Best Pickpocket Poems


Premium Member Down a Storm Drain Gone Forever

DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.

There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane, 
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children, 
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with 
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband, 
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron, 
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands 
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth 
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron 
And immediately, 
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each 
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another, 
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the 
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be 
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze, 
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored 
Hairpins, she was asleep, 
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll 
With colored pins,	
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever, 
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!

Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper 
Date entered: 2019/03/02
Categories: pickpocket, adventure,
Form: Rhyme

The Trouble With Poets

is that they never tell the truth,
and if by accident, they occasionally 
come near to any kind of truth
they tend to get hives, 
or shake uncontrollably.

We shouldn’t expect them to be truthful,
it’s asking too much. 
Would we demand a dog 
cook its own dinner,
or a pickpocket play a glockenspiel
while lifting a wallet?

We who collect words like seashells
must turn them over 
and listen to see if they are hollow
or really full of oceanic whispers.
The shell of course, (being an almost 
too perfect poetic metaphor),
will then lie to our ear.

Mostly and quite contrarily,
we condemn the author
for having lied 
a whole lot better 
than we ever could have.
Categories: pickpocket, poetry,
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Victorian Poverty Crime and Squalor

Born into a life of poverty crime and squalor
where hunger and cold winds bite
and disease is rife
and it was a daily battle to stay alive
and find some food to stay alive.

Uneducated illiterate caught in the poverty trap
drinking polluted water
from the same polluted cholera riddled tap.

An impoverished woman
sells her body for a cheap bottle of Gin
and a lodging for the night
while a pickpocket and mutcher
ever watchful
look for a pocket to alight.

The deafening clunk and clatter
of horses and carts on the cobbled ground
and shouts from the street market traders
echo all around.

Children play and run through the narrow
crowded streets
dressed in rags no shoes upon their feet
The putrid stench from the gutter
and thick choking bellowing
smoke from factories
make one heath and make it hard to breath.

Dilapidated hovels and buildings
covered in black soot
horse manure and raw sewage 
under foot.

Beggars with large mournful eyes
reach out pleadingly to the passing gentry
to fill their empty bowls with plenty.

A peeler pins a notice of a forthcoming hanging
at the local Gaol for the few who can read
upon a rusty nail.

A  Mother desperate to feed her hungry children
steals a loaf of bread from a market stall
but is soon captured  in the sprawl.

The judge sentences her to 10 years
penal servitude far over sea in Botany bay
but she dyes aboard the ship of fever
upon the way.

Her 9 children are sent to the workhouse
for the poor to gain some education
and work hard behind it's hellish door
never to see their Mother or escape poverty
ever more.


Peter Dome.copyright.2012.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: pickpocket, childhood, dark, grief, history,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Peter Piper - Pickpocket

Perhaps Peter Piper did not pick a peck of pickled peppers,
Perchance Peter purloined them.

Peter's pretext for pickled peppers puts people at ease,
Pickpocket's ploy personified.

Personalizing praise for Peter's pesky presumption,
People put Peter's penchant for peppers praiseworthy.

Perhaps, Peter pretended to pick the peck of pickled peppers,
People should portend where Peter put the peck he picked.

Peter passed plenty of peppers to people,
Personifying Peter and his peck.

Prided peppers purloined or in a pepper peck,
Peter put in his pants pockets.
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: pickpocket, age, funny, humorous, imagination,
Form: Alliteration

Lottery Ticket 1

Long back, a lottery ticket, I bought
Won a small sum which was lucky I thought
I boarded a bus with that cash
Lost five times that win in a flash
To a pickpocket, which left me distraught.


For: Susan Burch’s Lottery ticket limerick contest,  6 Jan 11
Categories: pickpocket, loss,
Form: Limerick

A Woundered Heart

Life is full of averse
Of course nobody wants to join life adverse
How I wish my life is an isle
At least there will be no one to arrange outrage in mind’s aisle
We walk in troupe
Yet within that troupe, others create a troop
A troop against me but I always elude
I can be specific but I chose to allude
Don’t attribute it to fear or panic
Just for the sake of being poetic
My heart is bedeviled by unknown attacks
Is it my paranoia? No, my mind can’t be one of my setbacks
I arranged my dreams in my mind’s pocket
Where from this pickpocket?
If brains had a code
Hackers would never go to vacation mode
Life is meaningless meaningful
Life is interesting sorrowful
Someone should give me ale
At least, to lessen my ail
Give me in excess, I want to be intoxicated
I can’t watch life whiles my eyes are naked
Categories: pickpocket, friendship, fun, life, me,
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Poetic Justice

A pickpocket named Dodger
lived to become an old codger,
alas a walking stick and heaps of pain
his getaway speed sadly on the wane.

© Harry J Horsman  2010
Categories: pickpocket, funny, giggle,
Form: Clerihew

Premium Member Boardwalk Tramp

This guy on the boardwalk is basically a tramp.
He makes as much money as a pickpocket in a nudist camp.
Since his last bath or shower, it’s been at least a week.
Don’t get too close to him.  He certainly does reek.
This bum will ask you for change for a cup of coffee.
In desperation, he will do just about anything for money.
Whatever the guy says to you, it’s bound to be mendacity.
He may ask you for a few bucks to go back to New York.
To tell the truth, the dude is just a local dork.
If you give him a few dollars, do you know where he will go?
The tramp will take your money and run back into the casino.
Categories: pickpocket, poverty, recovery from,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Pickpocket

I started with so many
My pockets overflowed
All those many memories
From the past that I had sowed

Then there came a silent thief
A pickpocket in disguise
Taking precious memories
Before I realized

Now my pockets are empty
I see faces I don't know
Grasping for recognition
From my mind it does not flow

Just a body in a room
With fleeting thoughts in my head
Pockets filled with emptiness
I'm among the living dead 

What happend to all my love
Did he throw it all away
Or is it waiting somewhere 
To collect some future day
Categories: pickpocket, loss, memory,
Form: Quatrain

Plastic Cards

This world was green like Amazon forests,
Today like the Red Sea,
The old bata system replaced money,
The lifeless paper notes called smart cards for help,
Credit cards every where exceeding heads,,
Carrying a card in the wallet now a fashion,
In instances it's a cushion,
Don't wait till the pay day,
Any day is pay day,
Swapping is pleasure like scratching wounds,
Weeping on payment alarming sounds,
Credit card is a pickpocket but to own pockets,
Debt is now a must but not to disgust!
Categories: pickpocket, care, change, money, technology,
Form: Light Verse

The Cheap Pickpocketing

This morning at (long) last something-I was robbed in a way I was fearful curious about. What happened?!
Pickpockets are a myth, almost everyone I know have an experience-with. 
Pickpocket by definition  "a person who steals from the pockets or handbags of others in public places"*Pick pocketing is a crime that in my universe has some nobility because the thief uses no violence or coercion but in a slightly surreptitious furtively steel with the help of a pal carrying away one goods.  The stolen item, a "deluxe" half pack of cigarettes  whom he could add a wallet with ID's and a dozen dollars. The freakish part is that I track the embezzlement not thinking about any wrongdoing. Reading my daily paper in a coffee shop what pops in an unintended touch far from suspicion putting me wondering for a second and after returning to the usual awakening routine. 
A block away when reaching for the pack and after obsessively looking for it, suppositions and hypothesis popped then the understanding. My imaginary fictitious person is true and despite unacceptable and inadmissible is kind of an art. I cannot identify the perpetrators but know exactly when it happened. The errand quickness done with mastery technique and the little loss  increase my awareness to this lower  members of the crime world that I still find enigmatic.

*Dictionary.com
Categories: pickpocket, fun, funny, satire, universe,
Form: Prose

Locket, Pickpocket, Hangs!- ( a Quinzaine)

Old Salley faces gallows.
Will she eat Jail gruel?
Will monks pray?
Categories: pickpocket, fantasy, funny, imagination
Form: Free verse

Premium Member 2 Syllable Rhymes

Thinking about Brian's recent Footle contest (my crazy eyes had been seeing FOOTIE all this 
time and just realized yesterday it is called FOOTLE with LE on the end) I proceeded to drive 
to the movie up in Salt Lake, only place I was able to catch a showing of Chloe. As I drove 
up there, I was racking my brain for a Footle, and suddenly, they started coming to me. 
They are so short,  I could easily jot them down on paper atop my steering wheel and it was 
a great way to occupy my time. Brian's little contest was a great inspiration for me. I ended 
up with more than thirty (I thought they needed to be rhymed on both syllables) so now that 
I know I can do the first syllable unrhymed, that should make it all the more easier to think 
up even more. Please let me know your favorite of the bunch and the ones that are too 
stupid in case I ever do a chapbook on these! YOu guys gotta try these. The trick is to 
rhyme the words and then make a title to fit the poem! LUv, Andrea

Pickpocket Bunny

Grab it
Rabbit

Offspring of Tinkerbell & Frodo

Hairy
Fairy

Gerber’s Strained Peas

Easy
Pea sy

Shirley Temple with a perm

SURELY
Curly

Mrs. Ed on Laughing Gas

Silly
Filly

A Greeter

Hello
Fellow

Art of Love

Hold ‘er
Mold’ er

Survivor Food

Lizards’
Gizzards

Grape Jelly Kiss

Smucker
Pucker

Sour Lemons’ Motto

Blew it!
Screw it!
Categories: pickpocket, funny,
Form: Monorhyme

Summer Shenanigans

Summer Shenanigans




Pickpocket poor boy

summer days working the crowds

not that poor right now




05/21/16
Categories: pickpocket, money, summer, work,
Form: Senryu

Cheater and Cheator

Like two paynim peas in a pod,
their scurvy color
lipslick scheme is sour green

Got beady black eyes
scam shady — 
A graft gaze that squints bifurcated focus
from hocus-pocus pupils;
whose tainted teal look-see, aperture con-fidence teach
a vulture view!

Crafty condor blinkers reflect
cunning thoughts 
with a subtil snake-oil sheen

The scales of their subliminal deception
weighs silver speak fugazi
forge fraught
Cheating and conniving is the gold hush standard
of the blarney barker bling-bling

And cheator ear worms
dig every electromagnetic crypt-ic message
that the swindle Svengali sing-sing

Cabbage cheater chants
grow robber root rancor on the 
dire dark,
underbelly dusk horizon

Them pickpocket pants,
pig feet parlance, 
taste liquidity legume leper-con unlucky 
on welsh rabbit tongues 


01-12-22
Categories: pickpocket, identity, leadership, money, perspective,
Form: Alliteration
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