Best Ping Poems
If you hear the sound of rat-tat-a-tat
It's not a woodpecker or a chattering cat
Tis George F. Latulence an aristocrat
Playing ping pong with his gold crested bat.
A competitor and show-off he deems to be
Dresses each day in his noble finery
Pantaloons his normal fancy day wear
His ancestry, finery, regalia, style flair.
He never shares glory or plays with a partner
Winning trophies for himself, what he is after
Agile and swift, rarely points he would miss
The downside came, when you did get that whiff.
To gain advantage, a parp he would do
Clenching bum cheeks, in case he followed through
High class energy foods for his body to sustain
But his parping was every one else's nose bane.
George on first serve, parped, as he hit the ball hard
Swiftly attacking, George butt did bombard
In that spilt second threw off his opponent
Point gain to George, aided by his flatulent moment.
Silent and deadly they all came out fast
Odourous gas from George nuclear fueled ar$e
If one made a noise he'd give a loud grunt
That was his bum burping cover up stunt.
Knew there was trouble when audiences pulled faces
Some even fainted, brave stayed in their seat places
George didn't care, just wanted top podium status
His methods and thinking obnoxiously atrocious.
Audience faces were different shades of green
People were swaying, some even vomiting.
He called it his ping pong, parp-crafty-art farts
Next point to win, final round about to start.
The ball went to and fro like a speeding fast bullet
George, with match point, he was about to secure it
Hitting an ace, made a spark, that caused a boom blast
Left the audience with mix feelings of relief and aghast.
Breaking news of his death headlines did broadcast
Even able to download from what's called a podcast
George F. Latulence died from a blast from his ar$e,
He blew up one too many, too dense and not sparse.
May The Gas Be With You Farts Part 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Written 07.10.21
Categories:
ping, games,
Form:
Rhyme
Was a young girl from Dublin
Decidly fat not thin
Her butt played ping pong
when she wore a thong
watching a three rosary sin
Categories:
ping, ireland,
Form:
Limerick
Playing Ping-Pong now,
The ball hits the glass- which the
murky pool shines through.
Categories:
ping, life, sports, teen, uplifting,
Form:
Haiku
The crowds heads moved left
To right- following the ball-
'Till it hit the floor.
Categories:
ping, happiness, sports, teen, visionary,
Form:
Haiku
Silhouettes in black and white
the players have attacked
Thoroughly worked out (?)
- harmful influence
From tongues unrestrained
How many thistles are required
to justify guilt
Organic intelligence
or
artificial intelligence
The dust swirls in the air ...
Categories:
ping, humanity, words,
Form:
Verse
I
Hear the bouncing of the balls--
Basketballs!
What a sound of merriment they cause when each ball falls!
How they echo, echo, echo,
Inside the gymnasium walls,
Arriving at a crescendo
While the spectators shout “Bravo!”
Drowning the referee’s calls;
And the players start
To make their last dart
Amidst the reverberation ricocheting off the stalls
From the balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
From the bouncing and the dribbling of the balls.
II
Hear the ticking of the balls,
Ping-pong balls!
What a soft and easy sound comes from their bounce and rolls!
In the crowded room that’s bright
How they fill it with delight!
Like the ticking of a clock,
Steady but fast,
Or the picking of a lock,
What tune they make with their ceaseless tick-tock,
Until at last--
Oh, what a miss that appalls
The audience that has remained speechless in the halls
How it falls!
How it scrolls!
And the erring player rolls
His fists at his own pitfalls
By the swinging and his missing
To hit the balls, balls, balls
The balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
To hit the light and small and saffron ping-pong balls!
III
Hear the loud thud of the balls--
Volleyballs!
What feeling of suspense is caused by their great falls!
Across the nets stretched tight
How they gracefully take flight!
The watchers anticipating,
Who would win they keep waiting,
Breathlessly.
Until the umpire from his platform blows a long shrill whistle,
And the balls drop on the ground like useless heads of missile.
Then tempers start to bristle
In the air there is a rustle
From both player and spectator
To win the set or never
Hold the trophy covetously.
Oh, the balls, balls, balls--
"Pick them up!" the umpire bawls.
Once again
The balls are hit, tossed, and passed
And the game goes on full blast
While the players on each side dare not complain
Yet the audience fully knows
By the spiking
And the digging
How the game would sooner close.
Who would be covered in palls
Suffer beating,
‘Cause of losing,
And forced to receive catcalls
For dismally failing to score and keep afloat the balls,
The volleyballs--
The volleyballs, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
In the scrambling and the spiking of the balls!
