Best Throat Poems
i spit words much better than you
there is nothing at all that you can do
check out my spelling and my epic grammar
i'll smash your face in with a claw hammer
i carve my name in all your brains
remember me like the smell when it rains
with my fists of fury i'll knock you out
no-one can tell what the hell im on about
my poems make you think
sit down fools and take a drink
while i amaze you all with my dark power
no-one wants to read a poem about a flower
or a fluffy cloud or falling in love
we want to read about death from above
i go against the grain and dont get a lot of views
but that certainly doesnt mean i'll go boo hoo hoo
it makes me stronger faster smarter
dont count me out i'll have your guts for garters
so what have we learned from me today
listen quite closely to what i do and say
don't self publish its ever so vain
im sure it'll cause you nothing but pain
when you get rejected
it cant be what you all expected
im the best poet in the world bar none
better than byron shelley keats and donne
i best be off to write a dreary haiku
oh wait thats not me its obviously you
I remember
Your smile
When you told me
You wanted to be a writer
More than that
What you wrote
You sliced me apart
And stuffed my faults
Down my throat
You could not swallow
That I was choked
I look you up once in a while
Curious to see if you made it
You were so damn talented
To this day I still have a lump
Sunday September 30th 2018
Remembering What You Want To Forget
Poetry Contest Sponsored By Kim Rodrigues
natures power waits
not for man... but for blessings
from the Great Spirit
....................................
inspired by Ruben's awesome haiku, "Iquazu Falls"
Can you forget that piece of cheese
that you inhaled? Oh, just a crumb it was.
But breathing while chewing, then choking!
Was it Cheddar, Cheshire?
Or that Limburger, Parmesan?
But, oh, that piece of cheese!
Not a morsel you'll forget,
or a temporary amnesia that will bring you peace.
A double Gloucester, some feta or mozzarella?
What about that Parmigiana-Reggiano?
Better, far better, not to inhale
a piece of cheese. It's peace you need.
(8 Jan 2024)
I put all of it in my mouth
Big and strong you can tell what’s it all about
Wind pipes on shut down,
There’s no air to breath
My face stuffed
You can taste the smoothness of it
Surely it indulges my senses
Ahh…
Oh my
What a creation
I get goosebumps
Every time it comes into my mouth
The saliva in my mouth keeps on increasing
As I slowly suck it from one point and barely getting to the other
My hand small enough to handle the other side
As I take it
In and out
In and out
In and out of my mouth
As my breathing changes every time
Going faster
And faster
And faster
Taking no seconds to rest
As it penetrates through my lips
And my tongue plays with the big juicy round part
I am hardly on feet
For every moment astonishes me
It doesn’t soften up
It doesn’t go light
It’s just big strong and round
Lollipop kid's candy
"Dry Throat at the Water Cooler"
Particle after particle,
Riding out the sandy dunes
Wanting so much to nibble
on the grapevine
My wind pipes crack, from dry wit and gossip
All the witty remarks are scarce
Snatched up by others flushing out
fabrications Diverting attention
from themselves Drowning in their own
Egos
Arid of thought for fifteen minutes
It is hardly a break at all
So dry of talking coworker factoids
Will I have to swallow their moist
Derision.
wild river perch
songs Grandmother heard
caress my heart
Clyde was harassed by a frog in his throat
Chances of finding a cure was remote
But much to ol' Clyde's surprise
Doc said feed it a few flies
Proving to be the perfect antidote
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
CUT THROAT
A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER--AT HOME WITH MY BABY GIRL AND HER THREE YEAR OLD BROTHER
My son attended play-school three mornings a week
his sister still at home had just turned one
she loved her big brother—her hero and friend
strapped in her car seat-- a restriction she hated
we did the short trip to fetch him from ‘school’
The 5 minute drive home –full of his morning news
pictures created and people he had played with
pulled into our drive- way in no time at all
lunch time preparation as they watched cartoons on TV
Placing my purse in the room on my bed
I turned and was grabbed around the neck
sharp knife he held the steel tip close--cut throat
threatening to kill me if I struggled or shouted
Locking the bedroom door he commanded I hand over
anything valuable—demanding to know—where I kept a gun?
he pulled off my wedding band and helped himself liberally
still holding the knife at my throat – precious sentimental things he stole
Comprehending the fact I was no longer in sight
my baby’s stood at the door-- banged and cried
pleading with my assailant to do them no harm
he tied me up, cut the phone cord-- just laughed
Allowing my children into the room
locking us up from the outside within
my daughter was screaming, my son acting brave
trying to cut my constraints with a nail file
With no phone connection trapped in my room
he boldly climbed out the window taking action
three blocks down the road— only three years old
running to my sister’s home—screaming ‘call the police’
The trauma ended as we were finally set free
continued relentless, far beyond that day— constantly
this man who attacked causing extensive terror-- fear
was never located, escaping his crime-- forever free
A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER—AT HOME WITH MY BABY GIRL AND HER THREE YEAR OLD BROTHER
This happened to us in July 1991—since then crime has escalated out of control in South Africa… many not fortunate enough to tell the tale
You often hear those fellas who go bragging in the pub,
about women and their conquests, and how they’re the sexual hub,
they spruik about their exploits like they are a gift from God,
of course I end up listening to, the peas from in one pod.
Yeah, they’re out to beat each other with their antics in a bed,
thank God there’s not a woman here, to hear what has been said,
‘cause I’m sure they’d laugh their guts out at the drivel I have heard.
and I never speak off exploits. I say nothing… not a word.
In some ways I’m just like them; these mates who choose to brag,
I’ve had some nights out on the tear, and played the rutting stag,
but I would never tell those mates of mine about one night I had,
when I met this ‘bird’ in Melbourne, who’s looks were not too bad.
We got talking at the bar and so I brought her drinks and tea,
and after downing seven ouzo’s she was making eyes at me,
then she added some suggestions that quite openly I read
as a kind of invitation that she liked to share her bed.
Now those mates of mine with what they said is really second class,
and I know from my experience their acts would barely pass,
but let me tell you in the morning when it’s light I’m taking note,
of a photo on her dresser, that brought a lump into me throat.
I admit that I was worried with a need to understand,
so I asked her if this photo was her out of town husband,
she laughed and said “No, silly!” And snuggled up again,
but I had to clear the coast… “Is this your boyfriend then?”
She shook her head “No, not at all”, then nibbled on me ear,
“Who is it then?” I asked the lass, to minimize me fear.
She was upfront, she didn’t lie, and there was no perjury,
she kissed me gently then she said “It’s me, before the surgery.”
LUMP IN MY THROAT
Please take the lump
Out of my throat
I’m trying so hard
Not to give up and choke
Panic and stress
Worry and grief
I’m a wreck and a mess
Troubled beyond belief
No work or money
But bills piled high
Isn’t it funny?
I break down and cry
Every few minutes
I fall into pieces
Sobbing –no way to win it’s
Adding wrinkles and creases
To my once youthful face
Now drawn down with fret
If I escape this place
I’ll never forget
But, I won’t look back
Just straight up ahead
Not counting what’s lacked
No staying in bed
Please take this lump
Out of my throat
I’m trying so hard
Not to give up and choke
Written by Leah J Chesser
12/2/2012
melodic open
blue throat chakra overflow
soft and kind words of
too much wisdom from
lil child of a few short years
prophetic and calm
sweet lines of peace stay
on her lips both night and day
giggly bluebird speak
Have you ever had a frog in your throat?
Well it isn't a pleasant experience
They tickle and wiggle and try to escape
It's certainly an inconvenience
Ribbits come out whenever you speak
Your head starts dancing around
You get a strange urge to dive in a pond
Or kiss a Princess's crown
There's only one way to fix this affliction
Drink some warm “Antifroggation”
You'll cough and sputter, the frog will fly out
It will also reduce inflammation!
@Jack Ellison 2012
a cut-throat dealer voices
an horde of sweet lying words
that perform fraudulence than ten evil kings
DEEP DOWN MY THROAT
Judging by what man see
yes, intertwined memories slumber
and gorgeous silver linings a feel
deep down the throat it stagger
Universally my man kills
and subjugates my loosened freedom
then rounds of blubbering tokens wills
in severe painful skin of a walking warm
Bringing pot bellied sacks
that speaks the moment they are lashed
convincing millions of scurvy scars
then performing serious bids abolished
I will spare my gratitude
to my mother nature
once I find a conviction beyond altitude
but my man shall have fed enough on my pasture