Best Whey Poems
The humble cheese has a secret superpower
Its gooey glory conquers cauliflower
The melted cheddar of fried baloney
The better half of macaroni
The sharp-dressed suitor of apple pie
A fondue tryst with crusty rye
The love child of curds and whey
Eloped with pillow soft souffle
This Muenster does not pursue peasants
The tang of blue can be quite pleasant
Smoked Gouda's so good, seconds I'll take
While leaving room for more cheesecake-
My foodie knowledge was remiss
Thinking all foreign cheese was Swiss!
Don't fret, American, your place is true
What would tomato soup be, without you?
I live in the Northwest, where I can cook
with the best cheese brand of all - Tillamook!
11/12/18
for Write a Poem about Cheese contest
Sponsor: Barry Stebbings
For P.D's "Going Haiku Crazy" Contest
How Many?
going to St. Ives
met folks on that smelly bus
more than I could count
Just Sleep Walking?
Wee Willy Winky
caught outside a boy’s window
in a night garment
Got Wool?
naked in the lane
three bags-full of wool sheared off
baa baa black sheep fleeced
She Didn’t Know What to Do!
Kids’ cries from inside -
outside an old woman’s shoe
child welfare people
Clean Your Plate!
Licking their plates clean
Jack Sprat and wife do their part. . .
kids starve in China
The Treacherous Hill
pail of spilled water
Jill’s body sprawled over Jack’s
one big bloody mess
What a Ding Dong
good deed for the day
boy scout Tommy Stout by well. . .
scratches on his arm
Not Even a Bone
old Mother Hubbard
Social Security cut
dog needs a new home
Yellow Georgie
victims of Porgie
confront him in the playground
his true color shows
The Original Blonde
Bo peep loses sheep
birth of a new tradition. . .
blonde jokes being told
The Schemer
some spilled curds and whey
spider near a fallen chair
supping happily
Making the Best. . .
Humpty takes a spill
the whole army can’t fix him
omelets for lunch
Baby Catches On
the church and steeple
and now you show me people?
those are just fingers!
They Say He Couldn’t Keep Her!
gossip in the town
pumpkin shell big as a house. .
where is Peter’s wife?
Bye, Hushed Baby
the sound of wind’s rush
baby’s cries abruptly hushed
broken branch on ground
*I'm choosing this series of haiku for several reasons.
First, it's the only post I made named "Twisted" so it
is an obvious choice. Second, I do have other poems
I consider a bit twisted, but, I simply cannot
remember the titles of some of these really old poems
to look for them. Finally, this series was inspired by
a long ago contest of PD's in which I got the idea
to take nursery rhymes and twist them, and so
I'm reviving this series which can no longer be
viewed by anybody here unless it's in a contest!
I, too, dislike poems.
I’ve tried runes (and rampikes)
but that’s affected
rather than merely effete.
So I call them
figments.
When people query
What do you write?
at a barbecue or birthday party
I say soliloquies,
fractals,
fragments.
Self-similarities,
singularities,
sculptures (scriptures), geometric shapes and series,
three dimensional triangles, spheres
and differential equations,
fractured fairy tales,
Rocky and Bullwinkle,
rectal impactions.
On the other hand,
bits, bots, bytes
remnants, scrap, earth
gobs of phlegm in grains of sand,
shards of glass in a slice of hell,
hunks and clumps, curds and whey, sleet and pain, slap in the face
sub-atomic particles, cell organelles,
chunks of energy, cookie crumbs,
rusty trucks stuck in mud, dustings for ghosts,
just plain dumb luck, rocks, concrete, but not tweets.
Oh but it was such a glorious day
When the gods first took the curds from the whey!
Sprinkled some salt and a tincture of time
Aging the mix with a splash of enzyme
Giving to mortals what English call cheese
Pair it with wine and my palate agrees!
11.10.18
night time’s starlight moon
curdles the whey of longing
clouds mask heart’s desire
trembling arms reach out to you
train whistles haunt the captives
Goodness me, fiddle dee dee and la de dah
Mary turned into a black sheep, baa baa baa
That naughty little lamb
Has contrived a big scam
She's gone too far astray and has lost her way
Mary's been tinkering on an old fiddle
But she can't play worth a piddle or diddle
She's as crazy as a loon
Mind and fiddle outta tune
Even the cow can unravel this riddle
I heard about the guy, name of Jack Horner
Who hangs around the lamp post on the corner
Mary does his bidding
It's true. I'm not kidding
She didn't listen when I tried to warn her
What'd you plant in your garden, Mary Mary?
I heard smokin' it will make you quite merry
The feds have grown wise
To her innocent disguise
My goodness! She's become very contrary!
Mean ol' Mary dressed up as Little Bo Peep
To bully and mock the flock of grazing sheep
She is shamefully cruel
I'd meet her in a duel
To put an end to that mean-spirited creep
Last weekend she frightened Little Miss Muffet
Who was eating a light lunch on her tuffet
Munching her whey and curd
When Mary dropped a turd
Then ran off, telling Miss Muffet to stuff it!
What a fussy hellcat Mary has become
Her lies have people describing her as 'scum'
She's bonkers in the head
Obviously ill bred
and if you believe a word she says, you're dumb
Evil is a person who chases blind mice
But by now we all know Mary is not nice
She screamed at them, "Now run!"
Then shot 'em with her gun
One day that ghastly creature will pay the price
The Big Bad Wolf's a hero in Mary's thinking
Cuz he's dreadful to others without blinking
He was mean to two pigs
when he blew down their digs
Mary's just as horribly cruel, I'm thinking
Like Humpty Dumpty, who once sat on a wall
Mary's wicked ways will lead to her downfall
A powder keg's been lit
It will hurt quite a bit
But she's a bad egg who always starts a brawl
Miss Muffet was a girl of thirteen, filled with youth's beauty and charm;
And a love of vibrant life zealous, like eager, vivid thunder of blue alarm.
She was a fine student, pert and popular; like the primrose popularity;
Or stars appearing at the designated hour, sparkling like crystal clarity.
Mary Muffet lived in a small town, with loving parents and her siblings,
Who sympathized with her fear of spiders; like colorful, fall misgivings.
Friends flanked their white picket fence, in fall days of glamour, striking;
And wove fanciful tales with flourish, like flowering genesis, so enticing!
Far off family ofttimes visited Fernglen, with its farms, rich with future;
For fishing and other rollicking fun, staying on 'til varicolored, fall rumor.
They lived in the house of quaint beauty, like charming red, berry sun;
Fondly gazing on pearly moon twice daily, the ritual begun on day one.
Songs sunrise to sunset serenaded, on dappled, silent, Sowerby Street;
But, a scorching summer bled scarlet roses, at the red butterfly retreat.
Near neighbors stayed on a first name basis, in unending, plum seasons;
Of days and nights of green nature; like teal surf, which never weakens.
Summer's glory was in the tiny details, like prayer plants, giving praise;
When sun face orchids, wore sunny smiles, in colored fields of noon haze.
And jade baby toes plants were crawling, through hours of soon history;
In honey days of bicolored hibiscus, filled with heady scents of mystery.
Mary attended a church celebration one day, along with her whole family;
And food was served indoors and out, as pink robin sang of gold, happily.
Mary had such fun playing games! There was much laughter and talking.
Then Mary had a craving for cheese, so like shadows, inside went walking.
Once inside, 'Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey;
There came a big spider, who sat down beside her, And frightened Miss Muffet away.'
As Mary screamed and ran, causing a rumpus, she drew a lot of attention;
But, was suddenly embarrassed by her overreaction, like fall's suspension.
Little Miss Muffet was thence more mature, a natural result of getting older,
And fear of spiders was left behind, like summer blossoming, grown bolder.
My water bottle holder
Has a pocket meant for keys
Or a tissue or some money
Or whatever else you please.
When I went out walking yesterday,
I thought I’d beat the rain,
But the sky grew dark and so my hopes
Went swirling down the drain.
My shirt and shorts and hat were soaked,
My sneakers still not dry,
Plus this morning I discovered
Something that had passed me by.
For within that little pocket
Were six singles, dampish still,
And a soggy pad for writing,
Which no pencil point could fill.
So I spread them out for drying,
Whey they did, in not much time,
Then replaced them for tomorrow,
Setting all of this in rhyme.
