Best Palaver Poems
I've been shoved out in the back yard,
A bit ruff, don't you agree?
It's not that I've disgraced myself,
No,It's because SHE caught a flea!
Don't know what all the fuss is about,
I mean they don't bother me.
Any way I need the exercise,
It's a great way to have a good scratch.
Those crafty little blighters
They get right under my thatch.
I like to chase 'em out
To see how many I can catch.
I grabs 'em and bites 'em
And has my bit of fun.
When they see these gnashers,grrr,
You should see them try to hop and run.
Oh! there's one,oh! there's one,
Oh! there's another one.
He-llo!what's going on here then?
Aaarghh! that stuffs awful,smells really bad.
Oy, watch where you're spraying!
If you don't mind,I still want'a be a dad!
Sometimes these humans just don't care.
They drive me barking mad.
Howoooo, I'm fed up with all this palaver
I can't stand all this strife--.
Hang on-time to be 'mummies darling'.
Here comes his soppy wife.
The things you have to do to make them happy.
It really is a dog's life!
Palaver-fuss or bother
Categories:
palaver, funny, pets
Form:
Personification
A Poetry Souper, seeing bright stars,
Grabbed his PC and headed for Mars.
He’d make some dimes by writing rhymes,
Selling them to the New Mars Times.
Traveling through the ethereal blue,
With revved up rockets, his fervor grew.
Orbiting the moon to pick up speed,
He’d bust his buttons for this brave deed.
He saw fluffy clouds for God’s gentle feet,
And wondered if galaxies were places to meet.
He visualized skipping through outer space,
Dancing with angels, but couldn’t keep pace.
He thought of Mars, as candidly prime,
Poetry Soup’s outpost, so proudly sublime!
Thousands of Martians were quick to enroll,
Clamoring to setup new poetry goals.
Little red men, each sporting a grin,
Their three-fingered fisties bearing a pen.
Female Martians seemed to insist,
On whipping out sonnets with Shakespearian twists.
The red planet shining bright in the night,
Beckons to poets seeing its sight.
Schedule your flight, and do it right quick,
For poem palaver, it does a neat trick.
Categories:
palaver, allegory, future, space, planet,
Form:
Quatrain
God's glance and a fine memory
Poppy snores away sitting in his comfortable chair
And Granny takes a feather and tickles his nose
He wipes at his face and goes back to his fantastic snore
Poppy from Ireland and his shot and a beer
On payday Granny sends my Mother with Poppy as a reminder
"And don't take any side routes"
He gets his pay and starts to home
They walk to the chapel and just one
It's always just one
He tells my mother to wait outside and he hands her 25 cents
"Now don't forget when Mommy questions you, where did we go."
"We went to see Father Duke and Poppy I'm not dumb."
"I'm gonna have a palaver with this priest," as he goes into the bar
"Keep your mouth shut I need to ask the priest some advice."
He drinks a few quick shots and faster beer's
And my mother buys a taffy
She stands waiting and eating taffy and Poppy happily comes out of the bar
"Now don't forget that we got the pay and I took you to get a goodie."
"But Poppy what about the priest who gave you a shot and beer?"
"Don't be talking and eat your goodie."
For some reason it wouldn't take the whole poem,, That's why I had to continue to Granny2
Categories:
palaver, adventure, funny, mother, mother,
Form:
Narrative
**A WINNING POEM**
That night, my heart pleaded i should
Wait over and pass the night at grand pa's
Old inn.
Enormous was my concern to reach home
And see Constance La France.... the rambling poet.
About "create your own form, may be?"
I embraced the night and darkness mingled
With my eyes;
Yonder are night workers,
Here and there they wander,
Seaching for who to plunder,
Oh! what a mighty wonder.
Look at that supermarket,
And a man with a mask,
Gun and matchet,
He most be a burglar,
Oh! i must be undercover,
Or else i step into danger,
For the night is in dark anger.
"Ahh! ahhh!! ahhhh!!!" the cry of a victim,
Something must have wrought a cry,
Who will be the rescue?
For me, this night walk must linger.
