Best Puppet Poems
I’m Not Your Puppet
Don’t you ever forget
that I’m not your puppet!
I’m not a toy on a string that you can manipulate,
so you can walk right back through that gate.
You thought you could simply bark out commands,
and I would just yield to your demands.
But I’m so over you and I hope you can see
that I’ve broken those chains and I’m now free.
Mr. Manipulator, don’t try to mess with my mind,
‘cause it has a will of its own as I’m sure you’ll soon find.
Don’t even try to figure me out,
I’m my own person, that’s what this is all about!
You took my love for granted,
and got everything you ever wanted.
Well, marionette maker, let me tell you what's true,
no more dancing to your tune as I've had enough of you!
Trust me I’m not even bitter,
but it’s all over and you can go cry me a river.
You really did me wrong thinking you could string me along;
but nothing lasts forever and I've grown super strong.
I’m not your puppet, and as I’ve told you before,
my name's not Pinocchio, so see yourself to the door.
You'd better understand that I'm my own woman,
and I will not be controlled by anyone!
Inspired by the R&B song, “I’m Your Puppet,” released in December 1966 by James and Bobby Purify, singing duo.
12-26-2014
Contest: Puppets
Sponsor: John Lawless
Placement: 9th
Slowly the curtains parted a head peeps out
Dressed as a small child so lifelike
Can see the strings working the arms
In a disjointed fashion
But the eyes.....
the eyes looked dead
The puppet danced.
Drummed...played keyboard
So lifelike it was scary
The show had been running about half hour
When the strings slumped
The puppet slid effortlessly to the floor
Legs askew and arms folded
The puppeteer, made some comment
Slid the curtains closed something made me look
To my horror, could see the man
Slapping the puppet shouting loudly
Then the puppets eyes opened
He looked straight at me
Could see the pain in its eyes
The pleading for help.
When the police arrested the puppeteer
They found this dwarf figure of a man
He was the puppet.
Locked away were half a dozen more
Drugged into a deep sleep.
So next time you watch a puppet show
The puppets may look lifelike
Take a closer look, cos it just might be
They are.
Once upon a time there was a puppet master.
Who was very lonely and wanted something to love.
So he decided to make the heavens and the earth.
Earth was empty and dark.
Then he made the light into a big ball called day.
The darkness called night.
Later he put a sky up so high and clouds that looked like cotton.
Since there was too much water on earth he separated it in two parts.
Making one land and the other called the sea.
The puppet master saw that it was good.
Going all around the land he planted vegetation, trees, fruit and many other
things.
Looking at everything that he had done and saw it was good too.
He separated the day from night.
Made signs to mark seasons, days, and years.
Two lights were made over the earth.
One which shined all through the day called the sun.
A night light called the moon was the second light.
The clouds in the sky played with the sun all day.
Made the moon feel lonely and wanted someone to play with.
He thought about giving the moon some friends.
Therefore he made the stars to dance with the moon at night.
Everything he made was good and still wanted something to love.
Then he made creatures to live in the water, land, and in the sky.
Blessed them the gift to multiply.
Different kinds of animals where made in every part of the earth.
He liked all the things he had made and saw it was good.
However he still couldn’t find something to love.
Thinking over and over what else to make.
He looked in the mirror to see his own reflection.
An idea that he never thought of came to mind.
To make an image that looked like him.
A man who would rule all over the sea and the land.
A woman to be by his side and to share the earth.
Then it was done just like that.
Blessed them to be fruitful and to increase in number.
He gave them all the seed-bearing plants to eat.
All the creatures that moved on the ground, water, and the sky belonged to all
mankind.
He found his love and saw it was good.
His play was complete and so was he.
This cup is for you
for bluffing yourself
and for thinking you know me,
here’s to you for pretending to care
and make me believe that you do,
here’s to you for
being the puppet-master
in the puppet show,
which is my life
I would like the strings back
before they are beyond repair
I would like to be the master
of my own destiny
for a change
I would like to control where
my journey ends
and what happens
on the way there
but with you as the puppet-master
it’s virtually impossible
so this is me
begging you
for the strings
that contain
every facet of my life…
please be so kind
as to leave it at the door
on your way out…
© Copyright 2010
Puppet on your strings
You own me...
own my body and soul.
You play me...
you've taken complete control.
You can do anything
that you want ...with me
You play me... (I'm like)
a puppet on your strings
Watch me now!
You can make me, do anything
I'm willing...
'Cause I'm your puppet ...yeah
I'm a puppet on your strings
I'll be your...
tiny dancer
I'll be your...
soul romancer
I'll be your...
2nd chancer
I'll be your...
final answer
Pull me this way
Pull me that way
Pull me over
Pull me closer
I'll do anything for you
baby,
'cause I'm your puppet
I'm a puppet on your strings
So come on over now...
and play me...
pull those strings...
and I'll dance for you.
John Derek Hamilton
March 04, 2017
)))o(((
Gootle joins a puppet-show
First night He is a king KongGo
But who the hell is this in the front row?
His own half hand is scratching a big toe
Of which leg he draws a blank and cries out "No"
vvvvvvvv
lllllllll
Gootle says Hi to his first leg Pi
"Eat a double pie', first leg says, 'with a paste of rye'
His two legs say, "No No its not fair we are in democracy Bhai"
Bhai= A Hindi/Bengali word for brother
Gootle is a creature half-human half-puppet- a humpet, a polite being . He has three eyes on the back of his head( color: blue). He is three legged and two-and-a -half-handed. Body Color: orange. He has no hair and no ears.But he is neither bald nor deaf. He has a long nose -adjustable min 2" max 9". I cannot post his pic because I am not a premium member.However, you can feel his presence slowly.
For copyright reasons he has changed his name from Gubble to Gootle. He never suffers a lack of appetite.His primary foods are: fun bread, nonsense soup, curry of love with a sprinkle of pamper and a dessert of affection( Sorry,Demetrios he has changed his diet a bit).
Come watch the puppets dance
Like there's ants in their pants
They go where the wind blows
In the show of all shows
Each one dances and sings
Cuz they can't see the strings
Onward mile after mile
While the puppeteers smile
PUPPET STRINGS
In a constant lack of motion
through the window of your mind,
all you seek is your seclusion
and a friend you never find;
you have looked in through the window
to someone you never see,
never reaching for a reason,
never thinking I'm just me.
As if you want to be alone.
Or just another skipping stone,
with someone who's better known.
In the hopeless life you're living,
all your friends will leave you cold,
it's a Ferris wheel you're riding,
and the song is getting old;
all the things you've held most dearly
come to nothing in the end,
and your search is overlooking
someone more than just your friend.
Someone who'll be there when you cry.
Who'll never think of asking why;
I will help you learn to fly.
Living songs about confusion
like a puppet on a string,
one is pulled and your responding
is whatever pull should bring;
you will go in this direction
everyone says you should go,
while the person you are hiding
is someone you'll never know.
Out through the window, I'm your friend.
From your beginning, to your end,
I will give, but never lend.
Words prance down onto a napkin, a slip of paper, a receipt, a sticky note
Willful words, led by whom? I doubt it is me; I would like to rest sometimes.
Yet, writing insists on her own way – in the car, a restaurant, at a ball game.
Poetry is something that comes naturally to some of us.
Insisting on her own way, throwing herself onto a computer screen.
In my case, she has a will greater than my own. I cannot slow her down.
I cannot dissuade her or entice her to bother someone else.
It is me she is after. She wakes me up with an ending line.
Not daily, but more often than not. It is up to me to honor her wishes.
She is my task master, my instructor, my muse, my power house.
Her words form into a secret surprise, every single time.
I never know where she is going to end up. She rules me.
I write because I cannot NOT write.
Poetry is an outlet for my creativity that makes me happy.
She inspires me, treats me, and treasures me.
I am her puppet.
satin sheets slide off
the desk notes fall
softly like petals
as the Maestro
humms along
the symphony
directing
each movement
Summer shimmers
Luna glistens
through shiny panes
the puppet master
raises the silence
hands charter the poignant
sensually inked in mind
the words flutter in the throat
rising like nightingale wings
singing to the Maestro's
feathery quill is an angel falling
racing across the ecstacy
along the face of the other
like a clock watched
the hands on a body
tracing each moment
the eyes worship
the reflection
in each the other
she sings an opera
to the puppet master
like it's the end
of an old world
like something exotic taken
milky orchid datura nightshade
scent of pearl in moonlight
starlit in the morning
lips taste the kiss
to another life
underneath
the layers
time shifting
into another
she unfurls
Candide Diderot. ‘24
"And the day came
when the risk to remain
tight in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took to blossom"
Lakme. Flower.
Anais Nin. Blossom.
Strings. Puppet Master. Delibes.
See the sparkle in children’s bright eyes,
how they glow with a smile on their face.
When a puppet begins to dance free,
with a master who moves him with grace.
Hear the laughter kids shout loud with glee,
when a hand puppet tickles their neck.
Daddy’s game they adore every night
and they scream as he gives each a peck.
Feel the happiness filling the room
mama’s fingers they dance up and down,
with ten puppets so small singing songs
and each one has the face of a clown.
Every eve comes the dark of the night
shadow puppets are formed on the wall.
and a boy who dreams someday he’ll be
the greatest puppet master of all.
Anapest Trimeter
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.26.2014
Contest: Puppets
5th
hand on back
drilled smile
he milks me
from behind
vote Monty
mochadoodle
moo
9/20/12
Black Eyed Susan
for nette's "septolet the puppet" contest
fabric: drill – double meaning of practice and durable twill cotton (also, cottonmouth refers to a dangerous snake as well as "an uncomfortable condition that feels as if your mouth is coated with cotton. http://www.ehow.com/how_8412538_fix-cottonmouth.html#ixzz278lYPjBG)
flavor: mochadoodle – not kidding! it's a flavor of coffee: milk chocolate, cinnamon, and hazelnut
(Monty is a made up senator - referring to the expression "the fully monty" - meaning everything that is expected or possible)
Pull
the strings.
Control me
puppet master.
Lead.
BASH my skull in why don't you
since you've bashed my heart in
you've torn my soul from my body
you spread it thin
the shear taste of your humiliation
leaves a sour taste in my mouth
as you twisted my heart
as ruined my mind
BASH my head in why don't you
BEND my body to your will
I'm one of your puppets
Cruel puppeteer
your words mark my back,
with bold words of ghostly shame.
your words encase pain
your words cuts through bones
i display my scar
as time only would sooth me
as i patiently wait, for when
The puppet,
Masters the puppeteer
Expression of ideas with a sock
The puppet master shows part of his skill
We listen, he makes the characters talk
Imagination the key to the lock
We're somewhat surprised he gives us a thrill
Expression of ideas with a sock
They say you have to crawl before you walk
I guess this is the way he pays his bills
We listen, he makes the characters talk
He opens up doors with a subtle knock
With story telling he gives us our fill
Expression of ideas with a sock
There is so much laughter mixed with some shock
Lost in the excitement staying real still
We listen, he makes the characters talk
The puppet master he really does rock
He controls the strings we go where he wills
Expression of ideas with a sock
We listen, he makes the characters talk