Best Trundled Poems
Women wore corsets
Men trundled round
Magical mushrooms
grew out of the ground
Everyone terrified
Of the dragon breathing fire
The far fetched stories
The jolly town cryer
Always so happy
Nobody knows why
It was the magical mushrooms
Everyone was high
Categories:
trundled, funny
Form:
Light Verse
I will tell a funny story of a bear that's hunkydory
How 'e lives a life of comfort in a pickle on a tree
When the summer comes 'e fishes, an' 'e eats 'em off o' dishes
Till the day 'e ran in 'orror from 'is shadow on the sea
So 'e trundled of gallumphing, till 'e couldn't run for 'uffing
And 'e settled down in Puddington where honeyed puddings grow
There 'e lived a life so royal, till his dream began to spoil
For 'e longed to have a mamma bear with cubby bears in tow
'E trotted to the pickle-tree, that shady spot beside the sea
An' asked about if any knew his fav'rite childhood chum
'Is special bear at last 'e found, and knelt upon the berry-ground
An' there besought if she would be a wifey bear and mum
A mummey bear she'd gladly be, she'd mend 'is clothes and make 'is tea
And have as many fuzzy bairns as God saw fit to bless
So off they went to Pudding Town, the bear and wife, now Mrs. Brown
Which place they 'ad their little bairns, and lived in 'appiness
First place in Nursery Rhyme contest.
Categories:
trundled, animal, children, happiness, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
One tall and gaunt with hooded eyes
The other bearded, bent, time-worn and wise
They relished unfurling their intellectual sails
To seek secrets of wisdom on ancient gales
Two wizened old philosophers in a huddled conspiracy
They picked through the bones of archaic mythology
Pondered the tomes of scholars of yore
Then fleshed out the virtues of masters of lore
They sniffed out the dragons of hateful hypocrisy
Harangued and railed against heinous heresy
Decried the dogmatist's intolerant curse
Then like poets esteemed they trundled through verse
Their furrowed cheeks glowed as the whiskey flowed
Voices gravelled and slurred as their logic blurred
They fumbled and mumbled, weary and weaving
As the dying embers of day, dropped into evening
With their feverish fervour fully feted
They stumbled into the night, agreeably sated!
Categories:
trundled, dedication, fun, philosophy,
Form:
Light Verse
Fields swayed with golden rye
As on my bike, I trundled by.
A gentle breeze cooled my brow
As I passed some languid cows.
Some lay down, chewing cud
Some sought shade, where they could.
The searing sun stilled the air
On I rode, without a care.
Through the sun drenched countryside
Immersed in nature on my ride.
Sweet sweet music, cheered me on
As little birds sang me a song.
Then a fisherman I past,
His arms aloft in hopeful cast.
On gossamer line his fly sped out
A tempting morsel for a trout.
I gave a wave, then on I went
The sun beat down without relent.
But oh, the joy of a cycle ride
Through the English countryside.
No fairer day could be had
What could a heart be, but glad
To trundle verdant country lanes
On and on, in happy vein.
Categories:
trundled, nature, summer, sunshine,
Form:
Rhyme
Brown and worn
She slowly trundled,
Carrying the tattered and torn
Clutching their bundle.
She leans to the right
And then the left,
In that pitiful night
Laying sleepers bereft.
All her metal and carriage
Held a thousand souls
Between their marriage
Of her red hot coals.
And the wooden doors weep
The iron locks, hold their breath
While she screeches on
In her role of death.
Categories:
trundled, in memoriam, murder,
Form:
Rhyme
We flew through the air on a refurbished plane,
the shakes and the rattles sure gave us some pain.
But we were the ones who fortune had named
to spend years Far East with our dad’s army game.
The journey exciting, we’d not been before
to a place where the winters did not foul our door,
so with overcoats changed for our tropical clothes
we boarded the plane to where God only knows.
With propellers screaming we tore on our way
and rose in the air as the ground dropped away,
though creaking and groaning the plane struggled on
though both the wings flapped as we flew to the sun.
British Eagle, the airline that carried us away,
a turbo prop plane that had long past its day.
But that’s all our army could ever afford
when transporting dozen of families abroad.
Though night time in Turkey, at our first stop,
was not really the place where we found it too hot,
when we landed in India, some time around noon,
I think that it dawned what we’d be facing soon.
As we walked down the gantry to this foreign place
I thought the plane’s engines blew hot in our face,
but as we walked away the hot stream still blew strong
and it soon became clear t’was the wind all along!
But soon we resumed on our creaky old ride,
like sardines in a can we were packed back inside
and as Singapore rose in the sky like the sun
our new life in the tropics had really begun.
