Best Tacky Poems
Words can be whimsical, a merry-go-round
They run in a circle, they bounce up and down
They play hide-and-seek, until they are found
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
Words can seduce like a scandalous dance
They'll perplex the complex, if given a chance
They're as sincere as England, as sexy as France
As reckless as the caution they throw
Words can get tipsy if taken too much
The pretentious go on-and-on about such-and-such
The brutish ones can bail you out in a clutch
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Words can be tacky, tongue wagging gabs
Words can be lavish and leave you the tab
Words can covertly steal and grab
Their smile is only for show
Words can impulsively issue a dare
Words can react with extravagant flair
But words must always be handled with care
When timing's too slow, for words on the go
Look how quickly the little ones grow!
As reckless as the caution they throw
The foolhardy don't know they don't know
Their smile is only for show
When timing's too slow
For words on the go-
8/7/18
“Is you a girl or is you a boy”, she said to him one day.
“Come over here an' stay wit' me,” he said, “You'll find out when we play!”
“No I will not play wit' you, I do not play wit' boys.
I do not like 'deir dirty face, I do not like 'deir toys!”
“I have no toys as you kin' see, my face is fresh and clean.
Come over here an' play wit' me, try not to be so mean.”
“I am not mean I'm cautious of you looking for your kicks.
I know you boys wit' out no toys make gurls do naughty tricks!”
“But wait, I do have toys,” he yelled as she turned to walk away.
“My toys are in my pocket, come here so we kin' play.”
“Your pockets are all empty, as I kin' plainly see.
So keep your fat mout' shut and 'dem big eyes offa' me!”
“Wait, wait, wait please play wit' me, we'll have a lot a fun.
I got a bat an ball wit' me, why do you have to run!”
“'Dat bat ain't made to hit 'dat ball, you can't play no game with 'dose.
Besides I'm not suppose ta' have no fun, I'll ruin my new clothes.”
“I wanna' be your friend ya' know, let's just sit an' talk.
Here put 'dis flower in your hair an maybe we kin' walk.”
“I'll take dat' walk if we just talk an' you look straight ahead,
An' if you try to play wit' me I'll bust you in yer' head.”
“Here have another flower, maybe 'dat will make you grin,
walkin' in da' moonlight, it ain't no kinda' sin.”
“I is afraid of moonlight, could ya' please hold my tremblin' hand.
Just be sure to keep in mind I ain't yer' promise land.”
“Your hand feels soft an' warm to me, it feels so heavenly.
I wish 'dat we could sit and talk, beneath 'dat chestnut tree.”
“'Dat tree is full of spiny nuts, the ground is covered wit' dew.
If we sit 'dare I'll pinch my buns and ruin my tutu.”
“'Dat tutu is such a little thing, here put it in my sack,
I got a big ole' blanket in 'dare, let's spread it out and yak.”
“Okay, but please remember I'm just a innocent tease,
I do not know about 'dose birds, I never seen no bees.”
“Thank you for remindin' me, I knew 'dat from the start.
I only wanted you to see my tacky wacky heart.”
“I'm really likin' you boyfriend, I'll stay wit' you a while,
Mom an' dad won't ever know, so now jus' make me smile.”
written April 29, 2016
Poets at Play
I played with words today –
They called to me
“Come out and play with us!”
Childhood companions
Building rhythms like treehouse forts –
Playhouses of analogy -
Crafting rhymes that follow the leader
Into mud pie irony;
Playing peek-a-boo with synonyms,
Hide and seek with inspiration;
Coming out of hiding places in stanzas
Stacked like pick up sticks;
Patty cake in anagrams –
"A tacky pest" like little brothers –
Jumping out, to yell “Surprise!”
In the “punniest” personifications;
Slide down the metaphoric slide
To allegories of apple trees;
Swing back and forth with double entendre - sky high in the sky;
Hang upside down from “jungle-gyms” whistling alliteration
Hop scotch acrostics
March in meter to rock, paper, scissors -
Wondering what to wear and where I Spy anagrams;
Building up London Bridge, falling down in metrics,
To stand like statues of frozen tag
With your friend assonance
Taking sides like antonyms in games so like red rover
Chasing similes with smiles, to kick the can down the road,
Duck and run in duck, duck goose;
Measure feet in a leap frog of a blind man’s bluff;
Time to come in – come in free verse for the day,
Simon says now writing right just as fun
As a cat’s cradle at the end of my word play.
4/7/20
Zany insanity,
he’s a buffoon from the moon-
Quipster and hipster,
he’s a complicated pantaloon.
Prankster gangster,
tactless with madness-
Wisecracker and entertainer
is he fun, or full of sadness?
He’s humorous and caddy,
frivolous yet crabby-
Gabby and a chump,
a lark and real tacky.
Life of the party,
wears pants full of smarty-
A cracker-upper,
always late for supper.
You may wonder who I speak of,
this satirist man that could be you-
He’s a practical trickster joker,
from the city of Katmandu.
He seems to be famous,
he may be very acclaimed,
he’s notorious for being a jester,
and Robin Williams is his name!
August 9, 2017
Drac's the new food taster at Halloween
He dare not admit, he wasn't too keen
For solid food is not his natural cuisine
But Satan chose him instead of Wolverine.
First to be tasted was the eyeball terrine;
A little bit jellified with some crunch in between
He quickly counted approximately thirteen
His face flushed a shade of Frankenstein green.
After eating the innards of Jack Ripper's spleen
He grabbed a bone toothpick to pick his teeth clean
He suddenly screamed, making a terrible scene
Someone laced his drink, with some garlic poteen.
Then came the dish of pig heart and sardine
Which apparently is full of fish scale protein
That tickled his tum as it slowly went in
Later gave him the shivers as it crawled out from his skin.
A head on a platter kept rotating full spin
Made him feel dizzy, like he'd been drinking blood gin
With every slow turn it gave Drac a sly grin
Then gave him a wink from an eye in its chin.
He spotted a sausage, its skin a blood vein
Filled with minced bat then sealed to contain
Drac nearly vomited, but managed to retain
As the food kept coming again and again.
Last on the list was a bowl of mashed brain
Sitting on top of a mini ghost train
Drac thought it tacky, tasteless and plain
Until he noticed the gravy blood stain.
The food went down well, no undead did complain
The ghosts even liked, the toad quiche Lorraine
The issue now is, who blocked the main drain?
Who's going to tell Lucifer and try to explain?.
Halloween Monorhyme Contest
Sponser Caren Krutsinger
Written 28.10.21
The king of hades came and rode
And split thousands many throat
From the body of men and women who float
On the blue rhyme-singing water in boat
And the massacre continued into the large city
Crushing all the dried lilies
And drawing blood from the body of innocent farm-boys who looked tacky
And from the royal kids from a blossoming family
And from all others that are not or more than wealthy
The king of hades came and rode through all living bodies
And made them in a blink of the eyes and a pump from the lungs a breathless sleeping body
Many a women were left with an open abdomen
And some mercy-untimed killings for the men
And some more ruthless savage for the salvagers in the den
For priests are a torn face and cracked skull
For town-criers; arrows were stuck into their guts
And for many anonymously unknown, they were greeted by cold-death on swords
And for animals, some had their belly torn
And some killed by spilling a drain of blood; from a stab of their own horn
And birds who had their skin burnt
And fishes who in black boiling oil were drowned
The beautiful horror scene filled with terror is more than the eyes can afford
And more than nature could afford
What more for, what more before
The king of hades came and killed thousands, and infinity, and many more
Where the water washes white surfs across
Sand banks porous with green dreams in our hearts
Where the sun surveys the wet desert of loss
The salt thread like blood stitching together our parts
Find me there wandering the wailing shores
I am a new citizen with ancient desires still
Living on the restless rim of of crinkled azures;
Watching history bleach my memory of will.
Here I pine to see my mother whole as I am
Here I pray for justice from the impaled lamb
This Caribbean sea that pens my rage in me
Water where my ancestors footsteps no imprints leave
Of vast voyages now void on the Atlantic lea
This Caribbean sea in modern voice I cannot grieve
My people sundered like a broken ship
Mastless, anchorless, drifting drumless on weed
My people bleeding from tongue lash and whip
And no Cudjoe, Tacky, or Boukman to intercede
I am a citizen of the rim, a place undefined
In the subtle representations where I'm maligned.
Here in this world of diverse languages and shade
Across the bloodless salt of shrivelled water we trade.
Where the antelope used to play is now shopping malls and plats.
Man in his insatiable greed has encroached upon its ancient habitats.
Not so very long ago on the plains just a few miles out of town,
Were herds of these graceful creatures that now have dwindled down.
Also, pushed from the verdant plains are the mighty buffalo,
That grazed upon the lush, green grasses not so very long ago.
Upon these sacred grazing grounds are now concrete parking lots,
And densely cluttered cookie-cutter houses on quarter-acre plots.
Where have all the magnificent wild turkeys gone,
That used to preen and strut about at the break of dawn?
Even the lowly prairie dogs, their burrows they've had to flee,
To accommodate covetous developers who've gone on a building spree.
Of the wily fox and skulking coyote, there are fewer to be seen.
They were forced from their hunting grounds and have fled the scene.
Desperate flocks of grouse and pheasant have also taken flight,
To raise their young elsewhere, escaping mans' spreading blight.
Deer and elk that once peered shyly from almost every copse;
Their environs now occupied and overrun with tacky shops.
'Twould be novel if man would recall that these creatures were here first,
And consider them when pursuing their unquenchable expansion thirst!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Something about paint
I absolutely adore!~feeling more
fluid-thinking when wearing an
old smock, branded with dashes and
blobs, to my mind each
one a stripe of rank with starry
splashes my medals –
like coral reefs
like florescent algae
a new canvas primed, runny
with liquid motion; I thrust
my igniting brush...somewhat
sad when all is dried and
framed; yet the good ones
remain tacky to the touch,
delightfully smeary to
the eye~like the wetted
hands of children, bringing their
innate patterns into active focus --
I think, when it comes to poetry
the ocean will never be entirely
emptied: what mysterious lyrics
lurk in such black, unrhymed depths –
by the magma-vents, like moths
writers are drawn to eerie glows,
shadowy forms~dauntless, ready to
risk even death for fiery licks
and rapturous cuddles....
**********************"G"**************************
Gratefully I gaze gainfully into gemini.
A graphic gateway into our generous
gigantic galaxy. Global ghosts gather
generically.
********************* "T"**************************
This tall tacky teenagers terrible
theory taught telepathy to a
terrorist tennis team
...................:JP)
Valentine's Day recalls smirks and giggles
when Cupid's arrow struck lovers in love.
And store-bought cards filled with sweetheart scribbles
bordered by hearts and cherubs from above.
In my youth, we'd all decorate a box,
with a slot cut in the top of each lid.
And sealed tight with imaginative locks
that ensured all cards got discreetly hid.
Valentine's Day heralded the start of spring
but as winter wanes, anxieties climb.
And thinking thoughts that puberty can bring,
we would fantasize about love sublime.
Laughter's oft-heard sharing cards with a friend,
tacky tokens, painting love surreal.
And yet, we'd stare at them for hours on end
wishing those sentimental cards were real.
(Quatrain)
2/14/2015
A ridiculous sight for all to see;
in my tacky sweater of Charlie Brown,
I'm sitting nervously on Santa's knee.
I wouldn’t be here, except my friends dared me;
a full-grown man acting more like a clown,
I'm sitting nervously on Santa's knee.
When my friends start laughing, I try to flee;
my smile, suddenly replaced by a frown,
I'm sitting nervously on Santa's knee.
Santa's too jolly, ignoring my plea;
embarrassed, I start struggling to get down,
a ridiculous sight for all to see.
Holding me tight with a sly look of glee;
he offers to take me out on the town,
a ridiculous sight for all to see.
Santa's suit is dirty; it smells of pee,
and I no longer want to stick around.
A ridiculous sight for all to see,
I'm sitting nervously on Santa's knee.
Chocolate Charlie, a fruit and nutter
Made from milk, cocoa and butter
Chocolate Charlie, so very sweet
From the top of his head
Right down to his feet
He has little chocolate fingers
And little chocolate toes
With chocolate eyes and ears
And a chocolate button nose
Chocolate Charlie, a little bit wacky
Left out in the sun can get a little bit tacky
Chocolate Charlie so yummy and scrummy
Sadly no longer with us
Because he is inside my tummy.
She stays awake for hours, cutting Xs in the sprouts,
Then peels all the tatties, a ton or thereabouts,
Slicing and dicing parsnips is next up in the plan,
Chops up carrots and a swede, and put them in a pan,
Mixes up her sage and onion and stuffs it in the bird,
Along with some pork sausage meat that’s been pre-prepared,
She takes apart the oven, to fit the turkey in,
Hangs it up with bits of string, there’s no room in the tin,
Wraps sausages in bacon, in case they catch a chill,
But makes sure they‘re all cooked thoroughly, so the family won’t get ill,
Cooks the bird for hours, while the table’s being laid,
With all the finest crockery (and some of lower grade),
Makes space around the table, brings in extra chairs,
Adorns the place with candles and other Christmas wares,
Lays out a Christmas cracker in everybody’s place,
Complete with rather tacky joke, no doubt of a straight face,
And brings out all the condiments, the pickles and the sauce,
The salt and pepper, the mustard and radish known as “horse”,
Next she makes the starter, the simplest course by far,
A cocktail made up of prawns and a sauce out of a jar.
The family then all piles in, and argues over seats,
The children are already full of chocolates and treats,
Grandmother is mumbling, “Kids should be seen not heard”,
Meanwhile back in the kitchen Mum’s wrestling with the bird,
She tries to carve up slices, but ends up with turkey chunks,
While Dad and Gramps have become a pair of Christmas drunks,
They start an argument about which wine goes with the meat,
And restless children run around, not staying in their seat,
Mother tries to keep her calm and bravely soldiers on,
But the roasties are all blackened and the sprouts are over done,
Mum enters the dining room looking very puffed,
She throws the turkey down and shouts ,“There you go! Get stuffed!”
18th November 2012
Luke’s been playing with the glue again
Now everything sticks everywhere
There’s food glued to the table
And his bum is glued to the chair
My feet are glued to the floorboards
My hands are glued to my side
I’ve even noticed the odd bird or two
Glued to the branches outside
I can see it will be one of those days
Clearing up will take forever
I was going to read my favourite book
But the pages are glued together
So I wouldn’t come and visit right now
Because things are a little bit wacky
And you may not be able to leave
What with everything being so tacky
I think I’ll just stand here a while
To be honest I’m frightened to sit
Maybe tomorrow will be better
As for today, well I’m stuck with it.