Best Skeeter Poems
The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Bread
Billy Joel and The Grateful Dead
Suzi Quatro, Wham! Kate Bush
Elton John, Yes, Kiss and Rush
Aerosmith, The Brothers Four
Dolly Parton, Sandie Shaw
The Jackson Five and Bruce Springsteen
Elvis Presley, Slade and Queen
David Bowie, The Beach Boys, Sweet
Rose Royce, Madness and The Beat
Dusty Springfield, Fox, Nick Drake
Soft Cell, Toto, Sting, Greg Lake
Three Dog Night and The Ramones
Pink Floyd and The Undertones
Duran Duran, Nirvana and
The Sensational Alex Harvey Band
Mott The Hoople, E.L.O
Dr. Hook and Status Quo
Skeeter Davis, Iggy Pop
Alice Cooper, ZZ Top
The Rev. Al Green and Steeley Dan
The Who, The Jam and Steeleye Span
The Monkees, Abba, Cream and Free
Lynyrd Skynrd, 10CC
The Faces, Love and Wishbone Ash
The Four Tops, Blondie and The Clash
The Moody Blues, Deep Purple, Mud
Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Bob Dylan and The Shangri Las
The Kinks. The Birds. The Doors. The Cars
The Seekers and Roberta Flack
The Drifters, T. Rex, Fleetwood Mac
Tina Turner, Prince, James Brown
..And all the music from Motown.
There's a pesky mosquito hoverin' around our ears
If he keeps it up he'll soon be splattered in smears
T-Buzz tries to draw our blood
When he gets hit with a THUD!
We'll celebrate his demise with a party ~ Cheers!
by Lin Lane
A mini vampire with wings,
in annoying high notes he sings.
Tries to fly incognito,
this imp called mosquito.
With blood thirsty appetite stings!
by Carol Connell
That darn mozzie was buzzing like hell
Til I sprayed him with a can of Repell
He can no longer fly
I watched that mozzie die
I’m happy he’s gone – you can tell!
by Jan Allison
That skeeter was in for a thumpin'.
I swatted, but he just kept jumpin'.
I got out the spray,
winked, said, “Come my way”.
And now I'm no longer a-grumpin'
by Dale G. Cozart
There's a pesky bug upon the lawn
One his mother should have never spawn
making noises here and there
wish he'd just disappear
One big ol' zap and poof he's gone
by Tim Smith
T-Buzz flies around in pestering irritation
One good swat'll take care of his elimation
No more buzzin' sound
He's garbage can bound
Thank goodness there's no reincarnation
by Marti Sutherland
I was singing karaoke, acapella
While eating a sandwich of mortadella
Along came a mosquito
Named Little Esposito
I smacked him cuz he wasn't a nice fella
By Mystic Rose
A skeeter singing for a favor
Was wanting blood for a caper
He's playing with fire
His future is dire
Joining others on my wallpaper
By Cheryl Hoffman
A mosquito was buzzing loud
Of his bugle, he felt so proud
My hands would squash fast
That buzz would be his last
Soon, he'd be covered with a shroud
by Jo Daniel
If anyone dislikes the buzzing of a mosquito, join in the collaboration by sending me your lines in a SOUP MAIL.
Sometimes a song can take me back
Make my memories come alive
To a time when love was a way of life
And families struggled to survive
Sometimes I get a little mellow
When I listen to an old love tune
And dream of days long gone
How they passed by too soon
Sneaking my first cigarette
I don’t think that I was ten
And listening to the AM radio
While the Kalin Twins sang “When”
We grew up with real music
That helped us bear our heavy load
When Gogi sang “The Wayward Wind”
And Mitchum told us about “Thunder Road”
Sometimes when I’m down, I think about the past
And a different way of life
I’ll listen to Lloyd sing about “Stagger Lee”
Or Bobby relate the tale of “Mack The Knife”
There were a lot of question and a lot of answers
Some were wrong and some were right
Like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose it’s Flavor
On the Bed Post Over Night”
Sometimes those songs bring a tear or two
But they always bring me joy
While Jimmy crooned “Just A Dream”
And the Shirelles loved their “Soldier Boy”
When Jim Ed Brown sang of “Scarlet Ribbons”
And Perry said, “Catch a Falling Star”
Dee Clark was calling “Hey Little Girl”
Johnny was thinking “Chances Are”
Sometimes I wish I could return
To the days of my childhood
Just to hear Johnny Ray sing “Cry”
Or Chuck wail “Johnny B. Goode”
Jimmie sang about a “Honeycomb”
And “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine”
The Orlons were meeting on “South Street”
The Chiffons said “He’s So Fine.”
Skeeter thought it was “the End of The World”
Because she lost her one and only
The Beach Boys said “Don’t Worry Baby”
Roy Sang for “Only The Lonely”
Sometimes.
The skeeters have scattered all about once more
They hide among dragonflies while trying to soar
Nimble, they quickly contrive to dodge every swat
I can still hear them buzzing, afraid to get caught
Dragonflies are friendly, but if they turn their backs
Wily skeeters feast on their blood in devious attacks
But like every old skeeter, their time will soon come
There are too many dragonflies for them to run from
There is a moral to this story, which I am glad to tell
Careful who you bite; some will ring your death knell
Dragonflies are spunky and always stand their ground
You can’t pretend to be innocent with so many around
It was September of 1960 and we were growing
Elvis sang "It's Now or Never" anticipation showing
New kids in town for our Freshman year
Our last at St. Jerome's, adulthood near.
We hung out at the Coffee Cup on Berwick Street
Five Point Diner and Palma were sweet
We never dreamed of growing old
Back when we wore blue and gold.
Sophomore year brought us to Saint Ann
Not old enough yet to be called a man
Hitch hike to the My Place and Bowling Alley
Travelled around the Panther Valley
Weekends looking for a brand new thrill
Going to the Coffee Shop in Summit Hill
On the Juke box "Runaround Sue" and "Cathy's Clown"
If "Rumble" came on we'd quickly leave town
Building memories as each day would unfold
Back when we wore blue and gold.
62 saw the Four Seasons singing "Sherry"
Our next two years would be with Saint Mary
Pep rallies in the court yard, who could forget
Sneak down to Henry's for a cigarette
Laughing, joking, we were only sixteen
Drop another nickel in the pinball machine
Flip a coin for a pool game, choose who will rack
Fan buses for away games, have a smoke in the back
Lou Christie sang "Two Faces Have I "
"The End of The World " made Skeeter cry
It was 63 and our time was near
We were starting our senior year
Unsure of what our future would hold
Back when we wore blue and gold
November came and some of us cried
The Friday President Kennedy died
Before the storm there is always a calm
Trouble brewing in Vietnam
In 64, invaded by another land
The Beatles wanted to hold our hand
The school would be one next year we were told
Back when we wore blue and gold
June arrived, graduation day
A time to rejoice, a time to pray
To change the world, thoughts so bold
Back when we wore blue and gold.
matted furball fluff
ears ragged, tail disheveled
shaved to summer 'do
now look so skinny -
slick, girly, all clean and white
hardly know it's you
"*******" and pork pie hats
white shirts, black ties
sweat stains under their arms,
even wetter, the pressed handkerchiefs that wipe faces and necks.
Father Abraham looks down upon his children
and sees the words "I am a man" over and over again.
It is hot, and white girls with beehives and Peter Pan collars
cool their heels in the reflecting pool. Images of a monument to a slaveowner look up at them.
Somewhere a song plays
on a transistor:
"I Can't Stay Mad at You"
shoo-bee-doo-bee-doo wop.
A dream is young at 50 -- compared to the kingdoms of Europe, that wall in China.
A dream at 50 won't die. Even now, it haunts the sleepless, promising a new birth of freedom -- to let men grow old together, hand in hand,
to let immigrants walk the hot streets of Arizona, work their lawn service jobs
and not fear being sent away.
Today, in the global freedom capital, tourists stroll clipped lawns and snap pictures of order and majesty, of white, doric columns, Greek temples.
They email the images back to starved souls in Odessa and Beijing.
That Skeeter Davis song still plays. You can hear it in the molecules of the air, the bits of history that have attached themselves to His marble feet, refusing to evaporate.
The wind carries a tiny echo about a dream and freedom
and America living up to its promise.
The hope of the world?
History is sticky, heavy ... like the sultry air of summer.
It won't go;
It lives.
It makes our hearts heavy
and haunts our minds.
Why do the texts keep on coming?
Why does my phone have to chirp?
Don’t they know,
the election is over..
It ended when I cast my vote.
.
.
Songs for this:
Bring Me to Silence by Fievel Is Glauque
The End Of The World by Skeeter Davis
When I hear the tweets of songbirds at dawn
Nesting in the oak tree outside my door
I smile at the sun shining on my face
A red bird scours the brown grass
Blue birds skeeter on tree branches above
Squirrels run up treetops scampering nearby
There's more fun in spring than wintertime
Tree frogs start to sing songs of joy at night
Fireflies lit the darkness as they mate
When I hear spring back, summer is coming
Hot beaches call my name to the ocean
Hot sand between my toes makes me holler
As I run for the shorelines' cool water
I dance my jig retreating from high waves
That reached my tighs quickly pulling me in
When I hear tweets of songbirds at dawn
I warmly smile at yesteryear
Hoping for another day to make fun memories
By Barbara Washington 3/9/2012©
A skeeter hit my windshield,
This I surely knew.
He flew across in front of me
As many skeeters do.
The skeeter that hit my windshield
Was a frisky little dude!
