Best Peeve Poems
A Pet Peeve
By: Olivia Rodrigue
A smile that reeks desperation
A mascaraed eye batted intently
Your falsified figures and fancies
Undermine others of my generation
To think that a woman is only
Aesthetically valued and won
Is a peeve that’s been maddening many
But thought significant only by some
They bray at braless feminists
Thinking that these are the crazy few
Feminism means makeup-less monsters
That degrade men-as bitter shrews do
How can you laugh at oppression?
A word that history knows well
When minority rights and reactions
Have shaped how we act-what we sell
They painted the greats as extremists
They called activists nearly insane
But the genius among us would not bow
To the pressures that society named
Therefore I say bring on your follies
For the truth of the matter will be revealed
Though you peeve me with your ignorant statements
The injustice- once hidden -is unsealed
We all have our issues, that bug us to the core
For some a nasty habit, or the tapping on the door
Perhaps the way we dress, or our strangely colored hair
Or when we slurp our soda, or wiggle in our chair.
Strange how we irk each other, almost all the time
Seems it’s done on purpose, to watch each other whine
It gets so irritating, they finally have to leave
Then they frown and say. “You know it’s my pet peeve.”
So when I got a little pup, I choose a clever name
Not sure how or why, but to me the idea came
“Peeve” is his name, and he gives me so much love
And now ‘my’ Pet Peeve… is getting a warm hug.
August 2, 2012
There was a man whose name was Mr Loud,
he preached humility with his head bowed,
He was quite the preacher,
with a unique feature,
He was so humble that it made him proud!
inspired by Carolyn Devonshire's poem "Impounding Ego"
Thanks Carolyn!
Please stand by for this important announcement
Of news you’ll most assuredly not want to miss
A newsworthy, earth-shaking pronouncement
More startling than your first unexpected kiss.
Your favorite television program is interrupted
Just when you’re about to watch Final Jeopardy,
You’d think the U.S. government was bankrupted
By the sound of the announcer’s anxious perfidy.
Instead, there’s a tennis player who’s deported
From Australia, his name you never heard before
Seems his lack of a vaccine he too openly sported
Forever, hereafter, he’ll never again be obscure.
All you wanted to know was who won Jeopardy
You had waited all day long for today’s show,
For you faithfully watch your program daily
To see the champion trivia winner’s earnings grow.
written January 18, 2022
****-retentive
stick up the ass
over-reactive
over-dramatization
over seemly unimportant
irrelevant issues seemed to
always be the response to
crossing over the pet-peeve line
that had been created over time
This is for all the people out there,
That can't use proper grammar,
You make me want to tear out my hair,
Or hit you with a hammer,
Yes, my grammar is not the best,
But please try to improve,
And I'll try, not to slam my hand into your chest,
If I need to I'll move,
Grammar rules,
Such as, A or An,
Grammar is an important tool,
And should be used by every man and woman,
Don't ignore your mistakes,
You were taught better,
For goodness sake,
You need to know these things to write a proper letter!
my pet peeve is
selfishness
taking it all
not sharing
hoarding
being greedy
squirreling it away
in a mean way
letting it rot
not caring
that others don not have
Not caring that many
starved or went without
because your goal
was to have more than enough
for yourself
so now you gloat
you have won
But have you?
I waited with anxious thoughts
Contemplating what to say about it
The pet peev conversation was suitable
In light of recent events I saw this a blessing
A chance to show everyone in the room that I feel
I never wanted things to be so dramatic
But it calls for drastic actions to be taken
Something to prove I'm not sadistic
And some words to penetrate their minds
I approached the odium with no thoughts
I spoke upon reaction to my sights
I stared at her face as I spoke
"Dishonesty," Lying for almost two years
"Betrayal," turning some of my best friends against me
And "loyalty," staying true with your words and heart
I sat down with eyes upon me
The people were stunned with what they had heard
The tension surmounted until I spoke
"Surprised huh? I CAN feel."
this is the story of a special place in my life;
In my family home of 50 years
In the Queens suburbs of N.Y.C.
There was a special place that saw
the bulk of my laughter, and my tears
That it's now gone is a pity.
This may sound weird, and in fact it is,
But it's easier to tell a true story
Than generate a tale weaved of lies
I was never a good liar-
You could see it in my eyes...
The 2nd floor of this sweet and happy home
That was my sole domain...
A bedroom, as expected, the usual,
But the other room, much, much more vain.
Purple walls, with overlapping
concentric circles of red and black
Hippy posters, black lights, day-glo
Pyschedelics all the way, Jack!!
Juke box of oak, full band equiptment
And blinking Christmas lights,
You'd think you were on acid (I never tried it)
And 60's mind delights...
Pictures, autographs, and oddities galore...
Gumball machine, statues, disco balls,
even a ghoul filled casket for years!!...
and much, much more...
The ceiling studded with stars and moons,
planets, comets, and a host of celestial things,
All glowing in the darkness
It gave your mind cosmic wings.
So many great musicians...
So many bands did here play...
So many wonderful, but harmless parties
That room surely had it's day.
No one ever went in....
and came out the same way!...
It was like a 60's hippy/weirdo time trip...
And no-one ever left to walk the next hard mile
Without a huge, grinning smile
Every guest had to sign the poster,
and jot a single phrase or thought,
Many funny and insightful things,
Far more than I had sought.
Drums, organs, amps, P.A.'s,mics,
and all we need,
To play all through the night
and day sometimes
The ecstacy of music, for us, the seed.
The room grew of legendary status,
mystic status,
among musicians on Long Isle,
Hundreds of tapes of jams
I have, when I experience them, I smile.
It got the nickname "Peeve Chamber or Peeve Room"
From the 60's when, one day, I got angry,
Walking back and forth up there,
Playing angry music,
like the Animals' "I'm Mad!"
Dreaming of bringing vengence,
to my enemies their doom,
But no one, including me,
remembers it for that,
It was a place of love and creation,
with psychic concentrations, as well...
by Wayne Wysocki
I don't mean to anger or jar you,
But you've hit on a pet peeve of mine;
To answer your question, "How are you?",
I'm required to say, "I'm just fine".
Yes, it was love, and life, and happiness,
That's the aura, to this day...
There were even T-shirts made,
To honor it, and all it meant...
Torn down for cheaply made condos...
It lives on in me forever-
And, I'm sure, in many, many others
In heart, never to be destroyed,
Come what did, or may,
Yes, it lives on forever...
And I prefer it much that way,
And for now,
That's all I've got to say!
Faith's morphed into a Sunday catharsis
for people feigning the worship of God.
Mimicking genuine faith, they fake it,
lock children in cages, and then applaud.
You either accept Jesus or not, but
don't build walls that condemn the poor to die.
And claiming to believe in Christian love,
snatch babies from mother’s arms; facts don't lie.
Such hypocrisy hurts my heart and soul,
for I can't abide by their two-faced ways.
Part-time Christians are a pet peeve of mine,
flaunting their faith for an hour on Sundays.
God judges us by the love in our heart,
and He's not someone you try to outsmart.
(Sonnet)
06,14,2019
Last night, I dreamt I was a parrot.
I spent my days in a cage and my nights in a rage
And all I could ever say was what I’d been told.
Every few weeks, when there was company,
and the doors and windows were surely locked
The man would let me out
And I’d fly into the kitchen cabinets and those hard-to-reach places,
and sing the words he’d never been proud of
Until I was in his grasp
and in my cage again.
What a nightmare.
I thought buttons were born but to fasten,
Or if not, as added frill to fashion,
But not those on coat-sleeve—
They were placed there to peeve,
To teach a wiping nose a sure lesson!
___________________________________
Happenings |10.06.2023| humour
Poet’s note: Buttons on coat sleeves is a fashion today. But that was not the purpose why they were fixed there long back. Napoleon’s forces, exposed to cold, when started wiping noses with coat sleeves, he was annoyed and had buttons fixed on sleeves making it uncomfortable to wipe nose. Yea, these buttons were not for fastening, nor for fashion.
Particularly pronounce abscess,
when rites of spring accursedness
prevails, asper testament, sans swell
scored psychological achiness
recording minecrafted history,
viz secreting acridness
permeates profusely predicated puberty,
akin to ambling au naturale adulteress
plethora plush plumage plus perfume
presage prickly profuse inauspicious pre/
post pubescent and adult affectlessness
propensity poisons primary predilection
pummeling poking pillorying
perpetual purgatory with aggressiveness.
Now translated into bumpy
layman's/woman's terms, aye
communicate, albeit stylishly campy
adhering, colluding, and choppily try
trending without trademark obfuscation,
nonetheless, a feeble
attempt might still defy,
an honest to dog ambition to express
how blooming in the dales less
sons glee aware, how lovers press
lips close together, when yours truly
shuttered himself in bedroom
of boyhood home to cope with stress
thus denying, depriving,
and destroying bone
a fied hankering,
asper this pooch hood doth hone
ache, never to experience puppy love
til pooch later in life,
when he became at present
male version, sans crone
revisiting, reliving, and
reflecting being alone
without ever touching, savoring,
and rubbing smooth cheekbone
of a lass - see, this thy reason
Matthew Scott doth bemoan
observing young bucks,
who liberate kickstarter jangling hormone
he oozes with envy those whippersnappers
gathering rosebuds while they may intone
enjoyment, qua the vitality, virility, and victory
before youth fleetingly passes versus millstone
weighing heavier with each passing year
before the grim reaper doth phone!