Best Lotsa Poems
1. Big Brother
Big Brother's protecting his mice
with a secret eavesdropping device.
If you hang up the phone
he'll just send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.
2. Neutrality
The internet's meant to be free,
yes for all, such as you, such as me.
But now there's some doubt -
will it lose all its clout
with the death of neutrality's spree?
3. Privacy
'twas surely our forefather's dread
all our emails would someday be read.
Now that push comes to shove
by the powers above,
private thoughts must now stay in our head.
4. Guantanamo
Guantanamo bay's a resort
where the fishing's a fabulous sport -
with your back on a board
tepid water is poured
spawning tales for a kangaroo court.
5. Banks
To bountiful bailouts give thanks
for there's nothing much richer than banks -
making money galore
taking homes from the poor
while they're managing mortgaging pranks.
6. Health
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
Whether injured or ill
all they'll give you's a pill -
if you're lucky you'll surely die quick.
7. Economy
Our economy's doing just fine
lying dead with a slug in the spine.
So come follow the call
where there's money for all
and pure profit's the bottom-most line.
8. Safety
Vigilantes and cops are wide spread -
as for justice… not even a shred.
The avengers of right
score when stalking the night
so beware of a cap in the head.
Bienvenue en Louisianne, ma bonne cher!
You're here for the Strawberry Festival Fair?
Well c'mon! Drop your stuff and pull up a chair
Bring all your buddies and see if we care
It's party time in Ponchy, Lou-isianne
Three hundred thousand packed in one tiny town
Come in shorts, a bikini or just a nightgown
We ain't gonna' care, no we ain't gonna' frown
So don't you dress up now, ya'll come right on down!
It's party time in Ponchy, Lou-isianne
Food everywhere that you sure won't refuse
(If you got the money, there's plenty of booze)
Lotsa' good music that will knock off your shoes
Cajun and country, rock & roll and da' blues
It's party time in Ponchy, Lou-isianne
So come on now, Sha! What the heck you wait for?
Don't make me DRAG you out on to that floor!
We'll dance away the night we'll party til four
Jump up the next morning and dive in for more
It's party time in Ponchy, Lou-isianne
Ponchatoula, LA USA
A tad over three blocks down Merion Lane
on the left is, an idyllic Cape Cod.
I must've passed it a thousand times
my own picturesque, perfect, postcard place
couched in the right light, dappling rays
fresh-painted, white fence, ruby red front door.
Never once did I not try looking in,
a golden kickplate, bright brass knocker ring.
Begging to be seen, this family within
lotsa plain pane windows, no blinds, no sheers.
There it still stands proudly these many years.
In deep snows that had filled front walkways
in warming, romantic, radiated, lustrous light
hearth hues burst through the panes beyond the glass.
One spring, I saw a fine fetching lass run
across this closely manicured front lawn with her
bouncing blonde, long locks, glowing gleefully.
I mused as I passed by half-staring;
we'd marry maybe, wishful pairing!
And have a dreamy storybook Cape Cod too.
That fall, our family moved far away.
But was I not to see her, who's to say?
Still, I remember that house, that dream
I might've married her, my crazy scheme.
Last night it snowed. Drove that road again.
Five years later, that same house was still there.
On the outside, the front door now lime green.
Inside, a fire burns brilliant like before.
I saw this striking blonde while I gawked.
Startled, the green door opens, she walked
across the snowy street, without her coat.
Poised, she stood there and said straight to me,
"Aren't you the boy who used to stare?",
through my window I gush, "Why yes, I am."
She said she'd wondered about me,
even though they'd never known my name.
Star-crossed, my illusion had dreamt back!
Those private affections landed somehow:
illusions can come true, they often do.
Left my car, took her hand, then went inside;
over a cozy cocoa we chatted.
No longer a star from afar - so near.
New worlds would now open for us right here.
Lost love came home to the house down the road.
Written 2/19/21
a bee
invaded our car in
nineteen fifty four
while we were driving
to the jersey shore
flew in my open back window
of our two tone ford custom
pea green top black bottom
hurtling down the highway
four kids two adults
doing sixty
our kid arms outside the windows
flailing and pushing the wind
no cares
must have looked from above
like some giant green beetle
lotsa wiggly white legs
once the bee was inside
it was havoc
screaming and screeching
kids curled up in fear
in the rear
mom and dad barking out orders
we knew it had a stinger
it wanted to get us
stab us
never really saw its sticky spear
scary when needles are near
it buzzed all about
for a minute or two
up to the windshield
back near my ear
mom tried to thwack it
with her home journal
but missed
it disappeared
we all wanted to kill it
that is what you do with bees
waited and waited
no bee
then in a fury it came out
from under the front seat
hiding in a sea of springs
plotting for its moment
its chance to escape
we must have gone twenty miles
with it in our car
so out it came
buzzed a bit
then flew out my window
gone
we all took a sigh of relief
the villain excommunicated
after the yapping stopped
silence for a few miles
then i got a slow sadness
how will it find its home
it was very very far away
i thought if i was the bee
maybe i would feel lost
i remember when mom
found me in wanamakers
in toys
mom leaned over the front seat
and said
his home is everywhere
huh
that was enough for me
even though i had no clue
what it all meant what to do
my first lesson in empathy
taught by a teeny thing so wee
a bee
free verse 74 lines 326 words
Pen illustration G. Gaul
Welcome, Ms. Valmer!! Glad you are aboard- now you can comment on any
poem, right after reading it....and try your hand at your own, should you choose.
Lotsa great people here. PS- could not open greeting sent- comp. needs
something installed - some file, I'll have to find out how to do it. So glad you
joined! Luv, tom
The chicken soup and matzoh balls
Are ready for the pot.
The hard-boiled eggs are in the fridge.
(We never eat them hot.)
The items for the Seder plate
All wait for their debut,
With my homemade charoses.
(Google if you have no clue.)
The chicken cutlets, farfel-topped
And stuffing made from same
Will share the table with some veggies,
Sautéed to acclaim.
Of course, there’ll be gefilte fish
With horseradish (so hot!)
And grape juice or sweet Kosher wine,
Which really hits the spot.
With home-baked brownies and
Some cookies vying for dessert
Along with lotsa matzoh,
There’s an “Oy, I’m stuffed!” alert.
But all the food is not, to me,
The most important part -
It’s sharing these traditions with
Those closest to my heart.
Once read that a kangaroo can't jump
Unless its tail is touching the ground
I've tried it and I couldn't jump either
I too was literally earthbound
Heaviest land mammal is the elephant
Weighing close to 8,000 pounds
Me mum-in-law comes in a close second
Those booms are her walking around
A quarter has 119 grooves on its edge
A dime has only 118 grooves
Bet you'll be able to sleep well tonight
This information tends to soothe
A whale's heart beats only 9 times a minute
Faster when they're having sex
Imagine the picture you guys are seeing
Afterward, smoking a cigarette
It's a little-known fact that baby robins
Eat 14 feet of worms a day
The heartburn these guys must be having
Need lotsa Pepto Bismol I'd say
If you decide to walk all the way to the sun
It would take you bout 2000 years
If someone started back in 18 A.D.
They're just about to burn up, I fear
In Turkey, back in the 16th century
Drinking coffee could get you hanged
Imagine if they killed you for that today
Populations would drop with a bang
Every 8 seconds, a new baby is born
Every 14 seconds there's a death
Suggest we all stop having sex every night
Coz there won't be any space left!
Whatcha gonna do if’n Famous Jameis goes pro?
‘tain’t nottin ya can do ‘bout it, Coach Jimbo
Dontcha know, da freshman Heisman winner’s caught da eye
Even da Giants’ Eli ain’t a-rankin’ too high
Butcha ya got ta give it ta dem dadgum referees
Dey even find ways ta yeller-flag Drew Breeze
‘tain’t sayin’ Jameis is apt ta go jest yet
But if’n he gets lotsa bucks, he may jest be a Jet
Shure, New York might be colder’n a witch’s tit
But yer brass bra in January, Jameis can fit
Tajh Boyd ‘n’ Michael Vic should be grindin’ der teeth
Dey ain’t fallen outta da ugly tree yet (look beneath)
Now Aaron Rodgers is so granny-slappin’ good
Dis’n deserves ta stay; it’s jest understood
Jameis is hotter’n' a goat’s butt in a pepper patch
Jimbo, ya best find a way dem pro offers ta match!
*Written August 25, 2014 for Verlena's Ebonics contest. Jameis Winston is
the quarterback for the Florida State Seminoles and he won the Heisman as a
red-shirt Freshman. FSU's coach is Jimbo Fisher.
