Best Skedaddle Poems
The picnic was set for today:
A cause for two hips and hooray.
With Split and Blueberry,
Their time would be merry
That’s if nothing got in their way…
The deviled eggs had to come first,
‘Cause a picnic without them’s the worst.
They proceeded to beg
The hens for some eggs,
And boiled them when they were submersed.
But when Bat and Gat started to pack,
Their picnic plans went off the tracks.
It was almost Bat’s fault,
Since the pepper and salt
Hadn’t made it yet into the sack.
The only thing they had to do
Was to pick up their friends Split and Blue.
With a rabbit and goat,
And their deviled egg tote,
They could hike to the overlook view.
Well, the eggs made a pretty nice spread
When added to Split’s honey bread.
But, sitting down eating,
An unwelcome greeting
Then filled them with terror and dread.
’Twas the sound of a huge rattlesnake;
What a racket that rattle did make!
Though none could find him
Out front or behind them,
Poor Blue and Split started to shake.
Then Gat sprung away like the breeze,
And spied him from up in the trees.
She pointed to Bat
Where the rattler was at,
And told everyone else to freeze.
Yikes, the snake tried to strike at his knees;
Bat evaded his strike with great ease.
Quick did a side-stepper,
And doused him with pepper,
And the rattlesnake started to sneeze!
Well, that was the end of the battle;
They all could now safely skedaddle.
The pepper, in fact
Brought such an attack
That his sneezes set off his rattle!
They all walked home in the sun,
And all had turned out to be fun.
An eggcellent day!
Yes, hip, hip hooray!
Bat and Gat, hero cats, number one!
Categories:
skedaddle, animal, hero, silly,
Form:
Limerick
She sat near a pool of brownish waters.
Perplexed by her own reflection.
The wind tender on her hair,
Tossing it eastward.
Drying her imbrued face,
From days of sobbing,
Leaving dull lines that stretched
From her pale eyes,down her haggard lion.
She never wore a smile
As brilliant as the sun.
They only burn,her.
Reawaking her tears
From their subtle base
Beneath her eyes.
She considered them,a tragic representation of her
life.
She decked her face with cowardice.
Never regretted,nor did she skedaddle from it,
The lies she once told herself.
They were now,dreams she woke up to,now and
then.
Expressionless,she sat,
On cold dead grass.
They sent chills to her bones.
Her mind hovering through the empty space,
That is her her own schema.
And the world that lies beneath her bruised nose,
Covered in blood and fear,
The stench of terror,
Quite familiar to her.
They were like marks on her back.
They stayed with you for a life time.
Misery was something she owned.
They burnt in her dark brown eyes.
You could see their talons lashing restlessly,
Drawing those who cared for a scare.
The tears that flooded her garment
Jog the memory of her own consciousness,
That she still did feel something.
Something painfully passionate.
Something,realer than her fragile image.
Those tears were reminders
Reminding her,that she,can still think.
Think of events that stole
All the life she knew,
Will ever know.
She stood at the edge of destitute,
As hard as it was,
It brought her solace.
Her hopes raise at the east,
Settling west with the sun.
She seeks no remedy,
But an audience.
An audience at least.
****DEDICATING THIS ONE TO
POETDESTROYER.SHE IS THE REASON WHY IM
HERE.ITS BEING A WHILE THOUGH...MISS IT ON
HERE***
Categories:
skedaddle, art,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Thar was once an old buckaroo named Hank,
Who was very absent-minded and lank.
He told his hoss to skedaddle,
Fergittin' to mount the saddle.
'Twas not the first time old Hank drew a blank!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
skedaddle, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
They planted Hank 'neath a lonesome pine when he came to the end of the trail.
Angels ushered him to the Great Beyond and through that Mysterious Veil.
Saint Peter greeted him, sayin', "I've been a-hankerin' to meet ya, mate!"
Hank noted a sign readin' 'COWBOY SPOKEN HERE' atop the pearly gate!
"I want ya to meet a posse of pards that've been awaitin' yer arrival Hank;
There's Zeke and Tex, Fred and Jack, Moe and Slade and Jed and Frank."
"Ain't no bacon er beans here" said they, "On the choicest grub we dine!
If'n ya hanker to wet yer gullet, there's a Feller who'll turn water into wine!
And then appeared his faithful hoss Old Dan a-sportin' golden shoes!
Old Dan neighed as Hank caressed his pal and they had a genial schmooze!
On Old Dan's back embellished with silver and gold was a western saddle.
Right then and there Hank mounted Old Dan and off they did skedaddle!
As the Lord promised in the Good Book, a bunkhouse was part of the deal.
He dwelt in a room fit for a King with TV and DVD, seeming so surreal!
Hank wore a cowboy suit adorned with diamonds, rubies and jade,
Plus pointy-toed Calvin Klein cowboy boots and a vest of finest suede!
Lastly, Saint Peter placed upon his brow a bejeweled ten-gallon crown,
Sayin', "Welcome to the ranch, pard! Ye've rode the range with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
skedaddle, humorous, , western,
Form:
Rhyme
Lickety-split, I sit up and look at the clickety clock,
oh my gosh, why am I lollygagging in this cozy bed;
I am going to be so late for dance class, I better skedaddle,
so I canoodle my cats (hugs and kiss that is);
and like a flash I am out of bed!
Oh dear, what a rigmarole of unnecessary complexity,
I run to the kitchen and open a tin of, oh so stinky fish;
for the fur balls, (no accounting for taste,) my tummy rumbles,
I dress in my pink dance pants, brush my teeth;
I look in the mirror, holy macaroni!
I was going to wash the mop last night but didn't,
oh well, the flat iron turns me into a Cleopatra star;
then, I look outside, snow, lots of snow, blast I need boots,
oh yes under the bed where I flung them;
what a stupid kerfuffle!
Walking to dance, a bus sprays with me with slush,
darn nincompoop, I am thinking to myself and then;
a loud honk, and a car roars pass me, I almost have a stroke,
I finally make it and the receptionist says- cancelled,
cancelled, oh la-di-la, that's great!
I am walking back home when I step into a deep puddle,
and my feet are now soaking wet, I am just exhausted;
I will crawl back into my bed for a snoozle I say to me self,
but I am waylaid by my old fuddy-duddy neighbor;
dearie,(she whips out a grocery list)!
You know, I cannot walk in the snow, meantime her cat,
a fat Persian rubs my legs and I have fur from knees down;
but what can a girlie do, I turn around and hocus-pocus its done,
finally, I am standing in my bedroom all tatterdemalion,
like a child in rags, I feel like weeping!
And then I notice the collywobbles in my tummy,
like butterflies swirling, and then a great rumbling;
oh, damnation, I need something to eat, so I gongoozle,
stare that is, into the refrigerator, close the door, slam;
and grab a handful of cockamamie cookies!
_________________________
January 26, 2017
Poetry/Narrative/Lickety-Split
Copyright Protected, ID 17-8691-18-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest , Any Poem Written in January 2017
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
Categories:
skedaddle, funny, humor, life,
Form:
Narrative
December 14, 2012
Little pink coat, Mommy holding
little pink hand, the firehouse
must have seemed a marathon away,
the longest run of their lives.
Skedaddle little pink coat,
miniature uggs flopping,
one size up so they’ll
fit next year.
Nametags sewn in elfin collars,
forever suspended mitten-
sleeved jackets
in a Sandy Hook cupboard.
Good morning Ms. Davino,
Good morning, Mrs. Hochsprung,
Good morning, Mrs. Murphy,
Good morning, Ms. Rousseau,
Good morning, Mrs. Sherlach,
Good morning, Ms. Soto.
Who knew you’d be so brave?
I remember my first grade teacher,
when the hallways were safe
and nuclear attack seemed so remote.
Mrs. Lanza, did Adam
say good morning, Mom,
or just get down to
business?
We are all so sorry.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
December 18, 2012
These shootings occurred in my hometown.
Categories:
skedaddle, death, people,
Form:
Free verse
There a jealous hood rat in are neighborhood
If you expecting me to call you a man I can't
because your attitude speaks for itself
Theres a jealous hood rat in the neighborhood
and it's you with your fake toy gun
and your cheap flip phone
Showboating all across the world not knowing when you going to settle down
Dipping in and out every females house
not knowing where to lay that hat down
Hood rat when you going to settle down
You need to stop playing with those little girls and deal with a woman
Because Iam a real woman who don't deal with fake boys who carry around squirt gun
I need a real man to take good care of me
Little boy move on
Go play on another playground
because this here is somebody else turf
Theres a jealous hood rat in are neighborhood
and it you
with your fake $ 99.00 dollar fake chromes on your buggy automobile and your fake air Jordans
shoe are not real because every step you make
Your shoes scream out why don't this hood rat buy some real shoes
I don't deal with hood rats that wear long stain shirts that look like a gown
I don't deal with hood rats that smell like a skunk from cheap cologne
I don't deal with hood rats who teeth look like green mold
Skedaddle poo poo boy
By, Shaniki Smith
June 3, 2016
Categories:
skedaddle, funny, humor,
Form:
Verse
Sidewalks are full of people, yet no eyes do mine meet;
Taxis, by the thousands, litter the city street;
The sun is blocked out by high-rises with business men in suits;
I am a lost and lonely cowboy, with no place to wear my boots.
I ride the subway from Soho, up to Central Park;
In search of Mother Nature, pretending the pigeon is a lark;
Surrounded by millions – never have I felt so all alone;
I am bored of Manhattan and I hunger for my Western home.
I came looking for excitement; I came looking for a job;
I came looking for myself – now, I’m just lost among the mob;
Who knew that in Manhattan, with such diversity,
A simple, bumpkin cowboy would get bored with the big city?
I am bored of Manhattan, and all of its pretentiousness,
But I haven’t got the money to return to what I miss,
So, me and my guitar play songs in Times Square,
Drop some coin in my guitar case, so I can skedaddle out of here.
Written and posted 1/5/2016
Categories:
skedaddle, america, city, , western,
Form:
Rhyme
It seemed to Hank it was jes' a couple of hours ago since he'd hit the hay.
Now the risin' sun jes' peekin' over the hills heralded another day.
His old hound dog, Spooks, tugged at his blanket a-wantin' to play,
And his faithful hoss, Ol' Dan, greeted him with a raucous neigh.
He pulled on his boots, Stetson hat and bandana, his usual attire,
And stirred last nights camp fire embers to bring alive the fire.
He ate his usual grub of beans, biscuits, coffee and bacon,
And suddenly realized that is was Sunday, if'n he warn't mistaken!
"Wahl" he mused, "I don't reckon the boss'll mind if'n I tarry here a spell.
I'd jes' like to chat with the Lord this mornin' and tell Him all is well."
Hank sat on a log sippin' his joe from a tin cup a-gazin' across the vale,
Thinkin', "I don't need no fancy church to worship. They's confinin' as a jail!"
"Lord, you know I ain't gittin' rich cowboyin' and that's fer damn sure!
Er, 'scuse me Lord fer cussin'. I'm tryin' to make my sinful tongue more pure."
"I don't need no earthly possessions when all about me is Yer great Creation.
These here mountains, rivers and cowboyin' that I love is my compensation."
"I'm a-thankin' Ye fer them eagles soarin' on the wind and fer Yer eternal love,
And fer the pristine Colorady sky, the moon and stars shinin' from high above."
"And finally Lord, when this old cowpoke comes to the end of the trail,
I'd be obliged if'n I could dwell in Yer Corral when I cross that mysterious veil."
"Thank Ye Lord fer lendin' me Yer ears and I promise to keep my cussin' at bay."
"Wahl boys, we'd better skedaddle and git to herdin' them steers to earn our pay."
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
skedaddle,
Form:
Rhyme
This redneck is fixin' to go dancin'
You reckon we get gussied up and go?
I'll be a high flutin' and a prancin'
Is the honky-tonk puttin' on a show?
Shall I wear my fanciest clod hoppers?
Shall I phone all your fiddle playin' kin?
I am gonna be such a show stopper.
We shall enter the dance contest and win.
I've got a hankerin' for hot romance,
And some granny-slappin' hillbilly sex.
Bear ten younguns, live in 'ternity pants
Did you just skedaddle, my newest ex?
Dern it, Darlin', thought we were so well matched.
I counted my chickens before they hatched!
Written 3/2/2017
Entered in Mid December Premiere
Hosted by Brian Strand
Categories:
skedaddle, crazy, dance, drink, humor,
Form:
Sonnet
"Our horses are well-trained and subdued!", blared the stable sign!
That made a lot of horse-sense to me and suited me just fine.
I'm not an equestrian and had never ridden a horse before.
"Not to worry", said he, "you'll soon establish a fine rapport!"
I paid the price agreed and he produced an elegant steed.
Says he, "Why, he's so tame that little kids ride 'im, yes indeed!"
His name was 'Killer' which aroused in me some suspicion,
But I set that aside anxious to get on with my expedition!
I approached the beast with not a little apprehension.
He stood there paying me not the least bit of attention,
'Til I put my foot in the stirrup then he turned his head and stared,
Glared, stomped and snorted with his nostrils fully flared!
At last I managed to climb upon the well-worn western saddle.
The guy slapped Killer's rump and yelled, "Now, y'all skedaddle!"
Off we galloped like a bat out of you know where,
Me holding on with all my might proffering a hasty prayer!
I've flown upside down in planes, done loops and other gyrations,
But that cayuse gave me the wildest ride despite my supplications!
Back at the stable I straightened my back with a visible wince,
And fellers I'm here to tell you, I ain't rode another horse since!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
skedaddle, animals, funny, me, horse,
Form:
Rhyme
He sidles up next to you,
so stealthily
It’s like he appeared out of thin air
Then breathlessly,
he gives you a Jimmy Stewart howdy do,
and starts air guitaring in his chair
Just when you were on the verge of
hitting the right vibe
with a cute little honey thing
This joker Jack Nicholson clone
starts shining on and on
And in your dark Alfalfa heart,
you wish this Spanky bag of bones
would be poof ... Aladdin gone
But you don’t wanna waste
one of your three date wishes on him,
so you ignore this glib talking Jungle Jim
In the meanwhile,
that pretty little woman is beginning to idly yawn,
as the flirtations have come to a tepid halt
That seven digit rooster ain’t gon strut come dawn,
a cell phone dropped call won’t be at fault
As Annoyous Interruptus cackles in your ear,
your road rage accelerator hits the sixth gear
But you remain calm, keeping your wits intact ...
trying to give him a subtle hint with a nodded wink
You motion for him to skedaddle away,
but Pepe Le Pew seems intent to stay
You mutter to yourself: man, does his cologne stink
With dull, blank eyes giving you a Lost in Space stare,
you flee swiftly, leaving love empty ... but you don’t care
Annoyous Interruptus
causes premature evacuation
Pester Interfereus
is the bane of dating stimulation
Annoyous Interruptus
makes flaccid all of your romantic overtures
Pester Interfereus
has caused many a late-night social club wars
Categories:
skedaddle, cute, funny, humor, parody,
Form:
Light Verse
E Pluribis and Unum Haiku
Pluribus Unum
Did look lost without the E
So what should we do?
Henry Mancini
Drove a long Lamborghini
Both made sweet music.
Did you see docile?
Guy who was an apostle
Sleeping on the job.
Let the bed bugs bite
And will stay up through the night
Trying to get tight.
Oh dear and oh no
Gifts were lost in Atlanta
And found by Santa.
Why all of the gloom
Poetry Soup I presume
Around likes to loom.
I was explicit
When response is illicit
You should never send.
He had history
Of opposing you and me
We started to see.
He had an angle
And him wanted to strangle
And also mangle.
My constitution
Were going against again
So I took a spin.
Make mine Poem of Day
You should read in Runaway
Beach in Oregon.
What is disturbing
Drinking we should be curbing
Do it anyway.
Bright backset driver
Surely will be survivor
Keeping big mouth shut.
A proposition
In poor lighted condition
Sure is hard to see.
Was quite whimsical
When glass was finally full
Did have fighting duel.
He who buys last beer
Should be sure to have much fear
Bringing my wife here.
If it had not been
For likes of those we call Ben
Was Kit a Carson?
No there is one to think about
Paris we have gone
So we may end up plastered
Like we did last year.
In Washington oh no
We watched people who will grow
Tons I told you so.
A haiku have heard
Was like wings of a big bird
Big commotion stirred.
Was a big battle
Loaded a bunch of cattle
Or would skedaddle.
Really was Rogers
Part of band of old cadgers
Named Will who we love
Were going against again
Categories:
skedaddle, humorous,
Form:
Haiku
Well, me and them rats polished off them chicken legs and I headed fer the door.
The sheriff handed me my 44s sayin, "Son, I don't wanna see you here no more!
Now git outta Santa Fe and don't go stealin' no man's horse or his saddle!"
With that we shook hands, I grabbed my hat and made a hasty skedaddle!
I hopped the midnight freight headin' fer El Paso whar that preacher man was at.
I was gonna git religion and straighten up and that's all thar was to that!
He was preachin' hell and brimstone at a revival meetin' at the edge of town.
With my hat I brushed the dust from my britches, strolled in and set down.
He was up thar a-wavin' his arms like he was fendin' off a swarm of bees!
When they sung "Jes As I Am" I ran to the altar and fell upon my knees!
I give my soul to the Lord and vowed right thar to become a preacher man,
To save the souls of thieves, soiled doves and gamblers to carry out His plan!
I ain't gonna git rich a-preachin - collections is sparse, but what the hell!
(Er 'scuse me Lord! I've gotta control my cussin' as Ya can tell!")
I got me a hoss legal like and a Bible and started out on my mission.
I was hell bent (scuse me agin Lord) to bring about the devil's disposition!
(He preached in saloons with his 44s and Bible spread out on the bar.
He did his level best to save their wicked souls from sin and hellfar.
For fifty years he preached and saved souls throughout the rowdy west.
When he reached the Pearly Gates, He said, "Son, ya did yer very best!")
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
skedaddle, funny, me, bible, bible,
Form:
Rhyme
One fine day, me, Molly Coddle and my Goombah Pa Pa,
were sitting in The Cat In The Hat restaurant;
we gongoozled the men-you. " oh, I have collywobbles
in my tummy!" I said sort of loudly. (hint, hint)
Finally, our waiter Fuddy Duddy, (that is his name, honest)
so slowly, comes over, "What will you hatz?" He sayz;
I quickly place my odour, " I'll have a chocolaty lickety split,
a smellfungus burger with all the rigmarole with it;
and some fat-me-up fries!"And I slam close, the men-you.
Goombah Pa Pa lookz at his men-you for the longest time,
(oh la di la, whatz the brouhaha, just odour, I'm a thinking)
at last he sayz, "I'll have some kerfuffle tea, and some of
that skullduggary soup of the day and some shennanigan
pasta surprize!" And he slams the men-you closed, with a smile.
Fuddy Duddy nods and walks away with the speed of a snail,
(oh gobbleygook, my tummy is rumbling) when at last he;
is coming our way with a tray loaded with our meal- (rumble!)
when some doozy, klutz of a kid trips Fuddy Duddy, and
we have to skedaddle out of the way . . . or wear our food!
Goombah Pa Pa, canoozles me on the cheek. "Nevermind,
Molly Coddle, we'll just re-odour . . .
(oh collywobbles, I'm thinking, loudly)
Goombah Pa Pa, whispers, "patience is a virtue, Molly Coddle!"
(rumble!)
______________________
March 18, 2017
Narrative/Molly Coddle and her Collywoobles
Copyright Protected, ID 885485
I Need A Cup of Seuss
Jerry T. Curtis,
Categories:
skedaddle, children,
Form:
Narrative