Best Smidgen Poems
Now Santa is getting eccentric
His sleigh is now fully electric
He made Rudolph retire
Pressed the red button - ‘Fire’
His world then went totally hectic
He searched for a roof with snow clearing
And found a good landing site nearing
First attempt was a mess
He had no GPS
And no reindeer doing the steering
There was no choice; he had to go back
But he felt he was getting the knack
He then, feeling bolder
Looked over his shoulder
And demolished the next chimney stack
Rudolph, eating sprouts and not grass
Had seen these events come to pass
He helped Santa out
But ate one more sprout
And then put a flame to his ass
“By God, that’s one hasty arrival,
Could you please ensure my survival?”
And Rudolph said, “Sire
I shall stoke my fire,
But promise our team a revival.”
So up in the sky, roof to roof
Relying on sleigh-ski and hoof
Santa got his job done
With a smidgen of fun
And sometimes a butt going ‘poof!’
Categories:
smidgen, christmas, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
Warts and all
She made a mistake
when she kissed a toad
No castle or carriage
She chose a rough road
He had a few warts
he wasn't debonair or cool
Others scoffed and they laughed
But our toad wasn't a fool
For love was a potion
He knew she believed
He tried so very hard
With his heart he achieved
For she was so lovely
So caring and serene
concerned only with his heart
Not the places he'd been
It wasn't very easy
it was in fact it was tough
to be in love with a princess
and have less than enough
But she never complained
Not a whimper or cry
She said he was amazing
He was her special guy
So he worked night and day
from the inside he grew
he became all he could be
the Prince that she knew
Yes they found their happy
Him kind and never a jerk
Love indeed conquers all
with a smidgen of hard work
Together they built castles
chariots and other things
Traveled on positive thoughts
and the gifts that love brings
So if you see a toad smiling
know that that toad is just me
a kiss from my princess
thankfully set me free
Categories:
smidgen, appreciation, i love you,
Form:
Quatrain
Alas, hordes of ravenous relatives from very far and even near,
Won't be celebratin' at dear old Grandma's bountiful board this year,
Since the corona virus pandemic has spread an ominous cloud of doom.
But hold on! Perhaps you can celebrate via the miracle of Zoom!
You can enjoy from afar your green bean casserole and punkin pie,
Not havin' to tolerate obnoxioius Uncle Clyde sloppin' gravy on his tie!
Clickin' a button will mute Grandpa's interminable prayer of grace,
And spinster Aunt Alice's spewin' inane babble at a furious pace!
The mute button will silence any brawls about politics and religion,
And silence cousin Cletus crowin' about his thrivin' stocks a smidgen!
It won't be the same savorin' pleasant aromas from Grandma's kitchen,
But won't the mute come in handy to silence all the bickerin' and bit..... in'!
(The censors at Soup scrubbed the last word in the last line but I think you get the point!!!)
Categories:
smidgen, humorous, thanksgiving day,
Form:
Rhyme
For those of us who are married
We know how it often goes
Good days, bad ones and some
Common, annoying marital woes
I left a smidgen of toilet paper
Enough on the roll you can see
But then later when it’s my turn
Again, you left nothing for me
The toothpaste is out and rolled into a ball
I say throw it, it’s not worth squeezing it all
I yell to you but you don’t hear my shout
We sure find petty things to argue about
The dirty laundry is now piled high
You think it’s my job, not sure why?
I do remember when you shrunk my vest
And I told you then to just leave the rest
I tell you the rugs need to be vacuumed soon
You say forget it, it’s lunchtime, almost noon
After lunch, you bring your dirty dishes to the sink
And load them in the dishwasher that’s on the brink
We then sit together as we talk and laugh until we cry
And realize our time together is precious as it flies by
We then agree to disagree, we both can be wrong
Because we would be heartbroken if one of us was gone
Categories:
smidgen, funny, marriage,
Form:
Rhyme
Instant friends,
We hit it off so well
Mutual encouragement
Lives starting to gel
In an instant gone
As quickly as it started
Reasons why unknown
Left in waters unchartered
(Chorus)
Can you drop me a hint?
Can you offer a smidgen?
Was it something I said?
Could it be my religion?
Something I should’ve done,
Or anything I can do
To know the reasons
For losing you?
Good if we could talk
Suss out issues ensconced
I’ve tried to reach out
But received no response
Finally thought it best
To leave well enough alone
So hard to accept
A friendship turned to stone
(Chorus)
Can you drop me a hint?
Can you offer a smidgen?
Was it something I said?
Could it be my religion?
Something I should’ve done,
Or anything I can do
To know the reasons
For losing you?
4/26/2020
Photo by Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash
Categories:
smidgen, friendship, lost, relationship, sad,
Form:
Lyric
Give a pigeon just a smidgen
And his friends will flock to share
While each sparrow’s focus narrows,
Wond’ring if it’s worth the dare.
Soon a robin may come bobbin’
Though he’s just consumed a worm
Which the grackle tried to tackle,
Losing out by just a squirm.
Then the seagull, looking regal,
Takes a dive to catch a fish
As the finches land mere inches
From a shiny take-out dish.
In the city, streets are gritty
But the birds still find a meal
For the locals (and some yokels)
Leave them lots that they can steal.
Categories:
smidgen, bird, city,
Form:
Rhyme
The World Unknown to me
Let me write of things I do not know
underneath the folds of nothing
beneath a fake moon's glow
I'll write about my pretend university days
and my dope smoking ways
traveling life high
experiential artistic faze
In the company of fifty shady ladies
with long sexy legs
who thought I was amazing
screaming out my name in praise
I could write about here or there
about having balls so big
nothing would give me a scare
Others could admire me
saying "Boy he has a pair"
Yes I'd be someone
suave and debonair
a golden boy
with long flowing Fabio hair
reclining enticingly in a chair
with throngs of made up people
mesmerized as they stare
Me being aloof as if I didn't care
Or maybe I'll write about
jumping from a plane
how I only travel in the fast lane
Can you relate to the pretend things
that reside in my brain
Come travel with me on a bullet train
Run through the streets naked
in the pouring hot summer rain
This world of illusion
is mine to maintain
The fabric of thought
can take the strain
If I don't like something
I just rewrite it again
after all depending on what I make up
You might learn
I'm a smidgen away
from being
on the precipice of insane
Cracked or cool
a pretend genius
wrapped in the skin of a fool
Words written are a powerful tool
watch the unwinding of my spool
Lessons taught by observing
the apposing things in life that duel
Come sit at the bench
Roll up sleeves pull up a stool
fable and pen are waiting
spill red ink on paper you are born to rule
this is a different kinda school
We are all teachers
ideas are the fuel!
Categories:
smidgen, imagery, myth, riddle, vanity,
Form:
Rhyme
they're not speaking to me now, the Muses;
they're being stubborn,
witholding information, like beetle-browed accomplices -
their mouths pulled tight as drawstring purses.
they sit on their twin thrones of epiphany and genius,
smiling silently,
mockingly, while my fingers twitch with impotent yearning
and the chambers of my mind are cold,
dark and hollow as a cave.
i have become a contradiction in terms -
the wordless poet strikes again...
writer's block is the yoke around my neck,
the anchor that sends me drifting lachrymose
into the suffocating depths -
i am drowning,
swallowing tendrils of seaweed and tufts of
gossamer melancholy.
a struggling artist shouldn't have to work this hard -
to pay the bills yes, but not to create;
without the birthing process there is no artist...
yet there is still hope, a smidgen, a dark smudge on the horizon.
some knight errant might appear, with golden locks
and a smile that trembles the knees,
to inject love and longing back into my sulky heart.
he might extend his brave hand, down into
these murky depths, and yank me up;
dragging my creativity, bedraggled, choking,
retching, into the bleak light of inspiration's flare...
but then again, who believes in knights these days?
i am just as likely to wither away down here,
among the fishes and the wall-eyed anemones,
until the words have all filtered from my brain
and poetry is just a fond memory
from long-ago halcyon days...
Categories:
smidgen, angst, on writing and
Form:
Free verse
I tried to capture this freedom
To capture it within a thought
For a time it seemed to hover
but freedom wasn't what I got
It seems my thinking lacked feeling
True freedom I couldn't explain
My mind it became a prison
This freedom was locked in my brain
By the morning I lost my mind
I felt it slipping from my grasp
Freedom found it's true expression
When it was released from my past
It seem that freedom is simple
It doesn't care what others think
It can't be found in a bottle
It can't be poured out like a drink
Once you have tasted its flavour
There can be no going back
Open the door just a smidgen
Freedom will provide what you lack.
Inspired by Peter Duggan.
Categories:
smidgen, freedom,
Form:
Quatrain
one thing in life
that i have found
it's easier to live
when you breathe in and out
it's easier to see
when you open your eyes
and to believe
the truth over lies
it's easier to take
adding a smidgen of faith
and a touch of love
to help keep hate at bay
just a few things
i often find
that make it much easier
to make it through life
Categories:
smidgen, life,
Form:
Rhyme
[David Kavanagh’s recent poem, ‘Of Infinity’ so
astonished me in its similarity to my own pet
theory, that I was inspired to finish this poem
that I had been struggling to get right.]
***
All the ingredients there ever were
The atoms of everything ready to stir
All of the molecules in you and me
Have been in existence since prehistory
It’s sheer mathematics it simply must be
Our atoms exist in perpetuity
All that there was is all that there is
And all that there is is all there will be
One big Earthly spice rack, our ‘from’ and our ‘to’
Yesterday’s old becomes tomorrow’s new
A smidgen of this and a teaspoon of that
A pinch and a sprinkle made me… and my cat
And when I lay down for my very last time
New life will come using bits that were mine
Because when we die we return to the rack
To season the new with whatever they lack
Though space ships go up and there’s asteroid hits
Our Earth doesn’t gain or lose that many bits
So cave men and mammoths and tyrannosaurs
Had bits that are mine and bits that are yours
The atoms that make up the grasses and trees
The monkeys, the bats, the horses and bees
Might one day be water or silver or tin
Or even your great, great, great granddaughter’s gin
So whether we’re burnt or laid into the ground
We’ll be going spare when the time comes around
It may be our iron or maybe our salt
For all that we are does not become nought
We’re made from ingredients from way back when
And someday we’ll all be ingredients again
And someone that you may have lost in your past
Perhaps you’ll rejoin in the same blade of grass
Categories:
smidgen, creation, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme
FROM THE ur POEMS
thanksgiving prayer of the parasites
by Michael R. Burch
GODD is great;
GODD is good;
let us thank HIM
for our food.
by HIS hand
we all are fed;
give us now
our daily dead:
ah-men!
(p.s.,
most gracious
& salacious
HEAVENLY LORD,
we thank YOU in advance for
meals galore
of loverly gore:
of precious
delicious
sumptuous
scrumptious
human flesh!)
Originally published by Setu
no foothold
by michael r. burch
there is no hope;
therefore i became invulnerable to love.
now even god cannot move me:
nothing to push or shove,
no foothold.
so let me live out my remaining days in clarity,
mine being the only nativity,
my death the final crucifixion
and apocalypse,
as far as the i can see ...
brrExit
by Michael R. Burch
what would u give
to simply not exist—
for a painless exit?
he asked himself, uncertain.
then from behind
the hospital room curtain
a patient screamed—
"my life!"
fog
by michael r. burch
ur just a bit of fluff
drifting out over the ocean,
unleashing an atom of rain,
causing a minor commotion,
for which u expect awesome GODS
to pay u SUPREME DEVOTION!
