Best Untalented Poems


Premium Member The Faeries Are Still Outside

The Faeries Are Still Outside

Trying to cheer a garden up from the clay,
But the crabgrass won’t part
And the trees are snickering 
At the art-
Less way the faeries 
Sway while chanting,
Casting their spells—
Such an untalented group!  
Out of tune, with
Too often the lyric,
 “wha’ ta’ we all do?” 
Stuck in a measureless breath
And beyond any rhyming lure to
The sprouts for any wanting to grow!
Wise, the trees lean, whining, 
Slow whispers that, “
The faeries should go!
Back to their wizards
For more lessons in garden growth. “
The aged trees are exasperated; after all,
There’s little more to it 
Than spreading the 
Spell of encouragement, because
The sun and earth are already there prepared
For the growing…
So the trees advise,
“Raise ye’ stems around us trees.
We’ll keep the winds
From blowin’ ye’ over!
And keep the sun from
Parching your leaves.
We’ll sing lullabies to the herbs, 
“Hush a-bye lurra lu,
Rest now your intake of green.
Be doodle-ye-do get ye’ ready
 For droplets of dew
Diddle-eye-done 
Dew comes after your dreams
Along with the rise up of the sun.”

Then the trees applauded
Among themselves, promising
That as soon as
The garden grew a bit,
The trees would tell all those little plants
Just how Spirit
Lives inside their stems, their flowers and leaves,
Where the spells of the faeries cannot reside…but,
“Deed le-dee see la so sigh.”  Fine,
Let the spells be sung.
“‘Tis a task the faeries prize,” and who knows if it won’t
Help the clay to crack,
“Fiddle diddle perhaps a fact!”

——————————————-
(C) sally young Eslinger 9/30/21
Thanks be to God
Categories: untalented, fantasy, fun, garden, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Acrostic Poem of World Cup

W~ORLD CUP is here again.
O~rnament of a golden cup that bring all people
'R~ound the world into one canopy.
L~et us stay in glee and watch those to
D~raw,lose or win their matches.
C~ompetition is a survivial of the fittest.
U~nprepared,untalented,unlucky and non-prayerful
P~roduces lose and religation.
Categories: untalented, football,
Form: Acrostic

Creepy Clown

Creepy Clown....

I despise Clowns their so NOT funny
WOULDNT waste my time or hard earned money!
Painted smiles on your fake 
ugly  clown face
Can't hide my aggrevation 
Or my distaste 
You  smile behind YOUR silly painted mask
How does one "become" a clown
Or do I even want to ask?
CANT even believe your STILL on the scene 
what's up with that?  Its freaking 2016!
Is there some type of training or CLOWN Education? 
Or they so DESPERATE threw ya into this situation? 
CREEPY & WEIRD. UR THE PERFFECT combonation
Is there a background check or just useless information? 
Regardless don want to be anywhere where you are
Could care less how many  clowns fit in your stupid clown car
You appear to be jovial as I watch you here tonight
you don't fool me something about you ain't quite right
So You can juggle and make animal balloons
Well good for you
Get out of my face and go do whatever you clowns DO
Can't stand the site of you don't like knowing your around
You don't make me happy as a matter of fact u bring this girl down
Your evil smile so FAKE EWWWW gross! 
Existence stage left FREAK u heard me ADIOS! 
 STUPID blank stare on ur face.. Hate that the MOST
Something off kilter with you
Perhaps not yet diagnosed 
DONT speak dont care what U have to say
Go get your big floppy shoes and please be on your way! 
YIU are the epitome of untalented and unfunny
 Don't want anything don't want to be your little buddy
Please go now no I don't want to hear a joke
Your sugary false sweetness makes me wanna choke
Gotta get away from you and fast
CANT hide ur insanity FOREVER 
behind that painted Clown Mask
© Diana Vee  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: untalented, feelings,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


He Was But a Man-

Intelligence and continuity…
Sly and cunning dangerously so,

Experienced and seasoned…
A veteran of many lives not so helpless,

Focused and warmly passionate…
A romantic undeniably cool,

Temperamental and justly powerful, 
Richly heralded yet still feared,

Precisioned and calculated…
Darkly unorthodox and unreadable,

Hated and despised sought after by many…
Never sighted or caught though never hiding,

Untalented artistry and plain creative works…
Lucidly abstract and hauntingly subliminal,

Beheld handsome and perfectly made…
Un-noticed and never revered,

Companioned and gathered by many friends…
Alone in solitude an unheard dark,

Talked about and rumored of…
Carelessly shaken but filling with disdain,

Taken aback by this vision perfection…
Transparent glass dirtied by cleansing,

Strong and prideful undyingly mortal…
Still, he was but a man.
Categories: untalented, imagination, inspirational, people, philosophy,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member A Senseless Slaughter

You never know when,
a “black death” thumb instead of a “green” one,
will murder your flowers while,
you’re on vacation.

Co-workers, well-meaning;
can slaughter your workplace joy
if you ask them to,
plant-sit in your absence.

Like the pet hamster that,
you had as a child;
beloved plants fall prey to, 
untalented or uncaring hands.

Never stolen like tissues, Pens and notepads;
plants re-greet you while,
hanging onto their last breath of air.
Now, aren’t you glad you came back?
Categories: untalented, flower, poems, poetry,
Form: Prose

A Noise By Any Other Name Is Just As Loud

Today's so-called music is nothing more
Than repetitious, raucous rot performed
By untalented, unaccomplished bores.
Their cacophony is worthy of scorn.
Instead they are held in admiration
By tin ears insensitive to sound.
Instruments amplify modulation
Or it might be the other way around.
Nevertheless, its purpose is to drown
Out feigned singers who couldn’t hold a tune
In a shower lest risking being found
Out. The day will finally come, and soon
I hope when these hucksters who can annoy
Are replaced with music all can enjoy.
Categories: untalented, song-lyricmusic, music,
Form: Sonnet


Premium Member Untalented

Lone dove sits on twigs;
Has no carpentry talent.
Dove nest blows away.

Doves untalented,
Birth their young with lots of luck;
God smiles upon them.
Categories: untalented, animal, bird, earth, environment,
Form: Haiku

Morning Mood

Morning Mood. 

I sit inside a massive white fog of nothingness and play on
my imaginary piano, with one finger, a ditty: Sun outside….
sun inside… sun only sun. I feel massively and supremely 
untalented now that the amalgamation   of writers, poets 
painters and dancer that were inside me have turned into 
an immovable block of zero.

 I look at a black dot ringed by a grey cloud, if I look long 
enough the cloud will disappear, only it doesn’t, instead 
the dot disappears and the cloud turns into an evil dervish.
 The amalgamation fragments and I sit in a rowing boat, 
on a green sea, watch as seagulls evaporate into a void.
At last there is silence and I’m my vastly incompetent self,
Categories: untalented, satire, sun,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Smothering Your Face In a Coloring Book By Candlelight

what lurks behind the shadows takes refuge in the
places that one cannot speak without a lawyer and
a place to stay when the going gets rough in the
shadows right out there buried & bustling without
restraint without subjection to the parameters in 
which the most of us dwell & operate so obediently
on a daily basis throughout the utter insane boring
mundane nature of everyday existence & whether 
or not you yourself choose to abide by these lines
drawn round your own individual life is of course
no one’s decision but your own but know that the
crayons in your hand are your own crayons and 
there is no one alive who can make you color within
the lines if you feel that you don’t want to there is
no force out there that can make you sharpen the tip
with the convenient little crayon-sharpener that 
resides on the back of the crayola box & of course 
there’s no one out there who can make you draw on
lined paper, graphed paper, or even construction 
paper for that matter if you want to you have the 
right to draw all over everything around you the 
chair you are sitting in the walls the floor the 
pavement outside all over your clothes the windows
as you walk down the street the street itself because
who is going to stop you the worse that will happen
is that they will smack a label on you and lock you
up somewhere where the first thing that they will
do is pump you full of free drugs and place you in
a craft room anyway where you will receive a 
pile of crayons and the whole process will start all 
over again fear not those that want you to use your
crayons “correctly” for they cannot truly harm you
they can only wish silently inside themselves where
they think that all their little secrets stay hidden 
that they could be just exactly like you and live in 
the moment coloring whatever you feel like with 
these beautiful crayons and leave the rest of life 
alone to its beautiful shadows its wondrous “liars”
& “cheaters” & “thieves” & “murderers” & folks 
that never for a second agreed to live by anyone else’s
rules except their own who let the untalented 
uninteresting doorknobs of history decide in their 
wake their value to society.
Categories: untalented, lifebeautiful, beautiful, life, drug,
Form: Free verse

Food For Thought

Family
          is not in the blood,
        but in the heart.

Humility
           is not knowing how untalented you are,
         but knowing how talented others can be.

Knowledge
           is not what we have learned,
         but what we deemed important enough to remember.

Ignorance 
            is not a condition,
          but an impromptu consequence of contentedness.

Reality
            is not what we perceive,
          but merely your understanding, in the absence of what others understand.
Categories: untalented, inspirational, introspection, philosophy,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Shadow Soliloquy

The pretty lady in white throws the bouquet,
like a game show host giving out consolation prizes;
like the bottle cap liner on your tropical fruit juice -
"thanks for playing - try again"

So her flowers were caught by a 12-year-old fullback
with braces and a Hello Kitty wristwatch;
she must be next to get married (if tradition holds true) -
that's at least another 8 years for me to be #2

Kiss the bride but miss the bridesmaid.
Everybody missed the speech by the best man, 
they were all watching the couple kissing and being cute -
while the maid of honor slipped down the hall to "get some fresh air"

Silver medal in the attic collecting dust;
"You were 2nd best" - like that is some honor.
The way I see it in big, bold font: 
"You lost when it counted"

I am the penultimate:
             the bridesmaid
                the pinch hitter
                   the salutatorian
                      the understudy
                         the vice president
                            the substitute teacher
                               the back-up quarterback
                                  the untalented kid brother
                                     the bake-off red ribbon winner
                                        the beauty pageant runner-up
                                           the spare key under the welcome mat
                                              the best man (2nd best, if you think about it)


languishing in the shadows of #1
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: untalented, sad, wedding,
Form: Free verse

Ghost

Wish you were a ghost, a long forgotten ghost who’s name was long forsaken
Wish you were anyone but You. Miserable, depressed, sad You.

Uncaring, unlikable, untalented You. 
In the shadows of dusk with no will to go
No will to leave this misunderstood place of nothing and no one

But over time the walls of this moldy room start to crack and break
Leaving only hope and energy of the day- tomorrow- when you will be loved and happy

Wish you were a ghost, a long remembered ghost whose name was long admired
Wish you were no one but You. Wonderful,  happy, beautiful You.
Categories: untalented, fate, heartbroken, hurt, pain,
Form: Free verse

Dark Yellow and Green Lugees

it’s rather apparent
to those whose eyes aren’t sewn shut together
yet
to those whose knees ain’t trembling yet
because they are afraid of 
absolutely
positively
everything
to those that want to 
live
life
instead of criticizing those who do---
that in this life of 
creativity
(of which some of us traverse avec our
comrades in the march for more
freedom
with our pens gripped firmly in our hands),
there are those that
do
&
those that
do 
not
produce
original
work.

there are those that keep the peddle to the metal no matter what
there are those that keep spitting in the face of those that want you to stop
there are those that never tire in the ring, they just keep punching
there are those that never take a rest on the sideline they just keep on 
running

&
then
you 
have
those 
that 
think
that
they
have
something
valid
to
say
about
the 
work 
of 
these
creative
machines.

we call them “critics”
but clearly 
they can be best described as
untalented people with too much time on their hands
or
perhaps
people who are so lazy that they cannot produce an ounce of their own work
& instead pretend that in having produced nothing of their own---
that this somehow gives them credence to
criticize 
the
prolific
of
the
world.

we all know them &
we all hate them &
if it was possible for us to have enough phlegm between us to be able to hack and throw up
the amount of dark yellow & green lugees 
which these folks 
deserve---
all spread on their face like the foulest load of bodily secretions one could possibly
muster---
well, i guess then we ourselves would be spending too much time on trying to create these
massive mega-lugees,
rather than plugging away at our own
work.
Categories: untalented, lifetime,
Form: Free verse

Smelly Onion

A Phobia,

caught between New York City

and Los Angeles.


A genealogy of slaughtered

animals-

blood

and

gangsters.


a place with a fragile identity

a untalented child trying to

please its parents.



its already been done

yet will be done again


nothing new here.


Hitler could have conquered

America if he hit this city first.


no vision

narrow minded

is

 CHICAGO


the same

the predictable

is

CHICAGO


in human anatomy

chicago is the appendix




your not sure why you need it





but its there.
Categories: untalented, angst
Form: Free verse

A Great Work of Art

A Great Work of Art

By Elton Camp

Modern art is wonderful, some folks say
It’s very hard for me to see it that way

It has whimsical shapes and color bright
A three-year-old child it might well delight

And it could be pleasing to some M.F.A.
Who just adores a painting done that way

Maybe to some, astonishing talent it shows,
But, I have to confess, I am not one of those

“You’re a uncultured clod,” a critic may shout
Probably so, but I know what a scam is about

Here’s a giraffe head and there a bar code
Methinks dirty brushes the artist did unload

Instead of then throwing the canvass away
He calls it art and hopes someone will pay

Wait, there’s a red elephant head with a trunk
But I still have to admit, to me it is just junk

It’s like gazing to a sky with many a cloud
Most any interpretation the viewer’s allowed

But when such is called art, I sorta believe
Some  untalented hack laughs up his sleeve
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: untalented, art, art, art, me,
Form: Rhyme
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