I have a superhero;
his name is Pickett Tupp.
Before you count to zero,
he'll have picked it up.
Grandpa could have hurt his neck
but Pickett, super guy,
picked the peel up from the deck
where Junior let it lie.
I've another super friend;
her name's Poteeta Whey.
If it's out, you can depend
it's rightly put away.
When some kids can't find their stuff
they're like a mental case.
But she'll find it, sure enough,
because it's in its place.
From New Year's to December,
you'll always make Mom's day,
if you will just remember
Pickett Tupp and Poteeta Whey.
Farewell, then, AUKN boss,
The next this year makes three.
By the time they find a substitute,
Slovenes will be at sea.
He tried to cover his behind;
AUKN boss of bosses,
As every week, balances grew bleak:
He weighed merits and losses.
With all this he'd no time to eat,
And round and round he flew.
And now he's split in a hissy-fit;
So helmsman, too-de-loo!
Day after day, day after day,
He drifted on the ocean;
Guano-vernment rained on his ship
Their suggestions for promotion.
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Corporate boards crosslink;
Cousins, cousins, everywhere,
Let's take you for a drink.
Accountants talking rot: O Christ!
Missions, visions - oh please!
Yea, slimy characters need legs
And slimy policies.
So has he done an hellish thing?
Not hired who? We dunno:
Was it absurd, to have a separate curd
From the whey Slovenia owes?
This wretch won't play, after 60 days;
Pissflaps, he'll have to go!
God help ya, gospod Bencina
From the fiends, that plague us thus! -
It's time to go — shot like cross-bow,
The AUKN boss.
Ah! walk-out day! what evil looks
Had I from Ernst and Young!
Who's at a loss? AUKN's boss
Wouldn't take a bung?
"You'll be" quoth one, "abolished - no
Stigma to double-cross."
He chose to go - why? We don't know:
Harmless AUKN boss.
Re-reading the original gave me a great idea for dinner until I realised all the storks have all flapped off to Africa for the winter. Pity, as I have some ancient marinade from Tuš. Like the subject of the poem, I didn't have the stamina for a Coleridge-length effort.
Story: http://www.sloveniatimes.com/total-mess-in-state-owned-capital-asset-management
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand interprets important Slovenian affairs for the non-Slovene speaking world. www.maria.si
“what inspires you to write
such indiscriminate indiscretions
like that?” he speaks to himself
and thinks
not long
without thinking,
unnaturally he feels,
something, so
he promptly writes
it all down
without a further
doo-diddley-day
there you go
a muse
the muse amused
reads his take on it all
and up her mind goes,
the ride, like a pole
flags, waving
checkered,
black and white,
racing all the way
up and down
down and up
the rollercoaster thrill
of it all
jack was planting seeds
for his bean stalking tour
counting the footsteps
along the imprinting way
she wasn't eating
her curds and whey
you have to be quick
like you know,
nimble
sometimes
she galumphs
naturally
unnaturally
across the page
burlesque,
headlights
turned on, full beam,
delivering the splits
smiling
for laughs,
the laughs,
always splitting the mix
can-can
she thinks,
masked, yet best
in tap dance shoes
nakedly
confronting
fingers tapping
minds pointing
un-a-mused
qué más se puede pedir
Spanish for those untouched
uber tall flaming flamingoes
que puis-je dire
French kissed
all the way
for the les enfants terrible
a - mused
fearlessly venturing
forward
for more
let them go,
the others
waltzing Old Time
away, out the door
'tis better
elemental
she feels
the win-win
can-can
she thinks
and smiles
amused
indiscreetly
not
turning
away
win-win
she smiles
a full-wattage
salute
can-can
She
thinks,
begin
the beguine
indiscreetly
not
turning
away
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Righteousness expressed in struggle’s ply,
comes shining in a single lifetimes chance;
From life’s shadows dim a gift will rise,
explicit in one solemn watcher’s glance;
Prosperity’s plex is so placed in hand,
but fortune’s bless those blind deny;
Bliss from one’s valid efforts blocked,
results in stress and tears from failure’s fry;
Delivered not is the finisher’s fee,
collected is butt, and not success’ pride;
Covertly served is an effort’s worthy try,
reward, is goodness, and a steady upheld bide;
Worth’s weight, the lowest hanging bough,
when weighed by the thinker that seeks to vide;
Value thus, when shared is given gratefully,
without the thoughts of a profiteering mind;
Presents to those of worldly wiles,
one dilemma, upon which the fool will find;
Clarity flexed removing one’s clouds of doubt,
what “gold” then mined, supplies a lifelong tithe;
Fulfillment is extract cast from nature’s whey,
nourishment enough for every creature’s clime;
Surely now greed can be wholly sacrificed,
and stress from the chase of cash be slimed;
Follows simple logic does this gist,
that once given a gift, the bearer of such will shy,
Away from snide and lowly self-intent,
and allow a higher thought to clear life’s cloudy skies;
From unknown facts, to time’s knowledge let,
each giver grants to all their generous boon;
Transgressions pushed aside are but truths to whet,
when honed by honesty, and in divinity hewn;
Hold these ‘truths’ expressed, prove mind’s suppress,
can be cleared for all, and not spent as garbage strewn.
This is my Homophone contest submission
Ewe No A Lyre
their once was a man with a bore
who worked down at the local bizarre
the bore eight corn colonels four lunch
and blew genes whir awl the man war
owe the bore eight serial two
from a plait unlike me oar ewe
we wood knead a bowl and a spoon
ore a mop wood bee totally due
won fine weak day mourn wile working
he brood tee four the men who maid toys
making tee and giving assistants
was that witch maid the mane men
his buoys
his gnu fame was nice
and it urned hymn
a day too lien back and relax
sow he went strait too his sweet
and wile still on his feat
he eight mince, mustered, pees and bare meet
at work he aloud his ant two chute bawl
butt four know obvious reason at awl
she through bred and plumb pi at
the goal
he chaste her aweigh
butt owe my he felt sow bad
sew he cent her to scents and a flour
and aloud her two come back inn an our
the gilt she felt
brought her pane
four she new she ode hymn sew much
she gathered her teem just inn thyme
two sing thank ewe sow very much.
win he herd the whey
they whir singing
it brought a tier too his I
he ran too the gait
two waive wildly
wile screaming a hi pitched buy by.
by Rochelle Harris
Heres a rilly lame limrick for ya-
Write hear I'll change the beet!
also I ain't bin usin end rime
An this old line is whey to long for a forth line.
Kin ya gess how many words was spellt rong?
hummm, is that fiv or sex lines I needs?
We all meet Friends like these and sometimes we keep them!!
Written with a bit of Jamaican Patois thrown in.
Chatterbox
Some people when them when they start chat
Just cant stop at all
Not a word in edgeways
You are a fly on the wall
Just like a runaway train
You wish their mouth would stall
All the world revolve round them
And the echoes from their eardrums
Don't resonate, to their braincells at all
Impervious to the voice of reason
Tougher than a granite wall
Do they ever stop to think for a moment
That for every problem they got
There are many a solutions
But they never give you a chance
To answer them back.
Last time you were telling me
How you fall out with your friend
Instead of complaining to me
Why not talk to him
Continue with your chatter
Then tell me 'bout his mother
Sister, and a brother called Glen
But you wearing me down
With all your problems
I have my Water Rates
Gas and electricity to pay
Already got the final letter
And tomorrow is cut off day!
Not too bothered 'bout the cooking
Cornmeal mi know to turn
But if mi have no drinking water
Mi have no where to turn.
Cleanliness is next to godliness
ChikV on the rise
And keep spreading
Without water to keep clean
Pickney them will get sick
And Catch germ
Mi know Mass Bertie
Is a good and honest man.
He is not a borrower
But he will lend
So if its money you want from me
Don't look in my direction
Go and borrow from him.
My parents all use to tell me
Life is not an easy ride
As fast as you fall down
So you must try to rise
Same thing the elders told me
Same thing has just arrived
Same thing I experience
Same way you must learn
Once you suffer from laziness
Dollars you cease to earn
If you continue with your foolishness
And don't move up a gear
Same thing whey happen last year
Same thing will happen this year
Working hard is no science
Its brings its reward
Food on the table
And forges self-reliance
So if you have nothing further to say
Please get out of my way
I have a pressing day
While I bid you farewell
And wish you good day.