Look at the police, having me as an
Accomplice, they need my identity and money,
Yet yonder is the victim crying....
Look over there! drug users
Assembling in dark corners,
Swaying like feathers,
In the midst of their daily rituals,
That is never beneficial,
Oh! blind earth leading to an open death.
Group upon groups, stationed in their post,
Looking so malicious, looking so vicious,
Brandishing weapons, ready for the slaughter,
Gun shoots clatter as a group fight starter.
Charles melody has seen wonder
And endless palaver.
Knives mingled with flesh, blood and bone,
Men eager and bold,
Heads bounce like ball,
Suddenly, calmness......
Gba! gba!! gba!!! another trigger's verdict?
Lord when will these pass over?
For i am likening to salt in water,
Never to calm and ponder,
The night walk seemed not to be over.
For the night is in dark anger....
BY CHARLES MELODY (Lightening Ink) **14TH PLACE IN
CONSTANCE LA FRANCE CONTEST,
WITH THE THEME; "DEEP, DARK AND DRAMATIC".
===============================
The form of this poem is called,"stream of consciousness."
i formed it so because the thought kept coming
like a stream or river of consciousness in my mind,
i was conscious of the dangers i knew, especially in my Little
African village and the war that covered it.
For "Constance La France, the Rambling poet's contest.
Categories:
palaver, adventure, confusion, death, faith,
Form:
Lyric
He remembered when they met.
He had said, "Sure, but I don't
dance very well." Then later, after
a drink and some casual palaver
she had shared, "I don't tan, my skin
is too pale, I glow in the dark."
Funny that people just meeting will
point out their perceived faults first.
We want other people to know "why"
they will be disappointed in us.
It was different with her. She
accepted him.He could talk to her.
He was ecstatic getting to know her,
disheartened when the roads
of their lives diverged. He still retains
a fond memory, clear and constant
as time's ever ticking clock.
Much warm light from candles burning
in the windows of her eyes.
Always pure, bright, glowing,
ever faithful.
Faithful
12-5-15
Free Verse
Categories:
palaver, friendship, love, memory,
Form:
Free verse
Eager
wacky
feisty
sabotaging
pachisi
sagenesses by,
cry DADA—
sanguinely,
cum
pacific
fables,
vain to hachured mean odiums'
mind.
Yawping,
let idiotisms
to habitual
palaver
Xyster!
{Method for a mathematical
poetry connection:
•Choose the word length of the
poem if wished.
•Generate that many random
numbers using range 1-26
(letters in alphabet)
•Choose words such that each
has the number of letters of
one random number.
•The letter beginning the word
should be the number of its
place in the alphabet.
•Cast out the 9s on large
numbers, e.g., 26 is 6+2=8.
Few Z-words of 26 letters.
•Make the poem in the order
the random numbers were
generated or scramble them as
pleases.
•Voila. }
Categories:
palaver, math
Form:
Imagism
To the North, South, East, and West...
Geniuses are lost in the jaunty jewels of rakish cads,
The hazard morsel palaver allot odium on idioms...
Rankle virulent mishmash wheeze addle chagrin jives,
Loosing a volley of expletives ordure waft charmed oafs,
Self-iniquity gull maven heresy when blighted wizardry jinxes,
Ticklish cynic infidel swindle dupe cozen duress...
Squall patois and whammy sham schemas wriggle hoaxes,
Charlatans and hoodlums melange to dunce vows,
A shyster unquiet quivers with jester gestures now...
Semi-sacrilege vitiate and endemic jargon raze imps,
This collides as a white energy as dolt hooligan knaves beget...
Colloquial bilge putrefy, the rascals soon flatter us,
Bollix of potpourri lingo wanes to tutelary tongues,
Harlequin coercion argot musical novellas in history,
Pray our shifting shrapnel of karma, varnish boor minds,
Erstwhile, live grenades made of better lives are unvanquished as they are
thrown by unsung heroes into the North, South, East, and West,...amen...
Categories:
palaver, adventure, anniversary, education, children,
Form:
Imagism
Standing before this refulgent pool of reflection
Rhythm obviates the need for a new direction;
Ocular atrocities; I view my deeds in serious light
Cursed mortal, deigning his will in frantic flight.
Quotidian lies have splendid colors in retrospect
See them pass my way; artifices of hell I suspect,
The mettle to steel myself from these horrid sights
My request inside, my importunate yet buried plight,
Turgid notes I play, to insist granting another day;
I for one can hear a Seraphic call when I pray,
But forgiveness that is not ordinary my only asking;
Allow me then to palaver you with the daily tasking.
Beg? No I shall never do such a wasteful thing;
For my disdain shall undo a most beautiful sting.
Standing before this fuliginous pool of speculation
I see him stand beside me, and ask for my invocation.
Categories:
palaver, faith, introspection, religion,
Form:
Rhyme
Lost Soul
We’ve gathered here to say goodbye
to yet another boring guy,
kept on yelling for attention
till it gave him hypertension.
Now in the box beneath the shroud
he’s got the eye of all the crowd,
best leading role he ever had,
but no applause and no one’s sad.
Old mourners sprinkle ancient pews,
ill fitting suits and pee-stained trews,
some glasses, dentures, aching backs
with makeup plastered in the cracks.
They kneel for prayers on creaking limbs
then silent lips mouth unknown hymns.
The dead man’s peers in church are few.
Who pays respects where none seem due?
His painted widow in her weeds
now wonders who will sate her needs
with hubby just about to burn
and end up ashes in an urn.
She never grudged the man his health,
content enough to share the wealth,
but pleased this sudden turn of fate
serves up his helping on a plate.
Poor vicar wonders what to say.
about this stiff that’s come his way.
He’s no great speeches in reserve
just... bless a saint and damn a perv.
He settles for the standard rite
then tells the crowd they’ll be all right,
“beyond the stars lie happy lands,
so love your neighbour all shake hands.”
Corpse’ brother sitting cap in hand,
chief mourner in this dismal band,
now ponders on the decent wait
before a widow has a date.
Just wants to get her into bed
but cash and sex means getting wed,
been dodging that since leaving school
concludes that life is Goddamn cruel.
Sister of the spurned cadaver
cannot stand all this palaver.
She didn't like the man in life,
all flashy cars and tarty wife.
Deep down she’s feeling rather chuffed
for all his din he quietly snuffed.
Same cap fits the other brother,
clone of father, not his mother.
This woman weeping by the door
floats back in time to years of yore,
dreams of a lovely friend at school,
so kind and gentle fun and cool,
who shared a secret both held tight
that seemed to change him overnight.
He truly was a super lad
until abused by evil dad.
Categories:
palaver, abuse, bereavement, family, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
(In December 1936, English poet John Cornford
was killed in combat near Lopera, during the
Spanish Civil War. It was the day after his
twenty-first birthday. Could this be the poem
he was formulating in his last hours?)
They switched from cubes to cylinders,
those knights of Calatrava,
when cannon chipped the corners off.
We’re still playing at that palaver.
I’m lying in a scratch-mark
(saying “trench” insults true trenches),
about to take Lopera,
mired in medieval stenches.
Sunlight’s livening turrets
on the ochre-amber castle,
and we’re about to murder
its “Fascist-lackey vassals”.
We glided through the olives
like viruses, infesting:
since no-one gave us shovels, we
scraped fox-holes with our mess tins.
Amusing, isn’t it, pondering
exactly what a fight is?
Do I help humanity by
contracting enteritis?
The whole thing seems to hover
between contrary poles:
by killing (or by dying)
do we achieve our goals?
I’d hoped to fire some shots, then go,
but war’s prolonged, extensive.
I can’t defend aggression, though
passivity’s offensive.
Lopera – is it Cordoba,
or is it part of Jaen?
We’re lads with rusty rifles,
but do we count as men?
And am I now a soldier,
or a Marxist doctrinaire?
Five turrets glow down on me,
three round, while two are square.
Categories:
palaver, history,
Form:
Rhyme
Whit dat tight till - say
yes, aye wool thank ewe
mooch at least for today
hoof fully (this Joe kerr)
can easily bide his time weigh
beef hoar rammy cows come home.
Meantime India interim
lemme clover - reaching
far out on dam moost precarious limb,
bot do nut inspect me tub bark prim
and proper, nor procrastinate for tim
marrow, cause spontaneous whim
will lose heft, no matter how inane
poetic palaver could by then
elude ding me noggin to explain
nebulous jibber jabber hokey folderol
even confusing to a Great Dane
a dog (of course)
man's/woman's beast friend,
not hounding visa vis discovering
you improperly verb (bait him)
bone a fied with noun (sense)
barking up wrong tree
dangling modifier as gerund
faux paws and inquisitive,
nonetheless countenance do lend
sincere cachet gnome hatter compared
to average superficial *****sapien
said former doggone creature just thru
facial expression can mend
"broken" heart and soul,
which rhyming tangent did send
yours truly off scent, asper initial trend
actually truth be told, no paw tickle har
matter, I sought to sink teeth into,
but let babbling stream of consciousness wend,
where petty full extemporaneous tooting
oh my didgeridoo, which initially scares
the dickens out gills of hooting
blowfish until they recognize
this bloke juiced pooting
air thru a long wooden tube, be yule
then their piousness piqued to pisces,
gather together as if attending school
always mindful to follow
the goldenfish rule
i.e. aldi tom not erring,
floundering, and getting
tricked, royally suckered, and
hooked becoming gruel
resulting within tummy higher
up the feeding chain,
survival of dragnets cruel.
fission expedition for
salmon to hope fillet
enjoys almost done hook,
line and sinker - hooray,
sans to steal mental energy,
and precious time may
king another reason to be
persnickety and every ray
zen to be guarded, when
wading in cyber seas tay
king precautions, once
I return from Uruguay.
Categories:
palaver, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse
There was a woman named Annabelle
They say she’s a bit of an animal
Men said what ‘s the palaver
She’s no different to any other
They didn’t know she was a cannibal
Categories:
palaver, funny
Form:
Limerick
Series of my controversies
Are signs of our differences,
Palaver in my spirit,
Making me feel like a culprit,
The ritual by my fingers,
Are what i call impending dangers,
It creates controversies
It supplied miseries.
Physically and mentally,
Spiritually and socially
It sends my soul to penury,
A strange and unusual penury.
Mine is the groaning soul,
Mine is the unwanted zeal,
An urge that makes me err,
An urge the morals fear.
Yours is like a bright candle light
For your heart is without plight,
And your fingers, innocent.
If my heart will gather momento
And control the members that carry out
The wishes of my urge.
Then i shall become like you
And my soul will groan no more.....
=============================
Another song for all addicts.
Categories:
palaver, satireheart, heart, me,
Form:
Free verse
Series of my controversies
Are signs of our differences,
Palaver in my spirit,
Making me feel like a culprit,
The ritual by my fingers,
Are what i call impending dangers,
It creates controversies
It supplied miseries.
Physically and mentally,
Spiritually and socially
It sends my soul to penury,
A strange and unusual penury.
Mine is the groaning soul,
Mine is the unwanted zeal,
An urge that makes me err,
An urge the morals fear.
Yours is like a bright candle light
For your heart is without plight,
And your fingers, innocent.
If my heart will gather momento
And control the members that carry out
The wishes of my urge.
Then i shall become like you
And my soul will groan no more.....
=============================
Another song for all addicts.
Categories:
palaver, satireheart, heart, me,
Form:
Free verse
I saw a girl,a fair beauty,
Whose sunny brightness
Impressed my eyes.
I thought i was confused,
No!i have to be composed.
"Hello,eyes desire?"my
Words were in slow motion.
"Hello,strange comer,"her
Words were even slower...
She must be without palaver.
My notion got unleashed,
Truly and carefully,
Convincing her like never before.
A melodious subtle laughter followed,
Like something from my guitar,
Making her display her verdicts.
She is the karachi girl,
Hometown in pakistan,grand daughter
Of a goldmine,in love with me,
A penny boy for nature
And affection's sake.
Categories:
palaver, peace
Form: