Best Scram Poems
Age gracefully…that’s what I’ll do
Going to ignore the lines, how about you?
Inner beauty is what really counts
I happen to love my drooping mounts
Absolutely no Botox or fillers for me
Another varicose vein, Yipee
I’ll learn to love myself, no matter what
I will forever have my untucked gut
Graceful and elegant, that’s what I am
I will tell those cosmetic companies to scram
Lip plumping or lipo…no darn way!
And as for my hair…I will let it go gray
Facelifts are for the weak, you know
I happen to adore the feet of the crow
I’ll snub my reflection, chuckling a little at me…
For shunning pricey moisturizers provides me with glee
I don’t need any convertible or flashy car
My beauty shines really brightly, from afar
Who cares about the rolls, seeming to multiply each day?
No staples for me, I don’t care what I weigh
Dark circles make my eyes look cute
And those saddlebags are really a hoot
Juvederm and Radiance ….what a waste
On this mug, parentheses DO have a place
Lasik-I sincerely think not
That bifocal look is certainly hot
A new boytoy-There will be none of that
Though I’m sure he’d dig my charming back fat
The bell, oh no, I don’t mean to be crass
I guess I dozed off in Algebra Class
I must have been close to 40 in that frightful dream
And I was just about to let off a really loud scream
Nevertheless, my dear friends, I do so solemnly vow
To go off and age gracefully…at least for now
That's right...no need for the third degree
I promise to not get my first brow lift…until I’m at least 23
The clanking sound of spurs, the sun’s glare
off the shiny doppelganger derringers.
Her hat tipped onto her sweating brow.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests!”
Her cowhide boots kick up the prairie dust.
She’s not your quintessential grandmother.
Her torrential windpipe words ready for a fight.
“I will be number one! Like it or not!”
She spits tobacco into the air, daring a challenge,
and it drops at the feet of the biggest contest.
“Chew on that one...for a while!”
A patch over one green eye, the jealous one. She wears it
as a badge of honor. No one messes with Lady Cogburn.
Like showing off pictures of her family, she lets a scroll roll loose.
Her adjectives and verbs, nouns and sounds.
“I dare anyone to steal my verse! Who's brave enough
to roll out one of their own!”
She spits and stares them down, as one courageous chick
steps forward and just as quick she lays her low.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Now the rest of you scram!”
Dodge City, the ghost town, has one occupant. She lights her Virginia Slims, lets her poetic smoke circle the air — like vultures.
7/20/2018
Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
Summer Camp
Summer camp's been a win-win, this week made me grin!
What great times we had, going like mad, never sad
met playing croquet the first day of our va-cay
you're the one I had fun with each day in the sun
played awesome sports in shorts, laughed through games of all sorts
what jokes we'd make sitting by the lake, sun would bake
we swam every day at the dam, then had to scram
off to canoe, whistle blew, I'd eat lunch with you
goodbye my sweetie pie, our time has just flown by
your kiss felt right late last night. Don't forget to write!
written 17 Aug 2020
Said a Cod to a wise old Eel,
I would like to know how you feel?
Though people snack on dips,
Lots more eat fish and chips.
They say it has great meal appeal!
Said the Eel to the wise old Cod,
I find that unusually odd.
I've never had to worry,
As so many eat curry.
Very few are after my bod!
Just then a worldly old Squid,
Doing what Squids always did.
Went swimming slowly on by.
Said he "Me, they'll never fry"
"They'll only eat me jellied!"
Next came a Lobster and Blue Crab.
Followed by a Flounder and Dab.
They agreed with the old Cod,
A fish with a succulent 'bod'
Always ends up on a slab!
Then a Shrimp, Whelk and a Mussel.
All went by in a hustle.
Then the Winkle with the Clam,
Who said "I'd better scram!"
"Cos I give chowder its muscle!
Following next came the Herring,
In a disguise he was wearing.
For he was truly afraid,
That the batter being made,
Was for him. His instinct unerring!
Then both a large and small-mouthed Bass,
And a lone, solitary Wrasse.
Not to forget the Scallop,
Going by at a gallop.
All getting away en masse!
Next Mackerel, Haddock and Plaice.
Not one with a smile on its face.
The handsome Halibut too,
Was looking glum and blue,
Which went as well for the Dace!
Now to all fish its crystal clear.
Most of them have plenty to fear.
Be they skinned, fried and eaten
With bread - White, Brown or Wheaten,
Or soaked and battered in beer!
Rhymer. December 6th, 2016.
Tyrannosaurus Bob is who I am.
You herbivore dinos had better scram.
When I have an appetite,
I will give you a big bite.
I never settle for just eggs and ham.
It’s Jurassic time.
Dinosaurs are on the earth.
The big reptiles rule.
White Van Man
White van driver, he couldn’t give a damn
Oh how I wish that he would scram
From lofty heights he owns the road
He’s deft at signs sure to forebode
With cell in hand intent on chat
He swears at the driver wearing a hat
Coursing a path that’s bumper to bumper
Behind the woman, oh how he could thump her
His high sided vehicle sways this way and that
He’ll be there soon with foot down flat
He’s king of the motorway’s third lane
He’d love to shunt and scare, be a right bane
But to him his driving feels quite lame
He’s white van driver who feels no shame
A hotheaded madcap who loves to race
Carrying a smugness all over his face
When home he parks to own the street
Along with others, its quite a fleet
In the morn, he rises with the lark
Returning faithfully after its dark
He’s white van driver, he does what he likes
He tells his neighbours to get on their bikes
His majestic status is sure to be noted
Carrying an image to which he’s devoted
So white van man, you don’t give a damn
But I tell you squarely that you’re a right sham
Faint stillness of the night falls swiftly down
and masked raccoons now pillage darkest night.
Fluffed owls with sparkling eyes are flying free
and rabbits, gently moving, sniff the air...
The hounds - from hunter lost - do bay and whine!
Marked deer with spots or racks go pawing trails
and bear cubs ramble near a sparkling stream.
Uncommon moths blink near the lights outside
and possums scramble up the hillside earth.
Soft light of moon obscures the beauty there
and adds romance to this nocturnal scene.
Amid the forest’s trees of pine and oak,
these charms display the gift of God’s design!
Faint STILL-ness OF the NIGHT falls SWIFT-ly DOWN
and MASKED rac-COONS now PIL-lage DARK-est NIGHT
Fluffed OWLS with SPARK-ling EYES are FLY-ing FREE
and RAB-bits, GEN-tly MOV-ing, SNIFF the AIR
The HOUNDS, from HUN-ter LOST, do BAY and WHINE
Marked DEER with SPOTS or RACKS go PAW-ing TRAILS
and BEAR cubs RAM-ble NEAR a SPARK-ling STREAM
Un-COM-mon MOTHS blink NEAR the LIGHTS out-SIDE
and POS-sums SCRAM-bles UP the HILL-side EARTH
Soft LIGHT of MOON ob-SCURES the BEAU-ty THERE
And ADDS ro-MANCE to THIS noc-TURN-al SCENE
a-MID the FOR-est’s TREES of PINE and OAK
these CHARMS dis-PLAY the GIFT of GOD’S de-SIGN
©by Regina Riddle
Written on July 29, 2014
Re-written for contest on July 30, 2014
Re-written twice for contest on July 31, 2014 – with LOTS of help from
sponsor and much thanks to Roy Jerden
For: For Newer Poets: An Exercise in Iambic Pentameter - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Roy Jerden
I deliver newspapers at night on a rural route and see all of these nocturnal
creatures along my journey… the origins of the poem.
Skit, Scat, Scram, Skadattle.
Get, going, and gone.
Won't be back, until the break of dawn.
We sat down town.Wearing a funny frown.
Me and my little lady.In her little night gown.
Skit, Scat, Scram, Skadattle.
Get, going, and gone.
Won't be back, until the break of dawn.
Grabbed some dinner at the corner cafe.
Lost all, our hard earned money.
So we just couldn't pay.
Skit, Scat, Scram, Skadattle.
Get, going, and gone.
Won't be back, until the break of dawn.
We never got caught because we ran so fast.
Either run real fast, or get caught soon.
So we ran real fast, from the corner cafe.
Skit, Scat, Scram, Skidattle.
Get, going, and gone.
Won't be back, until the break of dawn..
Children's Poetry By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1985,2014..ALL rights reserved.
candy yams- smellin' like spam...I like green eggs, and maybe some ham
lookin' like Gina, but with a shape like Pam...
I called and emailed her a dozen times, like spam
...she never liked me, always told me to scat and scram...
I'm tellin' you, she had a body like WHAM! and if I could touch her, I'd be like damn!
...in my dreams...we make love and we ram...
all night long, we just bam...
I want to get with her one day and we'll be a happy fam...
cause the perfect catch for her, is what I am...
why don't you like me...huhh excuse me mam...
about my feelings I'm not lying to you, this is no scam
we could go out for breakfast, did I mention I like green eggs and possibly ham?
...I'm so obsessed, it's like I'm possessed...I look thru her window and take pictures with my cam...
hopin' I could get my jelly and we could make it jam...
...cause she's so fine, she so sexy, she's just so glam
close my eyes, count 1, 2, 3...she will be with me
AL LA KAAZAM!
Green eggs and ham
Cursor Curser
Would there were only one cursor
for one is bad – two is “worser”
amid the streams of vitriol
I watch the drop down menu – fall.
I dread the pop up ads, and spam
the wasted time to make them scram
the bells and whistles, warning lights
that tell me all my wrongs – and rights.
Thus do I wander cyberspace
looking for a friendly face
sipping cold and oily brew
as download light grows slowly blue.
I search books that make minds numb
written by – and for – the dumb.
John G. Lawless
3/22/2015
Today is the day that I finally change,
some may find me a little strange.
But you don't even know who I really am
so take all your thoughts and scram.
I went out and go my hair cut
I changed my style,too, somewhat.
Nobody knew why I really did this
at least not until I told my sis.
That night we stayed up and talked
than she said,"I'm really not shocked."
it was at that moment I needed to tell my Dad
all I could hope was he wouldn't be mad.
I talked to my Dad face to face
I felt he would see me as a disgrace.
We talked for quite a while
than he looked at me with a smile.
My Dad and I hugged each other,
and decided not to tell my mother.
The tears stopped rolling down my cheek
but that only lasted for a week.
In the middle of the Universe, I stand
Geared up to continue our deed
And since from our native planet, we have been banned
The two of us carry on at light speed
Zirck and I traveled afar from an orb called, Quoll
Where our planet has turned cold as ice
See, we couldn’t burn any more wood, oil, or coal
Due to our leader’s fake science advice
We looked over new galaxies for what it’s worth
For a planet that could share some spare heat
That’s when we were told about planet earth
That’s not as cold as our big old ice sheet
We traveled ten light years to the Milky Way
And saw earth had lots of spaceships swarming
We had no other choice than to join the fray
To absorb some of earth’s global warming
While at once I noticed that I stopped shivering
Zirck the sharp genius, hacked a satellite
Thus we observed the news they were delivering
And heard CNN state: earth just isn’t right
We learned that the U.S. wanted to stop burning
So that I said, “Great, here we go again.”
One more planet worried about comfy warming
And we knew what they’d propose, but when?
The next thing that we heard was an urgent report
Which we figured lacked all common sense
It was: since humans ate too much beef and pork
Their ozone was failing due to flatulence
Zirck thought we should tell the naïve people on earth
That global warming is just a huge scam
Made by greedy leaders who want to tax your worth
For carbon dues, while they buy jets and scram
Remember when gazing up at the starry sky
There may be aliens in mourning
For they’ve already endured that pilfering lie
Made by their leaders about global warming.
For In the middle of the Universe, I stand contest
"Camptown Races sing this song, Do Dah! Do Dah!"
( sung incessantly by a certain, unique rooster.)
Henry Hawke: ( Sung to Holly Jolly Christmas:)
" I'll be there and back by sunset.
There's a chicken there for me!
Mom and Dad will be proud, you bet!
when a chicken, they'll see!"
Henry: ( Sung to Arkansas Traveler:)
" I think that there's a chicken, yes, indeed!
No need to check, that's a chicken, yes, siree!
I know that that's a chicken , yes, indeed!
Even though he has a snout for pecking at the seed!"
POW! ( cue woozy music.)
Barnyard Dog:
Hey, wait a minute, kid!
Have you flipped your lid!"
Henry:
" I hit you a good one and I'm the winner!
Now come along with me! You're what's for dinner!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Eh, kid.. I'm a dog, don't you get it!
Now, scram! Before I make you regret it!"
" Camptown races, sing this song..
I say , I say.. it's not the words,
son, it's the song
It kind of.. eh, moves me along, err.."
Henry:
" Oh, the shame!
The family name!
Life for me will never be the same!"
Barnyard Dog:
" Someone's given you the bum steer!"
He looks at Henry crying.
" Kind of gets you right here..
Tell ya, what, kid!
I'll give you a real clucker with all the feathers!
Now listen to me, the sooner the better.." Pss. psst. pss..
"Camptown Races, Uhh, oh, I say, I say..
What do we have here?!
An unholy alli, alli alli, joining together.
and the word is ..Beware!"
I say, son!
What are, what are you doing here
in my little slice of paradise?!"
Henry:
"Ehh, Mister Cock-a-Doodle Doo..
I'd turn around if I were you!"
"Heh, heh heh..
Obviously, this boy believes
that I was born yesterday
if not the day before!
Let me lead him on a little more.."
"Just what am I supposed to see, there, ehh, son?
The rising moon? The setting sun? Heh, Heh, Heh.."
BAM!
"I, I, I think I've been way layed.
I, I, better look for some shade.."
PLOP!
"That boy's got more nerve than a bum tooth!
ehh, that's a joke, son!
Miss Prissy! My my time has come too soon!"
Eeee, THUD!
Henry and Barnyard Dog( together.):
"Geez, What a maroon!"
Cue the Looney Tunes end music.
(" Eer.. That's your cue, son!")
" Can't find no good cartoon help these days!" THUD!
THAT'S ALL FOLKS!
Green eggs and ham I am
Denny's new Grand Slam
Egg whites wriggling like a clam
Yellow yokes oozing over the dam
Ham clods denser than Spam
Coated with a varnish of Pam
Gratuitous cholesterol by the gram
Down unthrottled hatch cram
If green terds your jaded colon jam
And amber waves of gout bloat each gam
To Dr Seus's gluteal factory scram
His stool abusing suppositories are a scam
But his rendering vises are no sham
So with leased enema your red ass ram
Till the ivy clumps ooze through your tram
There was a ballplayer named "Ron",
I would always run home to watch him on television.
He batted fourth and played the third base spot,
That's the corner they always called "Hot".
As a power hitter and great fielder he stayed,
Fifteen years in the big leagues he played.
An "All Star" player many times over,
Because he was a perennial "Gold Glover".
He wore the number 10 on his uniform,
But his emotions for his team on his sleeve were worn.
Ron Santo was this player's name,
He should be in baseball's "Hall of Fame".
He was tenacious about his life's view,
Ever positive, as he fought Diabetes and Cancer too.
I had the good fortune to meet the man,
And listened to his story of the "Black Cat"....SCRAM!!!
He raised awareness and millions for JDRF,
Gone now to the ages, this his legacy would be left.
One thing that all of you should know,
Wherever he went, he put on a great show.
On a "Field of Dreams" he now will play,
Where he can click his heels every day.
Swollen with tears now our red eyes we rub,
At the endearing loss of "This Old Cub".
We'll miss his radio groans, his sighs, and his laughter too,
Because like us, his veins ran only with "Cubbie Blue".