Best Tinned Poems


Premium Member Feline Fine Footles

Tiddles didn’t like his new tinned tea

Fussy 
Pussy

Angry Animal

Shows claws
From paws

Self catering cat

Catch mice
Tastes nice

Caught in the rain

Soggy
Moggy

Time for a sneaky sleep 

Cat nap
On lap

Contented cat

Purry
Furry

March of the Footles Contest Sponsor Timothy Hicks
03~04~16
Categories: tinned, cat, humorous,
Form: Footle

Premium Member I'M Having a Fart Attack

My cousin’s just earned his degree
He majored in fartology
Now he can impart
What foods make me fart
He’s obsessed by scatology


I confessed that beans give me wind
(It matters not if fresh or tinned)
And onions and sprouts
In any amounts
cause farting that I can’t  rescind


The wind I produce is quite drastic 
as medics say my colon’s spastic
my poor tummy swells
I release foul smells
I’m thankful my waistband ‘s  elastic

FICTIONAL POEM FOR FART-TASTIC CONTEST

Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke

09/15/21
Categories: tinned, body, humorous, wind,
Form: Limerick

When Humanity Cries

When Humanity Cries


Message in my angry pen
Peeps yearning for release
To scrawl on white walls
Venom from a ‘ball’ sting,

  Bane in an irate pen
  From a daring ken.

I yearn to hug The Hague
With stumps for hands
Which were both chopped
By some idiotic bandit-

  He’s on the Court file
  I’ve reason to smile!

I’ll murmur woes of war
Into the cockles of its ear
Cut lips the Cross to kiss
Iron taste of cold metal;

  Gone past pain of whips
  My lip chopped as chips!

I see with my big Heart
Both eyes all gone blind
The sight is that of greed
Where no Civility thrives-

  I presume they are stars
  O Gosh! They are scars!

Weaklings trampled dead
Line each side of the road
Suppurating in cold dreams
Power of force flying fast,

  Right is not so strong
  But the strong or wrong.

Modest message peeping
From shadows called Ink
Yearn to release Graphics 
Of Humanity crying;

  Where Ghandi stood once
  His ideals have no chance.

Formation is taking shape
In battle with poetic force
Frenzy poised to pounce
And denounce decadence.

  Mother’s loin was torched
  As Hiroshima scorched!  

My Anger was aroused;
Like tinned fish so packed
And carted away from Home
To work another’s Farm;

  Until I learned to read
  I loathed this dread!

We cry, cry beloved groin
When another one dies
“He’s taken, taken by AIDS!”
I mourn, I travail, I wish......

  Holding a dead child
  I cry hoarse and wild!

I whimper like an orphan
Sucking Pen for a thumb
To draw the bitter Ink
And spit to the paedophiles.

  Bereaving children fun
  Evading his lewd run.

I smoke and sniff this paper
Scrawled this painful writ
That, perchance, putrid lungs
The message will massage.

  I yearn for an injection
  And not this rejection!

Where then is my mother?
Ah! A Kitchen Girl.......
Father? A Garden Boy
Boy and Girl at their age...?

  Now I sleep not a wink
  A wretch on the brink....

Ink tears well in my eyes.
I feel I’ve gone shorter
Rolling down the cheek pad
To leave a letter of pain.

  I kneel, my sins to bloat
  Till knees bald as a goat!



JM

29th Oct’ 2013
Categories: tinned,
Form: Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Spam

Computer spam I really do abhor

   But tinned Spam I have an appetite for

      I liked it in the Army

         And never did it harm me

            And it helped to win the Second World War

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories: tinned, food, funny,
Form: Limerick

The Greasy Spoon

The greasy spoon. 

Tea by the mug full. 
Sugars by the three 
the color of canal water.
that's the brew for me.

No muesli or grapefruits.
No croissants to be seen.
Special k you must be kidding 
No continental meats for me.

Sausages nice and blackened.
Bacon crispy as can be. 
eggs flipped over
No running yolks for me.

No waffles with syrup.
No pancakes piled up high.
Banana's there for monkeys.
These are not for me. 

Give me tinned tomatoes
and beans piled up high. 
toast with jam and butter
cornflakes bowl piled high

And just to keep it healthy, a  fresh orange juice on the side  

comp entry 14/09
Categories: tinned, fun,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Brisk Cold Winds of October

The threshing floor divides the brisk cold winds
and too gentle zephyr of mortality.
I choose the rose-red blush where death rescinds.

My mind reels with the thrill of whiteout blinds
buffeted by green field sentimentality.
The threshing floor divides the brisk cold winds.

Exciting the throng, leather football winds.
Gruff padded players gift us vitality.
I choose the rose-red blush where death rescinds.

To feel so alive in sweaters, not thinned,
bouncing along in haywagon of normality.
The threshing floor divides the brisk cold winds.

Pumpkin and apple pies, corn, all else tinned.
Harvest festivals of cordiality.
I choose the rose-red blush where death rescinds.

A scarecrow field stays put in our minds
filled with Halloween unreality.
The threshing floor divides the brisk cold winds
I choose the rose-red blush where death rescinds.

6/21/2020
Month of the year I like most Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Categories: tinned, autumn, october,
Form: Villanelle


Cats

Cat's are not my favourite animal for reasons I shall tell

I don't like how they look or how they actually smell

And they kill all the beautiful birds that I love to watch fly by

They defecate in my herb garden that just makes everything die

Then they bring them dead birds into the house as a loving gift

And they don't care if it's a Pidgeon, Blackbird, Robin or a swift

Evil little buggers!

They cost a fortune in tinned and packet food

They rub their bottom in your face which I think is rather rude

And sticking their claws in your legs puffing you up like a cushion

And the sudden pain makes you kick out like a dancing Russian

Yeah, Cat's are not my favourite animal for many a reason

They're so selfish and unloyal they should be tried for treason!

14/9/2016
Categories: tinned, cat, funny, nature,
Form: Rhyme

Construuct

Yearend dinner

17.13-17 grams of locally produced beef
Add, 18.9 French onions, 18.11 tinned English tomatoes,
Season.

With 18:24 spaghetti


Do not eat.

Poise-on u:


Onp   mark 8:10

{([ switch off
Choices, choices. Choices…. And a bit of a patch of ice patturn.
Categories: tinned,
Form: Chant Royal

Colonies

It's good to be modern, don't you think? 
Bowling alley, skating rink. 
If we moderns want a swim, 
we drive our cars down to the gym. 

We've mastered plastics, studied steel, 
no fears about tomorrow's meal: 
our meat is packed, our fruit is tinned, 
our ships can move without the wind! 

But, seeking boons beyond all these, 
we want to grab some colonies. 
You know the kind of thing we mean -- 
the sea is blue, the forest green, 

they pick wild fruit, bask in the sun, 
they've never seen a gatling gun, 
and when we show up with our forces, 
we'll help ourselves to their resources. 

We'll load the booty on our ship, 
and sail away (and pay them zip) -- 
back to the belching chimney stacks 
of Huddersfield or Halifax, 

and "manufacture" something new 
(the chocolate egg, the high-heel shoe) 
then ship it back to Paradise, 
and make them buy it. We win twice! 

But 1860 -- what a shock! 
Three new kids show up on the block, 
see Martinique and Mandalay -- 
and say, "hey guys, we wanna play!" 

The Slant-Eyes, Eyeties and the Hermans 
(the Japanese, Italians, Germans) 
can now boast countries of their own, 
and want to join the Modern Zone. 

But Britain and France (and here's the rub!) 
are running an exclusive club. 
They won't allow the new boys in. 
So sit back, watch the war begin!
Categories: tinned, satire,
Form: Couplet

Tinned Potato Syndrome

Great store cupboard standby
I'm sure,but tinned potatos,
It doesn't matter what you do with them,
They always taste the same,
Boiled,fried,roast,
Sprinkled with cheddar cheese,
Covered with curry sauce,
They still taste like
Tinned potatos.
There must be other food
That suffers from this syndrome,
Can you name one?
Categories: tinned, funny,
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Mother Zamia Tree

A lot of really big trees had died to make that desk. His mother had probably gnawed them down, used her nails to saw the boards, and finished the decorative cutwork with her tongue.
Jennifer Crusie


My mom kept a patch of zamia trees,
          freeze brook zigzagged and zinged,
      zesty zephyr's laid cape from breeze,
                    zap zander tinned.

She accomplished zoning using a zax,
          she led my zest and dream,
      I can't cool off, I can't relax,
                    zealous esteem. 

She shields me from rain and zenithal wind,
          she kept zeal to be strong,
      by lead and zaniness of mind,
                    zigs right from wrong.

1St Place Contest Winner


21-December-2022

Constance La France Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing form
Rhyme pattern: abab, cdcd, efef 
syllable pattern: 10, 6, 8, 4 in each stanza
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: tinned, analogy, appreciation, mother, tree,
Form: Rhyme

Once Upon the Green Sea

Once  upon a time

I was, it seems like 100 years ago,
on an old fashion cargo ship, the carried all sorts
from potatoes, flour, machine parts, plastic flowers,
and tinned fruit, meat, and hats for the wife of the president
in Honduras. 
For some reason, there was a door in my store room
it led into a cargo hold I filled the larder till it looked
like a corner shop. My task was to keep the cost of living down, 
and the captain got a telegram from the company complimenting 
me on keeping the cost down.
When the ship birthed in some obscure port, the unloading
took a long time and there was time to go ashore
 have a bit of fun and a good steak with wine at a restaurant.
I was twenty-five and had a hell of a time, but nothing
lasts forever, the ship was sold to a Greek shipping company
and we all had to go home.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: tinned, blue, boxing day , bridal
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Ww Ii

a tapioca pudding
a rose hip relish
toated bread & dripping dips
evaporated
milk with tinned pears
home brewed beer
Cor !



A  English forties menu
Categories: tinned, food, nostalgia, places
Form: Epulaeryu

Well Now Then

A template swap is a switch over to a swimming sword. Swordfish are very pleased at this and dunk their noses into goblets in a godlike fashion. Such etiquette in a swim. Formational framework finds format. And even a small pinnacle of cake icing could dance down the highways. So ignoring the wraths and word of woe it is wise to take out a pretty smiling biscuit. Place it carefully on a plate. Then climb up the hill and over the rope bridge. Very high altitude causes biscuits to be afraid so they must be calmed with soothing words and beats of breath. When the other side of the mountain is reached the biscuit must be harnessed securely using over twenty ropes. Then and only then can the abseiling begin. Wow aren't they travelling with speed, courage and optimism but optimism is neither an original orifice nor an octagonal oversized overspill objective. It is really then the sway of a ninety thousand foot toothbrush that can announce the time with no need of amplification via a microphone or a tannoy system. Wow. How intriguing is the belligerent hard yard of a semi dressed riddled jester? And how time consuming is the ongoing rashers of tinned and sliced ham? How delegated are the powers that are worn around and around and adjudicate the environment? Thus thwarting life in its structural natural weave. And a giant beehive hairdo must be re worn as a signal to a hive. Hide then. Hideous hags having heaping heads. And legs like little tables spin and rotate via remote control. Similar to a plate of writhing meal worms and a workshop of controlled chapel chaos. Big birthday balloons bring balls banging. Circumference of circulating capital charms. And a diameter of a diagram is a dare in the deeds. Castle that then fortify but do not attempt to fry for to fry is to form fiendish frolics. And to frolic is just not a fashionable way of wearing a peel is it? Hahaha the sausages are listening to their cousins today. Hahaha I want a cup of tea and a toast too said the little bluey green lamp. Xxxxxx parasympathetic parody xxxx xxxx etymologies z z z z z at twenty one full meals of porridge in a bread pan to twenty sequences of serving cereals to a six inch bowl. Z.
Categories: tinned, baseball,
Form:

November 6th 2018 Election Day

November 6th 2018 - election day

Later today after
     all votes get cast
post final countdown,
     the winning candidates
     ought to be known
     way before break fast
cometh on the lanced
     morrow (for champions),

     nonetheless 
     my fingers and toes crossed,
     that those donned diametrically
     opposed to establishmentarian
     (reed conservative 
     buttoned down
     MAGA stalwarts) deemed
     more dangerous than

     beastie boys, or
     foo fighting, Outkast
sans, these progressive forward
     thinking Democratic activists
     (purportedly threatening
     gerrymandered territory,
     where white Anglo Saxon
     Protestant hegemony dominates

     status quo regarding
     dhow ting Thomas Nast
     tee Donkeys as
     hashtagged by Trump),
     I pray these true
     purring blue state
     representatives clinch,
the majority to oust vast

Republican politicians cowed,
     demeaned, and excoriated
     for NOT fawning 
     prince supple lee,
nor paying expected
     obeisance as mealy
mouth sycophants, that she
push hilly accede toward

     belligerent, execrable,
     and incriminating, nee
Machiavellian hot headed,
     quasi coiffed,
     donned, and puffed que
hair raising bully, 
     whose vindictive
     uber lyft tartly tinged
 
     tongue lashing,
     they risk acerbic 
     punitive un re
lent ting vitriol stemming
     from recalcitrance determined
     by the fuhrer wannabe
wool shear lee be silenced
     unless that bigoted,

     "FAKE" man hat
     tinned unabashed, unhinged,
     and unruly 
     villainous president we
the village people nominated
     to bulldoze zee
American free
dumbs, now made irrelevant!
Categories: tinned, 12th grade, anti bullying,
Form: Dramatic Verse
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