Best Pickle Poems
I've a bit of a problem here...
in a higgledy-piggledy pickle
torn between housewifery
and creative muses fickle.
Scattered, shattered fragments
of odd ideas, dreams
lay about my den, disguised
not nearly what they seem!
Bits of whimsy, what-nots
all cluttering my desk
covered in thick pixie dust
my housekeeping grotesque.
Higgledy-piggledy hodgepodge
my convoluted mess
a sign of utter genius
(or else mental distress).
I'd planned to tidy up...
to toss a few things out
but as I gaze upon them
they sniffle, weep and pout.
To think that I'd discard them!
Those former hopes and whims
unborn poems, paintings
their destiny quite grim.
Delicately backing out-
I apologize with care
as they cold-shoulder, look away
with such dramatic flair!
And when my husband asks me
just what I've done all day
I simply shrug “not much”
not knowing what to say.
How could I ever mention
the lurking living things
inside my head, upon my desk
that gently pull my strings?
The odd creative forces
that captivate me thus
wildly penning amid my piles
while he remains nonplussed!
WARNING: The following poem is a figment of the author's imagination and deals with fictional characters.....MEN! ;) (THIS IS FOR FUN, MEN, SO DON'T GO AND GET ALL HUFFY AND PUFFY ON ME!)
Fickle fickle…men are fickle
Get the women in a pickle
Sweet talk sweet talk…how they tickle
Treat a treasure like a nickle
Chat up chat up and then lie
Sugared bites of ego pie
Flirty flirty….brew a storm
Dissipate then like the norm
Riding riding on her wave
Naughty naughty to the grave
Feel up feel up where he can
Make her think that he's a….MAN
Swagger swagger, what a sight!
Thinking he's got dynamite
Tries to see how far he'll get
Up to third base is his bet
Fickle fickle, fizzle….pop
Mess with me, I’ll make you drop!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Never was good at humor! This is as good as it gets with me!
PICKLE PARTY
The pickles were having a party
In the superstore one night.
The manager was home in bed
So they knew they were all right.
It was a singles party,
Each looking for a mate.
Someone to share a jar with
Until their sell-by date.
One lady pickled pepper
Immediately clicked.
She was the pickled pepper
Peter Piper picked
A young girl in the corner
Was acting very silly
Under the influence of drink.
They called her ‘Pickled Lilli”
But the drunkest one among them
Was a pickled gherkin.
He’d been at the bar all evening.
He must have drunk a firkin.
He had a well-used chat-up line,
But whatever it was he said,
It must have been a bit saucy
For the beetroot turned bright red.
An old pickle said to the DJ,
“Please turn the music down”
He was a pickled walnut,
Ancient, wrinkled and brown
A very sweet pickle called Olive
And an onion got on very well.
But although they felt an attraction,
It was doomed to fail, sad to tell
They say that opposites attract
But you have to draw the line.
She had been pickled in vinegar
And he had been pickled in brine.
Then all too soon it was over.
The party had come and gone.
They had to go home to their shelves.
The day shift was signing on.
24th August 2022
It's a Pickle Party poetry contest
Sponsor - Mystic Rose Rose
Sure.
Ketchup.
Pickle
Horseradish too.
Mayo
Lettuce?
That’s up to you.
Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?
A touch of butter
A slab of bacon.
Please put them on
If mine you’re making.
Are your patties thin or thick?
Can I gobble one down right quick?
Royalty can be no match
Sometimes, for a plan to hatch
From the minds of angry men
When they have an angry yen
To overthrow what they don’t like
and make a move to shoot and strike
Rather then make their appeal
They would rather maim and steal
But
In this saga to retell
As his rage he could not quell
It is true as it was seen
’Twas a pickle saved the queen
Had she not reached for that Dill
Her assassin’s plot to kill
Might have gotten very far
Had she not reached for that jar
Thank God for that pick, pick, pickle
Saved her life, it’s just that simple
Sometimes, she is just so fickle
Thank God, she reached for that pickle
Now forever in this land
There will be a PICKLE Stand
With a sign for all to see
Saved the queen, HEY, look at me
That assassin’s been arrested
And his punishment attested
He will labor many years
Canning pickles, chips and spears!
This tale is about Pickle Onion Percy
Who is besotted with a little cocktail pickle called Tracy Tickle
Many hours are spent together chatting and laughing
On a warm soft fresh slice of rye pumpernickel
Now, Percy is known for being somewhat fickle
He is poor and only possesses a nickel
He is the target of Asparagus and Gherkin… who take the mickle
Who harass and bully him …. As tears down Percys face do trickle
Truth is , Gherkin and Asparagus also fancy the sweet Tracy Tickle
Though she thinks they are bullies and so very mean
Both tall ,weird and lumpy looking
And horrible shades of green
Tracy Tickle only has eyes for Percy Pickle
Asparagus and Gherkin actually make her feel quite sickle
Percy is sweet, funny and kind
Tracy desperately wants to become Mrs Pickle!
pretty pickle
by Michael R. Burch
u’d blaspheme if u could
because ur God’s no good,
but of course u cant:
ur a lowly ant
(or so u were told by a Hierophant).
WARNING: The following poem is a figment of the author's imagination and deals with fictional characters.....FAITHFUL MEN! ;)
(THIS IS FOR FUN, MEN, SO DON'T GO AND GET ALL HUFFY AND PUFFY ON ME!)
Fickle, fickle…men are fickle
Get the women in a pickle
Sweet talk, sweet talk…how they tickle
Treat a treasure like a nickle
Chat up, chat up, and then lie
Sugared bites of ego pie
Flirty, flirty….brew a storm
Dissipate just like the norm
Riding, riding on her wave
Naughty, naughty to the grave
Feel up, feel up where he can
Make her think that he's a….MAN
Swagger, swagger, what a sight!
Thinks he carries...."dynamite" ;)
Tries to see how far he'll get
Up to third base is his bet
Fickle fickle, fizzle….POP
Mess with me, I’ll make it drop!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A repost. My Muse is still on holiday in Greece. Can't write for the life of me....but I miss community. So...here it goes...
There once was a lady with child
Whose appetite was usually mild
Now she had a tickle
For a chocolate covered pickle
Not getting it she would certainly go wild
Pickleball – Part One
It’s eight o’clock, about any day
And it’s pickleball that I’ve come to play
I brought my paddle and I brought my drink
I’ll work on my drops and perfect my dinks
But sometimes my body just doesn’t obey
I tell my feet move but they tell me “stay”
When I need to bend over and I tell my back
It seems that bend over is a talent I lack
I’ll play any game, against any foe
And there one thing my partner should know
A ‘power’ game is just fine by me
So wish me good luck and sweet victory
Part Two
It’s yellow and plastic, and really acts spastic
Whenever the wind starts to gust
I line up a shot, it looks in then it’s not
In pickleball winds you can’t trust
So I serve and I volley, drop dinks and by golly
The points really start to add up
If I play the game so, then the wind it can blow
Those low shots it just can’t disrupt
I call out the score when I serve or before
First my point, then their points, one or two
No cussing, no in’, stay out of the kitchen
There’s really not much else to do
If they hit, hit it back, in defense or attack
Keeping the ball still in play
Do this time and again and you’ll earn a fine win
On any old kind of a day
But when the winds not in play on a hot summer day
I dink and I lob, wear them out
Hope they make a mistake so the point I can take
That’s what pickleball is all about
WARNING: The following poem is a figment of the author's imagination and deals with fictional characters.....WOMEN! ;) (THIS IS FOR FUN, GIRLS, SO DON'T GO AND GET ALL HUFFY AND PUFFY ON ME!)
Fickle Fickle - For Every Man in a Pickle
Fickle fickle…. Broads are fickle
Get a man into a pickle
Sweet talk sweet talk…. Yes they tickle
Treat us lower than a nickle
Chat up chat up does belie
Gives us bites of ego pie
Flirty flirty… grows the storm
Disappears like the norm
Riding riding is her wave
Naughty naughty to her grave
Touch up touch up where she can
Making sure that he’s a man
Swish and sway, what a sight
Thinking she is dynamite
Tries to see how far he’ll go
Gets to third base, she says no
Fickle fickle, fizzle…. Strop
Mess with me, I’ll make you stop.
In Response to Auntie Eileen Ghali
For her Fickle Fickle poem
If your feeling a slight bit fickle,
consider then, eating a pickle,
they glide down your throat,
a shiny green coat,
ending up a dill pickle tickle..
There once was a man who loved garlic dill
Holding them in his hand gave him a thrill
Doorknobs are fermented
With garlic tormented
His wallet and all of his precious bills
The pickle is not exactly a vitamin bomb
Using modern equipment,
... is no longer needed
- comes in many forms
(Duracell batteries AA X 4)
... pink is popular
- I definitely think you can get it in green
16-02-2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Mr Moody yearned for a big pickle
His taste buds he needed to tickle
He ate twenty four
Then fell on the floor
Digestion can be oh so fickle