river, in its waters clear and pure
I am washing away my troubles until they are no more

I ain’t looking backwards on the chains of folks that bind
No Lordy, unlike most I was built from a different kind

I’m hanging onto my own principles and I’m staying strong 
Time’s up, you can’t ever make me do no more wrong

O’ I am standing in this river, in its waters clear and pure
I am washing away my troubles until they are no more

I’m heading home now, to the place I was born and bred
My feet cleansed by the water so with purity I now tread

With clarity in my mind and my soul once more released
No stopping now until my destination has been reached 

O’ I am standing in this river, in its waters clear and pure
I am washing away my troubles until they are no more

O' yeah 

I’m heading home now, to the place I was born and bred
My feet cleansed by the water so with purity I now tread

With clarity in my mind and my soul once more released
No stopping now until my destination has been reached 

O’ I am standing in this river, in its waters clear and pure
I am washing away my troubles until they are no more . . .
Categories: lordy, character, faith, inspirational, integrity,
Form: Rhyme

The Color of Yellow

Me: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch you name
Him:Yellow, but my friends call me Yell

Me: Say again? I’m somewhat hearing impaired 
Him: Yellow!! But my friends call me Yell!!

Me: There’s certainly no need to YELL at me sir
Him: Son of a…I said Yellow!! But my friends ca...

Me: Ahh, I see, so you’re a yellow fellow then?
Him: Okay whatever, yeah, I’m a yellow fellow

Me: Well, there’s nothing at all to be afraid of sir
Him: You givin’ me a BAD case of the red-ass here!

Me: A red Ass? Might I suggest that you dye it y...
Him:You and me are fixin’ to visit the hospital bud!

Me: Well, I’m certainly no doctor but it could be jaundice
Him:You’re gonna NEED a doctor, you yellow bellied…

Me: Sir, I'm certain that my abdomen is flesh toned, see?
Him: Oh lordy me! Pull your FREEKIN’ shirt back d....
 
Me: By the way, do you remember that song Mellow Yel…
Him: (Slam-Bam-Ooof!!)---Pretty sure its Donovan, right?

Me: No hir, my name ih NOH Donovan, ih’s Him Ryerson
Him: Gonna make me do this AGAIN? (more slam-bam-ooof)

Me: Excuse me hir, it heems I’ve fallen and cannoh geh up
Him: Call Life Alert and tell them you need a dentist...


* Edited and extended version of a previous post
Dedicated to the VERY talented poet Monterey Sirak whose contest this poem placed in...Thanks Monterey!
Categories: lordy, color, humorous, violence,
Form: Light Verse

Elocution

ELocution 
ELocution 
 
Diction ENglish grammer proper nouns predicates verbs learn the way the language 
works then grow up to be a poet and throw it all away today to make new words to 
make poems bleed to make the rhymes the prose doth need. Shakespeare is an 
affluance. He rubbed off some on my purple prose. O God! how wonderful are Thy 
works! Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks of violets, and from the 
stagnant pool at Thy word springs forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and 
beauty! Sonnet #3,000,745,001 OH LORDy 
OH LORDy, howe wondrous is thy working beauty. Thou doth makest the rott sprout 
violets from olden logg on water bank nearest stagnant pool whilst at Thy WORD the 
lotus springeth forthwith to cover over all the smelling salts nearest hand to hold in 
cuppboard bare the bone for elbert Hubbard gone. Hark the light from yonder glaring 
glen forsook the frames the lenses now opaqued. Blind to world of beauty winter 
paints a white mistaken ache in me. Amid the bones of whited elephaunt skunks 
rome near me to harken when the crow calls daybeak come. Caw the raven quoth. 
God forbode a man, that an Englaisman should tell or act a lie, neithor the Son of 
GOD my Jesus, that He should feel repentance or compunction [for what his Father 
has promised].  Has He sayeth, and shall He not say on?  Or has He spoken and shall 
He not make it gooder. Oh LORDy. For the reasoneth He stays upon His bethroned 
placement is quite evident for iff GOD were to walk the Earth as a mere man in sight 
of all this assembled Heathorns even for just one day twold make us all so jealous of 
the miricles in the clay. For Jesus could open up his hand wiht a plott of dirty clay 
and make a violet blooming say. Oh Lordy.
Categories: lordy, allegory, education, inspirational, on
Form: Prose Poetry

Machiavelli

Machiavelli  s'been stewing 
teardrops in the Soup

Stooping to new lows 
for SYMPATHY 
stirring chickens in the coop

Seems some folks will do anything 
for what they think is fame
Swiss cheese stories for glory
Lordy! Whaddah' shame!

Reminds me of two classic movies...
"Freddie Lives" and the other is 
"The Crying Game"...
but this one's very unbelievable, it ain't scary,
and it's much
MUCH more lame!~
Categories: lordy, bereavement, betrayal, drink, giggle,
Form: Epitaph

Premium Member You Can Lead a Horse To Water

Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s 
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled 
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie 
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen 
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses 
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been 
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum. 

Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly 
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my 
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean 
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are 
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they 
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign 
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water? 
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the 
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.

We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped 
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet 
with the herd.  Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from 
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek 
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward 
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the 
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank 
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain 
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to 
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really 
TRUE! 

*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
Categories: lordy, familyold, water, farm, horse,
Form: Narrative
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