Best Old Bag Poems
At the risk of being called “rabble-rouser,”
I think poor old Barky Von Schnauzer,
should practice his aim,
his master to maim,
in the back end of his very best trousers!
My hero I would call dear old Barky,
if he could just muster the stealth of a sharky,
and covertly steer,
right straight for the rear,
of that great big old bag of malarkey!
I think I should send Barky a big four leaf clover,
so his bad luck would finally be over,
he could retire his fame,
move away, change his name,
to Bowser maybe Lassie or Rover!
Obviously I have been driven completely insane by that stupid t.v. commercial!
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Said contrary and crabby Miss Muffet
“Hey eight-legs! Kiss my bare Tuffet!”
From above and beyond, Charlotte dropped a fine line
And bit the old bag where the sun doesn’t shine…
For Andrea’s clerihew contest
I lay my dearest Susan down to rest
Of tall tales and humour she was the best
An excuse each night
Wouldn't hold me tight
There's something I need to get off my chest
See, Susan was a talented old hag
Three men at once she quite often would shag
The gents often told
Of her lips of gold
and the tricks hidden deep inside her bag
I put up with her, turned the other cheek
She was built of strength, I a man so weak
Shame filtered these eyes
She laughed at my cries
Til they found her in the bag by the creek
*no bags were hurt in the making of this poem*
'Twas a sunny Sunday in June
Father's Day was in its throws
We were just young children
No money, but good at putting on shows
I was the youngest of four
My opinion meant it was a no no
Especially when I suggested flour
To make the carpet look like snow
We were doing a pantomime
Dressed up in all sorts of things
I looked like an old bag lady
Not sure what I wore for wings
Well it went along nicely that was until when
Someone trod on the cats tail
You should have heard him yell
As he ran up and down the curtain rail
Pulling down our carefully chosen decorations
The splinter of glass made us all cringe
There was the vinegar from the pickled onions
All over the carpet with red cabbage in the fringe
The smell was horrendous, can't be denied
the lounge looked like a hurricane had been unlocked
My Tad loved his Father's Day surprise
Mam didn't say much she is still shell shocked
Penned June 1st 2014
Bag Whores to my left. Bag Whores to my right.
Bag Whores beating at my door, morning, noon and night. They know you got IT,
and they’re looking for another free high.
They all have the same old ‘Bag Whore’ Standard-Stock lie.
Talking about how they plan to cop TOMORROW,
But: Right now, they really need you to help them get by...
And: ‘TOMORROW’ they will be sure to remember to
call you before they ‘Drop On By’
Don’t even let a Bag Whore in the door,
or you’ll be dealt in a very big way. Once they get in they just
don’t go away. Once they’re in they’re not going away.
This is the standard M.O. of a Bag Whore on any day.
They’ll be grinding their teeth, and chompping at the bit.
They’ll just can’t wait for you to give them a huge,
bellowing, ‘Hoover Vacuum Type’ hit.
The Bag Whore will hound you, pestering you until you
break out your smoke. Then they fry your bowl
and scorch your pipe beyond any hope.
They always want more, even when you tell them it is gone.
Next thing ya know, they’re melting down your stems,
Your glass is etched and that is just too many shades of
BAG WHORE DONE GONE AND WENT WRONG!
You can always tell when a Bag Whore has a stash of their own,
Because they are suddenly nowhere to be found.
But once theirs is gone, they’ll be back, lurking about,
just lingering around and blatantly hanging out.
So the next time the neighborhood Bag Whore knocks
on your door, just tell them that you have
No More, No More, No More!
And for God Sake, what ever you do: Don’t open the door.
Loreen Parke
May 8th 2004
The Weight of Education
School bag
Backs sag
Heavy heart
Suitcase
Warped face
Outdated
Old bag
Rats nag
The Friendly Postman
Mailbag
Tails wag
Aviation Crisis
Handbag
Wrong tag
Trends
Rag bag
So swag
Time Travel
Pack bag
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/
Jet lag
I’m a brown paper bag and I’ve not been too well
So I went to the doctors to ask him to tell
What was this sickness and what I had got
Could it be cured, was it deadly or not
So he took out his needle, I lifted my vest
He drew off some blood for some sort of test
The results came back quickly, the doctor looked glum
He said it was fatal and passed by my mum
I told him my mum was as fit as a flea
So how could she pass this disease on to me
He said it’s conclusive, no error, no way
She’s a carrier, your mum, I’m sorry to say
When I was a young'un on old Mother Earth
Believe me, this tale was surely an absolute first
She send me an old bag
Whose boobies did sag
Methinks this dude should've been totally reimbursed
© Jack Ellison 2015
Grrrr WOMEN they drive me mad!
We were due to go on holiday
My wife said she was on her way
I’d got the car engine running
I waited
and waited
and waited
But my wife Marcie was on the phone to her mom
Marcie had INSISTED her mother lived in our granny flat
Why couldn’t she pop next door to say goodbye…
Going on holiday is the only way I can escape from the old bag
Still at least she’s looking after Mitzi our Chihuahua
We arrive at the airport just in time ….
Marcie walks ahead in a cloud of Chanel No 5 perfume
To me it smells like cat’s pee
but if it was good enough for Marilyn Monroe she HAS to wear it
Unfortunately I had chosen the only trolley with the wonky wheel
That darn trolley has a mind of it’s own … it must be a female!
The electric doors open and close like see through curtains
I struggle with a mountain of three suitcases, but only one is mine
And half of MY case is taken up with five pairs of Marcie’s shoes
Tell me guys
Why does a woman have to pack the kitchen sink ‘just in case’
One small suitcase is FULL of her make up
Gee I hope she remembered to pack the trowel with which to apply it!
At the check in desk we discover one of the cases is overweight
Yes … you guessed it – its mine with all her bloody shoes in it
I have to stump up thirty-five dollars in excess baggage fees!
What a great way to start a relaxing break...
When we board the plane things are no better
Marcie moans about the cramped seats
She has to ask for a seat-belt extension
telling the stewardess the seats are smaller than those the last time we flew
Maybe if she lost a few pounds that would make a difference …
But of course I hold my tongue
Marcie moans about the noise as we take off
She moans about the aircraft food but still eats every mouthful
She complains how tiny the toilet stalls are
her huge butt doesn’t help but I hold my tongue
As we are landing she says how much she misses her mom and the dog
THAT WAS THE FINAL STRAW
Next year Marcie and her mum can go away
I’m staying at home with the dog!
06-12-17
FORESKINFEDORA FOR POETS WHO IDENTIFY AS MEN
Sponsored By John Lawless
Lying on this bed at the walls I stare..
With no one to bother and no one to care...
neither can I see ,hear or walk...
Nor do I have someone to talk..
Disabled me, an old bag of bones,
Alone I live ...just left to mourn,
Abandoned by children, family and friends..
All I want now ..to reach my end!!!
Old age..into me it sinks..
Sadness and loneliness ..me it kills..
Brings along all troubles and illness,
Snatches away my joy and wellness..
I too was young some day oh dear!!
Wanted by all..far and near..
Today I am old and near my end..
So by all.. to be abandoned?
All I ask is for some love ,my dear..
Nothing else I want, why do you fear?
To all youth today I say...
Youth is a phase which soon passes away..
Old age for all..Is here to stay..
MY ENCOUNTER WITH AN ANT.....
I am a real little old lady,
I walked along a street so shady,
Had an encounter with a tiny ant,
To him I appeared such a giant,
He trod among the leaves so pliant,
He waved his legs at me, so defiant,
"Well met, young ant, and how are you?
What's your name, I'll introduce you?
My name is Freddy Unger, what's it to you?
My initials say it all, sod off, old bag, F U!"
So that was my encounter with a tiny ant,
Why on earth was he so defiant?
I was only a little old lady,
Rambling along the streets so shady.....
I’m asleep, therefore nothing exists.
Just my mind and a hangover from last night being pissed
Existence is only evident from the point I open my eyes
And the pain I feel from the knife in the back and the remembrance of my lies.
Nevertheless, from the point I am aware on my surroundings
Time starts and existence is hand in hand and evident from my wife’s snore soundings
The room is hear from what my mind allows me to apprehend
But existence so far is limited to the room and does not transcend
I walk to the door and pause for a while
A thought crosses my mind and makes me smile
May be existence is what I want it to be
So I thought of a mansion full of beautiful women this is what I wanted to see
Open the bedroom door and, DAM! same old house and what is more
I can still hear the old bag snoring behind the door
Uh! My mind is familiar with this picture and I cannot change
Or it would cause a rift in the time continuum so existence we cannot rearrange
I get ready for work and off I drive
After a stiff coffee I feel alive
Yes! Yes! Now non existence comes in to play
House and the wife don’t exist but a familiar travel path to work in a new day.
So I get to work and everything I left behind does not exist
But something makes me clench my fist
The nonexistent wife is calling me on the phone
This is the rift in time reminding me that there is a wife and a home
long ago a lazy man lived in a village’s hut
he became poor because earning was shut
he was sleeping on his bed at one night
an old bag over his head hanging tight
dreaming that bag as a magic beans bag
with that he would win over all the bad days’ crag
with costly glittering diamonds that was full
to become a rich man he got a nice tool
at that time a rat cut down the bag’s rope
as the bag fell down he woke up and gone all hope
For Contest: Sponsored by PD
Written by: bldevnath
Date: on 7th January 2015
The rain fell and the frost came.
Pavements became sheets of glass
waiting for unsteady limbs,
ready for their fall.
The back door opened,
shuffling feet made
there way down a glistening path,
an old key to this problem
held tight in the palm of a hand.
When...
Slip Bang Jolt!
Stars appeared
before dark.
Pain made his
presence
known.
Jack Frost
laughed loudly.
The old bag of salt
sat in the musky shed
looking almost tierd and worn.
It was time again for it
to see the light of day,
to once more do battle,
scratch and scrape that glass
beyond repair and dissolve
any hope of another ambush.
Jack Frost was
about to be
assaulted.
The element of surprise
was perhaps lost,
but the element of
Sodium Chloride
was about to
wage war and win.
I detest writing on this poxy little phone
Hunched over a 2by3inch screen
Punching away at the imaginary
Glass keyboard
Boss eyed
Cross as hell... every time I lose connection
Hence half hour
Wasted ... oh well
Crucifying my wretched eyesight
And arthritic finger aching
Pleading
That I should go out and play
Unaware that this old bag is way to old
To enjoy herself
And throw caution
Right out of her cracked conservatory window
And slam dunked mind
Oh isn't life grand
Winding up ole misery guts
And driving her round the bend
Up the Swanee
Heading over the cartoon hills to
Bedlam by the sea
Tapping away on her poxy little
HTC
The scream