Best Scoffed Poems
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Sweet Butterfly, with wings now dry 'tis time to break away
and light upon the leaves of dawn while weeping willows sway,
not reminisce 'bout chrysalis discarded yesterday,
but treasure life, with colors rife in nature's cabaret.
Sweet Butterfly, you sometimes sigh "terrene so strange and new”,
but take a chance, with winged expanse of fairy-like bijou,
to taste delight in random flight, to drift beyond the blue
and then collect her naked nectar, sipped in morning dew.
Sweet Butterfly, you question why the breeze is seldom soft
when swirling you, your wings askew, while floating free aloft.
Some seem to find their peace of mind believing gods have coughed,
but others, downed, have often found more freedom when they've scoffed.
Sweet Butterfly, you needn't cry, the fields are full of clover,
and meadowlands bare braided strands that winds in waves flow over -
but if you fear that, more than here, another mead is mauver,
just flutter by, beneath the sky, unfettered flitting rover.
Sweet Butterfly, farewell, goodbye, you've left this world behind.
I oft gaze back along the track of flowers that you've mined
recalling days of light sashays and movements unconfined
that complement the firmament where beauty lies enshrined.
Warts and all
She made a mistake
when she kissed a toad
No castle or carriage
She chose a rough road
He had a few warts
he wasn't debonair or cool
Others scoffed and they laughed
But our toad wasn't a fool
For love was a potion
He knew she believed
He tried so very hard
With his heart he achieved
For she was so lovely
So caring and serene
concerned only with his heart
Not the places he'd been
It wasn't very easy
it was in fact it was tough
to be in love with a princess
and have less than enough
But she never complained
Not a whimper or cry
She said he was amazing
He was her special guy
So he worked night and day
from the inside he grew
he became all he could be
the Prince that she knew
Yes they found their happy
Him kind and never a jerk
Love indeed conquers all
with a smidgen of hard work
Together they built castles
chariots and other things
Traveled on positive thoughts
and the gifts that love brings
So if you see a toad smiling
know that that toad is just me
a kiss from my princess
thankfully set me free
With hair ablaze
a jester unconfined.
I scoffed at the mundane
its life declined.
My wardrobe
a riot
a rhapsody bold.
Mismatched socks my standard
stories untold.
In classrooms of tedium
rules I'd defy
Grasping forbidden knowledge
'neath watchful sky.
Craving for wisdom in
esoteric wells.
Chased squirrels with saws
casting fanciful spells!
Detentions for antics
the school's icy stare
Derided in classrooms
a spirit too rare.
Math teacher's scorn
a job painting lines foretold.
I retorted, "How much does it pay?"
- detention took hold.
Mom asked me why I never brought my girls home?
I chuckled and said, "They're not the type to be shown!"
The wild ones
the rebels
the ones full of flame.
Not the kind for a dinner
not the ones with a name.
Misfits my comrades
a menagerie strange.
United in chaos
defying the change.
Years danced in a blur a pantomime bright
But a disquieting word a sense of not quite right.
A whirlwind of antics a panoply grand
Impromptu escapes with career-shifting sands.
Near-death encounters with fauna
a squirrel, perhaps?
But the thrill
oh the thrill
fueled my madcap laps!
The thrill of the unexpected
a fading strain
A gnawing suspicion
a predictable bane.
The mask I had crafted
of rebellion's grand guise.
Cracked and revealed
the truth in my eyes.
The jester unmasked with a lesson I gained.
That the extraordinary in the ordinary
can be just plain.
No longer I chase the fantastical dream...
But accept the real where
beauty can stream.
For the truest defiance lies not in the fight.
But accepting oneself in the ordinary light.
So here I stand
flaws and all
unashamed.
The laughter remains though the fantasy's tamed.
With lessons in tow I'll mend and I'll mend.
Explore the mundane and find joy till the end.
For the greatest adventure
in life's simple quest...
Is finding the magic
within one's own breast.
It was during WWII
Japan ruled
Koreans obeyed
Japan ordered
All Koreans
Walk up to Shinto Temple
And bow down to the picture
Of their emperor
Are you kidding?
My father scoffed
My God is god of Jesus Christ
Him will I only serve
My father was taken to prison
My brother Hi-Seung volunteered
To join the military
To have his father released
He left home
As a vibrant 15 year old boy
He returned home
As an injured 18 year old man
He died a year later
Before he died
I looked forward
To every tomorrow
When he died
The light went out of my life
He was my best friend
My heart still yearns for him
More than sixty years later
I wish there is a place
Called heaven
So that I can hold his hand
Look up to him with smile
When I get there
What is a Poet?
A singer of songs, a caller of warnings;
A crier of tears, a laugher, a weeper.
Lover of life; of nature, of God;
One set apart; scoffed at and shunned.
Sufferer of numberless maladies.
A poet spreads his soul;
Rampant over white paper;
To be wondered at and mocked.
To incite passion, tears, and smiles.
To expound truth and create beauty.
Suddenly, my shoulders shine
with blessed liquid, sweet, divine
Mouth unhinged to quell the tongue
with, oh... just a kiss, just a drop
These days we had when we were young
Running mad through hot cloud tears
soaked and chilled and giggling while
we scoffed at future, mid-aged years
We'd hurry obtuse with dress and heels
calloused veneer from latent appeals
to strip off the clothes, to don on the suit
The sky opens up and dissolves this pursuit...
One day there will be a harvest like no other we’ve ever seen,
The day God harvests His people and casts out those that are unclean.
Only those that are fruitful and have fed on His word,
And drank from His living waters will have the right to be heard.
For those who were sinful and scoffed at His name,
Will suffer their consequences and be turned away for their shame.
For the day of the harvest all chances have ceased,
And the outcome is simple, the lake of eternal fire or God’s heavenly feast.
Forever in paradise or forever tormented in hell,
The choices you make determines where you will dwell.
No more excuses will you make as your name is called and you face Judgment Day,
You’re either rewarded grandly or sentenced to forever pay.
It is not for me to judge, only am I to try and save a few souls,
To turn their lives around and make heaven their only goal.
Daily read your Bible and praise and thank God for all that He has done,
And above all else especially thank Him for sending us His only Son.
Me barber’s still one of them blokes who lives the school of old,
using methods quite old fashioned to what modern trends unfold,
so with scissors, clippers, hot towel, then lathered with a brush,
he’ll shave you with a cutthroat, though never in a rush.
And he offers further benefits, if you’re that way inclined,
for just a couple of extra bob, you get your shoes well shined,
and while waiting for your turn, you can read a magazine,
or tune in on conversation, while his razors shaving clean.
He sells those huge cigars as well. I think the Cuban brand!
And there’s Californian Poppy that the young won’t understand.
Wafting through his barber shop is the smell of after shave…
And today there is one customer, who wants to misbehave.
He’ll be in the chair before me; I have to put up with his rot,
his voice is loud and won’t shut up, intimidating all us lot,
so when his time had come, we hoped he’d give us all a spell,
then he demands a shave and haircut and to shine his shoes as well.
I watched the barber lathering, before he beckoned with a call…
then this beautiful young woman came and stood in front of all.
The barber mentioned “Here’s a customer, wanting you to shine his shoes”
and when she bent down to do the job she gave some awesome views.
The loudmouth couldn’t help himself; he had to open up his gob.
He mentioned to the pretty lass, that when she finishes her job,
they ought to sneak away together, and book themselves a motel room,
but from the lass who shone his shoes, a shock’s about to loom!
She smiled into his soaped up face, and gave his shoe a pat,
“I’m sorry sir, I’m married and my husband wouldn’t like that.”
“Your husband!” Scoffed the loudmouth, “Use your commonsense!
Tell him you’re working overtime and I’ll pay you the difference.”
The lass raised her brow and gave a grin, then his shoe a final wipe.
She stood up and took a deep breath before replying to his hype,
“Your offers pretty good” she said, “I’ll go and get my hat and coat,
but you can tell him if you like… he’s got the razor at your throat.”
©2005 Lindsay Laurie
Rap like Rabbit battle Rap
21/05/2018
Livin by the beach and baby life’s good
Not stuck in a rut or in a crummy hood
I’m writing tight rhymes like you know you should
Or like you thought you would
No like you wish you could
But man you ain’t got no wood
Your actions so sloppy n soft
I’m holdin the trophy aloft
Yeah my critics they all scoffed
But my paper leads the way
To hear my rap you gotta pay
The pretty skirts all wanna stay
So many I gotta shoo em away
Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free
Now listen up a while
And you’ll hear my roarin style
Insults on you I’ll pile
So deep you’ll run 8 mile
Like a rascally rabbit
Talkin rain like Charlie Babbitt
Stuttering’s your best habit
Tear out your heart man I’ll stab it
Oops now your bleeding out
But your soulless words don’t shout
Your lips just quiver n pout
Man... I know what your about
Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and coppin cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free
Look at you your a disgrace
Tears a runin down your face
Can’t keep up with my hectic pace
No I won’t show you no grace
Cause now I’m free flowin fast
Like I’ve had a wicked blast
And your junk is still half mast
Oh Man your moments past
Now this is kinda tricky
But your Calvin’s Kleins are sticky
Man I’m just takin the Micky
Out of your sweet little dicky
Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free
I can’t help but be like this
My arrows never gonna miss
And when you do throw out a diss
I’ll grin or smile and blow a kiss
Cause you can’t touch me dog
Girl on your arm looks like a hog
Girl on mine’s so hot theirs fog
Your starin speechless your agog
I got the paper, chicks and words
You can’t even find a use for verbs
I bet your smokin chockin on herbs
I’m clean n mean, mind undisturbed
Cause I’m the one you wanna be,
livin the dream and copping cream
Yeah I’m the one they wanna see, they be givin it away for free
A SONG THAT WILL ONLY MAKE SENSE
TO EAST COASTERS! (CANADA)
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
We’ve been to L’Anse Meadows, explored the Labrador.
Cruised the Ponds in Gros Morne Park, fished Caplin from the shore.
Raised a glass at Crow’s Nest, saw the sunrise Cape Spear beach.
Sang along with Great Big Sea, kissed the Cod and drank the Screech.
We’ve inner tubed the Nashwaak, fly fished the Miramichi.
Been to Historic Village in the heart of Acadie.
Climbed the Big Bald mountain, walked on Fundy’s floor.
Coasted up Magnetic Hill, scoffed at the Tidal Bore!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Sang “Farewell to Nova Scotia|”, drank Rita’s tea as well.
Danced all night at Ceilidhs, been to the Citadel.
Strolled the shore of Baddeck Bay, where the Silver Dart took flight.
Walked the wharf called Fisherman’s, the rocks at Peggy’s Light.
Sang “Bud the Spud!” with Stompin’ Tom, watched splinters fly away.
Ate lobster at church suppers, could hardly walk away.
Picked potatoes for the farmers, back in our childhood years.
Crossed Confederation Bridge, eight miles long me dears!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2024.
Franky was seven and having a party
He told all his school-mates, except for Spud Carty
And once they had heard that Spud wasn't invited
All of them said they were really excited
And then at the party the kids all had fun
Which might have continued if Spud hadn't come
Spud didn't play games, he was not in the mood
He’d much rather stuff himself full of free food
He grabbed all the biscuits and scoffed the whole lot
And all the Bombay mix although it was hot
He snaffled the sarnies and some went down whole
Then grabbed the spaghetti piled up in a bowl
He gobbled so much that he struggled to chew
Then Franky cried out, that's not only for you
Spud simply laughed spitting food as he said
We all gotta eat... or else we'd be dead
And that was when poor Franky found himself wishing
His dad had stayed home and had not gone off fishing
Spud sucked spaghetti like slithering snakes
And said when I'm done, gonna find me some cakes
But Franky looked sick and he started to squirm
That sgetti looks just like a wriggly worm
And Spud got annoyed when he heard someone giggle
Don't be so stoopid, spaghetti can't wriggle
Spud swallowed more, that spaghetti was yummy
He said with a grin as he patted his tummy
You lot he shouted must really be thick
To get the food first you'd have to be quick
The front door swung open, there stood Franky's dad
He looked a bit angry, in fact he looked mad
I’m meant to be fishing but I'm running late
I got to the lake but forgot all my bait
I've checked out the shed and I've looked all around
Wherever I look there's no bait to be found
Was it indoors his son Franky enquired
So it would be handy when it was required
Right there on the table his father confirms
An old plastic dish, full of wriggly worms
And that was when Spud's belly started to grumble
And everyone heard his guts starting to rumble
Spud almost flew to the lavatory
What happened next was a horror story
And when throwing up seemed much less of a danger
He left with kids calling out, Don't be a stranger!
Through the eyes of one born in 1952:
1950’s TV craze
Muscle cars, blue jeans
Poodle skirts, class ring exchanges
Simple time, grandparents involved.
Girls want to be pretty, men call women girls
I Love Lucy
Topper, Loretta Young,
Show of Shows
Grandma’s house on Sundays. Grandpa’s teach skills.
Girls want to be beautiful, men call women “dames”
1960’s Marauding cold war
Russia cosmonauts
Space race
Grandparents are moved to nursing homes.
Girls want to be Jackie, men call women “wife”
JFK and Bobby
Dr. Martin Luther King
Killed by cowards
Grandparents give advice, but visits are more seldom.
Girls want to be housewives, men call women back home.
Early 1970’s, hippie revolution
Egyptian cat queen make-up, free love, anti-war.
Barbara Streisand, Sonny and Cher, Bette Midler,
Grandparents see an alarming pattern of disrespect.
Girls want to be singers and dancers, men get confused.
1980’s
Fur vests, striped pants
Disco Music, John Travolta, Sundays are just another day.
Grandparents have rights, and try to get part time custody of their grandchildren.
Women want to have rights, be independent. Men call them “busters”
1990’s, Turn of everything, selfishness on the rise.
Assassination of Innocence, church and family are scoffed.
Grandparents back off, not daring to give advice, seeing it is not wanted.
Women are working all over the place. Men are not the only bread-winners.
2000’s Computers are in houses
Children are alone, latch key
911 happens, people pray for a day or two.
Grandparents are nowhere around.
Men and women get depressed; children are too.
2010’s
I-phone. I-pad, I-know. I, me, I, I, I.
Lawsuits, lawlessness, spiritually bereft.
Communication breakdown; facetime grandparents once in a pink moon (rarely).
People sit next to each other and text. Confusion reigns supreme.
Breaking down of family is complete. Sorrowful, angry people, disjointed, sad.
With a shade of colourless eyes
Have I looked upon a world of discrimination
My nature is a rare form of uniqueness
And I defile every race by description
Golden hair on pale silver skin
An African white woman of Timbuktu kin
I have danced to the tune of my mockery
With teary eyes have I smiled at victory
Sharp edged stares may pierce me daily
Yet I walk head high and step most steady
Though the sun remains a foe that tortures
Still I conquer it with protective amours
I scowled at the honey tongues of lying lovers
Professing love only to taste my rare fairness
I read through their lines but read in between better
For this fragile,ignorant creature was fully harnessed
I have been belittled, scoffed and shaken
And redefined by several ethnic culture
I have been judged,ignored and broken
I have been worshipped,feared and obscured
But I created the burning hero in Me
And won my inner battle the greatest battle to be
For i embraced my deepest weakness
And savoured every drop of success
I am that nature's mysterious creation
A shortsighted being with farther vision
I betrayed my timidity and trampled its shell
I am a story and this story I tell
By: Adams O Elizabeth
Lizdiamond World Of Poetry
As related by my father;
Once, long ago,
he rear ended a cop car
Not a happy thing you know...
The cop had stopped short
But he wasn't the sort
To admit what he ought
He could find little reason
for legal action,
So he sought another sanction
He had my father tested
by a mental doc
Who asked stupid questions
You know that crock...
His defining question,
"What would you do if
you saw a flying saucer?"
Unflinching, my father replied,
"I'd shoot it down with my
battleship!"
The doc scoffed,
"And where'd you get
your battleship?"
Quick as a whip, he replied,
"The same place you got your
flying saucer!"