Best Talk Turkey Poems
While a roaming in the gloaming
many years ago,
with steps so jerky I met a turkey
swaying to and fro.
Now being lonely and awfully homely
I hoped that by a chance
my new found friend might help me end
my lowly social stance.
I looked at him so sleek and slim
and he smiled kind of smirky.
So I said as my heart bled,
“C’mon, let’s talk, turkey.”
He spoke not never and I so clever
just couldn’t figure him out.
Maybe he’s mad or maybe just sad
and I started to moan and pout.
His eyes now gleamed and it made me steam
to see such an elegant bird
sitting so high with a sneer in his eye
and uttering not a word.
Now Thanksgiving was coming and I was slumming
and going to have hot dogs again.
I thought t’would be nice to have turkey and spice
with a little dressing mixed in.
So to home I did run and fetched out the gun
and was quickly back on the scene.
"Now let's talk, turkey," I said kind of smirky.
Quoth the turkey, "How ghastly mean!"
Well that broke the ice for the turkey was nice
and we talked for an hour or so.
And when he said bye I thought I would cry
for I didn't want him to go.
Then my good old temptation sent up this sensation
of never again seeing my friend.
The gun it seemed bigger but I still pulled the trigger
and brought my poor friend to an end.
Then I thought, as likely as naught,
my friend feels bad about dieing
for as he had fell he had made my heart swell
because he was steadily crying.
Now he is dead and my heart is like lead
and my brain feels kind of malicious
but I won't forsake it because my mom baked it
and the white meat was just delicious.
Talk turkey; talk turkey
It's Thanksgiving day.
Fill up your mouths
the Thanksgiving way.
Gobble down; gobble down
meat and red berries.
Some adding gravy
for flavour that varies.
White mashed potatoes
hollowed in boats.
Filled with yellow butter
that warms 'till it floats.
Turnip and parsnip
mixed in together.
Tangy mild flavour
that lasts forever.
Green tiny peas
piled on the side;
covered in butter
in tears they have cried.
All for the price of a prayer
to say thanks
and gathering our friends
in a place that is nice.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Greetings, fellow poets, on this day of Thanksgiving, whether or not you celebrate the American holiday. I want you to know I appreciate the time you take to read and comment on my poetry. For you I give thanks and acknowledge you as my friends.
There are just a few who act like a troll, belittling some of us who try to control our anger. It's a task we shouldn't need and to your antics we'll not concede. So, listen up if you're a turkey... keep your cowardly necks out of our reach or you'll end up on a Thanksgiving table, where we'll feast on you. Never again will you be able to harass any of us. Your giblets will be in the gravy and your wishbone pulled apart. That's a promise made from the hearts of many of us who will stand and deliver the final blow.
so, let's talk turkey
show respect for each other
don't act like a jerk
today, let's give thanks
keep the soup a peaceful place (in spite of the threat)
thank you very much
[This was written for Matt Caliri’s Dialogue contest but
withheld because frankly I’m not convinced I can call it
a poem…
But whatever it is… I kinda like it, so here it is.]
______________
“Psst!”
“Who’s there?”
“I’m behind this bush.”
“Who are you?”
“Shush!”
“Don’t ‘Shush’ me.”
“Someone might hear.”
“There’s nobody here.”
“No turkey farmer?”
“They have farmers in Turkey?”
“Not a farmer in Turkey.”
“Well, what then?”
“A farmer of turkeys.”
“Why would you give a damn?”
“I’m a turkey.”
“You are?”
“I am.”
“You must think Thanksgiving is the pits.”
“Hence the bush.”
“You need to go somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
“Somewhere with no Thanksgiving.”
“Somewhere I could carry on living?”
“Yeah; like Britain.”
“There’s no Thanksgiving in Britain?”
“Nope.”
“I’m smitten.”
“You’ll have to come out.”
“No chance.”
“There’s no-one about.”
“No turkey farmers?”
“Not even a Turkish one?”
Aren’t you the funny one… question.”
“Ask away.”
“You know how to get to Britain?”
“You need to get a plane.”
“I can fly - a bit.”
“It’s five thousand miles.”
“When’s the next plane?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight?!!!”
“That’s right.”
“So, this ‘Britain’ has no Thanksgiving?”
“Deffo.”
“Bliss.”
“But it does have Christmas.”
“You didn’t see how that might be a consideration?”
“I just realised.”
“Thanks for nowt.”
“There’s no-one about.”
“Your point being?”
“You’d best come out.”
“I’ve got to keep hiding.”
“He’ll find you there.”
“Like you care.”
“You can hide at my place.”
“That’s jolly decent of you.”
“One does one’s best.”
“Where is your place?”
“Behind the big wooden box.”
“You’re a real pal, you got a name?”
“I sure do, it’s Freddy the fox.”
“Eek!”
In New Orleans for some highjinks.
Here to rally ‘round the flag.
She’ll be open to suggestion
When I’ve got her bound and gagged.
I won’t need to solve the riddle
Of the chicken or the egg
To distinguish first from foremost
While I’m making Mandy beg.
You can bet your bottom dollar
Gonna taste forbidden fruit
On a fragrant bed of roses
In this house of ill repute.
Hog the limelight. Gild the lily.
Need to take her down a peg,
Teach her all the whys and wherefores
As I’m making Mandy beg.
There be rotten things in Denmark:
Humble pie and bathtub gin,
Sour grapes with gall & wormwood,
Magdalena’s Den of Sin.
Gonna need a pot to piss in.
Go and tap another keg.
She’ll be forced to face the music
When I’m making Mandy beg.
There’ll be ample food for thought
When I talk turkey with the cook.
I’ll be tickling her fancy
Till she babbles like a brook.
Then I’ll call her on the carpet
As the juice runs down her leg.
Demon rum, Miss Goodie Two-shoes,
I’m just making Mandy beg.
Wo Deserves a POTD
Your own answer, shows your own ego.
The biggest hearted poets don't question!
They just plain congratulate.
The smallest hearts hold back on congratulating.
Especially, if that Poet is not part of the big school of fish.
Or, the poet may be fairly new.
Let's talk turkey.
We all want the big prize, the POTD.
We blame PS if the poem is not to our standards.
I heard it said, " It is not an honor!"
Life is just a game, friends.
Sometimes we win and yes, sometimes we lose.
To that poet, it is an honor.
Be willing, be big of sterling soul.
Your heart shows when you congratulate!
February 23, 2020
8pm PST