Best On The Lam Poems
Did you ever have the feeling there's a man in your can?
Or a ball down the hall with an eye to spy?
Sometimes I'm sure I have ants on a tour of my house without cure.
And sometimes I know there's a pup in my cup, yelling "Hey, what's up!"
And that white ram in the door jam well, he's on the lam.
That's the kind of paranoia I live with each day.
I admit I'm delusional in a big way!
Some visitors are quite friendly like the girl with a curl under my bed with Earle.
But Bower in the shower, well he sings for hours!
And the lady named Sadie why she is quite shady!
I like Randy. He always has candy.
But the man looking at me in the TV, him I wish I couldn't see.
All the brunettes in the cabinets, they love to dance about.
But that meanie named Bellini, him I could do without!
The cat in my hat I don't like at all.
And I get quite nervous when Saul runs down the hall.
The bears on the stairs taunt me without a sound.
And so do the others who like to hang around.
Like Bert, and Mert, and Kurt, and Gert who live inside my shirt.
I don't care if you don't believe it, find me my straitjacket. I'll never leave it!
*Based on the book, There's a Wocket in My Pocket
for Dr. Seuss Theme and Form contest (Joann Grisetti)
Seventh Place
My beginnings were ever so humble
To this day I wear others' rags
I'm bungled, fumbled and tumbled
My owner usually brags
Diamonds all shapes and sizes
Multicolored rainbows and rings
Always loved and needled
And thrown on kings and queens
You can buy me at a boutique
If I'm given I'm normally at my peak
In the summer I go on the lam
Please tell me what I am.
challenge from Linda (Poet Destroyer)
anyone can answer please,feel free
For: Scavenger Hunt
In Honor of: ~Constance~Rambling Poet
Rambling around in a traffic jam,
Poetess naked and on the lam.
Constance’s very neat trick,
Behind a thin chopstick,
In the buff, dreaming a bluff, dream scam!!
Though diligently she did try,
`T was a failure to dignify,
By her most classic stance,
For without any pants,
Did lose her chance she had to buy!!
Note: From Constance's Poem "Traffic Jam"
little piper, little piper
oh how fast you skip away
as the morning tide crawls in to taste the beach -
briny swishes bring your breakfast
while you prance to greet the day
and they never seem to wet you
like you're privy to the chosen course of each ...
little piper, little piper
such a ballet you perform
when you twirl and pirouette your dainty feet -
darting in-and-out the sea foam
just to keep them dry and warm
all with perfect form and motion
so as not to warn those little things you eat ...
little piper, little piper
you're the bane of every clam
watching closely for their bubbles in the sand -
oh, the hermit crabs are missing -
each-and-each now on the lam
and the hot sand gently hissing
as you try to sate your hungry chick's demand ...
little piper, little piper
all day long your work persists
as your tummy and your wee one both are fed -
so with food enough to sleep on
'midst the creeping twilight mists
and as purple shadows deepen
comes the time to sing your little one to bed ...
little piper, now you dance in dreams ... instead.
~ Honorable Mention ~ in the "Strand Special 2 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
A sheepdog who was really quite confused
not sure how to herd or just what to do
first day on the job
surrounded by a mob
of sheep who felt the same way too,
He'd run one way the sheep the other
till they swarmed upon him like a cover
they stood on his feet
he said ouch, oh bleat
feeling like he was going to smother,
Squashed like he was in a sardine can
he poked his head out wanting a new plan,
he barked I quit
give me kibbles and bits
this sheepdog's about to go on the lam!
1-6-18
Poem for picture #3
One day, a convict got away, and went out on the lam.
And on the sly, he did buy, his very own kitchen cam.
Wanting to glow, in a reality show, though not a ham.
This jailbird, much preferred, to star in the Joy of Spam.
For Rhyme Battle contest
The Possum of Possibilities was invited by Grandpa Troll to visit our brood,
The Possum heard Carol had a dry spell and a terrible writer’s block, so true.
With the troll’s adventures, penguin’s antics, and witches brew...
With Dragon’s mayhem in town, something had to be done, they knew.
Grandpa Troll brought Possum over, for Carol to peruse,
He looked her up, down, and sideways to everyone’s amuse,
Her mind’s wheels were not lined up right, he announced.
You have activity all about you, that's very pronounced.
It is all swirling around and not latching to the cogs.
Ideas and stories are coming in fast and plenty, but…
There are so many and they are acting like a stream of logs,
Her brain is overloaded and getting a little bit clogged.
Possum instructed Grandpa Troll on the best course of action,
But Dragon was nearby and overheard the conversation.
Our fiery friend was planning on how to clear the brain jam,
Then ski-daddle and go on the lam.
Like so many plans before, he knew Carol’s brain was crammed,
And his ideas always ended up like some explosive spam.
Grandpa Troll saw that look in Dragon’s eyes and knew there was a plot,
And said to Possum; “We'll need your help again, before we’re in a spot.”
Over to Dragon Possum went, then a once over, right, left, and top to bottom,
Grandpa Troll reached into a dusty drawer that hadn’t seen light since Suttom.
Out he pulled two pens, one larger than the other, filled with magic ink.
An incantation filled the air – “E pluribus divideous writeous inlink.”
(Basically saying; what stories were divided are now joined by two writers.)
Possum handed one to Carol and the larger one to Dragon.
“With the magic pens, you both will be able to see the stories about you.”
For Carol, he pointed out; now the cogs won't get dinked, as ideas get linked,
And Dragon, a source of the jams, once written down, became happy as a clam.
Both help each other, now, as Grandpa Troll had hoped with all the activities.
And with a little help from an old friend, called the Possum of Possibilities.
A writer’s block that was going on with his dear...
Is a tale that Hubby has now told, and made so clear.
And now another peaceful evening… was suddenly shot all to Heck...
Until Next time…. As Dragon and Carol are now racing all about!
Michael Eastman & Carol Written 7-21-2015
It was not a dark and stormy night
The night was not sultry nor moist
The sky's color didn't please the knight.
The Knight was a gentleman since his youth.
That that Knight had had a thing for mares
of the night was not whatsoever an untruth.
But today, he is OK, managing his wares.
The firmament was red and raining.
It rained blood. 1920! I was eight.
The Knight was fond of chess playing.
When he saw a white knight
was missing he rushed to the stable. The horse ate
the knight!
Luckily, his rival, the Czech
had brought with himself a board.
Thus, it's impossible to be bored!
Nevertheless, the Knight punished the horse
for eating the knight. What a night!
And, although the Knight's voice was hoarse
as a crow he made sure the cheeky horse
would behave. "Now back to the stable!"
At this point, the Knight, didn't feel stable.
Now, let's go back to the chess match!
They did make sure the pieces match.
And the Czech, ludicrously, bust out a match
for his cigar. Now, not a missing piece!
Great! They can start the game in peace!
11 minutes later, the Czech mate
won. So, he said: "Checkmate!"
$100 prize! A cheque signed the Knight.
"This is a bogus cheque, mate!"
cried the Czech. What a horsey night!
They both heard
the horse neigh.
A lamb in the herd
heard the Czech say: "Nay!
This is a counterfeit cheque!
You can't do this to a Czech!
I had you in check
only once before checkmating you!
You won't pay? Gimme the ripe ewe!"
"I can't! The ewe is on the lam!"
"Then if no ewe, you get me a lamb!
Should you refuse, I shall touch the piano!"
Dark Castle. Knight and Czech keep arguing.
Stark hassle. Night can't check this lightning.
The mussel sleeps
and counts
ewes, lambs, sheep
and Counts.
The Count's mussel
can't count muscles.
I may be all wet, but I sure ain't no bluenose!
And, while it's none of my beeswax,
Let's have a bull session-lesson !
Take a gander around, and tell the guy with the cheaters
I'll give him an ear-full, if he'll just hang around
There's a gatecrasher here..., I heard, on the level
He's zozzled on hooch, a big lollygagger!
He staggered in blotto, with a ciggy on his lips
Sipping on bootleg, and lookin' for whoopee!
He's the fall guy, (I've heard), for a weird, double cross
Here comes the hoofer, the one with the gams
That vamp is a pushover, a gun- moll, man chaser
A real hotsy-totsy!, she dresses real spiffy
Her toy is a shiv, she's the Jane, Real McCoy,
makes a sap out of guys, who carry a torch
Bumps them off, on their own front porch !
And that's the "Big Cheese", who runs the speakeasy
He thinks he's high hat, but is full of baloney
He gives all the dames, the real "heebie-jeebies"
Just a poor drug-store cowboy... filled with nothin' but hooey
Hard-boiled. they come, gold-diggers and hoods
I've been beating my gums, and I'm dying of thirst
This is the berries, been the real bees knees!
Oh, it has been swell, while chewing the fat!
But, facts are the facts, on the up and up
Well, bye, Buttercup,......the jig is up
I'm serious Sam, in a serious jam
The truth of the matter is, that I'm on the lam
You don't know for nothin', stay out of a pickle !...
Remember my friend, don't take wooden nickels !!
______________________________________________________
For Deb's Contest: Talk The Talk, Walk The Walk (1920's Slang)
6/14/15
I Am a Veteran
By Franklin Price
11/3/2015
I am a veteran growing old
Always went where I was told
Followed orders to the “T”
Volunteered that was just me
Basic training taught a lot
Learned to march to take a shot
Make a bunk exactly right
Pulled KP into the night
Torn down to be built up
Became a dog from just a pup
When I arrived was just a kid
Left an adult you know I did
Trained in skills I did not know
Earned sixty dollars not much dough
Tried to never sing the blues
Even spit shined boots and shoes
Some skipped the draft went on the lam
I enlisted and went to Viet Nam
The year I spent the one of Tet
Of that Asian war I am a vet
My country called I answered it
For four short years I did not quit
I learned so well to handle strife
Not much else hard for all my life
Do not regret a thing at all
If young again would heed the call
Would grow up quick as I did then
Yes, I would do it all again
That old bedroom fan makes too much noise
But he sweats after nights with the boys
I turn and pull the sheets up
Good Lord, on beans they did sup
Thank goodness the fan his farts deploys
Coming home late, he now hits the couch
Spicy foods growl in his waistline pouch
Old tabby hisses at him
Rover’s expression’s quite grim
If our pets die from foul wind, I’ll grouch
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,”
Said Rhett before he went on the lam
My spouse won’t be hearing these
The next time he cuts the cheese
I’ll clog him with a battering ram
*Written May 18, 2014
Did you happen to see old Sam?
He's my poor turtle on the lam
It happened he was told
That his body had been sold
To a restaurant in the city
Where the cook had little pity
On the stove he put the pot
And the veggies that he got
But he had no turtle meat
So decided he would cheat
Chicken tastes about the same
Or so the turtles always claim
So his turtle soup became a mock
Cause he made it with chicken stock
!
For the Turtle Soup Contest
heiress on the lam
great romantic comedy. . .
won top five Oscars
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
First published 2018 in Hollywood Haiku via wattpad.com
I'm on the "lam", I'm on the run
Stole MONEY from a "son of a gun"
I grew up poor, it was US AND THEM
I did my TIME, won't do it again.
If I get caught, I'd rather die,
I'll gladly join THE GREAT GIG IN THE SKY
Maybe I'll see THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON
and have no more worries, it could be soon.
I got caught during a solar ECLIPSE
I made a move, they shot me quick
into my skull, my eyes saw white
Then I could see ANY COLOR YOU LIKE.
I couldn't BREATHE, someone said, "SPEAK TO ME"
I heard sweet music, I felt light and free
While I lay dying, I could just manage
to say, "So long", even with BRAIN DAMAGE.
Written on 8/20/2015
(Taking headlines from October 1964,
the poem revisits our shared experience ...)
Monday 5: Fifty-Four East Germans Tunnel to Freedom
Back then, it was not in doubt,
(Richard Burton Tony Quinn):
the Wall was there to keep us out?
No – built, in fact, to keep them in.
Thursday 8: Beatles Release “She’s a Woman”
My love don’t give me presents.
East is east and west is west –
Ringo passed his driving test –
Blofeld looks like Donald Pleasence.
Monday 12: The Moog Synthesizer Makes Its Debut
It’s fantastic! It’s so new!
Music made in outer space!
Now we’ll win the missile race!
How we love you, Doctor … Who?
Wednesday 14: Martin Luther King Awarded Nobel Peace Prize
Hypatia, Gandhi, Jesus Christ
and Socrates … he was that good:
and just like them, he knew he would
so very soon be sacrificed.
Wednesday 14: Khrushchev Deposed
Now, here’s a man who really tried.
It’s thanks to him, that Cuba fright
didn’t end in Nuclear Night.
Reward? His thugs brush him aside.
Wednesday 21: My Fair Lady Film Premiere
Can a statue have a heart?
Can what’s vulgar morph to art?
Entertainment as idea?
Tin Pan Alley’s Galatea.
Monday 26: Eric Edgar Cooke Executed, Western Australia
Cleft palate, hare lip.
Bullied here, bullied there.
Mumbling moron, bloody crip.
Then they hang him. Life ain’t fair.
Thursday 29: Audacious Diamond Robbery in New York
Banner headlines in the papers.
Daring crimes, coolest capers.
They’re classy crooks, they’ll fence their loot
in Buenos Aires, or Beirut.
(In the real world, how'd it go?
Look at 31 below.)
Saturday 31: Lyndon Johnson Proclaims the Great Society
Nothing novel, or unique:
his vision was for Uncle Sam
to help the luckless, tend the weak.
One word destroyed him. Vietnam.
Saturday 31: New York Diamond Robbers Caught
Tiffany studs? More Studs L. Terkel.
One rock alone, a hundred grams,
Murph the Surf’s men on the lam:
they didn’t make Columbus Circle.
Saturday 31: Goose Kills Astronaut
Theo Freeman was his name,
test-pilot/astronaut his game.
Ejector seats are not much use
against a full-grown Galveston goose.