Best Slap Poems


Premium Member The Responding Slap

In the bright sunlight
Bold with such tenacity
A Mosquito bites

Word Slap Battle Rap

You say that you're my biggest fan
then you try to take my man
throwing out your demand
but ya gotta understand
he ain't buyin' no weak swing
he ain't fallin' for your tweak thing
Imma step up and show ya now
Its gonna real raw and how
I'm not gonna step back
I'm a monster on attack
You'll be feelin' all regret
a battle you won't forget

cuz all them games you be playin'
all them text you be sayin'
lies like vein sliced be sprayin'
all over the internet
privacy ain't a sure bet
I'm the one you wish you never met

I know about girls like you
proud about what you do
playin' men for money and things
not carin' about wedding rings
body that moves like a tornado
causing damage where you go
but the down below is hollow
like your heart is shallow
bats in your under cave
dirty like a six foot grave
skin like silly putty stretchin'
your looks leave me wretchin'

Now Imma expose the truth
you're forty years past youth
all the rumors are middle school
you're a stupid little fool
there ain't nothing you can do
I know all about you

Flippin' your long hair
showin your character
it's about a black a mud
you will never have love
stupid insignificant twit
you're not worth it

After the Slap

Everybody’s seen it
And discussed it to no end,
Wondering what repercussions
It may yet portend.

But to have a welcome chuckle,
Go check out James Corden’s song.
If will guarantee a grin and likely,
You will sing along.

For the writer took the Bruno tune,
Which most of us now know,
And just substituted Jada,
Making it so apropos.

How it blows my mind when talent
Takes an item in the news
And creates a little magic,
Well-deserving of our views.


Premium Member Slap the Poet -Doc-

~ SLAP the POET ~

First, you come to splat my baby SKAT!
Now I'm gonna give you a slap like this and that.

You call yourself, Doc the Poet & Notorious FLIRT.
OUCH! Doc, being you must really hurt.

Thank you for waking me from my cat nap.
Now it's time to bend you over my lap.

I will spank you like a kid for talking crap.
Teaching you a lesson that will make you snap.

I will slap my hand across your face.
For posting your Acrostic disgrace.

On my face was a smile that you post
With a look you'll never know

Doc, like a kid, you call them my towers.
Claiming  my twins carry certain powers.

In a poem, Chris A. Once called them melons.
While my Hubby climbs and calls them Mount. SAINT Helene's.

Take some notes when you read this.
Don't talk about another mans double "D's" pillow kiss.

Don't make yourself out a poet fool.
Keep your cool and clean off your drool.

Don't end up like my Hubby who is lost in my abyss.
It's not my wits that got your dumb a$$ caught in reminisce.

            ~ SKAT ~
          (Dedication)
       (Dakarai Cobbs)
© Skat A   Create an image from this poem.

Slap In the Face

Just a cold, hard slap in the face
Is Daylight Savings Time to morning place

Winter’s drive is dark and cold
Headlights searching for deer in the road

But March brings the sun like golden ripe fruit
To brighten my chores and morning commute

For just a while I pretend it will last
Try to keep winter’s veil in the past

But then the inevitable Monday comes
Because someone decided this silly thing should be done

I’ve changed the clock the night before
So once again only darkness awaits out my door

For another month
I keep the dark pace
Whoever thought of this needs a slap in the face!
© Chris Hagy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Whoop Ass Delivery Service

It’s when you don't have
the money for a hit man.
And you know something
needs to be done.
If you have a hot date
and your boss asked you
to work late.
Dial 1-800 Whoop that ass!

The whoop ass delivery Service,
We will deliver a can of whup ass
anywhere to anyone at any time
day or night, 
if there wrong or right,
in any kind of weather.

Call and ask about
the wet ass whupping
for no extra charge.

For someone who needs
there Ass handed to them
Thee old fashion way.
Let us do that for you.
Dial 1-800 Whoop that ass.

On your request, 
we can leave them
on their feet 
or laying on the ground.
We can deliver a can of whup ass
in public or when no one's around.
Satisfaction Guaranteed
or we will tear that ass up.

If a loved one
doesn’t know how come home,
or people who get smart
with you on the phone.
Hang up and dial...
1-800 Whoop that ass.

The Whoop ass delivery Service
let’s you choose one of three sizes,
Small, (This is going to hurt)
Medium, (We're going to break something.)
and the Large. (Put them in the Hospital)

Each package comes with fightback insurance.
Just in case the subject’s tries to fight back
In which case
we will beat the snot out them.
Ladies if you want 
to keep your abusive husband in line,
then keep us in mind.
Dial 1-800 Whoop that ass.

Ladies our slap happy option
comes as a back-hand service.
Where at you request.
we can just slap the piss
out of them.
slap the taste out they mouth.
Or even slap them clean
into next week.
Dial 1-800 Whoop that ass.

And men we don't discriminate,
we can return the favor for a nominal fee.
We will slap people on both sides
of the family tree.
Dial 1-800 Whoop that ass.

We take Visa, Master card, and American Express.
But don't let credit problems get in the way!
You can even put an Ass Whooping on Lay-away.
Find us online at any time.  @WhoopthatAss.com
Copyright ISBN-13 978-19781188973
                   ISBN-10 197811897TX


Premium Member Slap Stick It To Me

He’s sorry and wished it undone
But dad’s home—there’s no where to run  
The spanking's intense
Father never relents        
And imprints his hands on his son

Salt Water Face Slap Haiku

salt water face slap
the best wake up call ever
feeling mighty good!
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

An Acrostic "slap of the Glove".......

Goodness knows the greed involved
Unwilling to admit, unable to proceed
Life on this fragile rock totters
For we have never fouled the nest like this
 
Oceanic trauma, on a voyage, east then north
Ice, blue-clean, beauty, dead before the march of black gold
Listing heavily to one side, we're taking on what used to be only water

Smug arrogance put us here
Plans within plans have failed
Ill-gotten were the riches, ill-tended were the fields
Laddie, grab a pail and bail for all you're WORTH!
Let's just all hope they're not setting the price on that too!!!!
© Jim David  Create an image from this poem.

Can'T Decide If I Should Slap Myself Silly Or Have Another Cuppa Decaf

There are days like these when life patently doesn't come easy
like peas and carrots, tea and biscuits, moonshine & sun's resign,
more so resembling ill-assorted poked chocolates' wrongdoing of
dissemblance discombobulating conceivability mid hokey designed
disorderliness, inasmuch mute poetry impatiently awaiting lavishly
gifted muse's breathlessness to transform convoluted unreasonable
fractals pon escaped tauntingly mundane madness, twixt brass-tacks
wracks daunting tribulations throughout intervals of immoderately
spun matter-of-taxing challenges and perplexing puzzle pieces,
sans instructions far-side nonexistent proportions affixed with sticky
hot glue gun drivel or coffee pathetically absent jolting caffeine...
© Paloma P   Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Slap Leather

A new sheriff in town named Shaw
 Came to get rid of an outlaw
 They would slap leather soon
 Around the time of noon
  Sheriff was faster on the draw!

 5-3-2022
© Joseph May  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Slap Happy Pappy

Saw my dear Dr. Kimberly this afternoon
She noticed I wasn't chipper like a Bugs Bunny cartoon
A trifle depressed
A weight on my chest
Even this slap happy pappy is not immune


© Jack Ellison 2015

My Slap-Myself Thing

waterfall from skies compete with my thoughts
must be doing something else,
yet here I am, 

Here. I am.
Again.

Why do I keep coming back here?!?

A mental shake, 
as I chastise myself
 I shouldn't be here, don't belong here anymore.
Most likely, I never did, just pushed myself in this place.

But I feel like a homing pigeon,
where this is the only place I know
that I can be and not be.

Where I can hide and expose myself at the same time.
With repercussions? Maybe.

I sit in my own corner and immerse myself
in the chatter, the laughter, and other matters

Nobody really notices me,
but that's ok. 
I'm getting used to it.

I guess I keep coming back here
for that sense of familiarity, of a somewhat home,
for the memories.

Of myself in happier times,
of a chapter in my life that I have written
yet somehow botched up. Badly, so badly
that the words are all swimming in their own tears
Oozing ink, drowning.

But it shouldn't surprise me anymore?
This is me? 
Of course I will always somehow manage to mess things up.
Some ways more than the others,
'my-esque' askewness

For some, that chapter in my life
is of course negligible. An erasable footnote perhaps?
It hurts, but we all have our own worlds,
where you may not be as important to others
as you thought, as you wanted to be.

There I went, pushing myself again,
only to be pushed away with a 
thousand mile barrier of silence.
All along, being dust in that corner.

I gulp a bucket of tears,
because I will not deny it--
how much it hurts. Still.

But like what I say,
have to get used to it.

My hands are cold,
and I wipe snot from my nose,
a dainty trickle of snot, but snot nonetheless,
have had my snot-in-sheets phase,
so this is progress, that trickle.

1234, my clock says,
12345678910, I count to myself
collecting, breathing slowly
needles in my feet and shivering

Gosh, can I get any more pathetic?!

Yes, I have and I bet I will still be so.

No, this is not a pity-me thing,
more like a slap-myself thing

So I can look back, read this
and say to myself:

Others have it harder than you,
yet they stand,
I'm here sitting,
yet others stand.


...
the sky is still drumming the earth with water
and my eyes are threatening to do a duet. Again.

I chide myself, Enough now.
For my bags under my eyes are already so smooth, too deep
Too weathered and soaked for a year.


----> 'slap-myself thing', remember??

Remember.
© Kaye S-  Create an image from this poem.

Slap N Tickle

Slap and Tickle
Of slap and tickle, for the fickle,
beyond the hollows of the knees,
the lovers game quite insane,
where cast she is upon my knee,

her cheeks so red a game instead,
gentle slaps so frequently.
The fingers dip, and sometimes slip,
the mound is wet with estacy,

as lovers do, erotic too,
a power game, entice the dew,
the panting is the quest,
of rosy cheeks, as buttocks squeak,
an opening is sometimes blest
a struggle must perhaps ensue,
for in this game, the ending same,
a coming yet are you?

Don Johnson

Glove Slap

they are saying that Che was sociopath
well which normal person
would involve herself  in
effort to save humanity from itself

they are trying to kill the person when they can't kill idea

guess what you bigots
Jesus wasn't innocent either
he had a wife
lets crucify him

again

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