Best Sneakily Poems
on... Oh! Oh!
What? What?
Do you think of cats?
We have too many cats.
At least, they feast on rats.
Cats. (*) Cats! Cats! (*) Cats.
What do you think of that? I
have seen them with a mole.
Dead, pulled out of his hole.
A delicacy I once was told.
My cats are: Meow.
Some big fat- Meow!
Rat-eating cats. Meow!
I never see them eat a bat.
I guess at night, they sleep or chat.
Cats do not have wings. They cannot fly!
My, oh my, will they wish someday to fly?
At early dawn it is time to prowl. Not for owls.
Meow! They hunt for snakes, insects, some fowl.
Silently, sneakily, stealthy, spying, they P-o-u-n-c-e-!
It’s survival of the fittest, kitty cat style. Buy a bell.
You may see them on the ground or in a tree looking
down. Meow! Sometimes they will play in the sand.
Rolling, flipping around on every inch of ground.
Or you might find them upside down flexing,
Anticipating their morning prowl. Meow.
By and by, success is found.
In their kitty bowl... Meow.
Smiles! Meow, Meow, Smiles!
Copyrighted on January 27, 2010
The bats in the steeple were feeding on people
By sucking the blood splattered wood
That came from the coffin a vampire dropped off in
When he’d drunk all the blood that he could
Here in my basement, my permanent placement
I lurk since the day that I died
At rest in my casket, my skull in a basket
My hideous grin gaping wide
Rats and mice squeaking a rusty hinge creaking
A slither of light from outside
My long severed head was rotted and dead
But gasped as the door opened wide
I lifted my lid as some hooded kid
Crept sneakily into my crypt
He soon spun about and he might have run out
If only he hadn’t have slipped
As he hit the deck he shattered his neck
I thought he was bound to be dead
But then as he stood, he lowered his hood
And then he un-swivelled his head
He gave me a wink as a hideous stink
Came gushing with smoke from his ears
He then started hissing through teeth that were missing
He looked like he’d been dead for years
I climbed from my tomb and stood in the room
Where demons would hide out all day
Until in the night they’d screech their delight
And frighten the vicar away
But this little fellow with skin that was yellow
And nails that were long curly claws
Let out a howl, an unholy wail
Then went back and bolted the doors
Like rattles at Wembley, my bones were all trembly
My teeth were all chattering too
My wee wee was dribbling and let’s not be quibbling
I thought I was going to poo
It’s usually nice that we can’t die twice
So people down here dwell forever
I then realised that everyone dies
And now I’m not feeling too clever
For my turn came first, to enter the hearse
My beautiful love left alone
In these years apart she’s been in my heart
But hell’s darkest hole has no phone
So how could it be this thing before me
Could desecrate my sacred rest
I needed it banished, It had to be vanished
Along with the worms in its chest
I watched every worm wriggle and squirm
I jumped at the twelfth hour chime
In life we take knocks through the ticks and the tocks
But we can’t fight the passing of time
So...
In spite of the stink, I started to think
Which gave me the fright of my life
I had to make room in a new double tomb
For that hideous thing was my wife!
Entered October 2021 in Your Personal Favorite No 2
Sponsor L Milton Hankins
Today is Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
folk are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Ted is ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser.
He paces around anxiously and old Ted can’t resist
Getting in some practice with a quick flick of his wrist
Fresh pancakes get delivered by Terry who’s the boss
He’ll raise the starting pistol; Ted’s dying to have a toss
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Maureen's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
He’s had the trophy on his shelf and hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Maureen stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s just fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake, his wrist is fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
tossing their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his mind
Ted lunges for the white tape, but the race is declared a draw
Bill suggests a ‘toss off’ as there’s never been a draw before
Both men take a breather and get a fresh pancake to toss
if either drops their pancake then it will be to their loss
They both stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, eager to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops and grabs Ted’s pancake for its dinner
He starts to shout, he’s quite irate when it’s declared Bill's won
Ted takes it all too seriously, but Bill declared the toss off fun!
---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
now and again
a word
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name
suddenly
apropos adverbs appear
clearly
startling
perplexing
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped
within prison walls
synonyms
pen bars
filled in the past
participles
plagued
like Job's tedious job
of siphoning
deciphering
homographs from heteronyms
words never mind...
they wind the mind
gliding
in the wind...
A Dream
I patiently waited for you all the day long, my beloved.
Even the tired, orange, afternoon sun long ago drifted off to sleep.
Nighttime arrived in a hurry shoving away the short-lived evening,
with rhinestone stars dotting a shimmering, dark, velvet sky,
and a pale, silver moon shyly venturing on the horizon.
After the lamps were all lit, I struggled to stay awake,
but my heavy eyelids drooped as I was weary from the long day.
So forgive me, my lord, as I unwittingly succumbed
to the potent spell of the Sandman’s magical dust;
and sly Morpheus sneakily captured me in his soothing embrace.
Come share with me this dream of tranquil enchantment,
in a watercolor field of delicately perfumed lavender and clover.
And I in peaceful repose await your arrival, my lord,
to gently awaken me with tender kisses, sweet as nectar.
I look for you, my dearest love, in a dream!
05-25-2014
Contest: A Dream
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placement: 3rd
Today it’s Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
Entrants are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Old Ted ‘s ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Bertha's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
the trophy’s been on his top shelf, he hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Bertha stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s about fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake; his wrist goes fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
they toss their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges at the white tape, but the result’s declared a draw
Bill suggests they have a ‘toss off’ - there’s not been a draw before
Both men take a breather, awaiting a fresh pancake to toss
if either of them drops their pancake it will be a great loss
Both men stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, all eager to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops and grabs Ted’s pancake for its dinner
Ted starts to shout and stamps his feet when it’s announced Bill's won
he takes it all too seriously, but Bill declared the toss off was such fun!
Poem edited - originally posted in 2017
02/16/21
We are the last animals on earth,
Sneakily chasing elephants,
In the perilous bush, o Delight!
Eating frogs with forks
And sweet sour cream,
Reading books to dream about lazy whales,
The last animals,
Raising lions in traveling circuses,
To slaughter sheep in the name of God Almighty,
We are the last animals
Running away from hungry bears in the snowy Rockies,
To steal honey from worshipping bees, o Delight!
The last animals to change color, pain,
To whip the green asses in Sichuan,
The last animals on earth,
Feeding yellow birds in wicker cages,
To frighten the ostriches with large black feathers,
Breathing in the golden aurora jungle,
Living alone under the fast clouds,
We are the last animals, o Delight!
Capturing butterflies in picture books,
To tear the dresses with pink and high flowers
Impudic women, sweet strawberries,
To the delight of white panthers with sharp claws,
Really people, tell me, aren’t we wild animals?
Amen.
The cat on his mat
Caught sight of a rat,
Sneakily stealing his food.
Which was a disgrace;
He ought to give chase.
But he wasn’t in the mood.
They started to chat,
The cat and the rat
And very soon became friends.
So that’s how they stay
To this very day.
And that’s how the story ends.
Today is Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
folk are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Ted is ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser.
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Maureen's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
He’s had the trophy on his shelf and hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Maureen stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s just fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake, his wrist is fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
tossing their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges for the white tape, but the race is declared a draw
Bill suggests a ‘toss off’ as there’s never been a draw before
Both men take a breather and get a fresh pancake to toss
if either drops their pancake then it will be to their loss
They both stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, desperate to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops grabbing Ted’s pancake for its dinner
He starts to shout, he’s quite irate when its declared Bill's won
Ted takes it all to seriously, Bill thought the toss off was such fun!
In England Shrove Tuesday is also known as pancake day and pancake races are held all over the UK.
Date 02/28/17
Make me actually LOL 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Nina Parmenter
******************** "Word Nerds" (like me)... ************
**************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
Now and again
a word
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name suddenly
Apropos adverbs appear
clearly
startling
perplexing
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed beneath eight parts of speech.
Preposition-ed
pre-fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix-ation
turn-ing key
delicately
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped
within prison cells
synonyms
pen bars
filled in
the past participles.
Plagued
like Job's tedious job of
siphoning
deciphering
homographs from heteronyms.
Words never mind!
they wind the mind gliding in the wind...
It is the laziest of all creatures,
It could eat and eat filet all the day long.
Investigative eyes is a feature,
And it will sing to you its forlorn song.
It will avoid you like the plague by day,
Skulking, running, bounding, from room to room.
By night it searches through the halls for its prey,
The hunted will meet its impending doom.
The whisper of whiskers against the door,
Tip-toe, pitter-patter, sneakily creeps.
All at once bounding across the floor,
Whoosh goes the paw across the mouse hole deep.
“Drat!” says the cat, missed the mark once again,
Once more the mouse hunt will have to begin.
Slowly so sneakily you crept into my life
Destroying everything in your path
You simply don’t care do you?
Leaving your slime everywhere
Eradicating everything you touch
Moving on to your next innocent victim
You revolt me and I detest the sight of you
I heaved when I saw you today
Well I’ve got news for you
I know your little game and ITS OVER
I’ve put the pellets down and you are trapped
Goodbye slug forever
Jan Allison
4th September 2014
(a swap quatrain rhyme)
She likes to nip; she likes to lick.
My foot might get a little prick.
I’ll see it’s her. That little pip!
She likes to lick. She likes to nip.
Attacking me with small cat teeth,
she comes at me from underneath.
She bites my toes so sneakily
with small cat teeth, attacking me!
In her small mind, it’s just a game,
but I don’t like it all the same!
To nip and run, my cat’s inclined.
It’s just a game in her small mind.
A paper scrap she’ll start to shred.
And when I wish that she, instead,
would come and sit upon my lap,
she’ll start to shred a paper scrap!
In moments sweet, she licks my hand.
Those times are fleeting and unplanned,
but for her mistress, they’re a treat.
She licks my hand in moments sweet.
She gives a lick. She gives a nip;
I’d rather feel her small tongue’s tip
upon my skin than one small snick.
She gives a nip; she gives a lick.
for Brian Strand's 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (6)any form any theme' Contest
For a man of my age, I should no longer dream
Of pretty young fillies, quite naughty it seems
We don't lose the joy to gawk and to stare
When the sweet scent of female fills up the air
Sure hope I don't lose it, this wonderful feeling
While sneakily snatching a look I am stealing
Girls are aware of the scene they're creating
Of many great memories this sight is relating
The happiest times when we all were much younger
These precious memories haven't lost their thunder
When seeing an old codger hardly able to walk
Still straining his eyes, to stare and to gawk
That primordial instinct is never far away
It still hangs around till our very last day
So all my buckaroonies please do take heart
At one hundred years old it can still joy impart
Trust me I'm honest as the day is long
Life still keeps singing its same old sweet song
Obsessed... I guess you could say that I am
Gonna keep on a-gawking for as long as I can
© Jack Ellison 2015
HAH!
This place
Allows me to mail
No social media
I negotiated this morning
Told them how unhappy I am
if I can't write
That I need to be able
to reach my blog for it
and PoetrySoup
HAH!
So they negotiated with me:
1) I speak in group sessions (oh yuck, I stutter)
2) They can see what poems I write (oh, yeah, why not!)
3) I do not sneakily start Facebook or Messenger (I won't, I promise)
4) I'll not leave my wheelchair unguarded, so the kiddies downstairs race with it (I promise I chain it)
HAH!
Psych time was fun time
And it was too cold for the beach this morning
Instead my psychiatrist wheeled me to a cafeteria and we did our negotiations on paper there today, with Espresso and apple pie to seal the deal.
DONE
Meaning, I will be here for a while longer, but I can write poetry again and hang around here on Soup. Ain't that just wonderful?