Best Poohed Poems
Natures fields, plains, moors, deserts, wonders rife!
Habitats alive,
where life can survive!
Why? Civilised beings murdered all life!
For personal greed!
Used slaves to set seed!
Natures plan, the survival of the fittest.
Mans plan, to remove all not of interest.
What's changed? Nothing, I fear!
We poison oceans, deplete atmosphere!
Science always knew,
Governments poohed poo!
Now, as we've learned nought, for our lives' we fear!
We're told it's too late.
Then what is the fate
that our children's children just might have to face?
Stop pollution now, and, it might slow the pace.
What's changed? Nothing, I fear!
Back in the nineties re. health and safety,
plastics were discussed.
Virility, hushed.
A seminar did close most hastily.
I was asked to stay.
Asked how I knew, hey!
Documentary, Tomorrows World, I think?
Chemicals from plastic leeching into drink.
What's changed? Nothing, I fear!
We will stick with plastics, it's on the news.
Microplastic kills
fish, clogging their gills!
If you feel like I do, pass on your views.
On telly daily!
No longer maybe!
Plastics polluting the oceans poisons fish!.
The mainstay of many, it's their staple dish.
Pollution is killing, and, we're all remiss
What's changed? Nothing, I fear!
Clocks ticking, can't you hear?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5/9/18
QARINAGE - Any Topic' Poetry Contest sponsored by Gregory R Barden
You don't listen to my sad words
Certainly can't understand the hurt inside of me
Nothing matters but what you feel and want
You hide in a world of emptiness
Repeated all day long in the news broadcasts that you devour
Words that form your reality a far distance from real life
My feelings are not of any importance to you, after all I am just an emotional woman
What I want and say do not fit into what you want
So you dismiss my words and also dismiss me
My feelings are nothing to you but an irritation to be pooh poohed away
As if I were a child with not an important thought in my head
Nothing to be done by me now, I've tried but can't break into your cosy cocoon
Your chrysalis will never hatch, it has died in the nothingness of your soul
So I will keep looking for someone who will recognize the worth in me
And I can then finally know what it is like to have someone appreciate who I am
He will be a kind and loving person who is going to mean the world to me
And you will be sitting in your empty shell alone
OKAY? WHAT FIEND STOLE THY BODY ELECTRIC!?
thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool upon a midnight clear
full moonlight flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from whereabouts unknown
wove enchanting spell atop me shades
at more'n fifty gray hair
to fore, awakened from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, mutilated spindled
various aspects of myself a paired
which, aghast at such creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, limned paragon did wear
a grotesque from heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this soaked silhouette half bare
from the waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once bronzed handsome physique
grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
Page Number Two:
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to a privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth with **** face on that card!
There once was a lass named Bikini Rose
Curvy-swervy from her lips to her toes
The lads ah-ed and oohed
Which Rose just pooh-poohed
Due to those hairs coming out of her nose
Thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool
upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata
flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from
whereabouts unknown
wove disenchanting spell
atop me shaded noggin more'n
fifty ruffle lake suns
Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened
from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper
fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent,
mutilated spindled
various horrid aspects of
myself nine inch
rusty nails impaired
which, aghast at such
creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged,
limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this
soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing
self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once
bronzed handsome physique
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made
for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be
temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth
with **** face on that card!
Every pig likes eating slop;
Every cow chews cud.
Humans differ in their tastes,
But blame it on the bud.
Our tongues are packed with sensors
Which determine what we savor.
Though you’d choose chocolate ice cream,
I’d select a different flavor.
I love a cake or pie that’s made
With lemon or with berry;
My taste buds make that choice for me –
It isn’t arbitrary.
I can’t control a preference
Determined by my tongue.
Environment has no affect
On whence my tastes have sprung.
We’re programmed for uniqueness
In our looks, our smiles, our smarts;
And taste buds add another fruit
To all the applecarts.
In restaurants or picnics
We may eye each other’s food,
But we’ll enjoy the flavors that
Our tongues have not pooh – poohed.
I had a feeling this was an unusually hot September.
I said this to a few people.
They pooh-poohed my idea.
Most said they could remember lots of warm Septembers.
But this warm? I asked them.
ninety-one degrees on September 17th in Kansas?
Most of them do not live in Kansas,
but they live in the Midwest.
They insisted I was exaggerating the hotness of 2024.
I finally consulted a weather tracking system.
This system stated that this is the hottest September
in one hundred and seventy-four years.
Do I feel validated?
Not really.
But I know that I am not crazy now.
She pooh-poohed his smallish gift.
He looked glum and she looked miffed.
No diamond in sight,
She did not delight.
Her love for him was set adrift.
Her eyes filled up the way they do when she is predicting madness
We try not to take her words literally, for she is theatrically over-the-top
Armageddon, she told us, the armies are gathering now for end of times
Who to tell first? The father who abandoned her at eight.
She scoffed, thinking how strange it was that she thought of him first.
He was maybe her least favorite person in the world.
She almost picked up the phone to call her mother
When she realized that she would be pooh-poohed and chastised.
Who to tell? She wailed in a lamenting way to her kitchen clock.
The clock was no help, but her journal was.
She wrote a little note “I wailed in a lamenting way”.
She could use that someday.
Her sister would be going to bed about this time; she worked nights.
What about strangers? It would be fun to alert strangers.
She put on her most colorful outfit and left her home.
Running from house to house, she screamed and yelled and shrieked.
“Armageddon is here! Armageddon is here! Save yourselves!”
The neighbors were accustomed to her;
They did not open their doors or look out. They knew who it was.
Some colleagues found him a tad frivolous
While others thought him over-fastidious
The Dean advised him to start off assiduous
Though I.T. pooh-poohed it all as ridiculous...
So the new instructor shifted and twisted
himself into the oddest-looking pretzel-like
pedagogical configurations, hoping to please everyone
but -- you guessed it -- he pleased no one, OF COURSE!
not his colleagues, not the Dean, not I. T. …
Yet his students found him competent, considerate, kind
and they certainly didn't seem at all to mind that
an 'ideal combination of qualities' he never did seem to quite find ---
the rarest of balancing acts, about which certain
colleagues, the Dean, and I.T. will forever whine
Oh chandelier
Forgive men like me
For your plea for trust;
We have dismissed
You promise of love
We have pooh-poohed
These scars on our faces are reminders
We are victims
These scars can attest;
No! We dare not forget
The pangs;
The dark side of you;
How you detached
And took a chunk out of our loyal faces;
Men who pitched the tents under you
Hypnotized by your beauty
We have not forgotten
The pains of yesteryears
The cracks in our delicate hearts echoes
Let our children hear
For we have been fooled by your beauty;
Let them be wary of you
Let them learn from our mistakes.
Mrs. Claus kept warning Santa that this day might come.
But he pooh poohed it, and thought surely not, surely not.
Today he balked as he stared at the chimney, tight and glum.
Wishing he had spent last year eating more “what he ought”.
He had downed pumpkin pies, sausages, and hamburgers too.
He had tossed out salads with cheeses of yellow and blue.
He had devoured donuts, pasta, and spaghetti with delight.
So now here he sat staring, at a chimney that already felt tight.
Get on down there! Rudolph said with a snort and a wink.
You are magical you know, did you forget that, you twink?
Santa rolled his eyes; he got no respect from reindeer these days.
With a yippee coyote he went down the chimney in all kind of ways.
He scraped his knees and he bent his left foot a bit on the land.
What did you expect? Donner hollered down after him. A mariachi band?
Santa hear the reindeer having a good laugh at his body’s expense.
That’s okay, he thought. When I get back, I will install an electric fence.
Some of the most unbearable changes in my life,
The ones I went into wearing a warrior’s shield and armor,
The changes I resisted so hard I ended up clawing and scratching
Kicking and screaming, shrieking, wailing, and keening
Were God’s way to get me to a much better place in my life.
Sometimes He has to hit us over the head with something
To force us to make a change that we have actually internally
Been crying and trying and yearning to make,
Secretly of course….
Sometimes our soul knew,
But we truly did not.
I have pooh-poohed the voices of reason.
I have disputed things needed to happen.
I have begged God to keep things the same,
When in fact, in the end, looking back,
His way was so much better than my way
That I laugh at the energy I expounded trying to keep what was not worth saving.
A marriage of one is not a marriage.
You deserve much better.
You deserve respect and love and hope.
You deserve fun and light and playtime.
If you spend the rest of your life developing your interests,
enjoying your talents and your hobbies, it will be better than what you have now.
This is a giant opportunity for you to BE YOU.
Savor it.
I want to live in a spaceship house he said.
His wife thought he was being silly, but he meant it.
He planned it for a decade or more.
She pooh poohed his idea.
Then he met a young enthusiastic spring chicken.
She encouraged him to build his dream.
He spent the next decade in the backyard.
Building his dream.
Always speaking of the spring chicken
And how much her encouragement meant to him.
Infuriating his jealous wife who did not realize
She was feeling ill will toward an unlucky soul.
The spring chicken was one of his students
Who died of lung cancer at the age of twenty-three.
Which is why she encouraged everyone to pursue and live their dream.
Do you ever wonder
How you would be viewed,
If you became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?
Would you be transformed
Into a real cool dude,
If you became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?
Would your partner join you,
Or would the suggestion be pooh-poohed,
If you became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?
Would you bare all,
But not feel nude,
If you became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?
Do you think the artwork
Could help lift your mood,
If you became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?
Do you think it would change
My critical attitude,
If I too became extensively –
Extensively tattooed?