Best Parodyme Poems
Wipe that silly grin from your face, boy
I am a woman, but certainly not a wimp
Watch me roll with the punches, tough guy
It'll take more than your words my style to crimp
Hey, babe, your style really sucks
Call that art, I have seen kids write better
Have some heart, instill it in your writes
Feel the moment, feel those letters
My feelings are there, you just may not relate
If you can't grasp my intent, too bad for you
I write from my heart, not from a man's head
I know what I'm saying, you just haven't a clue
Oh, i see you have posted another piece
Let me read and determine my thoughts
Excellent shape and so true to form
This definitely has plusses, you must be man taught
Hold on, joker, no man has influenced me
Dickinson and Teasdale are among the finest
Your thoughts on my work I'll disregard
Your views on poetry reveal your blindness
The last write you wrote, has invited my see
It has clearly shown, your writing to be
Scope, shape and the form you have written
I have scrolled to your past, and I am sorrowful smitten
No more condescending from ye on the throne?
What was it that made you feel superior?
And, furthermore, what gave you the right
To make any poet feel inferior?
Everyone is so uptight.
I just came to drink and they all wanna fight.
Some sixfoot seven pissed off dude.
Just blacked my eye.
Cause his girlfriend just happened to be in the mood.
Got thrown in jail after I eat some special brownies
and decided to go to the library naked to read othello.
Cops tazed me twice.
Why does everyone have to harsh my mellow.
They wont let me return to the local bar.
Just cause last week I crashed into it with my car.
Everybody thinks I should hang it up but Im no quitter.
Just cause I misplaced a couple of kids.
In my last foray as beng a babysitter.
I swear to tell the truth eventhough Im a liar.
How was I to know the gas grill in the living room
would catch the house on fire.
Im a crook a drunk and a liar but other than that im a
nice fellow.
Just cause i enjoy a few cocktails while driving the school bus.
Why does everyone think they gotta
harsh my mellow
Form:
Call me silly
But I enjoy being on a beach with a good book
Minus the worry about chargers or glares on my screen
It's just me and my handsome hero, his beautiful love
In that far away land, in the middle of that intricate mess.
And what is the point of a family meal when all you hear now
Are beeps of Berries or tunes of GaGas
Call me silly
But I prefer the pleasures of a snail mail letter
In comparison with emails, pings and tweets
Instead of worrying about internet connection and hackers,
I do not need to worry about the internet service provider
Who can one day take away my precious memories
Just because his terms and conditions says he can
Yes, call me silly
But these are my memories of love and failure
Peace and turbulence, that will be my gift to my children
The silly letters that my best friend wrote to say
That he loved me for better or for worse and I believed
Without worrying that he may have another wife
That I will one day find through online Spaces or Books
Call me silly
But even as I am fascinated with the wonders
That the world of social media can give me
I worry more often about how I am misunderstood
In a world of instant travel and friendship
Where rules do not exist
And when they do, are rarely followed
Call me silly
But in a world where everything seems so easy
One click, everyone says
We spend so much time on the whole world
Instead of on those who really need us
In a world where rumours are a trend
And truth is an afterthought
Call me silly
But why do people trust what this online world says
When all it takes is this,
I have a secret you see, says this person
Let's listen, say another hundred or more
Who cares if its true? Who cares if it hurts?
Simply nobody you see
Yes, call me silly, if you will
But I think this is exactly, what it means
When our parents told us
Too much of a good thing
Can actually be a bad thing.
Marlowe’s ‘The Passionate Shepherd to his Love’
‘ Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove,’
see about this poem...
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The Maiden’s Answer
I’ll come with thee and pledge my life
if ye will take me for thy wife
for I, a maid, must have me wed
ere any man come to my bed
My gown will be of watered silk
rich pearly white like new drawn milk
Soft satin slippers for my shoon
with tiny buttons all aroun’
A silver belt will gird my waist
bedecked with rosebuds, white and chaste
and o’er my head, a cap of lace
with bridal veil to shield my face
And ye must build a fragrant bower
amid the thyme and gillyflower
Lay springy heather for my bed
and soft green rushes at my head.
Then I will come to thee and lie
beneath the shield of parchment sky
Upon the day ye marry me
I’ll be thy love and live with thee
Shoon--shoes
~Rules were meant to be broken~
*At least that’s what I think*
~All words were meant to be spoken~
*Just as Jack Daniels was meant to drink*
~I don’t like structure, I like to be free~
*I generally do the opposite of what I am told*
~You‘ll never meet anyone quite like me~
*After me I guarantee they broke the mold*
~I never was one to follow the rules~
*I did things on my terms most of the time*
~It got me in lots of trouble at school~
*But without it I wouldn’t be writing this rhyme*
~See I do as I’m told if it suits my mind~
*And I follows the rules to a tee*
~But if I am pushed, I’ll be disinclined~
*I have a contrary streak!*
(By: Tirzah Conway)
-Dedicated to A Rambling Poet-
What I used to do all night,
Takes me now all night to do;
For what I knew was right,
Is now too late to do.
But doing what I used to,
May look as tho I might;
But I find that what I now do,
Is only sleep at night.
The mailman came and told me his
tale of woe in the first two lines so
I finished it.
"Camptown Races sing this song, Do Dah! Do Dah!"
( sung incessantly by a certain, unique rooster.)
Henry Hawke: ( Sung to Holly Jolly Christmas:)
" I'll be there and back by sunset.
There's a chicken there for me!
Mom and Dad will be proud, you bet!
when a chicken, they'll see!"
Henry: ( Sung to Arkansas Traveler:)
" I think that there's a chicken, yes, indeed!
No need to check, that's a chicken, yes, siree!
I know that that's a chicken , yes, indeed!
Even though he has a snout for pecking at the seed!"
POW! ( cue woozy music.)
Barnyard Dog:
Hey, wait a minute, kid!
Have you flipped your lid!"
Henry:
" I hit you a good one and I'm the winner!
Now come along with me! You're what's for dinner!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Eh, kid.. I'm a dog, don't you get it!
Now, scram! Before I make you regret it!"
" Camptown races, sing this song..
I say , I say.. it's not the words,
son, it's the song
It kind of.. eh, moves me along, err.."
Henry:
" Oh, the shame!
The family name!
Life for me will never be the same!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Someone's given you the bum steer!"
He looks at Henry crying.
" Kind of gets you right here..
Tell ya, what, kid!
I'll give you a real clucker with all the feathers!
Now listen to me, the sooner the better.." Pss. psst. pss..
"Camptown Races, Uhh, oh, I say, I say..
What do we have here?!
An unholy alli, alli alli, joining together.
and the word is ..Beware!"
I say, son!
What are, what are you doing here
in my little slice of paradise?!"
Henry:
"Ehh, Mister Cock-a-Doodle Doo..
I'd turn around if I were you!"
"Heh, heh heh..
Obviously, this boy believes
that I was born yesterday
if not the day before!
Let me lead him on a little more.."
"Just what am I supposed to see, there, ehh, son?
The rising moon? The setting sun? Heh, Heh, Heh.."
BAM!
"I, I, I think I've been way layed.
I, I, better look for some shade.."
PLOP!
"That boy's got more nerve than a bum tooth!
ehh, that's a joke, son!
Miss Prissy! My my time has come too soon!"
Eeee, THUD!
Henry and Barnyard Dog( together.):
"Geez, What a maroon!"
Cue the Looney Tunes end music.
(" Eer.. That's your cue, son!")
" Can't find no good cartoon help these days!" THUD!
THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
In a way that lease we broke is a good thing you see
We can travel forever now, it only just set us free
We can see the sights outside the city lights
Come on with me sweetie, we'll soar to new heights
We can go to the ocean and put our toes in the sand
Wish upon the stars and sleep in the Caravan
There are truck stops with pretty good Dinners
Nothing to stop us, unless we get flat tires
I can make some money there playing my guitar solos
We'll keep basically to ourselves and ignore the hobos
I know a interstate highway that runs west
We'll save money bathing as we're dressed
We could lay out and drip dry on the shore
And then never want for anything more
Lets get that sixty two dollars out of the bank
It will be more than enough to fill up the tank
Just you and me against the open road
We can search the beaches for lost gold
Just pack up the van with only our clothes
In no time at all, we'll be smelling like a rose
I love you, truly. That is that.
I'd kill for you, I'd eat a bat!
You are my morning and my dusk
Without you I'm a hollow husk.
Hold! wipe away your joyful tear
As I must make on thing quite clear
I'm sure you have your hopes set high
That, dear, for you I'd eas`ly die
I fear to break your sweet, sweet heart
I'll prick it, slightly. With a dart
Reality is this right here:
Death is, well, my BIGGEST fear.
What lies across the great beyond
`s a thought of which I am not fond
Thus begs the thought, "Why would I leap
for one fair girl, it's much too steep!"
Call me yellow, call me Macbeth
But in MY play there'll be no death!
If grief tells you to take your life
You'll be alone `n your noble strife
My shadow won't be close behind
Do NOT expect to make a find
Fair Juliet, do not be sad
Your Romeo, alas, is bad.
Lo! what hast thou done, prey what is this?
Mine eyes do see but believe it not
You greet me with a Glasgow kiss
My blood flows swift and does not clot
But doest spill in floods o’or floor
Forsooth methinks you have forgot
The way to treat the devils whore
God’s teeth thou knowest not the plot.
My life’ s blood you must restore
Thou leavest me with a damned spot
Which fast grows dark and runs with gore
S’wounds thou doth protest a lot
a Glasgow kiss is slang for a head butt
a gory story for the rocking renaissance contest
(Parody of "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love)
Come stay with me and be my maid
and once a month you will be paid.
("under the table" it will be;
no taxes taken out by ME!)
You’ll clean the toilets and make my bed,
and see the kids and pets get fed.
The benefit for you will be
in sending cash to family
you’ve left behind in Mexico,
while in the States you’re “laying low.”
Your being here will help me too.
I’ve so much work for you to do!
I’ll save a lot of my OWN dough
(We won’t let Immigration know).
Yes, come and stay with me and mine.
America’s “Dream” can be divine!
For Dr. Ram Mehta's Parody contest
Form:
See who I ‘am? Don’t you even know who I ‘am? Don’t fake
like you don’t know me, you’ve seen me Before…I’m sure you
have. The sisters all be hating on a fine sister like me, because
I got it going on… Yeah, I’m the one that all the brothers want to
get with in town and those who haven’t wish that I could be their
Boo or Lil Ma. Let them dream on, I’m too much woman for just one
alone. You know you want me to be yours? All the brothers be wanting
to buying me the finest black pearls, diamonds and lynx furs…just to get
to know my name or get them digits from me. You feel me? You be faking
like you don’t see me when you be walking with your little anorexic
wife, but I see you sneaking a peeking out the side of your eyes at all this
lushes big booty thing as I pass you by. I know you want me? I might just
let you get with me, once I finish this last flight of stairs and get my inhaler
out of my pocketbook and check my blood pressure and finish this last piece
of KFC chicken. Yeah, even my horny young doctor wants to jump on these big
bones, he says…”Ms. Johnson you need to get your weight under control or
you’re going to die.” that’s just his little secrete way for saying I’m staring at your
big full bosoms and I’m just dying to bury my face between them later on tonight.
Yeah, he be begging for a shot at the big show… you all know you want me? I hear
yall when yall giggling and snickering behind my back as I pass yall by, be trying
to get my attention. You all know I’m way too busy to be bothered with all you haters
and all these men who want to be my lover and stuff. Honey… I’m in a hurry I have
to get my bus stop, so I can catch my next bus.
I long for my enemy
Yesterday I wanted to
But couldn't because of the shawl
Everywhere I go is a mirror
Him that lives in me owls for a call
Worst enemy,best friend
Hate that I love you so
Beating,heating,hitting,biting
Just a piece
All I'll ever ask for
My sojourn ends where yours began
I'm weak but not like him
That starts not to finish
Intimidated by the obvious pull
What a Shylock?
I...I....leaving me speechless
Mouth dropping,gaping wide
Needs an approval
Golden kisses.filtering 'yeses'
I die to stop my...
Can I be my lover?
Never 'll it be
Till the end of the world.
Form:
My dreams are my fotress of solitude,my dreams are my wings that lift me up from the
demons of my reality and the hell that is this earth... My dreams are the wispers of angels
that get me up when i am down, reality is my hell,reality is the cespool of cosmic waste on
which i am forced feed,reality birthed me with steel veins and an iced heart,and yet it is in
that very form that i exist,the smaller my dreams the bigger my reality but still i survive coz
my dreams birthed my reality.. A reality in which i'm supreme
Come live with me and be my love,
And gardening pleasures I shall prove.
We'll watch the farmer in his fields
And envy him his golden yields.
I'll let you sift out all the rocks
And shoo invading blackbird flocks
Who steal the seed where e'er it falls
And grab your hat with raucous calls.
You'll help me dig a bed for roses
And kill the slug where he reposes.
You'll weep as loam so rich and fertile
Is commandeered by creeping myrtle.
Coveralls of strongest weaves,
Thorn protective leather sleeves,
Felt lined boots to beat the cold,
We'll buy the best of all that's sold.
A belt of shiny metal studs,
Sharpened shears to clip the buds;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The gardening swains shall dance and sing
The day that you accept my ring.
If these delights thy mind shall move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
For Parody contest Rec'd 10th place