Best Queue Poems

Smelly people in the queue,
Wafting B O from each shoe,
And from their bodies, both unwashed,
Then to cap it all, both are sloshed,
Swaying back and forth as they,
Wait their stinky turns to pay,
And I am right behind them too!
What's the best thing I can do?
Should I...

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Happiness looks so natural upon you,
when your eloquent face beams forth
as you intricately attempt to converse
with everyone that surrounds you.
So many expressions tuning into your
wavelength, eyes, lips that surrender to
You’re every sound.
Oh! Yes retarded lady, how content you
look in your world of simplicity, even
though I...

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I wear the gifts of friendship wreathed about my face
all the gifts of friendship, I try to wear with grace
I'm not adorned with gold, no idols fill my space,
just the blessed gifts of friends are all that I embrace.

Their love is held in trinkets small,...

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A queue for the loo? is it nine minutes past two?
A windmill dashing to the sea. Ice cold waters in a monticule drip. Laced with the prevalent winds and sands. But sands are not sanding down a landing strip nor are they playing moving pictures...

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Standing near the front of the queue
The boy rehearses his lines
"Just three or four pints"
Over and over again in his head

Focussing on every step
That takes him to the inquisitor
Stray too far to the left or right
And there's no way back

Behind him, the underage drinker
Tries his...

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Siezed
It seems
Don't lout, next
Juncture might be
You...

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QUEUE!
 -Dharga Nagar Safa

Q married to U,

To keep,

U,

In,

Q!...

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The sheer art of peeling a snail is akin to rubbing moth balls in one's eyes. To feel and sense with such ambidextrous wisdom is often not that wise. And of course plain hazardous. One's mental sanity can best be preserved by nodding in agreement...

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Excuse me
She said
And squeezed into the spot before me
At the check-out line 
I squeezed her breasts in return
She fully accepted
But later called the police
When her husband 
Was looking for her bra
I feel like a thief...

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With massive boobs in bra of Saphire blue
She is indeed voluptuous to view
To feel her seductive love 
And make her their hottie dove
Men vie with each other standing in queue...

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Am I dead? I woke up in purgatory like the dmv waiting for my number to come up 
The numbness in my mind hurts almost as bad as the tingling in my a**. 
My legs tap out the morse code of the waiting and perpetually...

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There was an old lady who stood in a queue 
Where the queue led to I hadn’t a clue
So I don’t know why she was stood in the queue
And if I don’t know, then neither do you

The queue started moving one step now and then
Once...

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Queue is Quu 
I m a g i nation is where we are today, 
I came to play never to fight, 
 to write the poem, 
not to read the ones that are written. 
I am in a spelling bee, 
the judge is looking right...

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Rhyme
is not
the be-all
and the end-all –
the cadence supersedes, mellifluous.
Counting syllables, as superfluous
as the vowels
contained in
the word
queue.
Sounds
in chants
we danced to
before writing –
morae have primacy over meaning. 
Rhythm takes precedence, despite your leaning.
And forced rhymes jar:
him and dim
do not
rhyme!
Rules 
are made 
to askew
and be broken:
double dactyl*:- flib-ber-ti-gib-bet-ing
Defending...

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The ladies stood in a long queue
The mayor thought they might sue
With their knees together
In all kinds of weather
They await their turn in the loo...

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