Best Smidgeon Poems
Written: January 12, 2024
__________________________________
Their buzzing goes unabated
the cool air scent of lavender
in this unfathomable cosmos
where dreams are fulfilled,
a smidgeon of silver wind
utterly enthralled.
Within the icy voids of
aching and colorless hues
raven-inhabited remnants
vulnerable grays
aesthetic fog, fanciful yarns
dissipating wood smoke
whispers of winter, as dusk falls
dawn in monochrome
amidst gentle chimes
traces of an emotional waltz
oblivion is grieved in silence
a blackbird with ruby wings!
The colors of the trees
Iridescent in appearance
create a stunning scene
that is incredibly fortunate
this is a poetic domain
where lilts joyfully chortle
the trees gently move
and the dryads are overjoyed
the heart of lullabies
with brilliant opals
giving wandering spirits hope
back in their house labyrinth
Scarlet nests were seen on high boughs
romantic place where calm blooms.
With the hearth of lullabies
opals that are flaming
soul-directing the wayward.
they're back in their home maze.
nests of crimson grew snugly.
among the boughs, exalted.
a sanctuary for love.
wherever there is harmony,
exquisitely halcyon arbors
colorful tapestry with wonderful beauty
Iridescent sky with gorgeous hues
In this magical setting, dreams bloom
where nature's splendor is eternal,
calmly, trees swing, and the dryads spin.
Categories:
smidgeon, analogy, appreciation, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Written: December 13, 2023
____________________________________________
If the ocean's water
were used as writing ink for pens
to write down our words of praise
the ocean would eventually dry up
before it might be put in writing.
evil will triumph
if the righteous remain silent
Inner defect causes blindness
success depends on action
stand up and do what
you realize is right
raise exertion level
a smidgeon suffices
to allow notions of impetus
you can then sleep well
your pick is akin to lacerations
requires precise timing
curious but uncertain.
blind attrition is pointless.
reach for stars
obtain an aerial view of the world
wave farewell to the land
live easily a prospective granted by
you are misusing beauty
greet the passing clouds.
forsake worries and avert your gaze
fear is a foe you must overcome
soar high and be wise.
Categories:
smidgeon, appreciation, dream, encouraging, hope,
Form:
Free verse
He went the way of a sickly pigeon,
and dropped his nasty load on religion.
The evil ones hailed him,
power they availed him,
which increased his vanity a smidgeon .
He declared himself the messiah,
From the depths of earthen hell fire,
The people believed him,
almighty pride seized him,
now he’s forcing God to retire.
You see there’s only room for one master,
to be God is what evil is after,
As enticing as it looks,
he and his cronies and crooks,
are setting the world up for disaster.
We Christians who always vote by rote,
keeping the Truths of our faith in a tote,
it’s we that keep evil in power,
We’ll know that in our last hour,
Right after we get thrown from the Boat.
Author's note:
I read that in the last presidential election, 57% of Christians
voted for the present administration which is currently in the midst of
of taking away their rights to conciencious objectionality and religious freedom
where the killing of babies ("abortion" for those of you who are still in la la land)
and the financial obligation for it is concerned.
It is now desired by the present administration that Christians too pay for this
murderous and horrific agenda.
To the 57% of Christians who voted for the current administration: you got your choice.
Are congratulations in order?
-Robert A. Dufresne
Categories:
smidgeon, growing up, religion, god,
Form:
Limerick
The Drag of Writing
A smidgeon of silly,
a scintilla of sad,
a wee gong of rhyming wit,
a sentence to start me
a participle dangling
a lead to bring me to it,
a last ditch lurch to my
personal God, who says
“this is not worthy of prayer”
six single words is all I need
for my fingers to fly with a flourish,
a little ole ‘v’ to victory,
parse me up
and parse me down
I’ll carelessly click the keys,
till I alphabetically ache
and a roll of the dice
brings a poem for the centuries
Is that how THEY did it
Longfellow and Poe?
I’m not so sure they were so slow.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
May 28, 2013
Categories:
smidgeon, writing,
Form:
Rhyme
Goose Lawsuit
Gander
Slander
Owl’s Knock Knock Joke
Who Who
Cuckoo?
Hen with Bad Illness
Stricken
Chicken
Bird Hits Windshield
Smidgeon
Pigeon
Categories:
smidgeon, bird,
Form:
Footle
shhhh...please don't tell Jan I tattled on her.