March 18, 2023
Categories:
ping, 11th grade, basketball, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Once upon a time when in school
When I was a handsome young fool
OK (Hands up) As a kid
I lied and you know that I did
I was in a poetry class
My eye caught a beautiful lass
She was one pretty but also looked dumb
With nice boobs and a fantastic bum
So Mr Froggard with his big mexican tache
Like a god, was in charge of this class
Like some 70's B movie **** star
Loved to tell us, we would not get very far
So Mr froggard set us a task
Write for me he did ask
What I want from you this day
Is a fifteen page A4 essay
Now, what I want you to find
Deep down, right in your mind
Give to me, give me your all
Describe the Inside of a "ping pong ball"
Well this was all too much for me
I don't do all this literacy
So I said to that pretty young hips
I just want to kiss those red lips
So she met me behind the old sheds
Her head went right down to her legs
I am honest I tell you its true
Its the day I had my first screw
As I un winded the top
Of that cool big bottle of pop
As she took the very first drink
I said, f**k literacy, its swim or you sinkl
Categories:
ping, class,
Form:
Rhyme
PING HAD A DOLLAR BILL
Ping had a Dollar bill got from the king Weevil,
Who loved nuts, beans, almonds, millets ,peas as a meal;
So Ping named the king- ‘Crackpea’;
Queen? ‘Nut’, invariably
And gave the dollar to bee Toll and went downhill
Categories:
ping, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
Sitting and waiting in a field full of olives is not a bad way to spend an hour but an hour can be long and long is a length and a length with a leaving leading light is not a dividend, a milestone, or a key part in a global televised production of cow ballet. Cow ballet is very pleasant to watch but so are peeling pansies whose playfulness is amusing to pandas who watch with baleful stares at pretty petals whirling around and around and around. Astound no Peking duck in a village tent because the quacking can turn grass into ultra large crackers. Murmur an atmosphere to a mild day and see the sunset sweep away the times. And times take training trains turning tulips tempestuous tantric tanks. So rank not a sergeant pea horn today. And deliver no stalks that talk to a laughing leering longboat. Bathing brilliant beanstalk battles. Ha a dormant dormouse delivering doors. Ha a milkman mouseman in a cloth bringing caskets of dew. Ha a kneading knee says hi to a shawl on a bedroom rug. Pillar post posting prating pirates. And clap clap then hop sixteen times on a left leg. Hee hee hee from first genetic milk buds. Xxxxx catastrophic cat climbing. Xxxxx actualisations z z z z z z at forty four spoonfuls of dough to seventeen foot of pie mixture. Z attempt leaping now then? Z
Categories:
ping, baseball,
Form:
There is a magic zing-- a nice warm cheer
When with eyes, a-twinkling
On soft shoulders, each-clinging
Two hearts attuned, are singing.
Categories:
ping, love
Form:
Quatrain
Crikey! Its already Friday!
So its fish & pumpkin pie day
And they go together
Like Hurricane weather
School Kids call it Breathe & Die day
Categories:
ping, food, wind,
Form:
Limerick
Cathedrals in tea cups. Jingle jangle playtime then. Golden slippers on a carpet of custard. Slip slide. Drip. No droop. Flavoured water is never fake. Obviously. And count the jellied eels in a bath of crumbs. How very entertaining and mystical. Nine senses of the booming giant. When standing upright in a forest count the plates. Tree cups are benign. So never play hop scotch in a thistle plant. Or a fern. The silent rush of a two ton bullfrog is similar to the call of a spotted hippo drinking lemonade. Gurgle gurgle gargle then spit. Spiritually. Wow. The feisty palate of a shrew. Should never be measured in diameters or decibals or put on a graph. Thankyou. Turn a door into a pillow. How glamorous. Pretty little mermaid does not like to be put in a pot. Pig pock peck picking. X. Cluck. Hahahaha. Wonderful. Homely. Heavenly. Heaps. Count heaps. 1 2 3 4 dance with a very large ornately carved melon. Means are neither mice men or moons. Sensual is the tail arch from a shrouded single sentence on legs. Jumping. I would like to go to the zoo. No wandering bean curd is prevalent in a caged wilderness. Exact to type. Specifications. *** placing a plant at vertical angles. And planting willows in a very astronomical alignment. It is always wise when using a fork to hold it up to one's eyes. Hold one's breath. Then at precisely noon curve to the cards. Bow. Then boom. Boom brings basses. Basses bring beauty. So never argue with a dramatic pickle weighing over 900 tons. Hahahaha xx hahahaha and a dew bud. A snowman skipping. Sandstorms in a glow. With or without sticks. Xx PS I will know take a cow and whirl it. To the beat from the walnuts. Good. Mm mystify not senses at left angles. And form an orderly queue in a moonlit heat. Under stars. In deserts. Camels chuckling chucking charismatic charming centered cosmic costumes. *** trapezoidal trapezoid trapezius trapezoidal xx hahahaha how the fish sing la la La Salle xxxx bring not a brochure to a brook. *** eradication *** statutory provisions xxxxx ha xxxx 83% *** privatisation privy xxxx steeple sap. *** ha xx positioned postures paint *** xeonagraphic . Z.
Categories:
ping, analogy, angel,
Form:
A Game of Ping Pong Poetry
By Franklin Price
1/12 /2017
Poem
A verse to start the game
That rhymes
With words that sound the same
The tale
About an eye lid wink
And why?
Makes readers stop and think
About ?
What could the reason be?
Answer
To get the smile I see
Categories:
ping, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Come on, baby, show me your light
Give me a look into your inner sight
There is a brightness glowing in style
Now baby, I love to see you smile
You drive me a good kind of crazy
Because I know you are my lady
On your love, you make me high
Own this heart, I want you to apply
When you move your body, I am on fire
You got me wanting you with my desire
I love it, when you do your special thing
Listen baby, you can hear my heart go ping
Stay here with me, my sweet, naked on the bed
I am not going anywhere but loving you instead
My emotions are mellow, feel me inside you
No goodbye, only hello, let me be here beside you
Categories:
ping, loveme, love, me,
Form:
Rhyme
For My Step Baby Sister, Olayinka Bada
My loving bird, whom I call Ping
Your lovely wing,
Be sure to swing
When to God above we sing
Our adoration songs titled ‘Praise Ring,’
-------for to Him whom we plan to sing,
Heaven and earth, to his side, cling.
Categories:
ping, devotion, children,
Form:
Lyric