Best Pretty Penny Poems
Patty Potter bought a pot of pewter.
Yes, Patty Potter bought a pewter pot.
Patty Potter paid a pretty penny
For the pretty pot of pewter Patty got.
beneath the rainbow
pretty penny for your thoughts
whispers in the wind
sunshine starts at noon
after such deluge delay
skies smile upside down
god's voice of thunder
commands all nature to dance
vivid climbing blooms
psychedelic song
from green background of our lives
lovely prancing birds
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
good morning
good night
i walked the shadows of hidden meadows until there was a sign to the right,
you were bathing in the light, then it all fell flat
good morning
good night
ride along and sing a song with vague attempts of interpretation,
a transatlantic whirlpool of twisting and turning emotion,
good morning
good night
i'm sorry that karma took a small hit,
but it wasn't my intention
good morning
good night
perhaps this connection is a singularly demented projection upon failing stars
whose shine still glitter but with shadows of fear
good morning
good night
smiling involuntarily is a beautiful thing I'm sure,
especially at matters of such insignificance,
good morning
good night
one strides a rhythmic cadence as the little one jaunts with such carefree joy
and big picture indifference
good morning
good night
it's memory prevention week so I'm setting traps to bring the backhanded troll
to justice, it's a pretty penny to forgive and forget, my inheritance a bitter
serenity absorbing youthful anxiety
good morning
good night
stars cluster unaware of our constant stare, some have the look of shame,
masking hatred, they're twinkling smiling faces protecting the ones to blame
good morning
good night
nothing takes aim at the gaps and empty spaces that go on and on, and then
even after that they go beyond, not so much as a truth or dare of importance,
more or less an allowance, an embrace
good morning
good night
of course there's courage but it's arrogance that gets the job done, with a split
personality the lion awaits a cautious blend
good morning
goodnight
the truth of the matter preys pretend and colors splatter in a failed attempt to
matter, one way is the same all day, baring stops an road blocks along the way
good morning
good night
the hours played sleepless depravation, no breeze, no oscillation, a simple man I
am not, from where I've come a curious lot
good morning
good night
after all has been said and nothing has been done, there is the missing, and the
knowledge and the truth, but in the end we'll start over again
good morning
good night
Principally, pretty Penny the poet gave the ILLUSION of preening
Outside the Palace in the portico pre-party.
Edward the Bard entered elegantly, elaborating with an INFUSION of
Trendy calligraphy pens and colored inks of CREATIVITY.
Ralph, the Shakespearian sonnet writer EVENTUALLY strolled in with a scroll.
You would think none of them new each other, as they
Practically knocked each other over getting to the press.
At any other time, Annabelle the actress would have been
Languishing on a director’s arm but tonight, she had
An editor! How INEVITABLE! Clarisse came to the Palace Ball dressed as
Cleopatra and carrying a clay tablet full of
Egyptian poetry, who would win for best piece was anyone’s guess.
Poet:Debbie Guzzi
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.
I took his petty penny.
Without a thought within my head,
I did not give him any.
I took his pretty penny
And added it to mine.
I did not give him any,
On candy I could dine.
I added it to mine,
Laughed at him when he cried.
On candy I could dine.
I wasn’t sorry I had lied.
Laughed at him when he cried
Without a thought within my head,
I wasn’t sorry I had lied.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.
MAP OF EUROPE - OBJECTUM SEXUAL *
O coastline with cool expanse of blue Atlantic
Your curves and indentations drive me frantic.
Sometimes thrust out peninsularly;
Sometimes studied docilely and scholarly;
Land stretching from White sea and Iberia
To Black Sea and Siberia.
O Europe, my virgin obsession geographical
Is verging on possession sexual.
Other continents are jealous - Africa is so island-poor, so peninsula-penniless,
And of rivers, capes and bays it has many less:
It would give a pretty penny to have just one Iberia, Jutland, or Scandinavia
To excite its smooth coast and other geographic behavior.
Australians would love islands with romantic names Capri Lesbos Rum Eig Frisian
Or an archipelago-infested sea like the Aegean.
South Americans cry themselves to sleep at night because they lack
Such Nordic coastal features as Trondheim or Skaggerak
Beijing would give all the tea in China because she must
Satisfy her desire for an Italian-shaped peninsula, a bootless lust.
Of course Asia feels no envy, for it has kukri-shaped Kamchatka
And the only large island in the world, Sumatra,
Which rhymes with the best singer in the world, Sinatra.
This Map of Europe is something I just have to possess.
My life is incomplete without its caress.
If I didn’t have it, my world would be a mess.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
NOTES
1 * “Objectum Sexual” is defined on GOOGLE as erotic
love towards an object of any sort.
2 N. B. This poem is purely fiction
Get the light just right
The sun is blinding
First shot too bright
Let's try rewinding
In the shade
What a bore
"Is this the sherade
I'm paying for?"
Lighting is dim
Dial down the shutter
On a whim
Don't dare flutter
If you can be still
As can I
We can finish this deal
Before I cry
8 people cheesing
Sharp faces across the board
In the business of pleasing
Master this and I score
I lose light for this shot
I know you can't imagine
A job for a tot
With my little red wagon
The aperture skinny
To achieve this focus
Pay me a pretty penny
And I'll say hocus pocus
Quick! snap a solo
I want a blurred backdrop
Must change up the show
Widen my f stop
"What's taking so long,
Is this not your profession?
Are you doing it wrong
We paid for this session!"
Doctor... What's your name again
Do you have any tact
I have settings to tend
This is a balancing act
Have you seen my work
Did you not call to hire
Wipe off the smirk
Before your session expires
Every month, without fail, I buy your magazine,
I read it through from front to back, to see what I might glean.
I'm awed at your endeavors and your accomplishments are many.
You show readers how to keep a home and save a pretty penny.
You sew and craft, dice and bake, then deftly plant a row.
You show the way to knit and felt, and how to mix up scrumptious dough.
Yes, Martha you amaze me, your work ethic is supreme.
And creating order out of chaos is every woman's dream.
You make affixing glitter look like more than just plain fun.
You roast and toast, and yes, compost, until the job is done.
I'm sure you have your critics, though I hope that they are few.
We may buy your sheets in Macys, your pots and dishes too.
You've shown this world the domestic life and all it's meant to be.
Most of all you've given hope to plain old gals like me.
Our skin maybe different colors, but everyone's blood is red
Our hearts maybe different, they all pump the same color of blood
It is our life source, that kept us alive
God know this, as he knows every hair on our head
There is good and evil in this world, the same goes for blood
For some it will be their demise, the righteous will survive
I was raised on a cattle ranch in southern New Mexico
With droughts and hard times, we could not afford to lose many
From time to time, packs of wild dogs would kill our cattle
Not for the meat, just kill and go
But for the taste of blood, they cost a pretty penny
Not like coyotes that did it for something to eat, it was a battle
For the taste of blood, they will go mad
A narcotic to drive a drug addict insane
Nothing could quench the thirst, until they would kill
For the blood, can make a good dog go bad
For all living creatures, drinking blood does something to the brain
It was not just a game or for the thrill
In years past, I have investigated several cattle mutilations
In all the evil things done, this one will always stay the same
Devil worshipers, will take the blood from a living calf
To them they are taking "the life force" in these situations
And always try to give someone else the blame
Many other things are done, this is not even half
They drink the blood in their satanic rituals for the power
With drugs to alter their minds,to Satan they chant and rave
The blood will determine their behavior
Of false thoughts that they will be victorious in the final hour
As it will take them all to their grave
We know that there is power in his blood, Jesus Christ, Our Savior
He looked at that boy with pain in his eyes
and said I'm sick and tired of seeing all of
these lies
So you went away from home for a little while
and came back here bumping a brand new style
Looking at you now the answer's real clear
You must've ended up somewhere north of here
So I guess it's up to me to get you back to your roots
gonna put your ass back in some cowboy boots
Because you're country that's the way you were born
You're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where you work, sweat, and bleed and never shed a tear.
If we don't do it, it won't be done
not everything in life is about having fun
I see you over there walking down the street
spent a pretty penny showing off your feet
By the way you're running you should've bought some cleats
Trying to run out of here like your at a track meet
You're a real big shot that what you think
putting all your money in a federal bank
But that ain’t the way we do it around here
we burry our money in an empty jar of clear
Because we're country that's the way we were born
we're country heading back through the corn
It's a simple way of life around here
where we work sweat and bleed and never shed a tear
we wake up early an go to bed late
no we ain't got time to procastinate
You come up to me and ask my advice
I look down at you and I don't think twice
Boy you need to slow down and catch your breath
you got us all worried and scared to death
we all remember that fire in your eye
and I don't believe that you've let it die
Because you're country that'd the way you were born
you're country heading back to the corn
"See a penny pick it up
And all the day you'll have good luck"
~famous English expression ~
Pretty Penny at the train track,
wishing to meet the perfect guy,
lays down a coin and then stands back!
Pretty Penny at the train track,
hearing the wheels’ clickety clack,
meets her fate once the train rolls by.
Pretty Penny at the train track -
wishing to meet the perfect guy.
Across that track, a boy in view
will soon pick up that pretty girl,
and he’ll have luck his whole life through!
Across that track, a boy in view
knows just exactly what to do,
so with his head now in a whirl,
across that track, a boy in view
will soon pick up that pretty girl!
By Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by nette onclaud's
THE AFTERGLOW Poetry Contest
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake: Part Thirty-Six
Hardly had the CS drawn tight the net round the mosque and lake
The red phone on his desk at the Préfecture signalled a break
Through at the Orly Airport end: “Guests from the Near East: ARRIVED!”
Protocol required their being transported for Prophet’s sake!
The Foreign Office rushed to proffer red carpet treatment with gloves
But the Princes refused to board the suburban trains in droves
Roads stood blocked choc-a-block so helicopter commutes were proposed:
A landing pad at Carrefour de Pompadour if the Lord approves!
And so it came to pass but the Princes stopped at junction sign-posts:
“What’s this?” Prince addressed his French Agent: “Hôtel des Postes-
Banque de France, Hôtel de Police, Hôtel de Ville, Préfecture Hôtel du Département?
Why haven’t you bought these hotels as well? The billions we pay in costs!”
“Your Highness! If you’ll kindly pardon me, these hôtels aren’t for sale!”
“Well, never mind Hôtel des Postes! Buy me Banque de France sans fail!”
“I’ll see what I can do but it might take a pretty penny or two!”
“That’s no sweat! For fifty years or so we’ll pay in gas and oil!”
“As for the last entertainment consignment my retinue still complains!
They got stitched and patched up fifteen-year-olds for their pains!”
“Your Highness, that’s the age limit down here since laissez-faire!
We’d be hard put to find a virgin over ten in these terrains!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Pretty Penny pockets persimmons for their orange meat tempts,
these oval jewels when ripe adore green lime and white plates.
Diospyros, divine fruit, ripens bagged upon her counter waiting.
Soon, she will release them, tease them, between white teeth.
These oval jewels when ripe adore green lime and white plates.
Penny's Master rules with fur lined lashes, seldom coming early.
Soon, she will release them, tease them, between white teeth
for his rat-ta-tap-tap at her garden gate has woken her late.
Penny's Master rules with fur lined lashes, seldom coming early.
The tannic taste of persimmon on his soft pink tongue abates
for his rat-ta-tap-tap at her garden gate has woken her late.
Their deserts gone down with red wine and camembert cheese.
The tannic taste of persimmon on his soft pink tongue abates,
Diospyros, divine fruit, ripens bagged upon her counter waiting ..
their deserts gone down like red wine and camembert cheese,
Pretty Penny pockets persimmons for their orange meat tempts.
8/6/12
Penny Petty plays a pennywhistle.
She plays the pennywhistle pretty well.
I offered her a dollar for her whistle,
But pretty Penny Petty wouldn't sell.