Best Wheedle Poems
Rodents can be loquacious
That includes your average gerbil
They love to prattle, chat and blather
They really are quite verbal
Hamsters are talkative too
Just as garrulous as can be
With running mouth and wheel to match
They are a sight to see
But I am loath to squander words
Sparing usage is my way
I gather them like so many acorns
Against a rainy day
Yes, word collecting is the passion
Of this precocious squirrel
I garner adjectives, verbs and nouns
Be they singular or plural
The park is fecund land
There a plethora may be found
Vociferous, vehement and vex
I lately scooped up off the ground
The verb tree is prolific
Its discovery quite a boon
The other day it bestowed upon me
Flaunt, foster and festoon
All along the sidewalks
Concrete nouns lie strewn about
How blithely I did snatch up
A lummox, a laggard and a lout
To command a better view
I nimbly scampered up a pole
From this lofty perch I spotted
Wheedle, coax and cajole
Away in the distance
I spied a tempting pile
Heaped up for the taking were
Enticing, alluring and beguile
What do I with so much verbiage?
You would be fair to ask
Squirreling away so vast a lexicon
Must prove a mammoth task
The answer lies in my arboreal abode
Where these many words I stash
In alphabetical order they are arrayed
From zealous to abash
In a capricious mood one day
I grouped them by part of speech
Such a cacophony arose from clustering
Banter, badger and beseech
No matter how I sort them
The wasting of words I spurn
Reserved for rarest use I keep
Reticent, laconic and taciturn!
_________________________________
by Brian McClain - Feb 17, 2016
Originally posted Feb 17, 2016
Accidentally deleted Feb 22, 2016
Reposted Feb 22, 2016
Categories:
wheedle, animal, children, education, kid,
Form:
Rhyme
We all employ them in different ways,
most wisely, to inspire, cheer or praise.
Some try to keep them clean, and some do not.
Depleted of them, we can’t voice a thought.
We use them to make small talk, break the ice,
or offer resolutions, give advice.
We wheedle and beguile with them for gain,
or we may sharpen them, inflicting pain.
Consumed with envy, vengeance or with hate,
we hurl them to deride or to berate.
And it’s the foulest ones that some will seek
to ravage fragile spirits of the meek!
But other times, we ply them to entrance.
We spin a tale with them or make them dance
across a page in lines of poetry
by wielding them to capture imagery.
So whether they be dull or cast a spell,
we learn and grow if we digest them well.
And whether they be heard or signed or read,
it’s by the power of words mankind is led.
for Mac McGovern's "by request only contest, part 2"
Categories:
wheedle, on writing and words
Form:
Rhyme
This rhyme may seem strange but each word's truly equal
Now Beetle's tale's done no need for a sequel.
They'd chat by the teazel of matters so lethal
Of sequels and prequels and justice so penal.
In fields green and fetal past signs with a decal
He'd meet Sheetal the Beadle who spoke of things fecal.
With eyes prehensile he'd spot every weevil
And warn all the people of dangers so evil.
This Beetle was legal though far from regal
He'd wheedle and wheeze with his diesel-powered treacle.
He found a gold needle a prize for his easel
And painted a weasel avoiding the measles.
Again there once was a beetle so feeble and small
Who lived in a steeple with people so tall^-^
And painted a weasel avoiding the measles
He found a gold needle a prize for his easel.
This Dung Beetle was again legal though far from regal
He'd wheedle and wheeze with his diesel-powered treacle
And warn all the people of dangers so evil
With eyes prehensile he'd spot every weevil
Again, he'd meet Sheetal the Beadle who spoke of more things fecal
In more fields green and fetal past signs with even more decals
Of sequels and prequels and justice so penal
They'd chat by the teazel of matters so lethal
NOW Beetle's tale's ended again no need for……….a sequel
His adventures were splendid each moment so……….regal.
This rhyme may seem strange but each word's truly equal
A lesson in language both _^_ playful and………. legal
The Dung Beetle though small had a heart brave and true
Proving size doesn't matter in all that we do.
Categories:
wheedle, humor, nursery rhyme, satire,
Form:
Light Verse
I've often wondered who dealt with
fairy tale complaints. There seems to
be a lot of them among the fairy tale
acquaints.
Here are just a few suggestions I myself
if could, would make and maybe fairy Tale
land would be peaceful for heaven's sake.
Old Mother Hubbard had no bones in
her cupboard and her dog has no bone.
We could offer her Pease pudding and even
if it is nine days old, I am sure the dog would
be happy with the old crone.
Peter Peter Pumpkin eater, put his wife
in a shell, there he kept her very well.
There's no time to plead and pine nor
no time to wheedle, if she would kiss him
quick, he would be gone, and pop would go
that weasel.
Seesaw Margery Daw, Johnny got a new master
johnny only earned a penny a day because he
could work no faster. He should take lessons from
Peter Piper who could pick a peck of pickles and at
it became a master.
There was an old woman who lived in a house
exceedingly small, a man open his mouth and
swallowed woman, house and all. Maybe he should
of had some of the King's Blackbird pie and he could
have filled his tummy instead with a pie full of caw.
Categories:
wheedle, appreciation, children, family, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Nullable gullible hear cheer
Wear tear people absorbing here fear
Wheedle needle arm to harm
Bare to where your broken tokens?
Sanatize prize sought fought
Human acumen great berate
Blunder thunder, yet ride that tide'
Categories:
wheedle, abuse, analogy, change, corruption,
Form:
Verse
Blue melancholy stalks today
To wheedle me with sulking voice
But rather than to fall its prey
I instead resolve to rejoice
And celebrate this blessed life,
Obliging not this day’s brief plight
But honoring so little strife
Through years of gladness and delight.
October 21, 2016
Contest No. 226 any form-any theme with max of 12 lines
Brian Strand
Categories:
wheedle, happiness, life,
Form:
Quatrain
Have to get some bread and milk,
always needing more,
Then to seek my dealer
needle him to give a score.
Kids are always wailing,
never any peace.
Like a wailing wall
they never seem to cease!
Damp is smelling so much worse,
should withdraw the rent..
But where else could i go,
since that bastard went.
Can never pay a bill
the Post is full of dread.
They"re going to slice me off!
I never have the bread.
All we wear is cotton
what the hell is silk!
There is only so much Benefits
that i can really milk..
I have to meet my Dealer,
see what i can wheedle.
I need so ****ing much...
Bread milk and a needle.
Categories:
wheedle, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Kindled my soul at the time of my birth.
It feeds my craving for the boundless,
superior joys of desiring to be soulless.
Owing to the breadth-widening death.
Like it drew the moth to the fire spot,
Your heart will no longer be the same.
The zeal blazed deep within my frame.
Being your goal is all I desire in my heart.
Similar to how a fire burns logs of wood.
It turned each log into a heap of dust.
If life across you falls apart, hold trust.
Adding soul light to fire as a lover should.
She swayed to the rhythm of her drum.
Drumming swings penetrated the darkness.
Fireflies lit the way with a sharp blackness.
I'm baffled; what drives you to clean scum?
Sharp fangs tear your soul aside eating fire.
Embrace those who support your view in dark.
I quietly beg for red flowers and a sheer stark.
You are aware that I grant you light and choir.
Your eyes shine brightly in the sunlight.
Your presence brightens my every day.
Your inner fire inspired me in every way.
Not even a single tear escapes my sight.
Cast light on the radiant hunger of life,
increase with each brilliant dawn beam
and soothe during the night's quiet gleam.
Where every day creates various strife.
Your best mate is your spunky soul fire.
Seeing love in your eyes quenches the carrier.
I pray that your soul sets fire to every barrier.
It aims to foster a mindset over your pyre.
My skin is on fire from the pain of a needle.
as if a comet is hurling toward the sun.
The soul's shells burn, fall, and hold a ton.
I understood how life and death wheedle.
Will we all perish in the raging fire?
Restore our spirits and release us.
Water was enabled to stoke the glory.
Without wings, you are stuck in a dire.
Hopes were burned by fire-spawned smoke.
It faded from vibrant light, fearful of wrath.
Should it be uprooted if it strikes a scathe?
Will wiping the slate or leaving it to invoke?
Written: December 10, 2022
Categories:
wheedle, analogy, appreciation, feelings, fire,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
Beneath hardened and thickened wings,
Twinkling soft and cold mystical lights mesmerize.
Showing off Reels, jigs, poussettes, and flings.
Dark nooks cutely they burglarize.
Swaying around their electronic duff,
Spreading friendly vibes, they light up the dark.
Elated with joy they flash out language of love.
Lost in their sight I dodge like a narc.
Smitten with their joyful acts of wheedle.
They are as precious as they contrive.
Yes, I am flattered by these cute little beetles.
For they spread smile though for just few days they survive.
Word Reference:
Narc: Police officer who specializes in laws dealing with illegal drugs
Duff: Buttocks
Reels: Swaying
Jigs: Lively dance with leaping movements
Poussettes: Swing in a semicircle with hands joined with one's partner in a country-dance.
Flings: A short period of enjoyment
Contrive: Create or bring about (an object or a situation) by deliberate use of skill and artifice
Smitten: Be strongly attracted to someone or something
Wheedle: Use flattery to persuade
Categories:
wheedle, appreciation,
Form:
Rhyme
“Give me the phone Effie.
I have to make a call.”
She handed it over to me
and walked into the hall.
The inspector had no clues.
He asked for my two cents,
asked me to give him my views.
I didn’t; the call was intense.
The dame had come in
asking for my advice
two days ago and then
was arrested by Vice.
I had seen the smallish
puncture, blood pooling,
and I wanted to abolish
the coroner’s ruling.
The wound was there,
but he missed the needle
lying next to the chair.
He tried to wheedle.
If I couldn’t get the cops
to do their job, I’d need
to pull out all stops
to find a hard lead.
For Gershon...with smiles
Inspired by, but not entered in, Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Categories:
wheedle, confidence, death, murder, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
A quilt is a poem that’s been crafted
With stitches that cleverly mime
The words that a poet has drafted
In manner and rhythm and rhyme.
For in piecing a pattern together,
Every section, once stark and alone,
Must be seamlessly tailored to tether
It to others when carefully sewn
Just like adjectives, verbs and conjunctions
Plus the other unnamed parts of speech
Let the writer arrange, so their functions
Form the meanings that readers can reach.
When the final thread’s snipped from the needle
And the pencil has made its last mark,
Neither quilter nor poet need wheedle
For responses their efforts should spark.
Categories:
wheedle, analogy, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : XV & XVI
XV
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
I'd outlaw all big-time " companies " who beg for money
Especially those who beg in the name of the Almighty
I'd write virulent circulars on how to cajole Him through litany
To wheedle trillions of dollars euros yuans rupees throughout Eternity
That is, if ever I were the Treasury Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country
XVI
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Minister of Finance
I'd make every charitable organization head dance
On a tight rope stretched from here to comeuppance
For wasting nearly all what we give them on bribes penthouse mags and stamps
And take them on a tour of the streets and hovels littered with hungry children and tramps
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Finance
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 5, 2018
Categories:
wheedle, abuse, children, god, poverty,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
This is just a love song.
I hope you all care.
I just want to be a millionaire.
Life is thriving for success.
I just want to do my very best.
Underneath a rainbow, after the rainfalls, this is my time now.
I entrenched my mind.
I concealed my faith.
Just a wheedle
A great insinuator
The colors of life brought good and bad.
Some call it luck.
I see it as blessed.
This is just a love song about success.
I am going to make me somebody.
No one can break me down.
Life is striving from here on out.
I ensconced my mind.
I hid away my voice.
Attune by face
Fasciae
After the rainfall, rainbow forms.
No longer do I have to wait on anyone.
Living is good.
A bad focus destroys.
Money in my pockets and
I am to be the wealthy one.
I am established by faith.
I concealed my falls
A ballad
A mental facade
When the rain stops, I will find the rainbow.
A canopy drip drops as sunshine rushed forward.
I am engrained and enriched.
My vim and vigor is rooted to my strength.
Scaffold by certitude
Cajole
This is just a love song.
Feel my embrace.
Jack climbed the beanstalk.
Oh, what a lovely day!
This is just a love song.
An aura an embrace!
Success is ongoing.
Failure is a disgrace.
This is just a love song.
Number one comes first.
Placated to my melees
Propitiated to my fans
This is a love song about me loving me.
(Music [Acoustic guitar, etc.] and the vocalist and/or band screaming in the musical hits/beats Fasciae into a close/ending of the song).
__________________________________|
~Penned on June 02, 2014!~
~Success is my women. Money is my man.~
Categories:
wheedle, blessing, care, deep, faith,
Form:
Ballad
Today has 24 hours to live.
Be at its deathbed, son,
keep a vigil, make sure you're
included in its will.
Of the priceless heirlooms,
have your fill.
Sieze its shoulders,
shake it out of its last slumber
if you must.
Cajole, wheedle and fawn,
get all that you most dearly want.
Trust not in the largesse of
an inglorious dawn.
Categories:
wheedle, farewell, father son, imagery,
Form:
Didactic
Down the difficult road,
they harkened to
go before me.
They were sick and tired
of being dragged down here
And the desert and the palm trees
were calling ..
The night was so dark
But they heard of no fear ..
At dawn,
taken by heat and thirst,
down the difficult road,
they burst into tears ..
They left the horses in the stable
without a prance or saddle
And set the mules to rumble
so as not to wheedle or muddle
They caused everyone to pandle
Why life is so hard to handle!
Down the difficult road,
they harkened to
go before me.
~ Chokri Omri
(Regueb, Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia, 2020)
Categories:
wheedle, betrayal, courage, feelings, lonely,
Form:
Free verse