Best Repartee Poems
As he stood paper cup in hand by the drinking fountain on a train
somewhere south of Kankakee, miles from Chicago,
a quiet, pensive, older man was getting harangued by a loudmouthed,
blowsy, beer drinking, inconsiderate, disheveled and overweight woman.
Aka, his wife.
She finally shut her mouth after he exploded with,
“get your face out of mine, yo breath smells like
you been eatin camel dookey for a week!”
The laughter from the old men in the club car was deafening,
so she just sat down and cried all the way to New Orleans.
This narrative for the comma contest is a childhood memory I observed riding the Illinois Central’s “City of New Orleans.” Circa 1955.
Enjoying an appealing repartee
Over scones and a cup of tea
Belching whilst cooking
Avoiding chronic particles from choking
Comradeship amongst landed gentry and friends
It all makes faultless sense
Avoiding topics that’s nonsensical
Keeping a lid on emotions and remaining sensible
Being sensuously sociable
Status eminent and unreachable
It is nonetheless within pulpit reach
Spattered with a seven year itch
A contentious immoral pair
Culminating in an indelible affair
Relationship commencing from spontaneity
Both relenting with reciprocity
Inappropriate association stifling me
Loathing of perversity for all to see
Probing the other with a stolen glance
Guard down devoid of a lance
Facilitating a rendezvous
Gathering a result of a woo
Deeper drawn into the abyss in vain
Inglorious fall from grace of the luscious moral fountain
One part of the source
Neither one being remorseful
Subsequently asked for divorce
The indignant feeling pitiful
Both caught in shameless tryst
In the presence of taut vice
The spilling of the sauce
There shall now be no more recourse
Must confess, you guys keep me alive
On our daily repartee, I continue to thrive
So many friends
Companions to the end
Journeying forth, my joy I can't hide
© Jack Ellison 2015
I relish sparring repartee of clever quips...
Particularly, when voicing and/or
writing bon mots doth betake
chuckling clownlike me
rumbled stilled skin,
and e'en rouses
this mummified corpse
(asleep for bajillion years)
among sleepers awake,
where mine inside belly
doth pleasantly ache
jollity the best medicine
most thus spoke Zarathustra,
asper nonpareil persona
American radio broadcaster
Doctor Demento would attest,
one need not buy,
nor spend real or "FAKE"
money, yet brilliant come
back (as averred by
unnamed modest chap)
sweeter than New York cheesecake
moist definitely more
delectable than grubstake
jamming gobstopper with
yodels, ring dings,
or mouth size edible
chocolate candied drake,
a propensity for parrying
thrusts humorously recently
adopted, though occasionally
embarrass self,
and perhaps I might
momentarily even forsake
such wordplay, but
honing humorous turns
of phrases come roaring
back to partake, and
appease simple pleasure
inexplicably to satiate
passion with English
Language and slake
unquenchable thirst
experiencing euphoria,
vis a vis yours truly
melding, jump/kick starting,
forging, distilling
reasonable rhyme
(albeit short lived) giddy
as if I won sweepstake
this newfound affinity
with whittling words
manifested during opaque
throes of fatherhood,
when ceaseless parental
demands sought fast break
from learning to
accommodate lest stressful
overwhelming anguish
found me undertake
king oft times frazzled state,
where among great
anonymous dead poets
society, posthumous renown
would be small consolation
for widowed missus,
whose then two little girls,
(now grown to womanhood)
would inconsolably shake
for ever and anon drowning
their sweet sorrows,
where profuse tears
engender lachrymose lake.
Well lah-tee-daw and fiddle-tee-dee
What's this stuff that's come over me
Happy as a pig
Doing a jig
A jig's not my thing, gonna resort to repartee
Must confess, you guys keep me alive
On our daily repartee, I continue to thrive
So many friends
Companions to the end
Journeying forth, my joy I can't hide
Must confess, you guys keep me alive
On our daily repartee, I continue to thrive
So continue my friends
Companions to the end
Journeying forth, my joy I can't hide
I had to discourage the love of Mary Lou
My pals advised me what to do
Just insult her the Texas way
She'll set you free and go away.
But Mary Lou heard on the grapevine of my plan,
so decided down the road she could kick the can
I told her that I'd rather cuddle a hornet than her
She said, "it's your call, what you prefer"
I was taken aback, tried something worse
Said she'd eat anything that don't eat her first
She acknowledged a diet would do her good
And thanked me, because I understood.
I said she was as full of wind as a bean eating horse
She said "Yes, I talk too much, I have to change course"
I couldn't believe this, the wedding was in a week
Mary Lou wouldn't release, I was up a creek
I thought Texas insults don't work
I said "Your Mom should have thrown you away and kept the stork"
She said "that's really funny, but it came from "Mae West"
Still, I love your way with a jest."
I said "Honestly, Mary, I just can't go through
I can't get hitched, it's not what I want to do
I want to drink with the guys, and play the field
If I marry you, my fate is sealed."
Mary smiled, said "OK, I'll go off with Tad"
I felt hurt and asked, "you don't feel bad?"
She said "You'll go far, and I hope you stay there"
I said, "That really hurts, don't you care?"
She said "you don't know what you are going to lose
But it's your right to be wrong, your right to choose
Far from me to ask you to stay:
The mental hospital tried too many drugs on you today."
My pals all laughed, said, "Son, you're beat
She played your game, admit defeat!"
Now I sit alone, just nursing my pride,
The field turned out empty, and she could've been my bride.
Must confess, you guys keep me alive
On our daily repartee, I continue to thrive
So many friends
Companions to the end
Journeying forth, my joy I can't hide
My name is Julie Chatterbox,
I do waste thoughts a lot,
I can perform my monologue,
My brain does yap-a-lot,
All I have to say,
Is raise your coffee this way,
To stinking thinking, okay!
If you want an opinion, ask me,
I can indulge in repartee!
"Open door!" yells he,
"Outta way, need a wee!"
After piddle,
Timeless riddle,
"What's for tea?"
"Can't chat!' says she,.
"Need a wee!"
So you and me,
Aging bladder to you,
"Where's the loo?"
Anywhere you go,
Wait, soon you'll know!