MINI VACATION
sweetness of four days
off in a row
to pitter, to dream, to combat
the clutter and dust, even the walls
how have i missed that? to dream
on paper with dot to dots, morse
code – oh, help-me-not! so relaxed
like a mini vacation 24/7 – no rush
the slow grind of coffee beans –
taking moment to filter the smell through
my nose, the ah and ah, having time
on my side. the interlude of grands
their giggle girl laughs, rolling eyes,
oh – their sweet hugs, i can’t buy
and the birthday of a g-son too far
away – hope he had fun, a good one!
a lone pink cloud comes into sight
brimming at the window’s corner,
more of pink and lavender, like
eyelid shades. it’ going to be a pretty day,
my last day before work calls my name.
the wall of books surround me, poetry
of course – Langston Hughes, Carl Sandburg;
Unsinkable and even Little House On The Prairie
and first season of Downton Abbey – lotsa
chattering in that one (missing Poldark)
and just a scintilla of news, only a tiny bit
ah, yes, a vacation of sorts. and the best part –
visiting my folks, a day trip – asking my dad
questions that prompt his eyes to light up.
and to inundate me with so many details –
of water holes near the tracks, of Bethel Island,
of not eating ever, as he recalls in his childhood
memory sleepy state. a movie with mom.
perhaps an Oscar for LaLa Land. two great
big hugs as i leave. i needed this week!
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Discovered a new computer term, “Hover To Play!”
Applied to the bedroom, hmm, interesting I'd say
Let your mind take flight
Tell me, “how was your night?”
Bet you learned lotsa new stuff as you dive bombed per se
© Jack Ellison 2015
Oh, I'm a Limmerjack and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I write all day
I write silly stuff, I fry my brain
I go to the lava-tree
On weekday's I get hammered
And write about thirty-three
I write pretty poems
I eat lotsa stuff
I goes to the lava-tree
On weekday's I get hammered
And write about thirty-three
CHORUS
I write silly stuff, I fry my brain
I like to pick wild flowers
I dress up in women's clothing
And hang around in showers
Oh, I'm a Limmerjack and I'm okay
I sleep all night and I write all day
(My apologies to Monty Python
but Carol made me do it)
© Jack Ellison 2015
Hello my name is Pizza
It's me you wants tuh eatsa
You want with lotsa meatsa?
The fave of the Tsaritza!
Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
Well he's certainly no wussy
When groping a pussy
What more to expect from a gump?
In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
"Global warming's a myth"
But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence
We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin
A trained atomiser
No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin
The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
Hating free education
Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.
The Congress approved Jeff B. Sessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
He seemingly cares
More for foreign affairs
While forgiving Klan's toxic transgressions.
Chief strategist Stephen K. Bannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
The Goldman Sachs Bankster
Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon
Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
(His work as denier
Keeps profits much higher)
"... If everything dies, well, just screw it"
The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
With boundless expense
For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis
The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought snobby -
Now set in the saddle
They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby
Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
The Mafia boss
Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes
Poem’s Notes:
(Bride didn’t clear grade three exams.
Tests shant deter life’s plans!
Groom talks silly taboo.
Never cared, likes wife’s screw!)
Groom wears loose jeans.
Shaft fills tight seams.
Bride looks under table.
Likes sight; tells fable:
“Once there lived Bunny.
Shhhh…quiet Honey.”
Bride began story again…
“Bunny wants hare’s skins.
Loves butts tight; small.
Bunny noses sniff flaws.”
Groom stops…quick…think!
Gulps. Yikes! Heart sinks.
(Bride butt’s quite jumbo.)
(Pours soups, lotsa gumbo)
“Hurry, Lover. Sorta tired.
Early morns, debts mired.”
Bride yawns, takes pause.
Shirk small Groom flaws.
“Never worry, Bride cares.”
Ended story, twirl hairs.
Written: 02/21/18
Contest: Little Laughter Five
Host: Edward McCall
I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
No, I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
Mostly I just stayed at home, didn’t have no urge to roam.
I didn’t grow up wearin' no wandering shoes.
I didn’t wanna leave my neighborhood.
No, I didn’t wanna leave my neighborhood.
But my friends married, moved away; no gal asked for me to stay.
I felt it time to leave my neighborhood.
(Chorus)
I didn’t loaf around in loafers,
But I snuck around in sneakers.
I marched around in Corc’rans lotsa klicks.
Spit-shined a dozen oxfords.
Once knew some secret passwords.
Now I’m slowly limping towards the River Styx.
I didn’t wanna travel round the world.
No, I didn’t wanna travel round the world.
Each three years I signed the lines, lived in Europe sev’ral times.
I kinda liked a trav'lin' round the world.
(repeat chorus)
I found I rather liked those wandering shoes.
I found I rather liked those wandering shoes.
Met a gal in Paris, France; we hooked up and took a chance.
Eventually I tossed those wandering shoes.
(repeat chorus to fade)