... but ur just a smidgen of mist
unlikely to be missed ...
where did u get the notion?
Keywords/Tags: prayer, grace, thanksgiving, blessing, parasite, bounty, God, Christ, ur, ur poems
Categories:
smidgen, animal, bible, christian, extended
Form:
Free verse
A once vibrant Cosmic marvel turned to dust,
the result of hate, and of ignorance and of lust!
An illusion we have of being the crown of creation,
an illusion that has caused none but devastation!
As our giver of life stands right before our eyes,
we choose to bicker, argue, and fight over gods and over lies!
There are powers far greater than our understanding of gods,
when in truth we may all be wrong, what are the odds?
We are from the Earth and that should be our church,
we are the protectors of life and as such must emerge.
Is nature then, not the apex of amazement and burst of life,
when we so comfortably trade that for money, possessions, and strife.
Creating a twisted mental persistence to compete,
when in the end it will all be imminently absolute.
Nature is my church and my actions my proud religion,
while the opinions others have of that is a mere smidgen.
I am the forest dweller and ambassador for truth,
adding to the spice of life just a tiny dash of vermouth.
A protector, a sailor, a thinker and perhaps even a saint,
be it as it may, my decisions and path are always quaint.
Categories:
smidgen, abuse, environment, fate, hate,
Form:
Rhyme
Halloween is dead without witches brew,
carefully conjured up to make the best stew.
Adding only the finest components,
making sure of its exact exponents.
No substitution is ever allowed,
a solemn oath all witches have vowed.
Steep slowly over the hottest coal,
the makings of the best mortal soul.
Check the brain for the final test,
be assured it is at its very best.
Add a pinch of all spice to taste,
most of all don’t forget to baste.
Don’t forget to add plenty of ginger root,
a smidgen of oak moss and an owl’s hoot.
If available add some swamp muck,
that is only if you want good luck.
Stir for five minutes somewhere about,
then drop in a large black pig snout.
Before serving, invite the cat to savor,
this delectable dish’s succulent flavor.
If the cat sits and begs for more,
that is the sign you’re looking for.
But; if he screams and humps his back,
throw it away and grab a snack.
Copyright © 2008 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Eighth Place Winner ~ "Halloween (old poems)” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
Nov. 16, 2015
Categories:
smidgen, halloween, humor,
Form:
Couplet
I must confess, my poem appears a mess!
Wonder if I’ve lost my touch?
Though it seemed all right, when I began to write,
Did I edit a smidgen too much?
Having honed my rhymes, so many times,
Results are looking somewhat tragic!
Should I take a rest, having done my best
To make my poems seem magic?
A poet thought great, surely can create,
A poem regarded a leader,
But when words fall flat, after changing this and that,
They’ll seldom excite the reader.
Furthermore, I’m no star, so doubt I’ll go far,
Though with rhyming I’m rather smitten.
Some ideas may well please, but without expertise,
The results are poorly written.
After poetry is writ, I’ll tweak it a bit,
Hoping to make it read more sweetly.
Now should I not stop, the poem ends as a flop,
I’m forced to dump it discretely!
I’d best face up to fact, and leave lines intact,
Let lines be left as first read.
Yes, lines I hone, I should let alone,
To give inspiration its head.
Like those of a Ham, they’re not worth a damn,
If the metre is ragged or weak,
So I’ll sit myself down, check adverb and noun;
Then throw out the lines I can’t tweak!
For they’ll mean not a thing, if the rhyme does not ring,
Or becomes detached from the theme.
If by my tweaking, I lose sight of my seeking?
It’s a waste of time it will seem!
Back in days when I wrote, some poetry of note,
Editing was never intended,
But today I’m feared, the results seem weird,
Euphoria has finally ended!
Better stick to my guns, write more rhymes and puns,
Until my inspiration has fled,
Should you see a deficiency, or lack of proficiency?
You’d better say nowt till I’m dead!
Rhymer. August 27th, 2009.
Categories:
smidgen, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme