Best Week Poems
FRED THE PERV.
Kinky Fred stole knickers off the line
One summer night his haul totalled nine
His spree ended in tears
Got an extra ten years
When Judge Sue said that red pair were mine.
LARS.
A young astronaut from NASA called Lars
Blasted off from Cape Kennedy to Mars
But then there was a glitch
When he pressed the wrong switch
Last seen heading at warp speed to the stars.
PETE.
A young pianist from New York called Pete
Could play William Tell using his feet
But he fell of his chair
And he started to swear
Was booed off and thrown into the street.
JOHNNY GABLE.
A mean old waiter called Johnny Gable
Saw a man choke to death on a bagel
He then shifted his body
To the side of the lobby
Said forgive me but we need the table .
O'TOOLE.
A forgetful pilot Johnny O'Toole
Was over the north sea flying to Bule
Then both engines spluttered
Under his breath muttered
Looked at his gauge and screamed no ruddy fuel.
OLD GANGSTER.
An old gangster rose from rags to riches
Got rid of all his traitors and snitches
They'd find in their bed
A racehorses head
Or find themselves sleeping with the fishes.
THE BAKER.
An unwashed old baker from Idaho
Had filthy fingers when kneeding the dough
Folk choked on his paella
Some died from salmonella
Got closed down and ended up on skid row.
O'KEEFE.
A fella by the name of O'Keefe
Was the long serving town's police chief
Someone stole the mess cookies
Everyone blamed the rookies
But it turned out O'Keefe was the thief.
AMOUROUS MICHAEL.
Amourous young Michael from Mayo
At a girls house he tried to stayo
She started to shouto
And then kicked him outo
Said she" you're not staying no wayo."
NIGERIAN POEM THIEF.
A sly poem thief from Nigeria
On the soup caused a mass hysteria
He stole soupers work
Soupers went beserk
On the run now cos he's in fear of ya.
Written 18th august 2019.
Panagiota Romios
Spirited, elaborate and gracefully
She weaves with ease her poetry
Wistful, yet strong, carries her own
A starry queen on her exalted thrown
She writes to please
Puts minds at ease
Cinnamon and peppermints, I wish her well
Flowers and dance for mademoiselle
A true patriot, all Americana
A loving mother and Nana
Sadly, I drifted away from the poetess
Too busy in my world of selfish distress
Engaging in on a realization
That she fights for all and on occasion
At worldly events she has a feel
Who can dishonor a woman so real
I’ll read her poems and hear her song
The innocent lady, whose was right all along
Equanimity
Humanity’s dance of grace.
Deepest smile, writing dreams.
Upon her velvet finger,
Gleams a moonstone ring.
Iced glass of Jasmine tea.
Honoring the warm, melodious,
Whispers of this midnight Spring.
Avant-gardistic
by Panagiota Romios
Copyright © Panagiota Romios | Year Posted 2023
The steady pull
of temptation--
a tease on
my resolution.
When I can sleep,
I take what dreams
afford me.
In these dreams,
my 'noxide comes
to ward me.
Her smoke is an invitation.
my conscience
falls for
the con science
of my imagination.
I give in
and reality spins.
Between the sleeps,
I lie in sanity.
I wonder:
Did I give into
my humanity?
did I'd err?
Is that
smoke in the air?
When I was born, who would have thought
I’d grow up to be ruled by a clock.
Clocks mock dreams while hours gawk -
clicking off our minutes, letting seconds go - -
Did I turn the coffee and iron off,
remember drops for my cough ...
oh, I don’t know, darn traffic is slow.
Kindly push your pedal and go – go,
come on now! We need to roll.
If I am late, I’ll get penalized so.
Got to chew fast and ignore my dog's wag.
If I dawdle, someone will get mad.
So much to deal with, rules, rules and more,
so much crap I cannot ignore.
Are there more points for being on time
than for completing work that is prime?
I want to shout for upper brass
to remove their clock from my a*s.
There’s a complete person who I am,
yet my wants get the work week cram.
Job clocks are feeling-lame, greedy-aimed
and make my life a punctual strain ...
Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.
I can't get
Over it;
It's over before
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this
Obsession; I'm addicted.
My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.
waving palm branches
people shout hosanna -
Christ the King has come
the Passover feast
preparation of the lamb -
Jesus' last supper
a time of prayer
Father, not my will but yours -
betrayed by a kiss
angry fists are raised
crucify! crucify him! -
hatred replaces love
Christ nailed to a cross
the Holy One rejected -
perfect sacrifice
the empty grave mocks
God's only son conquered death -
Jesus is alive!
3/29/21
For Brian Strand's All Yours (March 31) contest
maudlin
maudlin Monday's mostly mud
halts the weekend with woeful thud
laughs and sillies
get the willies
on maudlin Monday, what a dud
tintinnabulous
tintinnabulous Tuesday
is the second paying-dues day
we head uphill
but it’s no thrill
'cause we’re not there, but we’re on our way
wadd'lin
wadd'lin Wednesday straddles the hump
wiggles and shakes like a wide-angle rump
it’s a little too slow
with way too much show
wadd’lin Wednesday makes us “harumph”
thoracic
thoracic Thursday we’d like to send west
we want to get Thursday off of our chest
we’re not so sure
we can endure
thoracic Thursday'd be a good day to rest
finally
finally Friday, when it gets here
makes one take a look in the mirror
to practice a smile
to reclaim a style
time to get ready for giggles and beer!
sleep in
sleep-in Saturday comes with the blues
has way too many of those chore-ing to-do’s
so get outta bed
with hung-over head
and put off whatever you choose
shuff'lin
shuff'lin Sunday saunters along
changing tempo, just like a song
pretty soon then
it’s time again
for Monday and that is just wrong!
elusive
elusive, the eighth day hides from the rest
we like to think we’d like it the best
but we’d probably waste it
and then we’d lambast it.
an eight day week the Beatles addressed
Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.
Cabrona
Falls me
Down to
My knees.
The nicotine cracks
My will.
My composure
Spills.
I want
This.
I must
Have this.
I sink
Into
The brink
Of madness.
A REFLECTION OF PASSING TIME
At age 15,
Afternoons could last a week,
Especially if nothing could be found to do,
Or if trying to endure a lecture at school.
At age 45,
Tomorrow would arrive as this afternoon just began.
Feigning illness, it seemed, was the only way
to be excused for an hour from one’s long list of To-do’s; with that
All greatly complicated by Christmas seeming to appear
twice every year.
At age 70, the truth
Is that when I ask if today is finally the Tuesday
we have plans to go out?
The answer will come that today is, in fact, Wednesday
And that that Tuesday actually passed me by last week,
leaving me to wonder, Where had I been then?
Was I to be really sure of where I was in this Now?
Hmmm…
————————————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 1/24/23
5:00 a.m., Thanks be to God…
FRED
Fred the farmer he bought a new tractor
The milk maid he wanted to attract her
He said you wanna ride
So she jumped in beside
Said tis slow can't it go any faster .
SAUL
In ancient times the killer Saul Porters
Was better known as the 'beast who slaughters'
Folks heard a victim shout
Saul was seized and knocked out
They hung him and cut him into quarters.
JOHNNY
An old gunmaker called Johnny Aled
Was testing one of his guns in his shed
The firing pin jamned
He said I'll be dammed
Shook the barell and it blew off his head.
CHARLES
A two timer by the name of Charles Fring
Was with a hooker in bed doing their thing
Thought he'd switched off his phone
Then heard screams and a moan
Twas still on and his wife heard everything.
MING SO
A hammer thrower from China, Ming So
At the games it was her turn to throw
She swung it around
Her feet left the ground
With excitement she'd forgot to let go.
RANDY MONK
There was a randy old monk from Biscay
With others wives liked to romp in the hay
With a smile and a grin
Said free loves not a sin
His Abbot didn't quite see it that way.
WOODCUTTER
There was a woodcutter from Tralee
Showed no mercy when hacking a tree
But the tree fought back
And in the attack
Broke his jaw, lower back and left knee.
TRAPPER
Into the woods he went hunting for bear
By sheer bad luck disturbed a grizzlys lair
Ran down the hill in fear
Smell of bear was quite near
Caught his foot in another trappers snare.
Written 25th August 2019.
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to pay that credit card today.
Lots of stuff, mostly junk, keeps us in the red,
Need to keep a little back, just to keep us fed.
.
Dashing through the store, pushing left and right,
Looking for the sales.. Couldn’t sleep last night.
Country’s in a mess, shouldn’t spend this way,
Just found out I kept my job, for at least another day.
Jingle bells, Jingle Bell, Jingle all the way,
Holy Cow, I can’t wait, until the month of May.
On Monday I wore my new shoes
Out walking I stepped in dog-doos
It covered each shoe -
They’re no longer blue
Just mottled with brown smelly hues!
On Tuesday I went to the shops
To purchase some lovely lamb chops
But when I got there
All the shelves were bare ...
Bad weather and our ferry stops!
On Wednesday I slept in quite late
Got delayed to meet my blind date
I arrived at the pub
He looked like a grub
I’ll bypass this ugly primate
On Thursday I went for a meal
Its location wasn’t ideal
This pub ‘Happy Brewer’
Next door to a sewer
My disgust I couldn’t conceal!
On Friday I’d too much to drink
I threw up in my kitchen sink
Oh how my head aches
And I’ve got the shakes
On drinking I’ll have a re-think!
TOTAL FICTION - HAVE A LOVELY WEEKEND SOUPERS ***
6/29/18
Three weeks into lockdown, we're still in one piece,
the house is now looking pristine,
we've dusted and shined every surface we see
now only the air left to clean.
We've searched every cranny, we've looked high and low
but still there's no sign of our Puss,
I think that last night she decided to go,
got fed up with being over-fussed.
The missus each day in her favourite pyjamas,
and slippers, just wanders about,
but when she turns round, well, it really alarms us,
there's a hole,and her bum's hanging out.
We've tried to eat healthily, bought the right stuff,
organic, and calorie free,
but now it's got boring, and I'm feeling rough
so it's baked beans on pizza for me.
A real ale delivery is next on the cards,
it's top of the list on our plans,
don't know where to put it, there's nowhere to go
since the larder is full of beer cans.
At least we're all civil, no rows or profanity,
for three weeks now we've all been stuck,
I'm off to the shops,now, quite proud of my sanity
with mask on, and dressed as a duck.
I was but a boy
You seemed almost a toy,
So young, and in love,
We fit just like a glove
You said, "All I can offer you,
Is a love that time can not destroy"
Oh boy!, Oh boy!!
It filled me full of joy.
Nineteen was I
Sixteen you were,
Living in our house,
My Mom, you loved her...
My father, you helped him
build a stoop,
These are moments,
We can never recoup...
But eternity was short lived,
You went to work,
Left me for another man,
I felt like the biggest jerk
No, it's not all your fault,
I realize that,
I did not provide something,
In grief I sat,
Your treacherous friend,
Her eyes on me,
Stirred the pot,
For whatever reason,
For me she was hot
But I would not cross that line,
Her boyfriend,
Was a friend of mine
Well it's all water under the bridge
Over troubled waters,
A song I cherish,
Our eternal love,
Was destined to perish.
Another week, another poem to write and tweak,
Another truth to try to speak,
Another thought I hope to tame -
Or maybe, I should focus on...remembering my name.