Best Pom Poems
Poor Viv got caught in his loo
(Was sporting his pink tutu)
His Mrs. was mad
Said you ‘stupid lad -
your hairy thighs still show through!
My contst pom Sponsor’d by Viv Wiggly
chckd with how many syllabls 7,7,5,5,7
10~07~16
This is a true story about our puppy Spikie who lives with
us and is our mascot on our farm...........
There once was a puppy named Spikie
His wishes were some what unlikely
He wanted to Guard
But left in the yard
At Five inches his height was unsightly
Contest: Limerick II
Sponsored by: Debbie Guzzi
By Sharon Ruebel
Glimpses I caught between the swishing traffic
on that sidewalk in cold rain and colder wind
and a cast-off Cleveland Browns windbreaker: a man
tottering a mime of an off-center grandfather clock,
and, oh yes, in a dirty orange unrav'ling
woolen cap with flopping pom-pom.
Then he caught himself, a sudden vision
in that plate glass, and froze as one struck,
arms spread, splayed fingers for balance,
gaping at himself and his wobbling pom-pom.
And I too caught him, uncanny in the black
glass beyond a CLOSED sign, among
the white tablecloths.
And then, my god, he started to dance.
Well... Okay, more of a gaucherie than dancing.
Shuffling, spread-legged tottering (he'd a clubfoot, I noticed)
interspersed (and this is the point) with little
leaps; but now without progressing as
before (if progress is the right word
for going nowhere) along the wet sidewalk.
Minutes — or was it seconds? — he gaped and leapt
and danced while busy folk eddied round him.
Then a rain-beaded bus of limp-faced,
stippled tourists stopped right there,
and I lost him, the pom-pom man, who danced among
the tables of the Café Boulevard.
Well, it was for him, you see, a vision
(for me a far feebler thing, a philosophy)
grand as Milton, Dante, St. John the Divine,
oh, even St. Simeon in the Temple. The ecstasy
of an achieved leap ignores how high you rise
(pace Nijinsky, Nureyev, Barishnykov).
It's how low you started.
An artist rolls his brush full of vibrant color across a Canvas
A window to a distant world soon forms, a Catalog or Atlas.
A land of curious blooms, and candy floss
Odd bits of colorful stalk brim floating moss.
This land of flamboyant fun, and pinkish bananas.
Last Christmas an ugly old frog
got fat drinking holiday nog.
But I saw him this fall
looking not fat at all -
in bright shorts out taking a jog!
Writtn Oct 10, 2016 for vivs missing lttr contst
A masochist plans his own burial
You'd think our man was malarial
But a fallacy it is
'Tis pain that is his
Ado for such an actuarial
Bounti-fall
By: Blake Myers
Blowing trsss, sounding of rain,
It is that timn of yr again,
Crisp air, cool brzzz, soon to b night,
Hay and pumpkins always in sight,
If ol' scaircrow only had a brain.
Good morning ma’am, how do you do?
How I wish I was going with you
On a trip on a boat
With a sail for a coat
Crossing rain, sky, and windy storms too
Climb to a high mountain shack
Pot and good **** in my pack
A hot Navy flick
A hot busty chick
My pants captain said, "Up stack!"
In front of a blackboard I walk
Around in my classroom and talk
Of motion and fall,
Gravity on a ball,
My hands and my shirt full of chalk.
October 12, 2016
For vivs missing lttr contst
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
We drank cheap beer in a rusted-out shed.
Buzzing before our 8:00 AM English class.
Trying to be cool- to fit in with the "Ins."
Instead, we're becoming the wobbling outcasts.
Spinning further out from the golden Ins.
Ah, the golden center.
Filled with jocks, cheerleaders.
A chorus line of silver thighs and golden pom poms.
Smirking at my pimpled insecurities?
But your long bomb popularity didn't stop that tree.
From slamming into your popularity.
It didn't move aside as you passed by.
Like I used to move aside as you passed by me.
You were popular in that narrow hallway of slow death called adolescence.
Now your football helmet is yellow and cracked.
Destined for a garage sale. Bottom shelf existence.
At the very center of long forgotten.
You with the pom poms and patented dimples.
Nowhere near that cocky cute kitten anymore.
Turned plump, pregnant, abandoned, aborted.
What happened to that sweet cotton tail and golden lips?
That used to pip "you'll never be with me".
Finally, after forty-plus years.
You're lying with me...figuratively.
Spread eagle atop pom pom mountain.
An outcast on the periphery of everything.
my contst pom - compliant son!
Oh son, I pity you try but fail
In Biology, lizards, rats have tail
I told, mug up ,vomit words
You'll pass, you'll fly high as birds
In quiz, Madam said, you spit up a snail?!
12th October 2016
A limrick for Viv Wigly,
I had to scrawl my words so Kwigly,
Vino a proposal
Alcohol at disposal
I barf’d and my writing is Sqwigly
10/10/2016
I know a guy from timbuktu.
Who works at his family zoo.
Has body odor so strong,
That could shock Mr. King Kong.
Bo put on a mask and muu muu.
muu•muu ('mu?mu)
n., pl. -muus.
a long, loose-hanging dress, usu. brightly
colored or patterned.
10-09-16
Premiere Contest: vivs missing lttr contst
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
a firkin of port and a glass
through my lips a last drop will pass
my thirst I now blunt
as thoughts it will stunt
in my john my food will amass
10/08/16