Did you hear 'bout Jan's custard a-la-plum
While making it she drank far too much rum
while on her wobbly legs
put mustard in the eggs
It was wretched and tasted like pond scum
Her hubby asked her for a large serving
But the rum made Jan wiggle while swerving
'Twas a messy mishap
She dropped it on his lap
Jan laughed but hubby found it unnerving
He asked why she thought that was so funny
Jan sipped more rum then said, "Sorry, honey"
She sat upon the floor
and drank a few gulps more
then slurred, "It wath a smidgeon too runny"
Categories:
smidgeon, drink, silly,
Form:
Limerick
THE MEERKAT
Meerkats are delightful beasts,
Arousing warm affection
They stand in groups discrete
Looking in the same direction
COW
How now brown cow
A bestowal to the world art thou
Miracle of God's construction
Four stomachs in mass production
THE PIG
Our blessings upon you abound
In our hearts you did awaken
A sense of gratitude profound
For bringing home the bacon
CHICKENS
In these days of Genetic modification
There is a question that begs
Should we yield to the great temptation
To get a chickens with four wings and six legs
THE URBAN PIGEON
I've nothing against the urban pigeon
But could it not maintain a smidgeon
Of caution when it makes its flyway
In the middle of a six lane highway
THE ANT
The ant delights to frolic
In Formic acid vitriolic
But on the tongue of the Ant Eater
There is nothing could be sweeter
THE BULL
His spontaneous emanation
Given without solicitation
Should encouraged him on a mission
To be a salesman or politician
Categories:
smidgeon, animal, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
It was the quietest of hums deep pitched
that appeared to be surrounding me.
It did not have the sizzle of electricity
and was not a light or the fridge.
Hunting high and low trying to make sense
of where it was originating from.
A few hours later and still no wiser
I sat back and pondered on things.
Next I tried turning off the power
which made not a smidgeon of difference.
It was still there quietly emitting sound
I knew what I needed to track it down.
I got out a stethoscope and placed it
first to the walls and then to the ceiling.
Ah now I knew what it was, munching away
slowly demolishing the whole of my house.
Feasting away, leaving behind a clue
a small pile of very fine wood.
Yes I was infested by a very small grub
commonly known as a wood worm.
Categories:
smidgeon, fantasy, house, imagination,
Form:
Verse
Recipe For My Poetry:
! Cup of release from reality
2 tbsps of too much time on one’s hands
As many cups of McDonald’s coffee you wish
So easy! No pots and no pans…
A generous pinch of ego
A lot of long lost dreams
Some healthy bites of breakfast burrito
Not a lick of respect and self-esteem…
1/2 cup of feeling of failure
4 shot glasses of Tennessee Honey
Smidgeon of feeling of being put out to pasture
Mixed lightly with a minimum of money…
A dollop of overblown sentimentality
A handful of memories and loss
A pinch of penance and a spritz of banality
Add a bit of joy…at never having a boss…
Stir in with a grin, lots of rainbows and sunshine
Blend in memories of days warm and sunny
Don’t skimp a bit when adding red wine
And don’t forget… 6 shots of Tennessee Honey…
Blend these ingredients all into one
Then pour them all into an open mind
Then set it aside…til you think that it’s done
Might want to moisten it, with a bit more red wine…
Dust it a bit with some cinnamon and cynicism
Make sure it’s firm…not too dry or runny
If it doesn’t measure up to your very own criticism
Just moisten it up with another cup
…Of good ol’ Tennessee Honey…
Categories:
smidgeon, creation, poetry, word play,
Form:
Rhyme
O curse of a century
O Calamity of a century,
Enough thieving of precious human life,
Keen we’re to see thy date of expiry.
As plague ye came, hoary thy history,
Unleashing a terror of gravest strife,
O thou curse of this chequered century.
Ye came as flue not any less deadly,
No withered virus, virulent its jibe,
Nor tamed, nowhere seen its life expiry.
Corona as now creepy and scary,
With mutants of many a varied type,
Messenger O of Death from mortuary,
Thought, year twenty had reigned more than plenty,
‘Las, what followed has dug in more than rife,
O Year Twenty-One, when’s thy expiry?
O Tragedy Smidgeon of great fury,
O Crowned Tsar, thy bite sharper than of knife,
Time's ripe to go, hasten but not slowly,
We’re keen to see thy back, better hurry.
________________________________________________
Villanelle |09.04.2021|
Topic: tragedy, calamity
Categories:
smidgeon, anxiety, grief, world,
Form:
Villanelle
I am in this place
and you are in that.
I suspect you are in a different place,
one I have yet to recall, or visit.
Same goes for my dog, but now and again
her wet nose in my ear wakes me up
from a troubled sleep.
Same goes for the mean snake slaying Siamese cat
that scratched me to pieces.
I reckon that it still exists in some parallel universe,
still craping on some other
poor son of a .
Today I am on the doorstep of
of a Thai restaurant - I think I once lived in Thailand,
but it could have been this other person,
someone who lives in another dimension,
a place just a smidgeon from my left eye.
------
Categories:
smidgeon, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
When long johns get religion
And you’re fallin’ out the door—
And bowels just move a smidgeon
When they need to move much more—
Then ol’ north winds come knockin’
And it’s then that you sure know—
If relief don’t come callin’
That you’ll sure enough dern blow!
Then your stomach do start rumblin’
Like it’s in some argument—
And you know the storm’s comin’
And it won’t be heaven sent!
That’s when you cinch your sphincter
To repress that symphony—
To kill or mute the coarseness
While in polite company.
But when that time is over
And ol’ nature runs its course—
You’d better blame your best pard
Or meekly point at your horse!
Yes, long johns hide revival
When your bowels can take no more—
But if you feel it comin’
Just undo that ol’ trapdoor!
Categories:
smidgeon, confusion, cowboy-western, funny,
Form:
Cowboy Poetry
fear makes it all so real,
the people round us dropping like
flies, with no age spared & no
combination of genes, environment
or upbringing, determined to be
perfect, so as to locate its reason or
motive---for it creeps in, seemingly
indiscriminately & yet,
every fake sugar packet gets questioned,
every deodorant used, every potato chip,
every abundant intake of vitamin E, every
sausage, every burger, every bowl of soup,
every bit of hair dye, every swish of
mouthwash, every moisturizer smeared,
every smidgeon of talcum, every x-ray,
every call made on the cell, every cold,
every glass of wine, every minute spent on
face****, every tooth whitening paste,
every cup of coffee, every microwaved
meal, every single doughnut ever consumed,
every french fry, every slice of bacon, every
moment spent in the sun too long,
EVERYTHING YOU THOUGHT WAS
ONCE GOOD FOR YOU HAS NOW SENT
YOU REELING &
time is of the essence,
when every little irk in one’s body leads them
to believe they are dying & every new report
unleashed by the doctors, leads one to believe
their days are numbered,
seems ever since the bombs got dropped on
Japan, vaporizing hundreds of thousands of
people, leaving those left alive to the ravages of
mutation & radiation in the fall out,
the citizens of the empire that dropped the bombs
have been trembling with
cancerphobia.
Categories:
smidgeon, life,
Form:
Free verse
A Look Inward At Darkness In The Mortal Soul
Strange now rests overburdened seas and hapless stars
Undiscovered jungle villages that think all earth is flat
Those that slow walk total blindness but never drank in bars
And in the tepid night, those that never hit when at bat
Yet Nature marches without clock or a smidgeon of guilt
It far flies its soul outward for all mortal men to see
In the secret alley truth is stabbed up to the hilt
All the while oppressors wage a war against you and me!
Strange now rests overburdened seas and hapless stars
Those that slow walk total blindness but never drank in bars
Yet Nature marches without clock or a smidgeon of guilt
In the secret alley truth is stabbed up to the hilt.
Undiscovered jungle villages that think all earth is flat
And in the tepid night, those that never hit when at bat
It far flies its soul outward for all mortal men to see
All the while oppressors wage a war against you and me!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2023
Rhyme++
Categories:
smidgeon, art, creation, humanity, life,
Form:
Rhyme
If you are a student of religion
You learn more than just a smidgeon
I would not want to pidgeon
To put holes in your religion
But it is my decision
To go out on a mission
And show an apparition
Can be a beautiful addition
Or maybe cause addiction
To the students of religion
You see that my decision
That each and all religion
Should be left to thier decision
Of beliefs or thier religions
Categories:
smidgeon, life, religion,
Form:
Rhyme