Best Punch Poems
There is a new English gang in town
In the town of Punctuation
They call themselves the “Punch U” gang
A solid gang with a strong foundation
The Punch-U gang members consists of:
Hyphen - the gang leader
They call him Dash
He is charismatic, clever, a born leader
Firm but fair…. excepting no gang trash
Exclamation point ! Dash’s right hand man
They call him Lanky
He is confident and likes to make his point
Dramatic and often a little cranky
Asterisk * Dash’s girlfriend
They call her Starr
She is smart, astute, keeps mental notes
A free spirit who sings and plays guitar
Question Mark ?
They call him Curly
He is so very inquisitive
Often indecisive
A deep thinker and quite surly
Comma ‘
They call him Jack
He is quite the lad and joker
Jack often steps out of line
And needs to be kept on track
Brackets ( )
Identical twins called Jill and Joy
Always together or never far apart
Fun and happy
Popular with the boys
Full stop .
They call her Dot
Outspoken and very definite
Always likes to have the last word
Often heard saying “ Now thats it….just Stop”
Quotation Mark “
And yes they call him Mark
He likes being the centre of attention
Being in the know
Does not like being left in the dark
Apostrophe ‘
They call her Sue
With Sue there is always something else to come
Taking short cuts
Is what Sue enjoys to do
Colon:
They call him Number-Two
Funny, entertaining and chatty
Though sometimes he takes it too far
Talking a lot of poo!
Bearing the brunt of betrayal,
his long-time lady lover leaves him
for another flame. Surprisingly saying
"I'm so sorry, Sam, we should start
seeing other people"
Broken by a brutal blindside
out of nowhere. He couldn't comprehend
the reason; the shock shook him
like a loud trembling thunder
shakes someone out in the rain
Suddenly lovelorn,
he's left wondering why.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
To add insult to injury, he learns
she left him for his best friend, Bruce.
STRAND CHOICE P,any form,any theme Poetry Contest( Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written: 03/24/2020
Zero to a hundred
Smoke between the ears
An amygdala doing donuts
Simply changing gears
*punch-drunk: Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy
Punch Buggy: a game consisting of punching a person
when a VW Beetle is seen
Hit, scream, pound, punch
Have I learned my lesson
Have I had enough
I taste my blood
I writhe in pain
I made you mad
My fault again
You know the answers
You're always right
I'm wrong to doubt you
So let's not fight
Please settle down
We'll go to bed
I know you're so sorry
About the cut on my head
As you sleep I'll be awake
I've packed a bag, few things I'll take
I'll run from here Run from you.
Don't look you won't find me not ever its true
And then my life will start again.
I'll heal my soul . Meet new friends.
Fall in love. Be me again.
And you will be all alone.
Drunk and angry in once was home
I hope you change. Get the help that you need.
Cause you'll never again put your damn hands on me
They all come in
There’s a family din
But the cat sat on the mat
Tea time done
They have some fun
But the cat sat on the mat
It’s early evening
Kids are screaming
But the cat sat on the mat
Eight at night
Kids out of sight
But the cat sat on the mat
News at Ten
For Kate and Ben
But the cat sat on the mat
A cold winter’s night
Folk tucked up tight
But the cat sat on the mat
Three in the morning
The house is snoring
But the cat sat on the mat
Mice scurry past
Could it be their last?
But the cat sat on the mat
Seven in the morning
Milk is pouring
But the cat sat on the mat
What is wrong with this cat?
Oh - it’s dead!
~~~
One of my early poems written in September 2012
1st place
The Throwback Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
A speeding star or spaceship, no it’s SUPERMAN
Only a bat can tell who knows and sees, but as a caped crusader, one can feel the breeze being BATMAN
The Legend Of Justice, but the dialog being doom
A fight to the finish
But who will be victorious and distinguished
Both knowing good from wrong
A part where Evil doesn’t belong
Saving lives and combating crime for as long
Yet a fight that will go on
Ethnics where credit is due
But what challenger will come through?
The sun has turned completely red
The moon has turned a shaded black
The moment being the attack
But the innocent need to just stand back
Blows into throws
Imaginations drawing conclusions
A fight that might be long
A thought, what Marvel Hero should belong?
A past being a comic book
It was a boy’s look
One Marvel Hero fell
But I won’t tell.
I'm a Prizefighter and my name is Little Mac.
When I fight my opponents, they end up on their backs.
I defeat all of my opponents even though they're twice as tall as me.
I have to jump when I punch their faces and I drive them to their knees.
It only took one punch to knock out Glass Joe.
When I fought Super Macho Man, I won by TKO.
I punched Bald Bull in the stomach when he began to charge.
He shook the whole ring when he fell because he's so large.
As I punched King Hippo in the stomach, his trunks kept falling down.
I only had to knock him down once to beat him, he couldn't last one round.
MR. Sandman was tough and he thought he could put me to sleep.
But I gave that moron such a beating that he started to weep.
When I fought Mike Tyson, I knocked him out and I whipped him before Buster Douglas did.
Tyson was so embarrassed because I was only seventeen years old, he was beaten by a kid.
(This poem is based on the popular 1987 video game.)
Judy, dear Judy, are you the Punch and Judy, Judy
Did you fight with Punch for a small piece of foodie
D'ya get knocked in the eye
For a piece of cherry pie
I'm sure you could handle yourself, dear Judy Judy
(A dedication to my dear Judy Konos)
© Jack Ellison 2015
I dont like feeling
Anything at all
I avoid my emotion
Preventing the fall
But somehow your words
have rascal ability
To evoke in me
A pathetic jealousy
I have no right
I know, I've no claim
Thought I was immune
From going insane
But those few harmless words
"she's coming round tonight"
Morphs hidden feelings
Into parasites
Let her come round
Your bargain-bin tart
But make sure you get
A reciept for your heart
I remember how it was,
the first time
I got into the ring,
with a more experienced boxer,
I hadn't a clue,
of what to do.
Pummeled from one side
to the other,I took
the loss, licked my
wounds and understood
where I went wrong.
With a few simple moves,
slip a punch here,
counter there,
I was beaten occasionally
but never badly and
I understood clearly
the reasons when I lost.
In the ring of life
and emotions,
I am continually sucker punched,
the original
rope a dope,
half the time
on my back,
I never see it coming.
I keep climbing back in
without a clue
of what to do.
frantic penguins – awkward among garish spring blossoms
1/20/16
I want to make a joke about it, tell you that
your body has become a shelter for broken hearts, a
sanctuary for atheist gypsies,
you are a whole new definition of home.
Your body has become a shelter for broken hears, a
hiding place of a deserted alley on an August afternoon; I like oxygen more than I like heat.
You are a whole new definition of home and
this is the first time I'm not gasping for air, you're a
Hiding place of a deserted alley on an August afternoon; I like oxygen more than I like heat.
I want to make a joke out of this but
this is the first time I'm not gasping for air, you're a
good witch's candy house in the middle of the woods.
I want to make a joke out of this but
my sweet tooth is coming in. You happen to be a
good witch's candy house in the middle of the woods
and I haven't got any pebbles or slices of bread with me.
volcanoes
evolution erupting
hawaiian punch
How big you seemed, how bright your stage
how loud and funny, in my little boy's eyes
you were larger than everyone else's life,
even a lifetime later, your memory still is
Those amazing vaudeville routines, with new
command performances for each gathering,
were rehearsed in daily kitchen pantomimes
while we children sat in wide eyed awe
An Irish version of the Honeymooners,
so funny that you didn't need Art Carney
so real that sometimes, I held my breath
....to the moon, McGinty, to the moon!
He would bellow and I would nervously ask,
is she really going to the moon, Mommy?
Then they'd be off on another rollicking
road in the evening's riotous repertoire
The quieter types would roll their eyes
when the curtains would part on Act 1
while everyone else laughed and wished
that they could be just like you two
To the moon, McGinty, to the moon....
If life is a joke,
Then I am the punch line!