Best Smirked Poems
A man with a quiet demeanor
was cursed with a miniscule wiener.
He tried lotions and pills
But not one cured his ills.
Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
His todger though tiny still worked.
When he went for a wee it jerked.
He could still have full sex.
It was rather complex,
but when it was over he smirked.
BY JAN ALLISON
His wee-wee was indeed very wee
to the extent that no one could see.
When asked, “Are you a man?”
He replied, “Yes, I am.
You can follow up stream when I pee.”
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Went out for a night with a hooker
Blonde but thick and no looker
When she saw his todger
Said my dog is bigger
You're taking me for a sucker
BY SEREN ROBERTS
A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing
I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing
For sex a useless reject
Can't tell when its erect
We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling
BY MARTI
Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie
isn't always small, it's big as apple pie
the winds were mighty chilly
affecting my poor old Willie
now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry
BY TIM SMITH
Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches
nope, the part for me what clinches
is strokes per minute
while they's in it
not a tool needs movin' with winches."
BY LIM'RICK FLATS
if you want join in the fun!
This summer two nudists got wed:
no clothing was worn, not a thread,
no Mendelssohn played -
(I smirked, I'm afraid)
'The organ is out,' Vicar'd said...
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
The children that played
On the stairwell that night
Were giggling and laughing
At their little friend’s fright
For while they were jumping
And playing on beds
She walked down the stairwell
Alone; then she fled.
She knew that she heard it.
The sound was quite clear.
Only she on the stairs
Along with her fears –
No one believed her.
They laughed; and she sighed.
Then, ran to their mother.
And told her wide-eyed.
The mother said softly.
There’s no need to fear.
The ghosts in this house
Are not real, little dear.
When at last she was calm
And went back up to play.
The children were ready
There were pranks on that day.
Upstairs in their bedroom
The lamplight was on
The window was open.
The breezes wafted by.
A Barbie doll taped
In the lamp by her hips –
The other girls giggled
Each one smirked tight-lipped.
When back with the others
They were jumping on beds.
Soon huddled together,
They pointed with dread.
The curtains were moving.
Subtle puffs of the wind.
Shadows on sheers swaying,
“We saw a ghost, there!”
She swore as she screamed,
I’ll never come back!”
“This place is haunted
And that is a fact.
No adult reassuring
Could undo her fright.
She stayed awake and watched
To the other girls’ delight –
When the party was over,
The children went home.
The others still laughing
About the joke of the night –
It was three years later
In the darkness of night,
I walked down the steps
And had the same fright!
Shhhhh!
Happy Halloween.
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
October 24, 2014
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest Ghost Stories
Sponsor Kelly Deschler
Every year with Christmas coming in a park near Forest Lake,
the Lion’s Club and Rotary Club help to add to Christmas cheer
by organizing something special for the district to partake,
along with all the different church leaders mingling with us here.
There are many, who like me, that never see the inside of a church,
so there is rarely any contact with the folk who speak for God,
but on the special day of mingling, nobody has to search
to find any church’s leader or junior members of their squad.
And when I was in a lookout that held a calming water view,
as well as glancing back upon a loud and happy Christmas crowd,
I could feel what a Christmas means to all these gathered folks I knew,
and to be amongst a combined throng makes one feel a little proud.
I was joined up in the lookout by a chuckling jovial pair,
who decided here with me was quiet enough to lunch and swap a tale.
They introduced themselves to me as Rabbi Spitz and Father Hehir,
before unwrapping their sandwiches and pouring tea that looked like ale.
Their banter was relentless as they tore apart each others habits,
and mentioned hidden skeletons that would curl the devil’s hair.
I learned that Priests are only human and Jews can breed like rabbits,
before debating turned onto a sandwich that sat on the table there.
Father Hehir opened up one sandwich before he taunted Rabbi Spitz,
“this smoked baked ham is delicious, you really ought to try some,
but your religion won’t allow that; pick up some in your mitts;
you don’t know what you’re missing; go on, it won’t hurt you to succumb.”
But Rabbi Spitz just shook his head, and left the Father babbling on.
“I can’t understand your thinking, smoked baked ham is beyond compare,
so Rabbi, when are you going to reject, your religions con?”
Then Rabbi Spitz smirked with a winner “At your wedding Father Hehir.”
“butter flies and marshes mellow”, that’s what he said to me.
did i look shocked — you bet, but i did him one better.
“mine craft and more bid yeller,” I smirked,
and he said, “wazzthatsposedtomean?”
as if he was drunk, he slurred all his vegetables to gather,
and i told him so — i true Lee did!
“chalk a lot?” he asked, and i quibbled, “black board.”
He threw his fist, dissed joined, “yor a wader.”
“am not!”
“are so!”
“fire flies and pepper mints,” the subject changes.
“side ways and rattled snakes,” i grin.
Our friend ship sails with checkers and back bone.
I say a final dead line, “butter’d milk and fired crackers,”
we hear the good humor’d truck.
we buy iced dreams and coco co la,
as the city strolls by, way too serious.
and we both shout,
“ham or head?
“Shark!”
butter flies and marshes mellow Poetry Contest
Kai Neumann - Sponsor
Twisted and taunted,
I stood in the wintry path where
sparkling silver slivers of mercury
searched for their brethren
to merge as one.
Colder than my path, a clammy cold
from the nitrous night, crept through as winter winds
coming from the chill of the grave,
and blasting me with icy shards, scraping at my bones
and freezing my soul.
Its harshness racked me as balls in a triangle –
trapped with no escape but for the staff
on the muted shape at my side.
The chill soon left my body as I was filled with the heat
of a thousand flames that rose intensely blue, not quite white-hot.
As the flames moved toward the now fiery shape
beside me, they drew me through and pushed my heated blood
throughout my body and the sinister shape smirked
as it swept into me as charged lightening, the flames
now indigo-violet.
My mind burned and turned to blackness as dark as
the edge of the universe.
It filled my bones with molten lead and turned my blood
to a roaring, raging volcanic lava flow.
I bent, not knowing what to do, not caring,
no longer feeling or thinking.
A tiny smoldering snowflake flickered red inside me
and quickly faded into hot intensity.
I was anyone, anything, other than myself –
lost and guided by the entity now residing within.
It’s cold
It snowed
I shivered
I shoveled
A Solstice sun
Silently smirked
Iridescent icicles
Licked their lips
A crunch of crusted snow
Battled the scritch of shovels
Headless snowmen
Wandered in wonder
I shoveled
I shivered
It snowed
It’s cold
I was trapped in a daydream,
Could not hear the math teacher.
Walked to the next class by the handsome stranger
Who was holding me hostage in my mind's eye
I was in love, lust too of course, could feel his eyes on me.
Smirked at his rapt interest in me, calling me all kinds of beautiful
Sat down in the science lab, turned my back to my partner.
Who was doing all the work anyway, for he did not trust others.
Sighing deeply, as my handsome stranger enveloped me with arms.
His heart was pounding as fast as mine, we were becoming us.
In the most serious of ways. Our hearts became race horses.
I heard a teacher voice, louder now. Ignored it completely.
Detention for two nights. One because I did not hear, and the
Other for yelling "Leave us alone, Minion!" to the teacher with
No sense of humor, who was irritated when the others laughed.
I really have to figure out how to control my subjects...
Chet lived creepily in the back of the tavern, hidden.
No one bothered him. He lived vicariously through the others.
The pretty barflies who flitted in chatting too loudly.
Flipping their hair. He had a salacious appetite, saw them all naked.
They sometimes waved to his corner when they were drunk.
He did not think they knew he was perpetually eyeballing them.
Unclothing them one piece of clothing at a time in his mind.
Uncovering their secrets was easy; they shared way too much.
His voyeuristic tendencies got him ostracized and secluded from family.
His mixoscopia and scoptolagnia confusing the prissy Baptists he knew.
He might go Catholic, he had heard they were more open. Nah!
Religion was not for him. His religion was this bar and those bar flies.
One of them was throwing her head back now, laughing loudly.
He would dream of her tonight. He smirked at the eroticism she brought him.
She turned and waved. If he was forty years younger, he would be over there.
But he knew better so he stayed put, swigging back his beer.
The bear did not like the little girl.
He did his utmost to scare her.
She'd draw a lovely picture of a cat,
Then on her picture that grouchy bear spat.
A few weeks later they met in the forest.
The girl told the bear of a medal she had won.
He smirked in a very nasty way.
"Not up to my standards,"he was so very proud to relay.
Telling her he was not interested in her wins in anyway.
Forlorn, she walked to her cottage, hardly glowing.
Not wanting her Mother to see the teardrops on her dress showing.
However, a first step in friendship she had learned.
It's perfectly fine to get burnt and spurned
If a friend cannot celebrate with you, just turn the page.
As Shakespeare said, the world is a stage.
There are millions of people on the planet.
Just remember, there are male and female macrophages lurking upon it.
Doing their best to destroy you on it.
Bit by bit, till you feel the size of a grape pit.
Then, there are the gracious ones, who are not above you,
But clearly know how to love themselves and to elevate you.
~~A Tribute to Supportive Poets~~
To all those who have elevated me at Poetry Soup!
Thanking you, with love!
May 13, 2020
8am PST
I lashed them with my tongue
The paper got all wet
I lashed them with ink
They turned blue
I lashed them with words
They slowed their retreat
Read more slowly
Smirked at the irony
Flinched at the pain
Wept at the happiness
While touching its sadness
My words are razor sharp
Some splitting hairs
Others cutting more deeply
All part of my poetic Kata
Smooth movements
Vibrant consequences
Warriors all
Both those who write
And those who read
Seeking peace
Between swords and pens
I once tried to burn Day Light
But found she was not flammable
So I decided to try Twi Light
Not a chance...Twi just laughed at me
and Day smirked, snickered and pointed
Which REALLY burned me up...
'Try burning Night Time,’ Twi suggested
(No way! Burn me once? Flame on you
Burn me twice? Flame on-on...ME I think)
‘There’s no need to be aflamed my man’
(Aw shucks...Thanks! Any chance y’all are sisters?)
‘Aw shucks...You’re welcome! Yep, Sisters of the Sun'
‘The Moon is a cousin but we don‘t stay in touch‘
(If it‘s not too personal, might I ask why?)
‘No heat! Also, He‘s been manipulating the tides
Sister Sun even threatened to burn His Dark Side'
(Did he relent and resume his proper orbit?)
‘HELL no! Now She’s confused and feeling the heat
As a result, we’re getting REALLY weird sunsets’
(Really? Well I’ll be a sun of a sunset!)
'SO, You wanna burn Night Time or what?’
(Yeah, but I’d prefer burning Day Light
There’s this contest on Poetry Soup
and the theme is Burning Daylight)
‘Nope, Night Time or go down in flames’
(Well, how shall I Set the Night on Fire?)
‘You’re plagiarizing...The Doors did that’
(Not familiar with that I’m afraid)
'Geez! Come On Baby Light My Fire??
Try to set the night on FIRE!! Got it?
(Ah...So I’ll be needing a Baby then
and how can a Baby light a fire anyway?)
'(Sigh) So here’s what you’re gonna need...
A flame thrower and some gasoline’
(Got it! I’m sure burned up about this!)
'Pssst...Sis, I’m certain he meant FIRED up’
*The consequences were devastating
I set a pine tree on fire in my yard
which of course, spread to the nearby forest
and then, to my utter shock and horror
the entire neighborhood was consumed!
Thankfully, everyone got out alive...
**Jail-time and numerous lawsuits followed
SOMEHOW, I managed to burn all my bridges
but didn’t quite make it off the last bridge
which really burned my ass...
Submitted for the contest 'Burning Daylight' sponsored by John Lawless
SUMMER SOLSTICE
Queen Meabh stood beside the cairn, her velvet cape fluttered in the night air,
She called onto the Goddess Aine to return the moon safe to its hidden lair.
Braziers crackled as wood and turf warmed the dark hour before dawn’s light,
Na Fianna Warriors guarded against the savage unknown forces of the night.
A lone whistler’s haunting tune announced the Thuaith De Dannan clan’s arrival,
And Morganna smirked as frightened eyes diverted their gaze in self survival.
The heart beat of the bodhran was joined by the uilleann piper’s soothing soul,
As evil Balor shook with fear, banished safe within his watery hell hole.
Then moonlight sparkled the wild sea horses as the waves hissed onto the shore,
Aine slipped into the blue of the night as the clans stood in darkness once more.
Then Druids began to chant as queen Meabh raised her golden Torc and spear,
Excitement roused the gathered crowd as they sensed the magic drawing near.
The bodhran raced its primitive beat as chanting and music shook the world,
On the horizon the sun God Eatain loosed the false sun, as nature was unfurled.
The Druids entered the sacred cairn as outside the clans watched the true sun rise,
Its sunbeam flowed across the land about to unveil its most wondrous surprise.
Its beam lit up the chamber dais as golden ogham symbols glowed an amber hue,
Clapping and singing rose to the skies as new beginnings were ringing true.
The breakfast feast was shared to all and offerings were made to the mighty god,
Four thousand years later we still honour this festival and respect the sacred sod.
26th May 2016 S.de B.
I’m scum, I know, I am an ass
I knew through cardboard you could pass
You chewed and chewed a great big hole,
I wish I knew you had a soul
You ran and laughed, but what you saw
It stomped you flat, it was a paw
That cat, he smirked and ate you raw
He stuffed you in his great big maw
My dear sweet babe, I won’t forget,
Your tiny life and what you met
The fault is mine, and I must pay,
Though when and how, I cannot say
The day will come, my life’s all done,
Until that time I’ll have no fun