He wanted to ride with me, I reckon
But what a way to intrude!
In Lonoke County, Arkansas,
Where skeeters are known to be.
Is where I ran over this overgrown bug
Or he tried to run over me.
If you’re not from this area, you wouldn’t know,
But please try to understand.
There’s some big ol’ skeeters here in Arkansas
Some only a fraction as big as a man.
An Arkansas skeeter hit my windshield,
Boy he made a big ol’ thump.
When these skeeter hit your windshield
You’ll think you hit a speed bump!
Come with me to nineteen sixty three
The year Pope John died and so did Kennedy
We saw Lawrence of Arabia with Peter O’Toole
Listened to It’s My Party and She’s a Fool
Last year for the Studebaker
Martin Luther King had a dream
Great train robbery in Buckinghamshire
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane made us scream
Skeeter thought it was The End of The World
Liberty Valance starred Stewart and Wayne
They were The Days of Wine and Roses
Cascades sang Rhythm of the Rain
Dion had Ruby Baby and Bobbie sang Blue on Blue
Dale and Grace were Leaving It All Up To You
Little Town Flirt and My Boyfriend’s Back
In My Little Deuce Coupe, we’ll go to the Sugar Shack
Ben Casey and Kildare were two television shows
Remember the Dixiebelle’s Down at Papa Joe’s
Two Faces Have I was sung by a guy named Lou
Roy said In Dreams he missed Blue Bayou
The USS Thresher sank and all were lost
Poets mourned the death of Robert Frost
Elvis said his girl was the Devil in Disguise
Bobby thought the Night had a Thousand Eyes
The Dodgers beat the Yankees four games to none
The Essex said It Was Easier Said Than Done
Da Doo Ron Ron and Then He Kissed Me were sweet
Ray Charles was Busted down on South Street
Mockingbird and Surfer Joe
Memories from long ago.
Her name came from her native heritage from the Navajo Tribe
I got this story because I offered her a bribe
She works at McDonald's as a shift leader
Her boyfriend, dropped out of school after the 6th grade, he goes by the name Skeeter
They take their showers with the laundry soap Dash
She has such a negative attitude, can't afford to change her native name Sourmash
Her boyfriend loves her for the free food and on her paydays
He has one shirt, the Toronto Blue Jays
They live in a singlewide, Wikipedia trailer trash
The deep love shared between Skeeter, McDonald's and Sourmash
She just bought her first VHS tape, the mini series Roots
Skeeter owes three more payments on his cowboy boots
Skeeter has Sourmash convinced she is a direct descendant of Koonta Kinte'
They sit and watch the movie as they eat their dinner on McDonald's meal trays
The carpet is stained red with Piggly Wiggly brand hot sauce
After drinking some Mad Dog 20/20 grape, Sourmash brags to Skeeter how at McDonald's she's the boss
They are convinced the laundry soap is giving them a rash
Good luck in your future with Skeeter, poor, poor Sourmash
Old Man Skeeter Pop
Old man Skeeter Pop pushed a
broom and carried a mop,
kids all loved him cause
he made them laugh,
when he'd pull out his teeth
and put them back.
He didn't have much hair
on his head,
never wore a belt but
suspenders instead.
While sweeping and mopping
he sang through the halls,
cleaning kid's messes from
the floors to the walls.
Then one sunny day
in June,
Skeeter put down his
mop and broom.
He joined the kids in their
baseball game,
instead of a bat he
used a cane.
His first time at the
pitcher's mound,
his suspenders let loose
and his pants fell down.
He yanked them up and
threw the ball,
strike one two and three
he shocked them all.
He stood up to bat with
his cane in hand,
and hit that ball right
out of the stands.
The kids all cheered and
screamed his name,
run Skeeter Pop run as their
team won the game.
Those who thought he was
to old to play,
learned a valuable lesson
that sunny day.
People are filled with
all kinds of surprises,
and those who try are
always the wisest.
Written By Kathy J Parenteau
Copyright © 2000
All rights reserved
Potatoes And Mushrooms
Fries are not only deep-fried sticks to which nothing permanent connects
But also, what happens when a person makes some serious mistakes.
And a way to eat however many potatoes a person wants to in one sitting
Even after a couple of inconvenient but needed fittings
Steaks are better for people than snakes especially at lakes regardless of who bakes but sometimes more fat than meat -although maybe not in sweet old Crete Maybe that doesn't bother a Pete or a Skeeter - however it does bother me even without bees.
The hatred of mushrooms is sometimes based on uncorrected misconceptions but they make poor brooms for bedrooms and awful grooms-not to mention bad brides but they are pretty good stuffed, as are potatoes!
Peter
There once was a man named Peter.
His friends liked to call him Skeeter.
He was a bit of an ass,
because he liked to smoke grass,
and he rolled his joints by the meter.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison