Best Slacking Poems


Acrostic

APATHETICALLY I APPROACH THIS TASK
ACADEMIC FERVOR RUNNING THIN
“FOR IS IT NOT TIME TO SLEEP?” I ASK-
FAVORING FINALE, I HOLD UP MY CHIN.
HONESTLY, BETTER COULD BE DONE.
HONESTY IT IS NOT THAT I AM LACKING;
COMPOSITION BECOMES LITTLE FUN,
DILIGENCE LOST, I AM SLACKING!
Categories: slacking, funny, satire, school,
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Picture This

Picture this….
Laughter ceasing,
Hate increasing,
Time depleting!

People running,
Children shunning,
Chaos, plundering.

Fearful hiding,
Many misguiding,
Deeply sighing!

Desperate seeking,
Proud weeping,
Kings grieving! 

Lions attacking,
Waters slacking,
Hunger mapping!

Picture this… 
Kingdom coming,
Saints humming,
Drummers drumming! 

Trumpets sounding,
Hearts pounding,
Brides abounding!

God rearranging, 
Bodies changing,
Jesus reigning!!

Son shining,
Silver lining,
Jesus dining!

Masses smiling,
No crying,
No dying!

Wolf’s feeding,
Lamb’s leading,
No bleeding!

God designing,
Gold aligning,
Pearls defining!

Picture this..
God inviting,
Your name in writing,
Love uniting!

Hearts accepting,
No regretting,
You reflecting?

      Stacey Brown
       9-15-13
Categories: slacking, christian,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Fishy Tale

How could the weather forecast not tantalize me
To play truant on the eve of Miss Gaybird’s test?
The river would be an invitation the next day
To go and try my luck at catching a tasty trout.

So early next morning I left my mother curious
Wondering where I was heading to, as I carried 
My tackle and my fishing rod and prayed for weather fair.
There the river ran its surface shining and calm.

All day I fished, throwing line, reeling in and slacking out.
Alas it seemed too calm for my eventual luck.
Then a light breeze ruffled the surface and I hoped.
After a while the rod bent, I had managed a catch.

I used all my experience while controlling the vortex
Of elation at what I was sure was a big trout,
I had to tread carefully lest it got away and so
I had to plunge into the water, net in hand to land the fish.

In the kitchen, all alone I knew how to eviscerate the trout,
Clean it under running water and put it in the fridge.
My mother would be pleased, I thought. I would bewilder her 
With a great barbeque pleasing dinner when dad came home.

Surprise of surprises Miss Gaybird was there, face scarlet
Asking: “What fallacious excuse am I to hear from you?”
There was not much to say except invite her to eat with us.
Which she did and enjoyed it to the full too.

But I got no sympathy from her.  I still failed the test.
Categories: slacking, fishing,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Exercising Your Brain

People do aerobics
So their bodies stay in shape.
Slacking off means all that flab
Reverses its escape.

Just like muscles turn to mush
If workout time’s ignored,
Lethargy may leach the brain
Of knowledge it has stored.

Therefore one must exercise
The mappings of the mind,
Making sure the avenues
Are smooth and well-defined.

Crosswords and Sudoku,
Scrabble, dominoes or chess
Help to keep those brain cells sharp
And also combat stress.

As we age we must work out
The body and the brain,
For if we don’t, the things we’ve learned
Will all have been in vain.
Categories: slacking, health,
Form: Rhyme

Always Wish You Well

Oh my goddess, she is modest; in the lessons she has served. 
She makes me wonder, but not uncover; for my thoughts I feel reserved. 
And each situation, I sense vibrations; their mood: be love be hate. 
But why the barrel; no void but sterile, I can't opinionate. 
And for the lacking; the voice is slacking, the words I cannot spell. 
So here I sit, without a quip, but always wish you well.
Categories: slacking, friendship,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Moving On

Removal van's at the White House  
Milania's in a right grouse
Cos Trump lost his job
(She called him a knob)
‘The Donald's’ gone quiet as a mouse

Milania won't have him slacking
and Donald must do his own packing  
For the 'Impeach' faced guy
Can's of orange skin dye 
Trump's tower of boxes is stacking 

01/16/21
Categories: slacking, leadership, political,
Form: Limerick


Bum Fights

I’m poor, you’re poor
I’ll fight you for your door
Your box, your shoes 
I’ll wish you many more
I’m poor you’re poor
There’s no exit from these doors 

What for, what for 
You unraveled on my floor
Adore your score
But your rash looks really sore

No more, no more 
You’re slacking on your chores
I’m poor, you’re poor
I need lotion for my pores 
Instead, I’ll fight you for your door
Your box, your shoes 
I’ll wish you many more 
I’m poor, you’re poor 
There’s no exit from these doors
Categories: slacking, funny, music, parody, song-
Form: Rhyme

A King's Ego

Ugly mouth knobby head.
You spew propaganda,
your pencil has no lead.
I sit in silence watching.
You sit like a sloth king.
Scared of truth you're dodging.
I watch the panic rise.
You blowhard, sack of lies.
So easily I got a rise.
Your verdict has no weight.
I can't stomach you.
A king I detest. I hate.
You make this world quite awful.
With your selfish trysts.
A leader turned over; waffle!
I hope you translate this gyst.
I recount in case you're lacking.
You viewed me with cow's eyes.
You're power is quickly slacking.
Thats a stupid looking disguise.
You'll never rid of me!
Master of infecting disease.
I got under your skin today.
No words bite the ego such as these.

-Angel Fatale-
© Ryan Tyler  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: slacking, abuse, career, culture, freedom,
Form: Rhyme

Summer Squall

The ocean, eternal, spreads wide
Reflecting slate, somber storm clouds
While beachgoers, eight stories down,
Gather towels and scurry fast
From a squall shedding white lightning,
Dull, delayed drumbeat of thunder
Touching my ears as your fingers
Cover my hand on the railing;
Surf line we watch fade, grow obscured
In a curtain of pallid rain
Encroaching the pale, vacant sand
As single-file palms bob green heads
When an updraft, cool and sudden,
Tousles your soft and silken hair
And balloons your light cotton shift—
Bare beauty nearly shared—
We retreat, sliding glass door to,
Sequestering the world away
Save your bold, yearning expression,
Gentle kisses to hungry lips,
Cotton slipping, slacking, falling,
Then persistent, gusting patter
Of rain like long-pent love.
© David Bose  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: slacking, beach, love, rain, summer,
Form: Free verse

The Master (Part 2)

Fellow African-Americans Please Don't Get Offended...This Is Purely Fictional

...Sitting comfortably in the shade, I'm trying to relax
Muscles aching from whipping 20 blacks on their backs
Teach them White Power
For the last 2 hours
Had to get some air because the stench of them is sour
I could offer them a bath, but they don't deserve one
They disobey, get bathed with bullets from a shot-gun
Exactly how the world should be, the Colored are slaves
They won't dare run away, who's that brave
This world ran by Whites
Other races have no rights
No disputes, disagreements, arguments, no fights
We spit on them for slacking on the job
Teasing them with a fishing hook in hand, on the end is a corn on the cob
We should start a revolution, the KKK
Is the force necessary, we have control of the blacks anyway
The Ku Klux Klan, yea, the name sounds good to me
Told mother the Lord put slaves on this Earth for you and me
Hear their screeches in the air
I don't even care
Killing their families because of complexion, is that fair?
Of course it is, because we thrive in segregation
Kill em without hesitation
Raping the pretty black girls so I don't need masturbation
The ones that dare be rebellious, we lynch them, hang them from trees
We are the Masters we love to be pleased
Like bringing the colored on ships from across the waters
The joy and pleasure of seperating mothers, fathers, and daughters
If we have a bad day, we can just line their tails up for slaughter
Give them food, why even bother?
Nickname them raccoons 
It gives me giggles to know some will die from starvation soon
Ruthless brutality
Make them feel reality
Cold-hearted and merciless
For these raccons we are love-less
Helter Skelter is what I follow
Which is more than our motto
It's a way of life 
So I grab my knife
Cockiness engulfs me as I approach a coon's wife
To me she kinda purty
My wife is gonna hurt me
I touch her left arm, she swung the shovel
I got a scrape
Should I rape her, I have a better idea instead...
(Rip) Off with her head
Categories: slacking, black-african amerme, world, me,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Now That We Are Here

Life is entanglement plus time,
A Gordian knot of opportunities,
Each ravel a riddle to solve
or a battle to be won.

We grab and pull at the gnarls,
Greedy fingers seeking solutions alone.
Though the more we worry them,
the tighter the fibers cling together,
defeating our efforts with every turn.

The working ends unhitched and hidden,
Knots impossible to untie without another;
Desperate, we seek the means to unset
the tightened rounds of coil.

We need only look up from our lonely struggle,
Unhand the ties and trice up munitions,
In favor of a more effective weapon,
for a prize worth more than any puzzle.

Love is the sword that cuts,
The foil to Gordius' grateful gift,
The force that frees us from the knots
that bind us alone in despair.

Love is the lens that exposes the path, 
To unraveling the tangled mess,
To bearing witness to the holism of loops
and eyes along the same length of rope.

Love alone is the key that unlocks
The secrets of the tightly-wound tangle,
Revealing the pattern of the overlaps
and the beauty of the intermingled angles.

With love as our scope, we can maneuver
Through the maze of twists and turns,
Unleashing joys and embracing the weight
of the lessons we learn as the bind slowly burns.

Through patience and kindness, we can loosen
The strands that have wound us so tightly,
Embracing the challenge and refusing to choose
the path of ire or slacking down without a fight.

So let us unravel the knot with hearts ablaze
And together minds set on finding the way,
With love as our sword and our site and our hope,
we can unravel the rigging and seize hold of the day.
Categories: slacking, appreciation, growth, love,
Form: Free verse

The More You Do a Thing

The more you do a thing, you’ll find,
The better that it gets.
By slacking off, it’s obvious
That you will have regrets.

Developing a skill or else
Rehearsing for a show,
It’s repetition that you need
To blossom and to grow.

Commitment and determination
Are the surefire keys
To open up potential,
Though to varying degrees.

For only those who give their all
Will bask in their success,
While slackers’ outcomes will belie
The efforts they profess.
Categories: slacking, success,
Form: Rhyme

Dieting

i cannot begin to say how grateful i am,
that you took me away to bring me back again,
what meant so much more that i could see,
was so conformed from reality,
it was a daze in a picture perfect world,
it was crumpets and donuts and it made me want to hurl,
it was way too gooey perfect, with a sugar coated glaze,
i sat and watched the food being prepared and set out like a buffet,
in my heart i knew, if i ate it i would be poisoned,
the slow kill of artificial sweetener that tastes similar to the real thing,
at first bite, you can't really tell until it leaves an aftertaste,
and then you realize hey, wait a minute! this is not the real thing,
the trick that fills your stomach and your way too full to speak,
it slows down every function in your body, and puts your butt to sleep,
and once you realize what it is your consuming, and decide to go on a real diet,
the fat burning slows down, you look like your slacking, as if your not even trying,
i love this diet, and i must say, i can still enjoy the sweets,
but this time its not the same, and i know it is the real thing,
Categories: slacking, allusion,
Form: Rhyme

Vagrant Muse

Return to me O vagrant Muse,
Inspire my thoughts and don't refuse.

Where is my poet's inspiration ?
I've lost that bright imagination.

No couplet, ode, nor sonnet – gone
My creative spark that drives me on.

Ideas, invention sadly lacking,
No metaphors, I must be slacking.

Did Keats and Wordsworth suffer thus ?
Maybe I'm making too much fuss.

A sea of white, the empty page,
I'm like a monkey in a cage.

There're words out there I cannot reach,
Like flotsam washed up on the beach.

So I will beachcomb for ideas,
And hopefully something appears

To break this awful writer's block,
Then I can write around the clock.
© Mike Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: slacking, muse, writing,
Form: Couplet

Work

Here I kneel welder in hand
Fumes blown by the fan.
Hot slag cooling down
Sweat dripping on the ground.
Back aching,knees are cracking 
Boss yelling don't be slacking.
Floor plates to weld,steel to pin
Put your used butts in the bin.
Bolts to tighten,don't be frighten
Harness off so you don't fall off.
Categories: slacking, work,
Form: Rhyme
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