Best Reg Poems


Jenny and Lenny Hook Up

Lenny was 30 and still living with his old cheese, everyone called, Lenny’s mum.
She was always on his Cadbury Snack to go find a trouble and strife for a chum.
“Geez, leave off mum, I’ve been looking down at the Punchbowl rubbity Dub”.
“Well Lenny, go to the grab a granny at the Rissole, Fridý night will ya luv”.

Friday came, Lenny put on his best bag of fruit and fired up his old VS Dunny Door.
With his pay in his sky rocket as he hit the frog and toad with the peddle to the floor.
Mum put some of dad’s old brill cream in his Fred Astaire before he left the house.
“Be good Lenny, me little china plate, if ya need a lift home give me a Wally Grout”.

Jenny was on the rock ‘n’ roll so she saved up her oxford scholars for a big night out.
She wasn’t flash to look at, with her bifocal monkey’s arses but she had a good jam tart.
She walked into the Rissole, tilting her leg as she let rip a decent Royce Hart.
Her dad would’ve said, “A bit more choke and it would’ve made you start”.

Jenny met Lenny at the near ‘n far, knowing he was giving her the old Captain Cook.
Introductions made and Lenny thought she was a bit of alright, as he had a second look.
They hit it off after Jenny’s Third vodka and Lenny’s fifth schooner of pigs ear.
Feasting on bar snacks of party dogs eyes, Jenny dripping the dead horse in Lenny’s beer.

A couple of young blokes walk up to Jenny and tried to give her Reg Grundies a flick.
Jenny started throwing cut lunches, smashing him on the Lionel Rose, then gave him a kick.
Lenny intervened, saying, “We don’t want any froth and bubble.” Before thing got nasty.
He took Jenny outside screaming, “He’s got a face like a half eaten pasty”.

And that’s how Lenny and Jenny met, Lenny’s mum was happy seeing Lenny with stars in his mud pies.
They got cash ‘n carried, had a couple of billy lids, that loved to eat burgers and fries.
It’s not at all romantic, but that’s how most Aussie love stories go.
Lenny and Jenny together forever, They’re mates most of us will know.
Categories: reg, humor, love,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member G Ped

Our appetite wanted more
Bun and cheese, or potted meat sandwich
They were handed out all in a row

From his small room
Its front door slightly ajar
One unbelievable
Kind hand, fed more than four

Reginald led the way and spoke
"Mr. Drummings, yu hav anyting?"
It was rare not hearing locks unlocked
The ringleader was mostly welcome in
Four siblings, four sandwiches, one hand waving us on

He would feed himself in silence
Inside, where
Some unspeakable spirit lurked
Hunger was no joke to Reg. and us
His role of self-reliance
Modeled after same sex
Granny, and Papa, and Mama had no clue

One afternoon, it was just Reg. and I
In the twinkle of an eye, this opening
My stomach gnawed and caved
A chubby hand shooed me on with a wave
I walked toward St. John (our Primary school)
Felt a sudden sickening lonesomeness

Later, much later
The old man lived
In backyard he dwell
Beside body builder's home
His small wooden abode, seemed enough
It sat humbled, beside Reggie's concrete home
Was the old man eased, from his burden?

*
Categories: reg, brother, food, giving, introspection,
Form: Bio

Premium Member Toilet Trouble

Sid suffers from bad constipation
This causes his wife aggravation
You should eat some bran 
Exclaims his wife Fran
This requires his co-operation

But stubborn Sid won’t copy Fran
Who adores eating healthy wheat bran
And he won’t eat veg
Like their grandson Reg
So Sidney spends hours on the can

11/04/21
Categories: reg, humorous,
Form: Limerick

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


First Frost of the Season

First Frost of the Season
By Reg Rhodes




September 1st; the first frost of the season.
The coolness in the air inspires my imagination.

What new adventures will the Rocky Mountain winter bring?
How much snow will fall before spring?

350 inches of snow, or more?
I'm so happy to once again live my life the way it was before!

My snowmachine still waits in summer hibernation.
The sight of it makes me giddy with anticipation.
Soon, I will be rushing down high mountain chutes, overwhelmed with exhilaration.

The smell of snowmobile exhaust Invokes reflections of fresh powder flowing over the top of my sleds hood.
Floating through the mountain powder makes me feel so incredibly good!

What snowy treasures hidden in the backcountry, will we find?
When we explore the endless acres of immense forest pine. 
The trees will beckon to me; and I'll leave my worries behind.

It is in the deep snows and thick pines; where I find my solace and inner peace.
The sight of snow capped mountain tops provides me with a wonderful spiritual release!

The early fall frosts reward me with immense inspiration;
to once again embrace life, and the unique winter season!
© Reg Rhodes  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reg, autumn, nature, seasons, snow,
Form: Rhyme

Die Lewens Gang

Die Lewens gang 

So dwaal ek rond in die lewens gang 
vol van verlange en oral teen di mure 
hang potrete van herineringe. 

Die tyd het geloop sy eie loop 
geloop. Hy het ons mee gesleep en 
wys gemaak. Tyd het geleer ons 
geleer dat ale wonde genees, maar 
tyd was ook te kort om vergaane 
geliefdes weer te groet.

Soms is  ons spyt gewees, soms het 
ons net n sug van verligting, tyd sal 
ons weer verder vat, Die onbekende 
in die lewens lange gang af en oral 
sal daar weer nog potrete by kom 
van vriende en geliefdes wat in die 
niet verdwyn. Maar die herinepringe 
sal weer trug kom waneer ons stil 
raak en trug blik na tye wat verby is.

Daar loop weer 2rye spore deur my 
lewe, soos in die lewens gang van 
ons lewe, verskyn daar ook n potrret 
van jou op my muur, en ek weet uit 
eindelik is jy ook op geteken in my 
lewe. My gemoed raak stil want soos 
van soveel kere van tevore moet ek 
woner sal die potret bly hang, want 
hier in die gang van di lewe is daar 
onbekende dinge, dinge wat kan 
uitwis dit wat eens mooi was. Dinge 
wat gedagtes kan sper en gevoelens 
kan koud laat, en ek skuif die prent 
weer reg want met vetroue en geloof 
sal die potret ook bly hang en die 
kloue van liefde sal hou en nie laat 
gaan.

Want die gang van die lewe is nooit 
reguit nie.  

Nuwe uit dagings wag. Om elke 
draai, maar as ons om ons heen kyk 
is ons geliefde daar, om te help te 
hou op dit wat reg en eg is. 

Want die mense rondom ons sien n 
masker n masker wat niemand 
behalwe ons geliefdes weet wat 
agter aan gaan nie
Categories: reg, absence
Form: ABC

Flight of the Ptarmigan

Flight of the Ptarmigan
By Reg Rhodes



The Ptarmigan emerges from his snow nest; and takes flight. 
It's wings quietly fluttering; carrying him into the silent night.

He carries his message of inner peace on his angelic wings; shrouded in white. 
Illuminated by the full moon; his flying form shines bright.

Only those who can relate to his plight;
will observe this awe inspiring sight. 

I watched him appear from deep within the snow;
and followed the flight of the Ptarmigan;  pondering where he would go.                                                                                                                           

Far, far from his mountain home he flew.
Only to seek answers to the questions that he already knew. 

He couldn't adapt to the warm weather, noise or people; like the flatland brown Grouse.
Upon his return, he discovered that another white winged bird had come and stolen his snow covered house. 

He took flight once more, to a different side of the mountain;  to build a new and better high elevation nest. 
Once again, comfortable in his familiar surroundings; the Ptarmigan was rewarded with a much needed rest.  

The flight of the ptarmigan ended where it began; 
and he returned back to his high alpine home, once again.

Where God intended him to be. 
Where he can once again live happy, and be free.
 
Oh, beautiful ptarmigan; take me away.
And show me yet another wonderful day;
but, please never let me forget to seek Gods guidance whenever I pray.

Thankfully, my trip has ended; right where it began.
Like the Ptarmigan; I have returned home once again. 
.
I'm back up in the mountains; where God intended for me to be. 
Home; where my soul is complete, and once again free.
© Reg Rhodes  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reg, bird, mountains, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme


Die Wereld Draai

As jy jou pyn buite wys 
sal vriendelike,
Irreterende vreemdeling 
jou inlig dat die wêreld 
aanhou draai.
En hulle is reg.
Dit doen.
Maak nie saak hoe hard jy 
dit smeek om te stop.
Dit hou aan draai.

Ek word wakker en is 
gelukkig vir drie 
sekondes.
Dan onthou ek,
Dit draai en kantel mense 
uit 
hul beddens
In hul karre, hul kantore.
'n Stortvloed van klein 
mans en vrouens
Wat deur die lewe tuimel.
Probeer om nie te dink 
wat daar onder wag.

Soms draai dit en stuur 
ons
Wankelrig in mekaar se 
arms.
Ons kleef styf,
Opgewonde en laggend,
Vreemdelinge saam 
gegooi op 'n bewegende 
prethuis vloer.
En dan draai die wêreld 
weer.

En iemand val af...
Dis so 'n lang pad af
Koud van skok,
Kan ons net staan en kyk 
hoe hulle val
En geleidelik kleiner word.
Onttrek stadig uit ons 
geheue
Tot hulle nie meer 
sigbaar is.

Ons versamel in 
begraafplase,
Stil en gespanne,
Asof ons die impak gaan 
hoor;
Die plons van 'n rivier klip 
in 'n donker put,
Probeer om die diepte te 
meet.
Probeer om te meet hoe 
ver ons val.

Geen impak kom;
Geen plons.
Die oomblik gaan verby.
Die wêreld draai
En ons draai weg,
Gaan aan met ons 
lewens...

Ons vou ons self toe
In gerieflike 
voorspelbaarhede
Om ons warm te hou 
teen die koue.
"Tyd is 'n goeie 
geneesheer"
"Ten minste was dit 
vinnig"
"Die wêreld hou aan 
draai"
Categories: reg, angst, death, depression, fear,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Reg's Vest

Reg just loved to wear a string vest
It would cover his dark hairy chest
Vests would hang on the line
When the weather was fine
String vests were the ones Reg loved best

At the airport Reg was booked on a flight
The metal scanner showed something not right
Security were impressed 
His wallet’s pinned to his vest -
They let him through much to Reg’s delight!

This is a true story which was told by our friend Reg’s daughter after his funeral and I was challenged to write a  poem about this

08-21-17
Categories: reg, clothes, friend, humorous,
Form: Limerick

The Suspense Is Torture

A hit and run of epic proportion                                                                                       The Easter conspiracy in motion                                                                                      The CIA FBI  Interpol perplexed                                                                                       Who done it who will be next                                                                                Scotland yard the challenge not met the Reg.                                                                The goose no longer lays the golden egg                                                                   Public supply and demands satisfaction                                                                       Who will it be it is up to you investigation                                                                     Slow to the game the cards are on the the table                                                                The only glue you get a fable                                                                                    - for Lisa Cooper Poetessdarkly contest -Who murdered the Easter bunny? 3/5/2013
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reg, animal, easter, funny, humorous,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member R E G I N a L D

(In loving memory of my big brother, Reg)


Right within my den
Calligraphic letters you penned
Surfaced as reminder of the love we shared
I see picture perfect portraits
No negatives.

You do appear on wings of time
Like sun's penetrating light
In spaces, deep as the Caribbean Sea
Yes, you are reflected
In multiple hews, brilliant as you...
Blood of my blood;

Imagine fortified versions of you
I see courteous crews...
Beyond seven saintly specimens
Now your name is set abroad
As though Griot who ruled.

I remembered, you tamed my fears
And rose to pave smooth
One perilous path I walked to work
Yes, weary women in need of warmth, were
Cloaked in hand woven peace, given by you
Now, you're laminated photo...
Graphed upon walls of grateful minds.

I have seen you prodding time
Through lens of your mind
Tall as mahogany trees
That cools, and shelters multitudes
Now; who but time, will seal
This empty space 
I feel within my soul?
You'll never be you I once knew.

*
Categories: reg,
Form: Bio

Premium Member Funeral Flowers For Reg

lilies on coffin
small teddy nestles in them
silent tears falling

I recently attended the funeral of an old friend and was choked when I saw a small teddy lurking in the flowers and later discovered his great grandchildren has insisted the teddy bear was with him on his final journey

04~22~17
Categories: reg, emotions, flower, funeral, love,
Form: Senryu

Twintig Tien Tot Nou

Twintig tien tot nou

So vinnig soos jy inwurm… in troosprys vlees-genot
..en dink dat dit so lank sal hou; Pasop vir toekoms lot!
En as ek dan verkeerd mag wees – bewys dit dat jy het 
presies gedoen wat ek kon sien; Die fout was niè ons bed!

As ek die feite reg verstaan; en my gedagtes dwaal
na daardie tyd toe hy besluit; my by my werk kom haal – 
en  saam met ons… aan tafel sit – selfs oorslaap vir die nag…
Die legkaartstuk ontbloot aan my…: dat jy hom toè al smag!

En effens met die tyd verloop; steeds in ons ou verhaal.
(Dit was daai aand wat èk weg was) jou skandes jou inhaal.
Gesê dat dit ‘n hoorsê was…; jy hom nie aan wou raak…
Twee jaar later, facebook wys…, jul foto amper naak!

Nou sê jy my dat ek verbrou en jou wou agterlaat?
Terwyl die laaste legkaartstuk jou sondes teen my haat
wil ek probeer om aan te gaan…; my lewe op te bou
in plaas daarvan om blindelings my drang te onderhou.

Ek draai my rug finaal op jou, maak jy maar soos jy moet.
Mag hy jou gelukkig maak. Mag jy hom alles gee.
Ek was my hand onskuldig met -  my vredevol’ gemoed
terwyl ek dan die laaste traan…; hier van my wang af vee.
Categories: reg, divorce,
Form: Rhyme

What a Whopper

Reg’ slipped it out of his trousers
Monica gasped with delight
She’d never seen one so enormous
And it gave her a bit of a fright
He slapped it down hard on the table
She reached out and stroked its whole length
Then trying to lift up the monster
She found she did not have the strength
She knew that the size was a problem
She knew it would never fit in
So she took out a knife from dresser
And sliced it all up nice and thin
Reg told her that was the last time
That people had thought him quite barmy
As he walked all the way down the High Street
Down his trousers a giant Salami
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reg, funny
Form: Light Verse

Premium Member Counting Club Crew

Flora lives next door to Merlin Mouse
He is best friends with Bill O'Grouse,
They were invited to come to tea 
One plus one and Miss Flora Flea.

Paw Dog and Crew Cat from number ten,
Passed Mrs Cluck the plump brown hen.
They kindly invited Mrs Cluck to tea
Two plus two and Miss Flora Flea.

The hen had laid six large eggs,
Carried in a basket by Rooster Reg.
He too was invited by Mrs Cluck 
Both saw and invited Miss Deirdre Duck.

Phoebe Parrot swiftly flew in
Ray Rabbit brought his violin.
Their invites came from Benjamin
Who suddenly declared "Let the tea party begin".

Crew cat and Paw dog were together invited, 
By Bob Robin; the three were very excited. 
But who had invited Flora and Bob Robin to tea?
It was Squire Squirrel who lives at Three Oak Tree.

How many were invited to come to tea?
How many were very excited was it two or three?
Can you add the numbers written all the way through?
You are warmly welcome to the Counting Club Crew.

When you have finished please do tell everyone
To share in the counting and share in the fun. 
There is room for all, invite your friends too
Sharing many journeys with fun counting to do.

     02.06.22
Categories: reg, education, fun,
Form: Rhyme

Registered With the Pennsylvania Dept of Poetry

registered with the Pennsylvania Dept of Poetry ®

inspected by agent #56 
this poem has been aged 
for no less than eighteen months
in an old barn, in an oaken cask
nestled in a wormed wood stall
with an earthen floor and
kept at a steady temperature
despite a few dusty sunbeams 
breaking through the slats in the wall 
with an ol' Tom cat who guards
the wood and the words
ready to howl his approval

© Goode Guy 2012-04-03

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/306/why-is-reg-dept-penna-agr-on-so-many-labels
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: reg, funny, on writing and
Form: Narrative
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