From a plane that just made it, next day was a train
with another full day of rough travelling again,
with seats made of wicker on which we would ride
and bunks made of wood crammed with people each side.
The view as we trundled down the track for that day
was worth any discomfort the train threw our way,
plantations and jungle, bananas and palms,
made this glorious Malaya a world full of charms.
Four years in Penang with its warmth, sun and sea
changed not only my life but the essence of me,
though it’s now fifty years since I had to depart
this ‘Pearl of the Orients’ still lives in my heart.
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
trundled, adventure, flying, military, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
Hand Grown In Thyme.
On Brummie Sea and Burnley oak,
In bearded wood and clove
I hidey in this Mutton cloth
That strangles like a choke.
Lampooned upon this Ferris wheel,
A chuckle for a hoot.
I swung with empty boxing glove
And knocked a joke aboot.
I thank you from my Uncles chin
And dear old Auntie Pat
Who did asunder to a sin
And dogged her pussycat!
They trundled stubborn as a toe
And caring not a care
Sent humphing parties to and fro
Though knew not who they were.
‘Bejees!’ I crippled all a goat
What finery I’ve found,
Four friends in foursome charging free-
A bargain at a pound.
‘Well fancy that,’ a woman sat,
And bending like a river
Weaved not a spell but nasty smell
And sent me all a quiver.
‘How come you like to gape alewd?’
I asked but half an inch.
To which the Lady took a fence
And hit me with a pinch.
Categories:
trundled, funny, humor, humorous, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
My dear grandmother
One nigth while I was sleeping
I got a sad telephonemessage
I got up fast
The tears just trundled down my cheeks
The message I got was that you had passed away
It happened so incredibly fast
I have cried for several months
All the tears for you
Hope that some of you still are here with me
Now, I have no grandmother to talk with
For your heart stopped
Why was it your turn to let the soul leave your body
Life needs to move on
The dead, they have to be honored
I will never be able to forget you
I let the memories be hidden
__
/_/\/\
\_\ /
/_/ \
\_\/\ \
\_\/
Dedicated to my dear grandmother (1935-2011)
Categories:
trundled, death, family, life, loss,
Form:
Light Verse
Twas wooden, and my Ivy stick
Did claggy with a cobbled tone.
The moon, in shade rode whimsy high
And whiffled with a moan.
By hairy dog and camel toe
I trundled on and farted,
By gum and skinny teeth I went
Unshaven and wholehearted.
Hag I not seen but in a girth
A womb of some renown-
A creature from some other Earth
Not cream, yet still not brown.
I wooden, with my Ivy stick
And waving with a fist
Fought on with friendly foe in tow
For valour, kin and Kist.
Categories:
trundled, hilarious, humor, humorous, nonsense,
Form:
Rhyme
Olga Scheps embodies Chopin's Piano Concerto n° 1
For a pianist who ponders her prey
The taming arms-length erect posture
The torso and pulsating violin back encased in red-rich ornate coarse wrap
Nape muscles strung by swaying grace-groomed arms branched aloft
Pursed lips part for allegro romp
Tensile gushed groin screaming on seat-edge flailing fingers
Averse to sleek chord whale case under knee-cap check
Who is the Master of the indomptable Mistress
Does the script express and extend the actress's role
Or trundled chords liberate hidden Polish voices yearning
Cabriole on prairie pastures
The yearling kicking high on the keyboard
Startling the chevron-sinewed munching herd
Light lambs and kids throwing frolicking fits
Round and round the heifer humping high down the meadow
Stung to the quick half-recurring bars of the theme
The feline fauve now appeased by soft churning cuddles
Pages of screwed signals hung on lined sign-posts
Roused by nut-cracker knuckles
Flush out repartee collective timbre strings
Doused by the sweet-sweating triumphal orgiastic release
The wilful eyes of the hungry panther
Turn soft and pander to the prey
Is this when the poised moment of the composed kill
Misses the mark just once
The sleek black whale bears its twinkling teeth
in hollow rage
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Categories:
trundled, inspirational, music, passion, sweet
Form:
Free verse
An arrogant hare challenged a lethargic turtle to a race.
The hare ridiculed the turtle due to its lumbering pace.
"The loser", declared the hare " will be destined for the pot!"
The "hare"-brained turtle agreed knowing he didn't have a shot!
The turtle desperately tried to figure a way not to become the dupe,
And end his long and illustrious life as a repast of turtle soup!
They began the race and the hopping hare surged way ahead.
The ponderous turtle trailed behind with a growing sense of dread!
O'er the meadows and through the piney woods they raced.
The turtle could readily see that he was being outpaced!
"Fiddle faddle!" wheezed the hare "I'm gonna stop and take a nap!"
The turtle trundled steadily onward and quickly closed the gap!
When the hare awoke the turtle had crossed the finish line!
"Aha!" quoth the turtle, "it won't be me on which they dine!"
The bewildered hare was stewed and made a fine rarebit stew,
Making a tasty meal upon which the turtle could leisurely chew!
The moral of this tale is one that is echoed from the past:
"The last shall be first and the first shall be last!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Poet Destroyer's "Turtle Soup" Contest - August 2010
Categories:
trundled, funny
Form:
Couplet
I write much hic cup ado
About nothing, which involuntary explosive release
comes clear out of the hic cup blue
nary a sponge bob square pants handy dandy bellows clue
where in tarnation this uncontrollable bout
jarring the body electric hic cup do
why such physiological spasmodic trembling whacky
baa closure of glottis hic cup ewe
moost likely find annoying as this hic cup ping buck feels few
breaths short of taking drastic action…
like hic cup swallowing glue
as an extreme solution per tha series
of being held hostage hoo
dee knee probably lacked escapist artist skills
even if he trundled to an igloo
to emergency room of a hospital or veterinarian
such hic cup caterwauling catering to gentile cat or Jew
lean, thus, time and again when said hic cup affliction
holds me hic cup ransom knew
does drive me towards acts of desperation
such as sticking ma head in the loo
which bizarre reaction on par with holding
out an appetite until famished for moo
Goo guy pan in mixed with a delicious bowl of new
dulls steeped in broth or an island delicacy renown on Oahu
even this atheist would ask for salivation praying a pew
whereby sound of silence echoed by hic cup right on queue
when nary a burble until reach that amen hic cup rue
stubbornly persists, no matter trying to suppression sue
per upsurge of diaphragm, a diabolical force forcing air thru
nasal passage and/or mouth oft times faintly resembling a u
ca lay lee with a snort accompanied no doubt by a voodoo
Practitioner…until…at last whew
hic cups stop as mysteriously as they started
bringing relief to this caged primate in a zoo.
Categories:
trundled, angst, body, endurance, health,
Form:
Rhyme
Recycled moon beams
Trundled showers of blessings
Residual streams
Categories:
trundled, inspirational
Form:
Haiku
Ring with no feather in my cap only envy
at handsome man drakes with bucks,
who could bank on "hot chicks" willingly
aligned in arrow emitting clucks
fluffing their respective tail feathers amidst
loud squawking out quacking
establishing pecking order like ducks,
or any other foxy fowl billetted
within walled din noisy hen house
preening, each be solder self flux
sing wings and waddling, flirting, casting...
webbed wide good lucks
at the growing flock
including male friends relatives,
minus yours truly, whose presence,
would merely generate a yawn,
though even a distinct black swan
received royal carpet treatment
particularly one named Shawn
encompassing another honorable guest
with illustrious surname Rawn
guests underwritten by Cupid,
whose presence surreptitiously withdrawn
(invitations distributed widely explained,
just beak cuz gerrymandering redrawn)
even provoking deer interest
of stray doe eyed fawn
hence lacking bravado and brawn
this bird den some seedy,
yet dove out crow kissing Avocet
trundled off to parts unknown you bet
far from boys stir russ, raw cuss, diss cuss
ting clacking clique, and thus this solitary fret
full ostracized, rejected, unwanted egret,
who heron there experienced many a let
down, not simply because of stork disparity
with the Aves and havenots,
but I never met
any other species so set
in their ways, hence off
on a wing and prayer
in search of other gulls,
whom this dodo bird they will coe vet!
Categories:
trundled, angel, bird, confidence, growing
Form:
Free verse
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
I knew Him once, so long ago
But life pressed in and so, you know,
I quite forgot His loving ways
And trundled on in those dark days
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
Divorce hit hard and more than that
I found myself alone and sat
In gloomy, hopeless misery,
Feigning that contentment I might see.
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
The New Age failed to win my trust
And Buddha couldn’t help me. Thus
I looked and looked for something good –
Invited Him to share my food
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
He sat at table’s feastless head,
My female self in witchcraft mode,
My male adorned in handsome garb,
My child at play. No sound was heard –
And then he left – out through my door,
So I went too. It would be poor
To lose so sweet and true a friend.
I followed him right out. The end
Of lonely effort, point bereft.
I’d follow Him with footsteps deft.
I’d never let Him leave my sight,
For He had loved me. Sweet delight!
I can’t imagine where I’d be
If Jesus had not come to me.
Categories:
trundled, devotion, faith, hope, inspirational,
Form: