Best Whatnot Poems
There once was a poet who despaired
though blessed with a fair amount of flair
that he was way too thick
to master limericks
counting words an arduous affair
Limerick-writing he'd master not
count sillybulls, meter and whatnot
the elusive punchline's
too troublesome to find
with his thoughts roughly tied up in knots
Spatial dimension impediment
a meter doubled in measurement
at the best of times three
lopsided prosody
shoddy despite its being eloquent
Sillybulls ignored and miscounted
charge around angrily, discounted
with their hoofs on the slam
they step up the bedlam
bewildering chaos uncounted
With pep talks and deliberation
resolved: they're too high 'bove my station
so to rhyme he should stick
and give up limericks
where wordcraft counts naught but summation
*Sillybulls = syllables. My thanks to Ephraim Crud for the loan of the word.
To Wignesan: am I stooopid or what???
Categories:
whatnot, light, poetry,
Form:
Limerick
Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend
Categories:
whatnot, spiritual, truth, war,
Form:
Epic
SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
There’s a player up there
stomach resting on his chair
blowing air
through at least a hundred feet of twisted golden tubing
and
A man putting oil on a slide
makes toothy talk aside
to a skinny tuba player (imagine a tuba player being skinny)
who takes the fat horn on his lap
Drummers four all stand
Testing skins and whatnot with their hands
The first selection using such collection?
NOISY indeed!
Then there are the winds
All in a row with chimneys on the end
sucking for dear life it would seem
the flutist (or is it flautist?) is a dream
Finally the violins
adjusting gadgets rooting with their chins
cellos (big violins) screw into the floor
basses (huge violins) as a rule sit astool
Here comes a fiddler late
must have had a heavy date
of all the nerve he turns and bows
then sits that’s more than law allows
for
Here comes the conductor with a stick!
Categories:
whatnot, funny
Form:
Free verse
Hullo, folks!
Do you hear me?
You didn’t hear me when I was dying.
At least hear me now, when I’m dead and buried.
I am, as you know, Jinesh,
Buried here—in this churchyard at Poonthura,
Buried on Sunday—
Like Solomon Grundy!
I did hear you when you were crying—
During the recent floods,
Rushed to your help,
Saved more than a hundred of you.
You all praised me, called me a hero,
Lined the street I lived in
With posters, flex boards, banners and whatnot.
Now you all know that I, as a pillion rider,
Was hit by a passing truck,
Which further ran over my helping hands,
Crushing them—
Thus, adding grievous injury to injury!
I lay there on the roadside,
Crying aloud for help,
Which fell on your deaf years:
You were all busy, all in a nervous hurry—
Off to Timbuktu!
I wept and cried for help, by turns.
But I was left there to die unwept and unsung,
Though I had been honoured.
Now you all may say: RIP
But, you see, I remain restless!
***
Categories:
whatnot, 9th grade, death, grief,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric
Midnight boom town streets have this allure
imagining an uncanny venture
eavesdrop veil surround but dark as coal
how I love my after hours stroll
Secret worlds unfold their impish plot
mesmerised entanglement a tiered whatnot
black crush velvet sky we must extol
how I love my after hours stroll
Gilt fantasies that float across each lane way
fluorescent gremlin from some ghostly parking bay
gust on salt ice pier might buttonhole
how I love my after hours stroll
Snow clad mall whistler gaffe prone
while wandering the ink hue urban zone
a chapter lift and snatch from begging bowl
how I love my after hours stroll
Traffic signals stellar stoic stance
heartbeat of nocturnal moonlight dance
frozen digit signage reeks of twinkling North Pole
how I love my after hours stroll
Categories:
whatnot, beautiful, beauty, celebration, cheer
Form:
Kyrielle
People would do almost anything to make it to the top, even using steroids. This type of drug has been used by all would-be professional athletes and actual professional athletes since the 1980s, even behind the backs of their beloved fans. Professional athletes (Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, and the late Chris Benoit, e.g.) have been using a lot of steroids before they wrestled, played baseball, rode bikes, or whatever. Everybody knows that using too much steroids have real consequences, even the the courts are involved. Steroids will make one angry, the kidneys start to shrink, one person becomes aggressive, and so on. Using steroids will also cost one individual's life, a chance to play for one of their favorite teams (Dallas Cowboys, e.g.), family, fame, everything. Another term for a use of steroids by professional athletes is "doping." Sooner or later, their fans will find out about their steroid use. And when they do, the young ones who've looked up to their favorite athletes and trusted them with their lives will have been seriously betrayed. Using steroids is considered cheating, especially when Barry Bonds and Lance Armstrong have been using them behind the backs of their loved ones and their fans. Now I know why I never played sports and/or used any of those illegal drugs, let alone steroids. It seems that these athletes can't even earn their way to the top, that includes not using steroids. The only reason why these professional athletes have been using steroids is because their coaches and physicians told them to, and they really should've got caught making their star athletes use that illegal drug. Even Vincent K. McMahon, who was the chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment (formerly the world Wrestling Federation) had forced Hulk Hogan and other wrestlers to use steroids. All types of steroid use are starting to make everyone very, very sick. Did everyone know that if all professional athletes are caught with a lot of steroids and needles that they were going to get arrested. Steroids are to be banned from all of the sporting segments forever. And if all athletes continue to use steroids to cheat their way to the top, thereby getting more money and endorsement deals like that of McDonald's, Progressive, Geico, and other name-brand sponsors and whatnot, they've got another thing coming.
Categories:
whatnot, health, on writing and
Form:
Epic
Young love has revolutionized the entire centry. It's not justr affecting all teen couples in the
U.S. of A., it's affecting the lives of all teen lovebirds from around the world, including Canada
and France. It seems that both teen lovers (a teen boy and a teen girl) are never going to stop
loving each other, even if they're from different countries. When everyone is looking at both
underage lovebirds holding hands and whatnot, it's like a virtual U.N. of young couples. And
even when they're in either middle school or high school, their love for each other is as the
same as the one in America, which is called "The Land of Opportunity." Sometimes most
relationships among teenagers don't last long, but at least 24 hours, but some of them do last
longer than ever. Or so everyone thinks. Both teen lovebirds are lucky to have each other on
each other's side because without him/her, he/she is nothing. It looks like young love is
growing nationally and globally, even in Africa. Also, these people can either see other in
person, talk on the phone on a Saturday night (which is on the other side of Earth), or whater.
But either way, young love is still young love. And if their parents hadn't met and their children
hadn't met each other from day one, then they never would've fallen in love with each other.
Young love will always live.
Categories:
whatnot, girlfriend-boyfriend, love, romance, teenlove,
Form:
Epic
Country clubs are best known for their golf courses, tennis courts, and lobbies. They've
been a part of the lives of all wealthy people for some time to come. It seems that
everybody wants a piece of the good-life pie. When he or she's going to one of the real
country clubs, it's like going for a boat ride on a yacht in Miami Beach, Florida. It's
also as if he or she's living the rich life. It's the time of the year for then people are
going to a lot of country clubs for brunch, to play golf, to play tennis, or going to one
of the fitness centers for daily exercises. going to country clubs is also considered a
social gathering, or better yet, an intimate get together. This seems very interesting.
I'm hoping to work for one of the country clubs, making a lot of real money. I might even
interact with all of the country club members and my would-be co-workers, too. I ever
heard that a lot of people, who are working for a lot of corporate companies, are meeting
at a lot of country clubs every single day, especially when they're talking about the
company's budget and whatnot. I'm hoping that the middle class citizens become members of
every country club in the United States of America without the club members ever judging
other people. And without country clubs, there wouldn't be any caviar or golf players or
whatever.
Categories:
whatnot, on writing and wordspeople,
Form:
Epic
There's an issue with people trying to deal with their sexuality and gender. It's been
like that since the day one man had pretended to be a woman and one woman had pretended to
be a guy. It seems that he or she is either gay, straight, bisexual, or a transsexual, and
their parents are trying to help their children deal with their sexual identity and sexual
orientation. These people would've dealt with this type of identity crisis without the
help of their friends and families. It's bad enough that one man is being trapped in a
female's body and one woman is being trapped in a male's body, as well. Everybody's
talking about it, even on the news. What other people should do is to deal with the fact
that their friends are gay, bi, or transgendered. And even if these people are going
through an identity crisis day in and day out, they need help and everybody's acceptance.
And for assistance and whatnot, he and/or she (who are gay, bisexual, and/or
transgendered) can always go to one of those LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and/or
Transgender) centers for group therapy and stuff. The ones who aren't confused about their
sexual identity should also be for gay rights. But if these people continue with trying to
deal with who they are and what their sexual orientation is, there's no telling what bad
thing might happen next.
Categories:
whatnot, on writing and wordsday,
Form:
Epic
When it comes to doing the right thing by ratting on the enemies and/or whatnot, these
people have no regrets. When it comes to dating and writing poems of their own, there's no
turning back. And when it comes to getting into positive situations in life, there's no
way out. These type of things have been like that since day one, especially way before we
were born. For one, having no regrets mean he or she has done nothing wrong. The second
part is when he or she's planning on doing something out of the ordinary like going
sky-diving, snowboarding, or whatever, there's no turning back for them. And when it comes
to doing the right thing like giving back to the community, trying to prevent disasters
from happening day in and day out, there's no way out of those great situations. Seems as
though God has been watching all of us human beings for some time to come, even after the
Earth was created. The best thing about not making a lot of regrets in life is when he or
she's got a free spirit and a pure heart. Well, I guess good fortune will happen to the
ones who don't have selfish agendas or whatever. And if these people keep up doing the
right thing for their communities and stuff, there's no telling what positive thing might
happen next. And just like I said: "No Regrets, No Turning Back, and No Way Out."
Categories:
whatnot, inspirational, on work and
Form:
Epic
When it comes to making friends from the South, it's like everybody's welcomed in their
communities. But when it comes to being with a bunch of attractive Southern belles, that's
so awesome. she's got plenty of style and a lot of beauty to have blossomed. A Southern
belle is as attractive and beautiful as any other woman in America, especially that of a
white-Caucasian girl from the West coast or the Midwest or any other girl possible. What's so great about these
Southern belles is that of her soft skin and her beautiful smile. And if this Southern
belle was a blonde or a brunette, I'd tell her how awesome she looks and I'd declare my
love for her. These Southern belles have made the south very interesting and it makes a
guy wanting to go down there to have been with her. Of course these belles are religious
and whatnot, but that doesn't stop us guys from telling them how beautiful they look,
trying to impress these girls from the South. And when dating a beautiful Southern belle,
it's like going to a Sadie Hawkins dance in either Birmingham, Alabama, Biloxi,
Mississippi, Savannah, Georgia, or Cameron, North Carolina. Everybody's going to get a lot
of Southern hospitality in these parts of America and the city guys and the country girls
will be having one heck of a good time. It seems that the young women from the South
really have a thing for us city guys and stuff. And for when I begin to date a Caucasian
Southern girl, it will be like love at first sight. Not only do most guys each have a
thing for a bunch of attractive Southern girls, I also have a thing for Southern girls,
especially the ones from Alabama, Louisiana, Missouri, and Tennessee. Now I know why I love all beautiful,
attractive Southern girls; they're beautiful and pretty, especially that of a bleach
blonde belle. And if this relationship works out with a Southern belle, that would be
great for us city guys.
Categories:
whatnot, girlfriend-boyfriend, love, on writing
Form:
Epic
here comes the night,
a deep pitch black,
what's sharper than a ravens call?
I know not,
ruffled and bothered,
who hears the raven?
it's the witch who hears him,
when he squawks,
her actions are wicked,
as she cackles and cooks,
black ravens fly,
as she stirs the pot,
her fingers are knobby,
and disfigured,
in all of their joints,
but you needn't fraught,
it's the raven's claw,
she's seeking,
for her spell,
to call out black rot,
as bad as she,
the fungus will grow,
rotting the forest,
wherever she doth trot,
the ravens aware,
that she,
needs his claw,
he'll not be caught,
he hides among the trees,
the branches all twisted,
and disfigured like she,
her cackles within earshot,
the wise old raven,
positions himself,
directly above,
the boiling cauldron pot,
the witch blows in,
pointing her finger at him,
I've got you now!
she thought,
the raven squawked,
"look below old witch,
notice anything new?
I've moved your pot,"
with that he flew,
knocking the witch,
into her own brew,
where she boils and rots,
so listen without fear,
when the raven squawks,
he saved his forest,
and whatnot.
Categories:
whatnot, break up, future, longing,
Form:
Ode
She had nothing to gain
This is my only shot
Dance through the pain
It wasn’t my fault she didn’t have a main
Role. She wanted to see me distraught
She had nothing to gain
I can see her trying to feign
Support by smiling and whatnot
Dance through the pain
She waited to complain
Until I was in earshot
She had nothing to gain
The tears began to flow down my face like rain
Her words intruding my every thought
Dance through the pain
She’s jealous, get it out of your brain
They told me, but I cannot
She had nothing to gain
Dance through the pain
Categories:
whatnot, anxiety, bullying, dance, pain,
Form:
Villanelle
Everyday another moment wakes me.
My love hunts like a wildebeest around rusty corners
Craving lost memories.
I am the coward and the hero.
You are the wizard and the one and only angel.
We will traverse this corrugated truth,
Gliding upon our own wits,
Feeling our elbows milk into singularity.
And all this on the same day flowers
Uproot themselves
And go door-to-door
Knock-knock-knocking.
And then my wife comes in.
We talk and laugh and whatnot in tired waves.
And I re-read everything before she entered my soul
And it’s all rubbish.
I never went on that frontier.
Categories:
whatnot, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I've said it before,
But it seems you didn't understand,
So I showed you once more,
As I gently took your hand.
I won't speak in riddles,
Or try to guess what's possible,
My arms are open, my heart is liable.
The cost of knowing the truth,
Is the pain that it may bring,
But if I don't have you,
If I can't hold you,
I'm lost in everything.
Lost in the midst of the rain,
My pain increases,
As it taps its sad refrain,
It's hard to accept that all I do
Won't make you see me as I see you.
This is a fact that is plain,
And I'm sorry for it,
That all I am is sad and whatnot
For I am,
The man who is not.
Categories:
whatnot, emotions, heartbreak, pain, poetry,
Form:
Free verse