Best Rubber Band Poems
Here's something I have been wondering
For so very long
If Adam and Eve wore only figs leaves
How did they keep them on
It couldn't have been a rubber band
And certainly not super glue
I just really have no idea
Do you have a clue
What did they do in the winter
When fig trees are bare
One leaf wouldn't last all year
I think there's a mystery there
If only Eve hadn't eaten that apple
If only Adam hadn't taken a bite
I wouldn't be trying to solve this
And I'd sleep better at night
I don’t know how, why and from where I got the idea of catapult
One reason I can think of now is, I got all the parts free of cost.
From branches of any of the tree could easily get forked stick first
From the bicycle of my dad’s burst tube I got rubber band for it.
Now as for the stones, they were available a-plenty on the sea
I along with my friends used to play with the catapult with glee.
With people watching our game, used to shoot on the seashore
Someone would come and asked us, “Can’t you shoot farther?”
One day while returning home, we stopped at a tree with berries
And started shooting the berries as we were all full of frolics.
All of a sudden a bird fell down, fluttered its wings with pain,
Many collected the berries, stuffed into their pockets and gone.
One of my best friend said, Wait I am coming back with water
Returned with a glass of water, sprinkled on the bird with care.
The birdie soon was on its feet, walked and flew away later.
We made for the home, though somewhat sad but cooler.
Next day incidentally the language teacher read a poem of *Kalapi
“O birdie, eat happily, sing your songs, I wouldn’t afflict injury”.
Next day I nailed the catapult into the back of my home’s door
I found the catapult there, when I visited my house last summer.
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*Regional Poet of India of 19th century having many similar life and work as John Keats.
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Fourth place winner in:
Contest: Toyland sponsored by Linda-marie, sweetheart of PS
God is greater than the crush that caused the crater
The liars that always said, "Not now but certainly later."
The promise of pay to the delivery of dust
The raising of hope...happiness turns into rust
Always another tall tale about tomorrow...about some sunny day
They're like metal to a magnet...stuck like glue
Scorched like moths...screaming in the flames
God is greater than those monstrous mind movies
Playing so savage in the static
Like toys in the attic with see through souls
Broken, bent and bad way down in bottomless holes
The cruelty of cowards...go along to get along
That same sad song
Sometimes you've got to stand even when there's nothing to stand on
Stretching my soul like a rotted rubber band...any second set to snap
Smiles of sarcasm leave their own sick stamps
Light a lamp or damn the dark
Time to bite and not to bark
Take it out of the park and out of the playground
Shine that spiritual light on the lost and never found
God is greater than any supernatural serpent
Any superpowered evil eyed murder and money makers
Treasure takers and twisted tools
Tragic fiends and terror fools
Friends and foes alike with multiple bad beliefs
Scarecrows made out of sticks and straw who think they're made of steel and stone
Flooded with fear they stay all alone
Lost in clouds of confusion...destructive are their delusions
Beaten and bruised...blackened and blue
No will to win...born only to lose
Consequence for the chaos
Come down to my knees as I take it to the cross
God is greater than any hellion or hater...any psychopathic puppet on paper
Any crime crusader or insanity invader
Nevermind this nightmare
This world of wickedness that's full of homicidal henchmen and treacherous traitors
Yeah, I know the truth and the truth has set me free
God is greater and greater is He
by Dawne Zacharias
He came to me in tears
A plane of thin weightless wood
Fit together by a center groove
A propeller with a rubber band to wind
“Where is it?” I asked
He pointed, “over there” was his whine.
"Show me, my brother," was my love this time,
Then I saw it, bobbing and floating in the middle
of the muddiest, smelliest, most opaque pond
that stretched for a hundred yards or more
“Please get it” he choked, with tears running down his face,
I knew I couldn’t reach it with a branch and
what I would do for my little brother....
what in the world was I thinking, no way am I going in there
I rolled my eyes, as he grabbed my arm, “please” he cried.
As I entered, the mud began to rise above my ankles, then
my washing days had just begun, sneakers, socks, pants...
my knees, waist, then shoulders, cold enveloped me
my walk was pointed in one direction
his bobbing plane now just a few feet away,
one last step and I’d have it!
I could hear my brothers shouts of delight
as I held his plane over my head, he
danced on the edge of the pond, an Indian dance
I could feel his absolute joy in this 25 cent plane,
I smiled and shouted, “ I got it.”
Oxygen Rushes In To Me
Written By Brett Somers
12-19-16
The audible plunge,
On a Somers night.
Cleansing site.
My hands free of this fight.
I leaned back to throw.
In my hand a small window.
Moon kissed a glow.
Eyes fixed beyond what I did know.
Wind whipped my ear,
Reminding me of things I didn’t want to hear.
She’d stretched my heart,
And then let it go.
Like a rubber band,
She’d let me go.
My skin bare,
Standing on shores edge.
In my underwear.
I don’t care.
Up to my waste,
A tear I could taste,
I threw my ring.
To break free of the hurting,
To break free of the hurting.
Above mountain’s silhouette it flew.
Above, with haste it knew.
Times arch has come to an end.
Now, below, brackish waters bend.
To consume this thing,
To the end,
To the end.
Fell back into a salty sleep.
My new life.
And deep my breath withheld.
My body aching to be free.
Emerged above water’s edge,
Oxygen rushes into me,
Oxygen rushes into me.
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
As a kid my hair was a very easy fix,
just pull it back with a rubber band into a ponytail.
As a teen a ponytail was not going to work,
off to the hair shop with picture in hand.
I sat in the chair and said,
I want to look like this picture.
I sat dreaming about my great new hair style,
as I looked in their mirror I was horrified.
I did not look like the picture I showed them,
what had happened to my head of hair.
I will fix the professionals,
next hair cut was on me.
That is when I started to cut my hair,
I still laugh when I get asked -
can they have my hairdresser's information.
I have found some great new friends,
hats in all sizes - styles and colors.
To many, a child in the nineteen fifties
dented cans were important
we used them in various ways
they became our childish telephone
stretched across a room
connected by a long piece of string
we had rubbed with candle wax
it never really worked... but
we never cared
we would stand empty dented cans around the house
and place them strategically... our own little army
then scurry from room to room
carrying a board with two nails buried halfway
a rubber band between them used as a trigger
where clothes pins were launched
trying to defeat this army of cans
but, our most important love for dented cans...was
our mom knew they were cheaper to buy
from the neighborhood market
and we were able to eat that day
1/5/18 contest Dented Cans
I'm a lighthouse that has weathered violent storms;
A tree still unfelled by the blows of an axe.
Despite blows by life's battering ram, I am ...
quite adamantine.
My faith is a chain that will never sever.
My spirit, tantamount to a rubber band.
Stretched, it returns to its original form.
It's adamantine.
STRAND PICK J,ANY THEME,ANY FORM Poetry Contest (Winner: 3rd Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written: 04/28/2020
Howdy friend, I'm new in town.
I think I'll jot a few things down,
which, I hope, might take a frown
and turn it upside down.
OK, now let's play a game,
to see how much we are the same.
These are things that make me smile:
a new bride walks down the aisle
the radio plays my favorite song
a child has a place to belong
fish in a clear mountain stream
being part of a team
I'm weird, I like insects and bugs
but I also like kisses and hugs
a funny, animated cartoon
a cute face on a red balloon
a caring nod, a holding hand
the twanging of a rubber band
a sunny day on the beach
biting a juicy, dripping peach
riding the crest of a wave
climbing into a secret cave
I like to scratch my dog's fur
and the voice of Karen Carpenter
In the morning it is fun
to see a flower meet the sun
a kid on a hot day with a hose
a fly when it lands on his nose
I like to watch a top when it spins
and when the underdog wins
the smell of fresh baked bread
a good story to read in bed
to see the shining happy glow
of a child's face in a talent show
I like munching raisin scones
and wild animals that no one owns
please note, I am also smitten
by a week-old big eared kitten
Motorbikes and barking dogs
are driving me to drink
With the endless din of traffic
I can no longer think
I’ll have a little nip of Gin
Perhaps a beer or two
or maybe close the window
That might help me too
Perhaps I’ll take my rifle
With the telescopic sight
And find a building with a view
Where I can sit at night
Those random noisy neighbours
Would swiftly think again
If metal jacket bits of lead
were winging toward their brains
Another little whiskey then
To keep the cold at bay
And steady trigger finger
As the targets weave and sway
I did this once before you know
And they kept me for a year
Psychotic Paranoia
Induced by too much beer
I didn’t have the rifle then
just a catapult I'd bought
T’was after several nips of rum
Because I thought I aught
It’s gotten so much quieter here
I nailed it bang to rights
and down below looks pretty
With those small blue flashing lights
I think they’re waving up here
I can see them scurry round
Behind their little armoured cars
They’re kneeling on the ground
I hear the whiz of bullets
But my vodka dulls the sound
Perhaps I’ll have a pop or two
At those insects five floors down
I’m feeling kinda sleepy now
I’m tired upon my feet
And those noisy thudding chopper blades
could ruin a good nights sleep
A small nightcap, a brandy tot
Should calm my trembling hand
And then I think I’ll take a shot
At that choppers rubber band
I expect I’ll get a little sleep
In Broadmoor’s padded rooms
And get out in a year or so
As recessions lay offs loom
So one more shot and then to sleep
I’ll go out like a light
So just before I take it
I’ll wish you all goodnight.
Her heart is located in every part of her being
and bones, calcified with the vitamins of meekness.
Peace begins and ends her collection of any intention
and her reaction, irrespective of situation
always avoids its rights of being thorough.
Softer than a hot dough, and more flexible than a rubber band
even in the midst of hungry chewers
and the threat from playful band stretchers
she holds strong to the emblem of her personality
putting the eyes of calm in a shock dilation
to the awe of her tolerance and irritability.
If nations were like her, humanity would have no scar
her deeds incarcerate pride and incriminate greed
with an intuition structured by static trees
beside a slow moving river
enveloped by the faint whistling of happy resting birds.
The healthy mystery of such an existence
adds royalty to the privilege of being human
because she gets hurts
only when the devil himself directly strikes
with the mercenaries of hell yet unknown to possible actuality.
Like a character in a Dr Seuss book
I play the New Years “Push Me Pull You” game
Daily I stretch stubborn limbs
Into pretzel-like shapes
Hoping to mitigate nature’s downward force
I beg my legs to carry me with a ballerina’s lightness
Instead I’m gratified to lumber like an elephant
But just as surely
Gravity returns each night
Tightening my joints’ screws
Pulling my tendons’ strings
Compressing my spine's vertebrae
Ignoring my pleas
To just stay where I put them
Hips refuse to do my bidding
I say, “Swivel!”.
They reply with a half-hearted twist
Like opening a tin with a rusty can opener
They creak and protest
Surrendering minimally to my commands
I pray for rubber-band arms
As I reach behind to unzip
I receive a lock-jaw response
Elbows protrude in disjointed positions
Instead of a ballerina’s plie
My legs respond with twisted screams of agony
My neck once had backward eyes that inspired terror
In kids afraid of being discovered
Now it is straight-jacketed into a forward position
Like a soldier in a parade line
Afraid to get called-out by the commander
Don’t push us too far my muscles yell
Aches and pains too terrible to imagine
Will be your rewards
If you overextend.
it this a warning?
family on their way to town
rubber band woman
Viewing life through a lens,
My mind shot like a bullet going 100
miles a minute,
Then the journey begins,
I see the beauty in life,
Things I would miss if God would
end it,
Things the naked eye may never
understand,
The blissful moments in life,
I see the kindness in a lion,
The warm heart of a butterfly,
Shattered dreams that never flew to
the sky,
Like a slingshot trying to shoot a
razor blade,
Piercing the rubber band,
Like a cracked glass shattering in my
hand,
I see the maze of life,
Ways to heal the world,
I see the truth of love,
The reason to appreciate every girl,
The things to make a better world
begin,
Is hidden on the Earth as it spins,
Hidden by a higher class hoping we
will never know,
But I see the truth,
Viewing life through a lens,
By:Anthony Scandrick II